#the balance between fluff and smut is immaculate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muddyorbsblr · 2 years ago

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Bestie this was absolutely immaculately splendid!! 🥹🥵🫠

I love the way you covered so much of their relationship in this down to her holding his hand and being there for him when he wasn't named Odin's heir. And the way you emphasized that not only was Loki her choice, but also how you established Thor's character as a friend and brotherly figure to her to the point that she's positive that he would fight tooth and nail protesting against Odin if he would be forced by duty to come between her and his brother. 🥹

And when she came to him and comforted him with Beauty & the Beast when he discovered he was a frost giant omg the poor lil meow meow really went and apologized for making her his prisoner nooo 😭 But the way she comforted him and instead of running for the hills she ran straight into his arms?? I'm so soft?? 🥹 Like you could really tell in that moment that her love for him ran deep and even though it was world-shattering news to Loki, him being a frost giant was borderline inconsequential to her because she loves him for who he is not what he is and I just love that so much aaaaaa

One of the things I especially loved is how you included her disbelief and her adjusting to her new role as queen and her noticing how the staff behave and move with more care around her now that she's been crowned. And how she still didn't see herself fitting into the role so she put on a nightgown that gave her those vibes even though she was all alone because she wanted to know the feeling for herself and not just put on a show because it would feel like she's playing dress up with an audience. 👏👏

And the smut ohh lordy the smut. The way Loki just walked in with the hornies it's like you can tell that the second he was advised that securing his throne would be made easier if he sired an heir, he immediately stood up and said "say less" and marched to the bedroom to do exactly that 🥵 And I could already imagine that he was thrusting with every word when he was going "call me your king" and lemme tell you right now, bestie…I'm definitely gonna be dreaming of this tonight 😮‍💨

The flirty cuteness at the end also felt so incredibly cozy and I can't with these two they're adorable and horny at the same time and I love them so much sdlkfjsdlkfjsdf 🫠 Talking about baby names while cuddling and then going into where he wanted to have more smutty times with her all over the palace in the span of two minutes because he really took the words of Robots to heart:

I absolutely loved this, bestie! The balance between the fluff and the smut with a few touches of angst was so incredibly well done 💖💛

The King of Asgard (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SMUT Y'ALL!!! 18+ Breeding Kink and Vanilla P in V sex and dirty talk. Some angst in the beginning but lots of hurt/comfort regarding his discovery about being a Frost Giant. Some married fluff. I use the canon events in Thor 1 but stretch out the timeline because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to fairy tales because I'm a slut for literary references.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Since seeing Thor 1 in its completion this has been in my head. I don't usually write for the big man Loki himself too often- but it's a treat to do so! Maybe I will do more of this stuff if I get more ideas! REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED! Also, I don't know if Frigga is also Freya the goddess of love and sex in this universe when I wrote this but her character is clearly more FRIGGA than Freya...so yeah...mea culpa

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @littlespaceyelf @superficialdomina (since all the way back you asked to be tagged! Ta da! Here it is!!)

You had many regrets in your life. But marrying Prince Loki was not one of them. When he asked you, you threw your arms around him and kissed him repeating one word- “Yes!”

You never regretted the day you wore a jeweled veil and walked down that aisle. You never regretted vowing before all the gods that you were his and he was yours. You never regretted becoming Princess of Asgard. Not if it meant the love of your life could become your husband.

Some whispered that your choice was unusual. That it was the wrong prince. That you should have married Thor. After all, it seemed obvious he was going to be the heir. But things did not happen in your heart the way they did. Thor was jovial and friendly to you. But before your betrothal, he liked you as a sister. No more, no less. Even if Odin commanded it, Thor would object to the match. If Thor learned to reign in his arrogance someday, you thought, he would make a fine lover to some lucky person!

Other than being the most beautiful man you had ever beheld, Loki was intelligent. Full of elegance as well as guile. Well-read, polite, patient, and charming, but could hold his own in any battle. It seemed you were one of the few people who recognized that. That was one of many reasons why he loved you.

You both attended feasts side by side. He would flirt with you even though you were still about a year into marriage.

“Why, it is too bad that such loveliness is sitting by herself tonight! May I have the seat next to her?” Loki would croon as he sat in the chair next to you.

You danced every dance together at balls. You especially loved spending free hours exploring the Asgardian library together. Reading works from all Nine Realms. Sometimes until you both fell asleep by the fireplace. Not to mention his finesse in the bedroom.

Loki confessed of his wedding day nerves to you in private. He feared…displeasing you on your wedding night. But your mutual passion and reverence for each other won over all else. Every time you coupled, you brought each other to Valhalla and back again. You learned about each other’s bodies like studying maps. Each minute of lovemaking was both exploration and worship of each other.

Lately, the two of you were careful. You had your own special tea to drink before or after it happened. At most, he would spill his seed somewhere that wasn’t between your legs. You knew so much was happening. Becoming a parent would put more stress on both of you. Especially considering Odin was about to name his heir.

Though you both did hope someday to have a child. You knew Loki would be a wonderful father and you wanted to be a mother. You wanted a family. You wanted to have a sweet baby (or two) of your own to cuddle and kiss. To hear it laugh when you tickled it. To welcome their first steps with open arms. To watch it grow. To leave your own mark- a person who was both Loki and you.

Now wasn’t the right time, both of you knew it. When you would sigh about it, he would hug you.

“We will wait, my love…time is our friend…” he’d assure you.

There were worse things in life. And you might as well enjoy what you had now before it was too late. You were lucky to have him. Many couples lived happy, long lives together without children. You were fortunate to have a man who you could confide anything to. And he in turn confided all his worries to you.

The ceremony arrived. And it was not Loki who was named heir as he hoped. It was Thor.

As you stood next to Loki, you felt him stiffen. Thor smiled and held up Mjonir as the kingdom cheered for him. Looking at your husband, you took his hand. You heard him take in a deep sigh through his nose.

“I know you wanted it…I’m so sorry…” you whispered to him, rubbing a thumb over his palm.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One evening when you walked about the garden. The sun was setting and while there was some light, you wanted to admire the roses Frigga grew. Dressed in your golden dress, you knelt to sniff a few red ones. Admiring her work and the peace of the place. You jumped when a guard ran over to you.

“The Prince Loki requests your presence immediately in the castle vaults,” he reported.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried there.

“Loki, where are you? Are you hurt?” you asked as you entered.

He was standing on the steps before the Tesseract’s section. He looked up at the sound of your voice. There were tears in his eyes.

“I…I just spoke with father…” he said.

“What did he say this time?” you asked.

He took a step towards you. More tears fell down his cheeks.

“Y/N…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have married you, shouldn’t have made you my prisoner…” he said.

Pain curled up in your chest at the words. Their grip tightened your throat and your eyes watered as well as his.

“Prisoner!?! What are you talking about, Loki? You cannot believe every word Odin says! I will talk to him myself right away! How dare he say such cruel things to you! You do deserve me! You do!” you cried.

You reached over to grab his hands and he jerked them back.

“No Asgardian maiden deserves to be sold and made wife to a Frost Giant!” He blurted.

You paused.

“Frost Giant?” you repeated.

All your life you heard whispers of the land of the Frost Giants, or Jotenheim. And they were always violent tales of terror. The large, ice creatures were longtime enemies of your kingdom. It was typical for Thor to boast about how much he would slay if given the chance.

“Stay here…and watch…” Loki instructed.

He put his hand on the Tesseract. Upon contact, his skin turned blue and his eyes red. A frost giant if you ever saw one.

Your eyes widened and you gasped in response, a hand flew over your mouth. Shock made your body lock in place. But you did not turn your eyes from him.

“Oh, Loki!” you cried.

You did not flee. No, you would not. Instead, you ran up and embraced him. He felt cold to the touch. As his hands released the Tesseract you felt him warm up in your arms as his skin turned back to ivory. They curled around your back, and he buried himself in your touch. You felt him shaking. Despite your own surprise, you would not abandon him. Never.

“It’s alright…it’s alright, I’m right here…this is a lot, I know…” you consoled as he cried.

He explained to you that years ago, Odin found an abandoned Frost Giant baby in Jotenheim. He took in the infant to be raised as one of his own. But never telling that young prince the truth about his parentage. Not until an accidental discovery. In a recent battle a Frost Gant touched your husband’s arm, changing your prince’s skin to blue beneath his grip. And blue skin could not lie.

“Do you know what I am, Y/N? I am a monster! That’s who you are married to! A monster!” Loki mourned.

You glanced at the door, then back to him. An idea from a recent library read growing in your head.

“Are you familiar with Midgard Fairy Tales? The ones for children?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You don’t?” you asked.

“Midgard never interested me before…”

Taking him by the hand, you led him back to the library. You found a collection of Midgard Fairy Tales left on your favorite chair. You brought it to him and opened it up, flipping the pages. You then pointed to one story. The first page was illustrated with a ship on the ocean, then a rose, and a grand castle.

“You should read this one right here. It was written years ago by a lady. It is a Midgard Fairy Story called La Belle et La Bete or Beauty and The Beast…” you explained.

Loki took the book. He then flipped the page to see a picture of the eponymous beast.

“I know enough of fairy tales. They’re all the same. There’s some giant or creature who’s always the villain. Kidnapping unwilling maidens and hoarding gold. That is until a prince skewers them. Then there’s great celebration over the killing,” he dismissed.

You placed a hand on the page before he could close it.

“You’re right about one thing. There is a beast in this one…” you continued.

“Oh, and he’s there to do those things so babes will grow up learning to hate me,” Loki complained.

“No! Not in this one he’s not!” you objected.

You turned the page. It showed the Beast smiling with a lady in a rose garden.

“Yes, he is a beast. But do you know what he also is? He is the prince in the story! He might look frightening to some, but beneath it, he is kind and generous! He falls in love and marries a woman who sees that in the end! She doesn’t focus on what makes him monstrous and different- she accepts who he is!”

You set the book down and cupped his face.

“Because she loves him!”

His jaw dropped, speaking nothing. He leaned into your hand.

“A Frost Giant? Yes. I will learn to adjust to the blue skin…but you are my husband. I could not ask for a better one. And I love you. No matter what…” you said.

He embraced you again and you both cried. Tears of happiness and of sorrow. Blue skin or white. Yellow eyes or blue ones. He was Loki. He was your husband, and you would always stay with him. Besides, it’s what he would have done for you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you went to bed that night, you expected tomorrow to be a day like any other. But instead, you were shaken out of sleep.

“Loki, what is it? It’s too early…” you murmured, half-awake.

You felt your bedside but did not feel the lump of his body.

Wakefulness creeping on you, you saw the guards and a few servants in your bedchambers. You jumped to sit up. You held onto the blankets, your knuckles popping in your grip.

“Where is my husband? Is he alright? What’s going on?” you questioned.

Their eyes were all wide. One servant stepped forward and spoke with gravity.

“The prince Thor is banished. And Odin has fallen into his Odinsleep. Loki is now King of Asgard. And you are it’s Queen.”

It was only four sentences. But it felt like something from a dream. You jolted out of bed to stand. You barely opened your mouth to respond when the servant knelt before you. He took your hand and kissed it in reverence.

“Your highness! Queen of Asgard!” he announced.

All bowed before you in your room.

You expected many things when you married the god of mischief. Just not this! It felt like one of those Midgard Fairytales happening to you.

When you dressed and hurried to your husband in the throne room. You forgot your new role and froze your steps. He sat on a throne, legs deliciously apart. He took up space now. The throne was entirely his and he was going to use every inch of it. He was decked in the robe of a ruler, not a prince destined to wait in the wings all his life. He had power in him, and you had to confess the aura of it was…. doing something for you. Your legs were buckling beneath your dress. There was that infamous, mischievous smile on him. It made you shiver. Already morning and desire swirled inside you. When his head turned to see you, he lit up. He got up from his throne and walked down. Per habit, you curtsied low. Then, placing a finger beneath your chin, he led you to standing. Your sex beneath your legs clenched at the gesture.

He then grabbed you and lifted you up in a hug where your feet didn’t touch the ground.

“Y/N…darling!” he greeted.

He put you down and placed a kiss on your lips.

“But…are you ready to rule? It won’t be easy…” you worried.

“It will not. But at last, think of everything I could do…lead armies…unite kingdoms…”

Even Jotenheim and Asgard if he decreed it so, you noted. You then smiled at him. He was glowing from pride and joy. He took your hand and kissed it.

“If we’re together through this…we can handle it…” he said.

They placed you to stand by his side on the throne.

Frigga entered. She bowed to you. Your own knees bucked a little out of habit. Usually you were the one bowing to her! You walked down to her, taking her shoulders.

“Queen mother…I…I’m speechless! …I don’t know how I could ever be a queen as well as you!” you confessed to her.

She kissed your cheek and gave you a patient smile.

“Don’t worry, I will help you. Day by day, step by step, you will learn how.”

“Thank you…what do I do now?”

“You will be crowned this afternoon. The kingdom will be watching. Look at them, your people. And show them you care…” she advised.

The hour arrived for them all. Swarms of people broke in like a flood to the throne room. You felt every eye as a golden crown was placed on your head and as his familiar helmet was placed on Loki.

Remembering Frigga’s advice, you looked down on them. You allowed a smile to grow on you. You smiled as you heard your name being chanted along with your husband's name.

They cheered and bowed to you. Flags were waved and confetti fell like snow across the palace. Loki got took your hand and lifted it up before them. They began to cry out.

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When the sun began to set, a familiar servant ran up to you.

“The King sends his regrets that duties require his immediate attention. He asked for the cooks to go ahead and serve you dinner in his absence,” she announced.

“Thank you,” you replied. An attempt at a regal tone of voice new to you.

The servant bowed and left. She didn’t do that as reverently when you were a mere princess. You ate your dinner alone and then took a rosewater bath right after. You noticed several stray petals floating around in the tub.

Once you finished, you returned to your chambers. It seemed they would stay the same for now. The King’s room was for the Odinsleep. Drying yourself you picked a nightgown. Tonight, it was a white one with a silvery tone to it. It had long sleeves that draped down and had beautiful beading around the bodice. The neckline dipped down to the clasp that secured it. Some might consider it immodest, but it was too beautiful for your resistance. It gave you some very sensual cleavage that you loved (and so would your husband). The skirt then dipped down to the floor, making it feel like a robe, but the material was not so thick that it felt too hot.

If you dressed more like a queen, even at night, you would feel more apt to the role.

What a day it had been. Part of your body ached after such excitement. You sat by your vanity on a cushion. Flowers (including the roses you liked) from the gardens in vases bedecked it. By the candlelight you checked your hair. Sighing in, you relaxed on the seat, admiring the glimpse of the kingdom at night from your curtains. Enjoying a moment of peace.

You then heard his voice outside the door.

“I am now going to bed. Do not disturb us unless there is an emergency,” Loki ordered the servants and guards. Already he was speaking more like a king.

The doors creaked as he opened it and walked inside. Though he was in his own green bedrobes, there was a bounce and urgency to his step. Then he approached you as you sat on the cushion before the vanity. Though his blue eyes did wander hungrily to your low neckline. They then returned up to your face in the mirror’s reflection.

“How is my pretty queen tonight?” he asked.

“I’m good…” you answered.

“Are you tired?” he asked with a tone of concern.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers drumming in anticipation. Was there some old prank he was going to pull that he wanted you to see? What was he going to say?

“Only a little…I’m still taking it in…” you replied.

He embraced you from behind, nuzzling into your neck. You smiled at the contact of feeling his nose against your skin. He smiled as he looked at you in the mirror.

“You always were a queen to me, my dear….” He said.

He kissed your cheek and then lowered his lips to your neck. You smiled, enjoying the increasingly amorous gesture. You felt the tickle of his breath. His soft lips made another kiss in between your neck and clavicle. You melted into it.

“My, Freya has gotten someone enchanted…” you teased.

“It’s not Freya who enchants me…” he husked.

He then turned you around and led you to stand. And laid a desperate kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around him. He slid in his tongue. A hand of his crept to hold your back to him. You groaned into it. Already, arousal began its long, sinful climb with its wet signal between your legs. You released lips with a satisfying smack.

“If you continue this, I’ll ring for that tea…” you said.

“No…” he voiced.

“Hmm?”

He held your hands down.

“You won’t need that tea tonight. Or for a while…” he said.

You blinked.

“How come?”

He gave you a smile, looking in your eyes.

“I must tell you…the council has given me much advice. To secure myself as king, there are a few things I can do. Enact laws. Silence any rebellions or refusals. And, since I’m already married...”

He paused.

“Sire an heir.”

You felt your breath stop in your throat. Your eyes widened. His smile went down to a smirk. A glint in his eye as he went to you. His eyes roaming down your exposed chest. His hands wandered down, staring to hike a little of your skirt.

“So, you’re saying…” you stuttered.

“Y/N, I…I need you tonight…tonight…I’ll give you a child, an heir, someone to carry on my reign, and keep me as king…Would you like that?” he asked.

He leaned closer. Wanting to kiss you, then pausing. You could feel his breath just on your lips, making you dizzy. He placed his hips against yours. You felt a moan shudder out of you. Your answer was an easy one.

“Yes, yes I would.”

He swept you up in his arms, strong despite his lean frame. Your heart raced so hard you felt it would burst out of you. He laid you on the bed then crawled over you. You felt yourself trembling like it was the first time. He cupped your cheek and leaned over to kiss you.

“My queen, my darling…”

You wrapped your arms around him.

“And my Prince made King,” you said back.

Intuitively, he ground his hips on yours. A small shudder went through you, coming out as a sigh. You reached a hand to run it through his hair as he kissed you again. Combing through those dark curls you loved so much. Because they were a part of him. His crown that never left him. You gave him another, harder kiss. He then looked down at your robe. He slid a hand over the beading, over your chest.

“A lady beautiful as you could doesn’t need such …embellishments…” he growled.

He removed his hand to lift it in the air. He flicked it and a green light began at the tips of your toes and then worked its way up your legs and through your body. Your evening robes for sleeping vanished and instead was your skin. He wetted his lips at the sight of your nakedness.

“I’ve longed to see this, to touch you for hours…”

He went up to your bare breasts. You gulped as he began to kiss it. Your back arched on impulse, tensing already. As he worked his way to the center, you felt yourself tensing already. Smiling at the pleasure as he used his tongue, swirling your nipple. Chills ran over you. He released his mouth to whisper.

“I’ve missed your breasts. The shape. The softness. Feeling you…”

He replaced it with his large hand. He gently squeezed and groped both around. You exhaled out another sound coming out of you. Not a polite one.

“Perfection-perfect for my hands. And perfect to nurse my heir…”

He then lowered himself down, kissing your stomach. Tracing your hips. He then kissed your bellybutton, dipping his tongue into the hole of it. Only a symbol of what was next. A delicious forewarning. Preparation. You grew wetter with the feeling of something soft and wet inside a hole of yours.

“Loki…Loki, my dear…husband…” you whimpered.

He held your hips down, tracing it and feeling them again. How they curved up to where they made your waist. His fingers sprawled possessively over your flesh. Then back down to your hips. Looking down, there was a bulge getting bigger against his green robe.

“And these…perfect. Perfect for what I put between them. For my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and my child…”

He pulled his head up, then you put your finger to his lips. Giggling lightly, as did he.

“You talk so much. But you’ve yet to bare yourself too, my love,” you teased.

With a cocky half-smile, all he did was tilt his head. The seidr ran down from the forehead to the toes, and the smooth robe was replaced with his warm skin. He was so beautiful. Every time he took off his clothes, it was everything in you not to stare. He had a broad, ivory chest so large and enveloping. It was like a blanket when you rested your head on them or when he thrust on top of you. You put a hand to explore the crevices, going through the patch of hairs on him. His muscular shoulders, perfect for digging your nails in. His abdominals-both soft and strong. For he was both at the center of his heart as well. Thighs made thick from running, jumping, and everything a warrior did.

He ground against you. His cock, already hard, teased your stomach. He leaned up to kiss your neck in its small soft spot. A hand returning to your breast.

“You will look wonderful engorged with a babe…a child…a part of you that will always be there, a trace of us together.”

“Loki…my dear husband…I love you…” you voiced.

He smiled, inching close.

“And I love you when you’re screaming beneath me…”

With one long, beautiful hand, he took the outside of your legs. He traced his fingers down from thigh to knee. Ghosting against the upper flesh of your skin. As tenderly as if you were the brightest, most precious jewel kept in his treasury. In seas of coins, rubies, and diamonds…it was you, you out of everything else, that mattered to him.

He took his large, beautiful hands and then moved them to the inside of your knees. You bit back a moan, leaning your head into the pillow as you felt it.

Using both his hands, he then spread you apart, wide open. He looked down at you and grinned. He had seen, felt, penetrated, and tasted your pussy like an addict. Always hungry for more. Even if you were poison, he would consider it the sweetest way to die. He placed himself back up. The tip just teasing your entrance. Every nerve inside you screamed. It brushed against you, never plunging in.

“You’re a banquet all for me, my dear…now…are you ready?” he whispered.

“Oh, please…. stop tormenting me… I want a child…and I want you…give me…give me one, Loki…” you begged.

“Let me…let me feel your sweet warmth and take your king’s shaft…” Loki husked.

He plunged into you slowly. Part of you panted through your nose. You felt him climb inside, inch by agonizing inch. This was a ceremony, sacred as any other rite in a royal bedroom. As if everything had to be right. Yet there was beauty-there was divinity. An ecstasy of reaching something otherworldly in between each other’s legs. You let out a loud gasp when he placed all of you inside him. You grabbed onto him.

He then retracted his hips, and he began to thrust into you. Grinding you right into the bed. Writhing as you accepted his largeness like it was new. Each gasp from his breath, each pant from each thrust. You could feel one muscular arm of your husbands touched the headboard, keeping him steady against you. You felt your back and ass slide against the silk sheets. He was slow, but eager.

“Yes…I promised you… when we married…I’d give you-nrgh-I’d give-give you everything-fuck-everything you’d ever want-gods…yes, gods, yes!” he whimpered as he thrusted.

You let out a moan with each thrust, your own breasts bouncing slowly with the movement. He looked down, releasing the hand on the headboard to slap them.

You let out a gasp- “L-Loki-you-you-you beast!”

“I thought you figured that out already, darling…” he whispered with a chuckle.

You felt his other hand wander to touch your back. You writhed under him. He then slid his hand under his hips guide you up. His strength held you steady. He hit a different angle and you let out a cry-it was deeper, and his cock had found it’s way to your bud. Already sensitive and shaking.

“L-Loki! There! Please! There!” you begged as he kept thrusting.

“As my queen commands…”

You saw the veins in his neck tightening as he kept on. His black curls messed around him- wild and free. A creature claiming his prize for the night. How beautiful he looked. You returned a hand back up and pulled him down. You kissed him with such fervor as he thrust that he stayed for only a second inside you, pausing, catching a breath. What breath there was, anyway.

Then he picked up the pace slightly. You were starting to see stars. That sweet angle where he got your clit. You felt pleasure rise in you. Yes, it was arriving. You moved your hands down from his shoulders, down his triangular back. Once you found his soft, perfect ass you pushed him in again.

“Loki I’m…I’m…I’m close…oh norns- I’m…I’m going to cum!” you pleaded.

“So…am I-nrg-Call me king, call me king again and…and…I’ll-I’ll drive you there with me …”

He lowered his voice. Guttural and demanding.

“Call- me- your- king.”

He even got his free hand inside, speeding you up as he too sped up. You felt it-the breaking point.

“Yes-please-my- my king! My king!” you cried.

He let out a shout and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Your own climax then broke upon you. Thw words repeated out of you in a whisper.

“My king…my…my…”

It was the climax where it spun inside you. You felt your whole-body lock. Your quim felt as if it was spinning, sputtering with the pleasure. As well as his seed. You groaned as it washed you down and you felt it. Your eyes teared up. His stayed inside, spurting like mad. Free and plentiful after starvation. A broken dam. He stayed inside. Not wasting one drip of him. You accepted it, every bit of it. Not one drop would go to waste. You felt your body buzz. Vibrating on the inside though you were still. Still except for your own breasts heaving with the breath you caught. You felt him catch his breath on top of you too.

He then cupped your cheek. His curls fell before his face. But his smile and blue eyes glowing from them.

“I couldn’t have asked for better. A better broodmare. A better wife. A better queen by my side…” he said.

Playfully, you went up and kissed the tip of his nose. He grinned at it and then embraced you. Arms flinging around each other. His own sweaty, earthy scent mixed with the rosewater bath you had earlier.

His cock still twitched inside you. Then you felt a final hot release of him and there was no more. He pulled out. Once it left you, you felt a cold space in your quim. Like it was an empty niche, something that needed filling. So much was he a part of you. You reached up your hand to brush his curls back. Seeing his face. Seeing him.

He then went down to your stomach, kissing it.

“I think if it’s a boy…we should call him Tuck…and if it’s a girl...Idona…” you then told him.

He rolled over to lay his head on the pillow. Then he turned over. You hummed at the sight of him- oh Hela, his beautiful profile was art itself!

“And what if we have twins?” he asked.

“I’ll figure it out, later!” you replied with a small laugh.

You placed your head on his chest and looked up and he down.

“I hope you’ve forgiven me for missing dinner…we’ll eat together tomorrow night; I’ll make it up to you…” he said.

“Of course, I forgive you. You had duties of your own…” you whispered.

He then gave a smile with the familiar, delicious darkness in his eyes.

“It might take more than once. We will try for an heir no matter how many times it takes. I’d like to have you on that very table like a meal of my own to devour. And I’ll have you on the library walls. On each rug. On each column. So, rest well…you have several duties of your own tomorrow.”

#loki stories #smut fic recs #sas stories #talented mutuals

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huihuiheart · 4 years ago

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Royal Flush - Seventeen - Series Intro

Navigation

Seventeen Masterlist

Royal Flush Masterlist

Note: This will be an interactive story, so the speed at which pieces after the prologue come out will depend on responses to the cliffhanger at the end of each section. So remember to interact!

Pairing: Female Reader x Seventeen

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut(in nsfw version)

Summary: Your father’s deteriorating health has been a concern for sometime, but with the latest turn it forces action upon you. It’s up to you to prepare yourself and your kingdom for your father’s inevitable death. His wish for you to wed someone worthy of leading the kingdom along with you before he goes. He’s not leaving you entirely on your own in that regard though, he suggest you both request the presence of the princes of Taerean, sister kingdom of your own. Any of whom are not betrothed to come and see if there’s a suitor fit for you and your kingdom of Ecairia. Only perhaps too many of them are fit for that position.

Profiles of the Princes of Taerean below:

Seungcheol

Known As: Crown Prince Seungcheol

Age: 25

Most Known Personality Traits: Calm, leadership traits, he’s often the one taking charge. Yet, he’s open to suggestion and often thinks about what everyone said before acting. Known to be very trustworthy and loyal, considered to be just.

Normal Behavior: Found walking outdoors often or sparring as a way of clearing his head. He also looks into things so it’s not uncommon to stumble across him in the library looking over information or discussing with people.

Known For: Being one that people can bring their troubles to without worry. He will resolve any issues in a quick yet reasonable manner.

Jeonghan

Known As: Prince of Seduction

Age: 25

Most Known Personality Traits: FLIRT! He’s even subconsciously a flirt. He means well, even in breaking hearts not a soul can hate him. He’s a little devious, but with a kind soul and as he never means any harm no one can ever fault him.

Normal Behavior: Taking his time, not that he’s picky about things being perfect, though he is a tad of a perfectionist. He just doesn’t like to rush things, but instead take his time and appreciate them. Often appreciating the arts or sipping tea.

Known For: Being immaculately dressed at all times, flawless hair that he likes growing out. He’s often surrounded by others, especially those attracted to him both men and women alike.

Joshua

Known As: The Peacekeeper

Age: 25

Most Known Personality Traits: Quieter in the group, listening to be able to help resolve things. He’s calm, not quick to anger and not for violence. A negotiator by nature. He’s gentle as well, and always learning.

Normal Behavior: When not helping resolve situations he’s likely either in the library or learning things out in nature. He tends to some plants and has an interest in my academic ventures.

Known For: Having good balance, he can reasonably see both sides to everything. One minor example being how he knows to balance between learning through books and through life experience.

Junhui

Known As: Prince of the Night

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: Known to be both quiet and outgoing. He’ll be quiet when needed, but he loves going out and being boisterous and partying all through the night. People in the kingdom are used to seeing him for any and all night festivities, making him well liked by many.

Normal Behavior: A playful observer. He will pop up random places, but likes to determine a person’s nature before interacting. If he determines that he likes you, he’ll instantly start showing up and will be like your friend.

Known For: Dragging the other princes into situations that while not inheritably bad are trouble. Another who is a bit seductive, when he’s in the setting for it. Never seems to tire out when he’s dancing through the night with others.

Soonyoung

Known As: The Tiger Prince

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: He’s somewhat territorial, or at the very least very defensive. He can get worked up a tad easily, so sometimes the others have to calm him down. He’s quicker to act. His heart is always in the right place, he just often lets whatever emotions are at the forefront guide his actions.

Normal Behavior: Often sparring or with the soldiers, it’s as familiar to him as the other princes and home is. Standing up for whatever he believes to be right, and will do so loudly and unwavering.

Known For: He’s the one who will lead armies for his kingdom. The people view him as protection, safety from others and for justice. While he can be a bit hot tempered, the people never fear him.

Wonwoo

Known As: The Poet

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: Reserved around those he’s not more familiar with, and even still compared to many of the others he could be seen as reserved. He has more of a teaching personality, people often come to him for help and knowledge. He’s a gentle soul.

Normal Behavior: If not in the library where he spends most of his time, you might find him speaking with any musicians at the castle. Or joining one of the others for a calming activity. His retreat however is in the garden under his favorite oak tree with his journal.

Known For: Being a free spirit without ever having to leave. He lets himself have a sort of freedom despite never running away, and he helps others find it too. Not that he would stop anyone from exploring for freedom, but that’s not the kind of freedom he enjoys.

Jihoon

Known As: The Cold Prince

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: Intimidating and sometimes off putting at first. Doesn’t intentionally try to scare people (usually), in fact he doesn’t even realize it most of the time. Resting bitch face, but once you get to know him he’s not so scary. Though can be protective, so he’s not one to piss off.

Normal Behavior: Drinking a coffee while catching up on politics to help Seungcheol with running things. When he needs to relax he’ll often practice with his instruments or check in on the others as a break. Often checking in on or joining Soonyoung or Seungcheol, but occasionally the others as well.

Known For: Being Seungcheol’s right hand when it comes to kingdom rulings. Having a shielded soft spot, despite having a cold exterior. Being overlooked or underestimated by many of the people.

Seokmin

Known As: Prince of the Day

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: Almost always an infectious kind of bubbly. Will befriend anyone in an instant, but is a tad too trusting. He’s not clueless, but he is a bit naive. He looks for the good in everyone and refused to see anything negative which can lead to him getting hurt. He never lets that stop him though, he’s always a ray of sunshine wherever he is.

Normal Behavior: While Junhui is more interested in the nightlife of the kingdom, Seokmin is more interested in the daily happenings in the kingdom. It’s not uncommon for him to go out and see what’s happening in the kingdom on any given day and will sort his schedules around day festivals to ensure he can go have fun.

Known For: Being giving, both in positive energy and material things. While exploring town it’s not unlikely he’ll be seen giving food to the needy or helping out in other ways. Just wants to make everyone smile on any given day.

Mingyu

Known As: Prince Charming

Age: 24

Most Known Personality Traits: A good speaker and people person. He’s able to charm just about anyone even if it’s not in a romantic way. Besides Joshua he’s another one who will negotiate, but he’s also willing to fight. He’s often negotiating trade agreements or the like instead of potentially violent disputes however.

Normal Behavior: He likes going for rides or checking out the ports. He’s a free spirit, who enjoys learning from others what he hasn’t yet had an opportunity to experience himself. He travels, but never just up and leaves without advance warning, he will drop it if anything comes up however.

Known For: Securing even seemingly unlikely trade agreements, especially when the people are in need. He’s a people person, so when talking to everyone he treats them respectfully and encourages them to follow whatever path their heart tells them.

Minghao

Known As: The Troublemaker

Age: 23

Most Known Personality Traits: Mischievous and somewhat devious, but in a playful way and not in a harsh way. While he is one who loves mischief his intent is never to harm. He seems to almost become a different person is someone is harmed, his knee jerk reaction being to help. Though he can be quite fierce and will not hesitate to protect people.

Normal Behavior: Likes to pair up with Junhui, so he can carry out his antics under the cloak of night. Will play innocent, even if everyone knows it was him. Somehow very very rarely gets into trouble for whatever he stirs up.

Known For: Being well liked among the teenagers throughout the kingdom (they think he’s cool), and somewhat of a bad influence on them. It’s all in good fun though. He often cleans up his own messes, even if it was silently or anonymously.

Seungkwan

Known As: The Judge

Age: 23

Most Known Personality Traits: He can be blunt and almost intimidating in the sense that he doesn’t sugar coat things. While he doesn’t hold any punches (and is a bit picky) he’s fair though. Hence why he’s a good judge. He’s good at balancing the information/logic side of things and the emotional side of things to ensure that things work out the best way possible. Except in situations he’s personally involved in, then throw all logic out the window.

Normal Behavior: He’s known to seek out groups and attention, it helps him get information from everyone about everything. He might be slightly conceited as well, but he has some good intentions in surrounding himself with people seeking his approval.

Known For: Being in the center of gossip circles and cliques everywhere. Not snobby though, he uses it to his advantage instead. Blunt, loud, and to your face though. You know where you stand with him at all times, just like everyone else.

Hansol

Known As: The Interpreter

Age: 23

Most Known Personality Traits: He’s relatively calm and reasonable. He’s not picky about tasks that need to be done and is reliable, so if people ask something of him they can consider it as good as done. He’s reasonable with others as well, though he need to work on that some towards himself.

Normal Behavior: His favorite spot is on the roof or a balcony where he can appreciate the breeze, but otherwise you can find him anywhere doing just about anything. He has a knack for languages though and will often study up on them.

Known For: While his nickname refers to his being able to interpret between languages, he’s also known to be able to interpret emotions as well. When people are too emotional to express themselves properly he’ll step in and help. Or when delivering messages between two emotional parties he will present them in a reasonable manner.

Chan

Known As: The Young Prince/ The Baby Prince

Age: 22

Most Known Personality Traits: He’s honestly known to be quite a reasonable mix of the others, always being around them. Probably most like Hansol in that he’s a good balance and doesn’t mind doing just about anything that needs to be done. Usually though, he’s allowed to do as he pleases as the others usually have things under control.

Normal Behavior: Around Seungcheol and Soonyoung a lot to learn from them, or with Jihoon who will also teach him but is more protective in all honesty. It’s actually quite rare to see him alone instead of with one of the others.

Known For: Being a rather kind hearted and bright person, he’s the youngest so he’s one of the most carefree of the bunch. He’s known to have grown quite a bit though and become quite loved by the people, and quite popular among suitors.

Prologue Coming: Dec 31st

Until them let me know which prince appeals to you the most based solely on this.

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miekasa · 4 years ago

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mie!! since u write such beautiful gorgeous astounding breathtaking life-changing tearjerking fics, do YOU have any good fic recs that you personally love 🤔

I do! I have a whole blog of wonderful fics I’ve read (tho I desperately need to update it/reblog the ones in my drafts and tag them) @ackermeun for more if you want because there are many lovely, talented writers; but I’ll list a few of my faves for Levi and Eren below 😌😌

Levi

kiss me more by @vennilavee

Now, I could recommend you anything and everything by Saran and I have no doubt that you would love all of it. There’s not a single thing in her masterlist that I dislike, she even made me okay with the idea of pegging Levi bye. The entire tbah universe (specifically parental moments one) has a special place in my heart, but recently the perpendicular world has been on my mind, and might be coming for number one. Either way, you’re gonna love it. She writes Levi in his slightly bitchy, kinda needy, implicitly affectionate, true to nature form, and I am so grateful for it. Also, Saran is a comedian.

silver soul by @oi-levi (now posting from @bibblelevi)

I suck at keeping up with series, and, so, naturally, I’m terribly behind on this one, but I’m gonna go ahead and rec the whole thing to you anyway, because I have no doubt that the other chapters are just as great the two I’ve read so far. The way she writes Levi... when I tell you I could wrap myself up in a blanket and binge this whole series, and her entire masterlist, and be very content I mean it; her writing feels warm, that’s the only way I can explain it.

the art of tea composition by @karikarasuno

I don’t remember how or when I found this fic exactly, probably just scrolling through the tag, but I love it. Domestic fluff with Levi, allowing me to pretend I’m a morning person, and just the right kind of smut to go with it. Simple and very, very effective. I’ve reread it a few times by now, no shame.

where you’re meant to be by @deludedimagines

After you read this, I also suggest just going after the whole masterlist. I cannot express how grateful I am to have found this blog PLEASE. Her characterization of Levi is perfect, and something about her prose feels very clean and simple, but elevated and layered at the same time. This one-shot in particular is one of my favorite canonverse pieces, I’m a sucker for a classic injured lover trope.

the ones who matter most by @deludedimagines

Yeah... this shouldn’t be a surprise. Fantastic writing, fluff in canonverse has a special place in my heart because I think it can be really hard to pull off well; it’s difficult to balance a sense of softness within the aot universe for the obvious reasons, and getting Levi’s caring nature right can be (unfortunately) so hard to find. Good thing people like Sorcha are here. Enjoy more fluff. Also this fic is particularly fantastic to me not just because of the injured lover trope, but because the 104th babies pay a visit and you all know how much I love a good glimpse of reluctant adoptive dad Levi hehe

bullet by @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface

If you can’t tell by now, I love canonverse fluff, tho this fic isn’t fluff in the traditional sense, but I think that makes it all the much better. Perfect depiction of real life shit that would go down in the aot world paired with Levi’s need to protect his s/o. It’s fantastic.

the knife by @therealvalkyrie

I didn’t mean to turn this into Mie’s Favorite Canon Fics Showcase, but here we are anyway. As much as I love a good injured lover trope (and this does have that hehe), I love a good kickass reader insert, too. Shoutout to Valkyrie for included both in this fic, and Levi being proud of his s/o... well you can imagine how much I liked that bye

dante’s inferno by @alrightberries

College au + roommates au with Levi... that should be enough for you to read this lmfao, no but actually it’s adorable. Not to mention friends to lovers... if you know me you know how I feel about that, I’ll gobble up every f2l fic until I’m dead and gone. Not to mention there’s a cat and Levi won’t admit he likes it, or he’s jealous of it. Simply cannot go wrong here.

waves know shores by @onwiings

Bro I don’t even like the idea of public sex and I’m not even a fan of water like that but this fic has me wrapped around it’s pinky lmfaoooo. Some of the best Levi smut I’ve read and you already know how I feel when Levi and reader have cute interactions with the 104th in fics. Really it’s checking every item on my list.

Eren

speed racer by @emeren

I’m pretty sure I found this fic during my midterms last semester, and when I tell you I’m so grateful for it lmaooo. It’s really just a good au, I think it fits Eren (honestly barking at just the concept) and the writing brings it all to life.

under the moonlight by @murmikaa

I’d have to be dumb not to recommend this to you. I love reading longer fics, and if you do, then this will 100% satisfy you. The whole story is great and immersive, not just between Eren and the reader; their relationships with the other characters are really what makes this special imo. There’s also beach sex, so. Obviously it’s good.

untitled.avi by @puredivinity (now @celestidarling)

Naur you must of thought wrong if you thought at least one of Mara’s fics wouldn’t be here. I’m obsessed, I think I’ve read it three times minimum. I read all her Eren fics, and you should too. She writes him in such a dreamy way, almost like he’s right there and too good to be true that you must be hallucinating. Immaculate.

midnight snacks by @writertitan

Dumb, college-typical antics and fluff with Eren... obviously you know I’m about that. The whole concept is so mundane, but so cute, you can’t help but fall for it because it could be so real!! I love that kinda stuff hehe

i’m your satellite by @ackerfics

Comparing hand sizes with Eren!! YEAAAAH!! No, okay, but I read the summary and was ready to dive in because... size kink go crazy, but when I tell you I was so blown away to find out that it was not only from Eren’s pov, but that he was being a complete simp and down terrible the whole time. Normalize boyfriends being completely fucking in love with their gfs that simple shit like the size of their hand makes them wanna simp even harder!!!!

eren as an ass man by @hznji

I’m dying on the hill that Eren is an ass guy and you should too because it’s the objective truth. Fluff, Eren being a complete dog as per usual, Eren’s being touchy (I will also die on the hill that he’s touchy as fuck and has no concept of personal space) and just in genral snarky but cute banter. Gotta love that.

Jean

tears over beers by @appplepii

When I tell you this is my favorite Jean fic, I mean it. Friends to lovers with hopelessly pining Jean + oblivious reader = everything I could have asked for in a fic, AND it’s from Jean’s pov too!!! INCREDIBLE!!! The pining made me yearn, and the smut was so well done, too.

this drabble by @arlerted

Whatever, whatever, WHATEVER!!! I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT!!! Cal is right, don’t do drugs but... this mf... this imagine.... has been burned into my mind since the first time I fucking read it bye. Callie also writes a bunch of filthy (affectionate <3) fics and drabbles and lewds and you should read them, preferably when you’re alone and with the lights off.

#anonymous #um you probably didnt ask for 1k words worth of reviews but here u go anyway!!!#fic recs

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scorpiobitch95 · 4 years ago

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Summary: You try convince Walter to love your favorite snack throughout your years together. The best dates are shared over cereal, after all.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: sugary sweet fluff, implied smut — nothing graphic, snarkiness, grumpy Walter to fluffy Walter, cursing, cuteness overload.

Author's Note: I let myself get carried away with this one. I needed grumpy but sweet Walter in my life. I hope you enjoy!

Edited by myself, sorry not sorry for the errors.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsharman @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67

Taglist for this fic: @lumiousmoon

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

It started when you and Walter were early dating.

💋

“Mmmm, pause. I need a snack.” Uncurling yourself from Walter’s warm body on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen to find something to cure your hunger. You called behind you, “Want anything, Marsh?”

“Whatever you’re having... I’ll have the same.”

“Cereal it is!” You pulled the ceramic bowls from the cabinet and opened the fridge to grab the milk. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Walter’s face scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“Cereal? Absolutely not,” Walter scoffed. “Would you grab me those spicy crisps?”

“Spicy chips, coming right up.” Vernacular was the subject of an ongoing heated debate with the Brit: the great ‘Names for Snacks Debate’ was especially hostile.

Once settled back under the blanket and snuggled into his side once more, you unpaused the movie. The energy in the room shifted, you could sense that you were being watched, but you refused to look up to look at Walter’s face. The judgment coming from the bear of a man who crunched his chips beside you was glaring.

"Stop it," you told him as you kept your eyes on the movie.

Walter didn’t say a word. His eyes traveled back to the TV but kept finding their way back to you.

“Walt, what is it? Is there something on my face?” You giggled at him lightly, unsure of what was bothering him.

“You really chose that for a snack?” His face was bewildered as if you were eating a bowl of Jeep parts.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t eat cereal as a snack.” He shook his head curtly, wearing a look of disgust. Your eyebrows crinkled together as you followed by asking, “Not even as a quick dinner?”

“Cereal is meant for one time and one place, and that’s sometimes in the mornings for breakfast. That's why they call it breakfast cereal, love. Not dinner cereal, not snack cereal... Do you also eat cereal for lunch?” He was poking fun at you now.

“No, I’m not a heathen, Walter. Here, try a bite, just trust me. It’s amazing as a movie snack.”

His eyes were wide as a grimace was sent in your direction, “You’re crazy — no one does that.”

“Plenty of people do that,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m really not the biggest fan…” Walter sighed and settled further into the couch, preparing for your exasperation that he knew was soon to follow.

“WHAT. Not the biggest fan of cereal? I’m sorry, you were sheltered as a child, weren’t you? There's cereal out there for everyone, Walt. Come on, try it.” You scooped a spoonful of your sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch and held it to him. He reluctantly obliged your wishes, eating the bite but keeping a look of pain on his face for the entire time he chewed.

"See? Delicious. Ice-cold, crunchy, sweet, perfect." A sugary grin accompanied your playful tone, and Walter shook his head again, exaggerating his distaste for having to chew such an atrocity.

"Mhm. Definitely delicious." Your goofy bear was simmering under the surface of his scouring demeanor, though he stuck his tongue out in mock disgust.

"You're not the biggest fan," you muttered under your breath and rolled your eyes for dramatic effect. "I'll show you."

💋

Standing in the grocery store, you and Walter were having a battle of wits, arguing on the subject of your sweet tooth.

“I’m just trying to show concern for your dental health since you obviously won’t; all that sugar isn’t good for you.” Walter stood stern with his arms crossed, unmoving and solid like a brick wall.

“I appreciate your worry, Dad, but I’m going to keep eating it because I love it. One day, I bet I’ll convince you and you’ll be eating it with me. Plus, my dental health is immaculate, my dentist said so.”

The expression on Walter's face was unwavering as his eyebrows raised in a non-verbal challenge to your declaration.

“I don’t know how you can stand to eat that crap,” he muttered, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare, you grump! I don’t get on you about your snacks, back off mine. ” Despite his unnecessary grouchiness, you placed a hand on his crossed arms and raised up on your toes to give him a soft kiss on his bearded face. “Balance, babe. It’s all about balance.” You dug your way through his arms to find his hands and you drug him a little further down the cereal aisle.

“Come on, grumbly, pick out a cereal you think you might enjoy, for experiment’s sake.”

💋

“Fuck, babe. I’m going to be late, we just got called out on another accident. I am so sorry… I’m not sure when I’ll be home.” Walter had been working a ton lately, and his irritation with just how much he’d been working was starting to show. The two of you had been together for a few months now and had started to grow accustomed to having the other around consistently. You both became out of sorts when you hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Don’t even worry about it, Walter. Just be careful, please... You should still come over when you’re finished tonight, but no pressure if you’re exhausted.”

“Of course, still need to kiss you goodnight. I can’t sleep if I haven’t.”

Walter Marshall might be a grump, but that grump could make your heart flutter in ways that you’d never felt before. Maybe it was that his sweetness and his charms were completely reserved for you and you alone. His teddy bear nature only appeared when he was near you. After putting back the ingredients for dinner to save for another night, you went to change into your sweats.

Walter appeared at your front door at 12:30 that night, nearly asleep but still standing strong. You’d dozed off on the couch after his call, but were immediately energized again when you saw his beautiful form standing in your doorway.

“Hello, I’m here to have a very late night date with an incredibly beautiful woman,” Walter said, the gravel in his voice making you shiver. Despite his exhaustion, Walter managed to smile at you with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him manage.

You smirked, waving him inside. “Get in here, Bear.”

Walter reached his arms out to you, inviting you into his embrace. Your arms wrapped around his thick torso and you ran your hands up and down his sweater-clad back; he melted into you and burrowed his face into your neck. Walter released an exhaustive exhale. It was heavy and forceful, as though he’d been holding it back behind a stone barricade for the entirety of his day. Warmth flooded your body as his words vibrated from his chest, “Mmm... I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Let’s get you fed. Preferences?”

Still snuggled in your neck, he gave his reply, “Nothing heavy, please. I don’t want to fall asleep at the table. That wouldn’t make for a good date.”

“Oh Walter, we can postpone date night, you need to eat something and get to bed. It’s nearly one,” you observed gently as you leaned your head back to get a better look at his face.

“No. I came here to have a date night. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. I need you.” Walter’s warm lips caressed your forehead, placing soft kisses on you. “You think you’re still up for it?”

Nodding at him sweetly, you untangled from his embrace and went to tumble through the fridge, offering out suggestions for food, but he insisted, yet again, that you don’t go to any trouble.

“Okay… you’re going to hate it, but my last option is cereal. Other than that, it’s gonna be random leftovers.” You continued moving containers around in the fridge, taking stock of what you had left from the week before.

“Actually, I think I can handle some cereal.” You whipped your head around incredulously to look and heckle him, but he gruffly interrupted, pointing a finger at you from where he sat at your kitchen table. "Don't. Don't start. It's been a brutal day, and something cold doesn't sound half bad."

You smirked in silence as you turned back and poured your bowls, dancing your hips lightly side to side. Grabbing the candles you had left out for your dinner date, you lit them and placed them gently on the table between the two of you. It was date night, after all.

“Late night cereal date, it is.” Reaching down to caress his chin, you kissed one bearded cheek before sitting beside him. Walter’s lips held a slight curl, softly smiling at your glee.

💋

“Love, snack break?”

The two of you were engaged in an intense game of Scrabble, one of your favorite date-night-in traditions. Nodding your head in Walter’s direction, you continued to study your letters and the board with pure focus until you heard the twinkling sound of cereal hitting ceramic.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, you peeked up from your letter rack to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you. Walter was not just making a bowl for you, but he was also making one for himself.

No way.

Walter made his way back to the table with the cereal, and you looked up at him in shock as though you hadn’t already noticed what he’d done.

“What is this? What is this I see? Walter Marshall choosing breakfast cereal as a snack? Why, I just cannot believe it.” Mock-surprise overtook your form as you motioned fake mind-blowing explosions from your head. Walter rolled his eyes.

“I figured If I can learn to like you, I can learn to like cereal.”

“HEY.”

Walter shrugged, retaking his seat at the table.

You squinted your eyes at him as you declared, “You’re going down for that. And I don’t just mean by losing this game.” A wicked grin crossed your face when you played your double score word:

“CHEERIO”

💋

Walter worked a lot of graveyard shifts while you were dating and during your early years of marriage while you worked a normal 8-5. Sometimes the only moments that you could see each other were when he came home from his shift early in the mornings before you started your day or in the evenings when you got home before he left to start his.

One early morning during your engagement, Walt showed up unannounced after a hard few nights at the PD. He was worn down but happy to see you, smiling through his exhaustion. This was the longest you’d been apart in a while; you hadn't seen each other in 4 days. You kissed him, lips attacking his while his arms snaked around you and pulled you tightly to his body. He hadn’t even come into the house yet.

Pulling him inside, your hands reached up to hold his scruffy face as you placed a more gentle kiss on his lips. “Babe, have you had dinner? Let’s get you something to eat… what would you like?”

He unfastened his holster, dropping it on the table by the door. Sinking into a chair, Walter bent over to untie his boots as he answered, “Honestly, anything is fine, just some kind of food.”

“I can cook you something! Why don’t you let me —“

“Sweet, don’t go to any trouble. I just want to see you before you go to work.”

He looked at the table where you had just sat down to a bowl of cereal for a quick breakfast before he arrived and pointed lazily to it. “That, I’ll take some,” he said, sleep trying to overtake his form.

Slowly grinning at his statement, you mentioned, "Isn't this technically your dinner time?" Walter wasn’t amused as he tilted his head to look at you as you gasped playfully, “You do realize you're about to eat cereal for dinner, right, Marsh?" Too sleepy to give his verbal rebuttal, he glared at you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, which was your signal to accept your victory and move on.

Smiling softly back at him, you made your way to pour him a big bowl and made him a cup of piping hot tea to accompany it. Watching his face as he ate, you observed the little creases and purple-gray rings that had formed around his deep ocean-blue eyes. His beard was unkempt and had grown past its normal length just in the few days you’d been apart; you could see this was a new level of exhaustion.

“Tough night?” You asked him, moving your chair closer to him.

He nodded. “Very.” The nights were becoming more strenuous recently. Ever since he had switched to the detective unit, work had been holding him hostage and was taking a toll more than he’d like to admit.

His hand reached over to squeeze the free one lying on your lap. “I’m happy to see you, love.” The hard lines on his face softened as he traced lazy circles on the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. You could see in his eyes that he meant it, that you were his safe space. Walter always was in protection mode, always on alert, even though you tried to keep him at ease when he was with you. He was only really ever at ease once he was home and you were safe in his arms.

The food began to rouse him from sleepiness, and as he gained alertness, Walter’s brow furrowed as he took notice of the cereal box sitting on the dining table. “This is the one we’re eating? I expected you to be eating more of one of those tooth-rotting cereals that you love so much.” He looked over at the box of Honey Bunches of Oats with curiosity and then back at you, lifting what you called his ‘detective eyebrow.’

“This is… surprisingly somewhat better for you? Or at least it acts like it is.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I only let you believe that I am. It is my breakfast time after all,” you winked at him knowingly.

“Good to know my words are finally starting to sink in. I mean, it’s not that much better for you,” he was reading the box now, “but at least it isn’t borderline fluorescent, like those artificial fruity ones you’re always eating.”

“You know, it’s almost like I expect the hate and just enact my deflection shield every time you walk in the door.” You started giggling, unable to keep a straight face as you threw your arms in front of your face as a shield to his words. “Don’t worry, Walt, my guilty pleasure cereal collection is well-stocked. And quit hating on my Fruity Pebbles.”

💋

Slowly over time, these seemingly random cereal dates became a large foundation for quality time. These dates became like snapshots, each one memorable in its own way.

When you two hadn’t seen each other in days, you caught up over a cold bowl of sugary sweetness. You, telling all the details of your days; him, quietly listening and trying his best to leave his nights behind.

From then on, all it took was knowing you could have a cereal date mixed in the chaos of everyday life. Anytime things got hard or heavy, it was time to have a cereal date. Anytime you had a fight: you both would pause and make a bowl of cereal, sitting across the table from each other so that you could speak your feelings. There weren’t many of the world’s problems, or your own, that couldn’t be solved over sugary cereal and cold milk.

💋

You’d dragged Walter to your shared bed as soon as he’d arrived home, having not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the past month. This current case of his was intense and ongoing, but he was finally finished. You knew he was defeated in energy, but you were ovulating and your hormones were raging. Your body craved his touch and the feel of his skin gliding upon your own.

The plan was to go to dinner for a romantic evening since it had been a long while since that had been possible, but as soon as he walked through the door, your feral sexuality washed over you and you jumped into his arms. You clung to him with your face in his neck, taking in his scent and the warmth of his strong arms holding you up. He clung to you just as tightly. There was no complaint from the bear, for he was more than happy to spend the evening spoiling his lover.

Cuddling in the afterglow of your countless orgasms, a storm raged outside as tree limbs slapped at your windows incessantly.

“Wow, it sounds awful out there. I know we were going out, but I think that point is moot now.” You glanced up at Walter, kissing his jaw. “Let’s just cook something easy instead.”

“That sounds great, and we can stay naked.” Walt’s eyebrows danced flirtatiously as he grinned down at you, his hands caressing your warm skin. “I’ll go hunt around so I can keep my woman energized for the night ahead. We are nowhere near done.”

He’d only been gone a minute when a crack of thunder shook the house and the lights went dark. You heard his mumbling coming from the kitchen; he had called in to get a status update from the energy company.

Walking back into the bedroom, Walter, in his naked glory, walked over to where you laid, illuminated only by the candle he held in his hand. Wow, your husband was delicious.

"Power’s out for the whole city. It’ll take hours since this storm doesn’t have an end in sight. Looks like a hot dinner is off the table… and no one will deliver in this weather. I guess we know what’s for dinner." Setting the candle on the nightstand, he crawled back into bed.

Feeling seductive, despite being completely spent from your ravenous love-making mere minutes beforehand, you still hadn’t had your fill of your husband. You bit your lip as you ran your eyes up and down his exquisite body and cheekily replied, “Me, I hope.”

He chuckled lowly, the fangs in his pearly-white smile glinting at you in the candlelight. “You? Yes. I plan to feast on you all night long, kitten. But you’re going to need some sustenance first.” He was hovering over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached to run your fingers along his hairy chest and wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him closer to you.

"Make it a cereal date?" You grinned at him.

“You read my mind.”

💋

“Our child is going to come out looking like the Lucky Charms Leprechaun if you don’t change it up some, love.”

Your cravings were intense. You’d heard several different views from your girlfriends and sisters: some craved random things they never even liked before, and some craved more of the things that they already loved and ate religiously before pregnancy. You fell into the latter. Cereal was your most sought-after snack: a big surprise to no one.

There weren’t many cliche late-night ice cream runs, but there were plenty of cereal and milk runs. Walter was a dutiful dad already, not lecturing you too often on what you wanted; he knew you were doing what you had to for the baby, and you ate healthily enough… aside from the copious amounts of junk cereal.

True to numerous other times in your life, date nights were hard to come by, even still. Sometimes the only dates you and Walter would get were in the wee hours of the morning when you’d wake up with a craving.

Walter was extremely doting, and even though he’d always been a caretaker, he really came into his own when you both learned you were to become parents. He’d crawl from the bed without a word, rummaging in the kitchen to bring you a bowl of your favorite and even bringing a small one for himself. You two would snuggle in the bed and talk. Talk about your baby, about future babies, about the future, about your dreams, all of it. You never knew when you met the grumpy bear that he would become this sweet of a man, always tender with you even when he was rough. Maybe it was the cereal sugar that had sweetened him up, at least you’d like to think so.

💋

Your daughter had been in the world for a little over three weeks, and neither you nor Walter had gotten much sleep since her arrival.

Walter finally got her down to sleep while you watched from the nursery doorway. You hadn’t had a meal together or slept at the same time for more than 10 minutes in weeks.

He was standing over her crib, resting his arms on the side as he watched her sleep. He was infatuated with this tiny human who had completely taken hold of his heart.

“Honey, join me for a date?” Your smile was tired, and as your bear’s exhausted eyes met yours, you wondered if you two shouldn’t just go to bed, but you missed him. You’d barely gotten the chance to praise him for how good of a daddy he was to your little girl.

“Mhm, gladly. Our usual?” He quietly followed you to the living room, where the coffee table had already been set up with the works. Craving the feel of his touch on your skin, you both sat on the couch and you laid your legs across his lap while you enjoyed the serenity of each other’s company.

💋

A chill glided across your skin as you awoke from a dream. You rolled over, reaching your arms out to find your sturdy man, searching for his warmth. Instead, you found cold bedsheets.

Unlike Walter to not be in bed with a furry arm draped over you, you pulled on your robe and went to find him, a slight worry filling your mind.

Surely he would have woken me if he’d had to go in?

As you stepped into the hallway, you heard hushed giggles and whispers coming from the kitchen. You stopped to poke your head into your kids’ rooms. Their beds were empty.

At least it’s Saturday.

Quietly pitter-pattering to your kitchen, you peered your head around the corner to find one of the sweetest sights your eyes had ever seen: your two babes, 8 and 5, were playing a princess board game at the table with your Bear. Cereal by their side, giggles ensued as the sugar hit their systems and they tried their best to keep quiet.

Walter’s deep whisper quietly filled the space. “Shh, girls. We can’t wake Mum, she needs her rest.”

“Can I have more Cap’n Crunch, Daddy?” Your youngest had an insatiable sweet tooth, just like her mama. She was quietly bouncing in her chair and smiling a toothy grin at her daddy.

“You’re just like your mum,” Walter beamed at her, obliging her wishes. “Just a little more, love, then we need to brush our teeth and get back to sleep.”

Not wanting the girls to know that you knew about their secret, you decided to make your way back to bed, but not before catching your husband’s eye as he winked at you and a grin radiated from his face.

Warm tingles filled your body as you silently thanked the universe for Walter and the life that the two of you had built together. Walter was the best dad and husband in the world. How had you gotten so lucky?

💋

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Golden Grahams, love?” Walter called to you from the kitchen.

The movie was selected, the kids were away for the evening sleeping at friend’s houses, and you and Walter were having a much-deserved night in.

You called back to him, “I’m thinking I’m going to skip the cereal? I’m not really feeling it tonight. I will, however, eat the spicy chips. Oh, and grab that dip out of the fridge, will ya?”

“For the last time, they are crisps.” Annoyance was evident by his tone.

“They’re chips, Walter. You’ve lived in the states for how long now? Just give it up already.”

“No fucking way. Wait… You don’t want cereal? Are you feeling alright?” Walter’s head popped into the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, his face stern with confusion and concern.

“Ehh, not right now. Yes, I’m fine, Marsh,” you giggled. “Just feeling like something different for once.”

“Well, that’s shocking. I’m just wondering if you’re really my wife.” Giggles continued to flow out of you as he wandered back to where you were seated. He handed you your snack, and plopped on the couch next to you, cuddling into you as you tossed a blanket over both of your bodies. Walter started the movie and began to chow down on the bowl of cereal he’d made for himself. You couldn’t control the smirk that spread across your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of the golden and cinnamon squares. His eyes met yours, questioning you.

“I would just like to point out that I knew I could convince you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what you meant. “Convince me of what?”

“That cereal is the best movie snack.”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s the best…”

“Walt, I’m sitting here with your previous favorite movie snack in my hands, and you totally skipped over it and went for cereal. I’m just saying, I told you so. It’s okay, I’ve known I was right all along, you don’t have to admit it.”

“Hmm.” He growled, mouth full again as he ignored your statement.

“Give me a bite!” You pressed closer to him, reaching for his spoon as he angled his body and cereal away from you.

“Oh no, nice try. You tease, you don’t get any.”

“Fine, grumpy, I’ll go make my own. Keep watching, I’ll be back.”

Shuffling to the kitchen, you proceeded to grab a bowl and make your own, but you found both cereal boxes empty on the counter. Quickly turning to check your special cereal cabinet for a backup box, you discovered you were completely out.

“WALTER! Are you fucking kidding me? We just bought those!” Standing with your arms crossed in the doorway, you glared at Walt as he stared back at you unfazed.

“I hate to break up your gloating, but you created this monster, love. And don’t forget about our two other little monsters who take after you.” His grin was cocky; he knew he’d bested you. Laser beams could have been shooting from your eyes for all you knew. You shook your head in disbelief at the audacity of your husband.

That bastard. That beautiful bastard.

Walter smiled softly at you and motioned for you to rejoin him on the couch. Much to your dismay, your anger at him diffused immediately. “Love, I’ll go buy more first thing in the morning. Here, come and share mine. I’ll be nice… it is date night, after all.”

* I do not own Walter Marshall, Nomis, Night Hunter, or anything related to it.

#Walter marshall #Walter marshall x you #nomis #night hunter #Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #cereal dates #scorpiobitch95 #jill writes #fluff #Walter fluff

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voyagerreviews · 2 years ago

Text

Absolutely immaculate, and it's exactly what I asked for. But perhaps I should ask myself someone as skilled as you to be my heart's executioner. Because you wield the written word like a weapon with how your angst tore into my heart. I thought I'd be good. I thought I was prepared for what I asked for. Clearly, I was fucking wrong. The moment things started out positive, I knew I was screwed. Angst usually doesn't hurt me like this did. But knowing a trainwreck was going to happen made me want to hold on to the nice moments.

I had high standards for you Iz but you treated it like it was a hurdle in hell. Passing over my expectations easily, carelessly and honestly I'm fucking here for it. It's such premium content that I have to write this part of the review before reading the rest of it. Like Man I need a moment to take a deep breath and calm the nerves. Props to you Iz I've never had to do that before.

That being said, I thoroughly recommend commissioning Iz. Just don't be an idiot like me. Make sure that what you're asking for is really what you want. Set an extremely unreasonable, multiply it by 100 and maybe then you'll hopefully get something you can compare with what you get. Spoiler alert to those at home reading this it's like comparing your thumb to a mountain in the distance. All well and good until it's right in front of you. Then you realise you have to apologise to your unreal expectations because it didn't stand a chance. It had better odds of winning the Lotto without buying a ticket. Because when Iz delivers, he fucking delivers. Honestly, it makes me think he works as a postman with how consistent he is.

And homie has the nerve to hit me with 'SoRrY tHaT iT tOoK qUiTe A wHiLe'. I've written 1.5k between One Hop Ahead Of You and Drunken. Bro's averaging 1.7k A DAY. That's more than 100 words an hour if accounts for only sleep. Like, I'm sure Iz has other shit he actually does during his day. Like a gotta know your secret Iz. How are you such a badass? and you're really sweet and kind too. I can only manage one of those, and unfortunately, for my productivity, it's the latter. Got me out here thinking there's like a Saitama Workout Plan but for writing. God damn, man.

Finally managed to make it to that sweet catharsis after all the fluff build up till the angst downfall. The part that makes all the angst worth it. The moment all the pain and anguish just fades into the background. Where you really realize someone's safety is more important than the way you're feeling. The idea that the feeling of pain and hurt could be replaced with guilt and grief if something happened to them. It's a delicate balance to write, and you stick the landing. You don't keep hitting the same point. You keep it moving. It flows seamlessly into the much-needed confrontation. The climax of catharsis and resolution of feelings. I really wish I could offer something substance. A critique, some way to improve. But nothing comes to mind. I do think you'll be hard-struck to find harsh critics of Drunken. After all, I should be the most stringent, the most ruthless when it comes to it. After all, I paid you for it, and it was worth every penny. I think the only issues people would have with Drunken is the content involved and to those that have an issue. Iz does provide warnings, something not all writers do. Besides any problems with the content provided should be aimed at me because I'm the one that asked for it.

You really got me out here just enjoying the ins and outs of your writing. The personal attachment as well as just resonating with the feelings involved. Like I haven't hit the smut yet, but that's because I keep getting lost in the feels. It's somehow brainwashing me into the idea that there isn't smut and somehow I would be okay with that? Like I know what I asked for. But in a weird way, I think Drunken can stand up on its own without the smut. Do I want the smut? Abso-fucking-lutely. But I wasn't expecting such emotional depth. And you're dialogue is fucking killer and your description of little details helps emphasise the feeling and atmosphere. The sad thing is I know there was a lazy and horny way to do this. But you put a lot into this. Like I came for the smut and I'm just here chilling enjoying the plot. Do you know how weird that is to think about? I read smut 'plot' not plot. Like I've spent 800 words just talking about how the plot makes me feel and probably not going to edit it because I think it better portrays how I legitimately feel about your writing.

Okay finally finished reading all of it. Looking at Drunken in it's entirety and I'll just restate what I said earlier. You always fucking deliver no doubts about it. As far any qualms, complaints or critique? None worth mentioning considering I paid for 8-10k words and delivered nearly double. So anything I say really doesn't matter. I think I noticed one spelling mistake? and It's more just the absence of 'I' in I'm. But again one spelling mistake in 19K words is something I wish I could aim for.

Don't ask me about grammar. English is my first and only language and I still can't comprehend the amount of bullshit rules there are. Especially the difference between Blond and Blonde. So my only concern is if I can read it which you obviously pass with flying colors.

As for critique? The only thing I can offer is an alternative idea. Because honestly I'm just trying to look for things to mark you down so I don't come across as the biggest iznsfw to ever exist. I've got to have some form of dignity. But I understand the back to back rounds and it helps really helps the idea and passion behind everything. However I think it would of been interesting to see little moments between rounds. Little moments of 'after care' a drink of water and/or a shift to a shower to continue. That being said thinking about it logistically within the confines of the setting (Which I absolutely adore) I don't think it's particularly doable. If I had to pick between keeping all that glorious angst and fluff build up or slightly differently paced smut I think I'm going to with the former. But hey that's why you're the amazing you and I'm the writer with 0 smuts to my name.

Complaints? None. Well, aside from a longer denouement. But I'm really scrapping the bottom of the barrel when the complaint is 'more' but more articulated. Especially when you've already over-delivered. But god damn it Iz, I'm going to have to come to terms with the idea that anytime you have a free commission slot, I'll want to commission. Do I need to get an accountant? Anyway, love you and your work, man! I was going to do a review of Nightbloom but feeling the surprise and joy of Drunken being posted, I knew it had to be the first review.

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans.

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips lrelease a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it.

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?”

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of.

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!”

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation?

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot.

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you.

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing.

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far.

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love.

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down.

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you.

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything.

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?”

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju.

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her.

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it.

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan.

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that.

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl."

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child.

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you.

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go.

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means.

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!"

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love.

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend.

So you do love her, in a way. Huh.

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list.

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert.

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else.

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex.

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju.

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier.

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways.

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends.

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter?

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though.

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?”

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers.

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?”

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did.

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate.

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots.

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already.

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips.

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you.

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class.

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju.

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol.

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face.

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love.

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her.

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol.

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers.

"Too much is just enough for me."

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already.

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring?

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be.

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts.

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know.

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.”

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either.

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more.

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from.

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?”

“I’m lost.”

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first.

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow.

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises.

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too.

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster.

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her.

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too.

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold.

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it.

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words.

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What?

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago.

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it.

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story.

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?”

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle.

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action.

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction.

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!”

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength.

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly.

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!”

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin.

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?”

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet.

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man.

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum.

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat.

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two.

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you.

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her.

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch.

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out.

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!”

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds.

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit.

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her.

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.”

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?”

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you.

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm.

"Giving me a show, huh?"

"Unless daddy wants it already."

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight.

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap.

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops.

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either.

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you?

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!”

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!”

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight.

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

#iznsfw #so turns out I spent 1.2k words simping Iz #That's nearly more words than I've written in the last two weeks #VoyagerRecommends #VoyagerReviews #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #son hyeju smut #son hyejoo smut #hyeju smut #hyejoo smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #loona smut #male reader

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 4 years ago

Text

The Money Pit (Goldmine);; WYK

Word Count;; 5.8k

Genre;; Smut && Fluff

Pairing;; Construction Foreman!Lucas x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

There's no amount too large in your pursuit of the perfect home. With a construction crew on deck, you've started renovating your vast estate… and then re-renovating, since finding the perfect balance of grand yet simple is not as easy as one might think.

Thankfully the foreman of the crew is quite patient with an immaculate eye for design. With Lucas on the job, you know he won't stop until you're completely satisfied.

Warnings;;

18+ Smut. Oral Sex (fem. receiving). Shower Sex.

Reader is mentioned to be quite a bit shorter than Lucas.

Notes;;

Happy late birthday Lucas aahjdjfkgl I’m fashionably late as always

Main Masterlist || NCT Masterlist

How often you changed your mind must have annoyed Lucas, or at the very least inconvenienced him, but he never mentioned it. Each time you handed him a new design, he would just smile and tap away at his iPad, updating the schematics and forwarding it to his crew. They seemed more weary of your sudden and frequent changes than he did; you could see it painted on their faces as they loitered near your fence, groaning and shaking their heads while scanning the new plans.

After a game of rock, paper, scissors, two of the men were tasked with returning the counters and purchasing a glass set to match the current theme you desired. Reloading the granite counters they had just delivered back onto one of their trucks, there was no mistaking the irritation building amongst them.

Lucas, however, never said a word against it. If the changes were too drastic, he'd send his crew home and spend the day reconfiguring. Otherwise he would just compliment your stylistic choices and lead the others with a positive example, jumping straight back into the task at hand with nary a complaint.

Considering how much money you had and would continue to spend on the renovations, you imagined he didn't actually care. Work is work, after all, and he was being paid by the hour, not by the job.

With that in mind, you had no regrets. It was your home and it had to be perfect. You weren't one to settle in life and this monumental endeavour was no different.

Though you were stern and expected the highest quality of work from each and every one of his crew members, you weren't heartless. You never forgot to set out treats and refreshments for them throughout the day and always provided lunch every day. It was the least you could do to repay their hard work, aside from their paycheck of course.

Frozen lemonade cups and a pitcher of iced tea decorated the plastic table on the front lawn. Some of the crew members had taken notice and were crossing the yard to grab their share. You hoped the treats would cool the tension brewing amongst them. Morale could only take so many hits before they were both disheartened and bored with this entire project. What was meant to be a quick month, two-month-tops renovation had carried on through yet another season.

While the weather was still nice now, in a few weeks the sun would become unbearable. For this reason, the outdoor projects were of the highest priority. Most of the crew focused on the pond and gazebo with a few working on the patio. After scrapping plans time and time again, you had found peace in the current equilibrium between natural and man-made.

The pond would be the centerpiece rather than the gazebo and they would add a plethora of trees, rocks, and plants to give the yard the feeling of true wilderness - as if it had been reclaimed by nature. Your shed would be relocated to the edge of the property, out of view from the patio and second-floor deck. To top it off, the deck would jut out further than the patio to give it a sense of isolation as you gazed down at the pond.

As much as you wanted to take credit for rebuilding the house in your ideal image, it would be a lie. It was Lucas' idea to have the focal point be a pond large enough to attract wildlife and to transition the back patio into a miniature greenhouse while using the deck above it as a place to relax. If he hadn't voiced these minor suggestions, you would have scrapped the design ten times over by now.

When it came to harmonising the decorations with the foundation and structure of your home, Lucas was on another level. He had an eye for it. Though that really shouldn't have come as a surprise given his occupation.

"So Lucas," you spoke, cutting through the humid morning air as you approached the group gathering around your snack stall. "How many homes do you typically work on in a given year?"

"Anywhere between four to ten, though this year may bring down the average. We're looking at a whopping grand total of one."

"If that, boss!"

Rolling your eyes at his smug smirk and the snickers from his crew, you turned on your heels and walked back inside. They could handle the outside well enough on their own. At this point in the venture you would just get in their way so you decided to focus your attention on the indoor renovations.

The living room looked drab, the kitchen was too small, and one of the bathrooms needed a complete overhaul due to the changes the last owners implemented. Your bedroom was dated as well, with a design that felt more like a farmhouse than a country house.

As you glided through the house, you heard Lucas following hot on your tail. His footfall had become familiar after so many days spent with him trailing behind you whilst listening to your updated plans for the renovations. It also came as no surprise that he was right on your heels - he knew the entirety of the last set of plans would be trashed in favour of whatever you had cooking in your mind right now and the best way for him to understand your thought process would be to walk through it with you here and now.

"So what are we thinking?"

His voice bounced off the hall's walls, rumbling through you and thudding against the cage containing your pounding heart. The pure vibration of his deep voice had you jumping in shock. While you had grown accustomed to it, it still caught you off guard whenever he was closer than you had expected. The hairs on your neck stood straight. With every word spoken, you could feel warm air brushing past your ear.

Turning toward him, you came face to face with his chest. Lucas was a tall man and most encounters required a tilt of the head. He also had a lot of presence to accompany his strong frame. When he talked, you felt compelled to listen. When he walked, your eyes were drawn to him. It was impossible to ignore him, no matter how hard you tried.

"Modern, simple, sleek."

"Wasn't that the plan already?"

"Yes, but this time I want it in black and silver, and I think we should switch some of the first floor rooms with the second."

"But we wanted the first floor to be guest friendly, leaving them no reason to go up to the second floor… right?"

"Well, yes, but I still think-"

"So the layout is settled. I agree that black and silver would look really nice. It won't be hard to switch the colour scheme. Anything else?"

"Well, what about a spa?"

"Like the one planned for your second bathroom?"

"No, a jacuzzi."

"Then we can put it on the deck."

"Then how about-"

He cuts you off with a deep chuckle. "I get it. Finally, I get it."

"I haven't finished so I'm not sure what you're getting."

The smirk that crawled across his face made you stop in your tracks. There was something devious in the way he regarded you. With each step he took to close the distance, you felt your heartbeat thud deep and fast. With the loudest beat, he caged you against the wall. Though it wasn't your intention, you bit the inside of your lip as you gazed up at him.

"If you wanted me around so badly, princess, you didn't need to spend so much."

"Excuse me?"

"Sure, I'll go on a date with you."

You sputter, the sound between an offended scoff and a defensive yelp. "I didn't ask you to!"

"Oh? Then why must you change all the designs at the very last minute? I figured you just wanted me around."

"That, good sir, is not the case at all."

"If you say so."

You wanted to wipe that grin right off his face… but you also rather liked it. His smile was beyond gorgeous. While his features were angular and masculine, his skin glowed with a soft and tender gleam. Even his eyes were dough-like as they regarded you, bright with mirth and teasing. The longer you stared at one another, the wider his grin grew and the further you fell under his spell. Once again caught within his pull, you gravitated toward him.

Heat rolled off his smooth skin in waves. Warmth welcomed you into his space, thawing the frigid atmosphere that hovered wherever you went. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and you felt fire ignite within your gut. He pulled you against his chest and the blaze within roared. There was so little space between you both that you could feel him breathe in and out, your body falling into sync with his. You could taste him on the air when you inhaled - a tinge of a mint and grapefruit, both bitter and sweet.

Emboldened, your lips found his. They were plump and plush. He groaned when you bit his bottom lip and tugged him along like a toy, backing up until you met the wall with him in tow. Entwining your fingers in his soft, brown hair, you pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Following your lead, he slid one hand around your waist to rest on the small of your back while the other gripped the nape of your neck. He didn't miss the way you tensed beneath him. A chuckle rumbled in his chest and the vibration travelled through you in the form of a shiver and you moaned.

"Hey boss, got a min- nevermind, we can figure it out."

The crew member's sudden entrance (and subsequent departure) snapped you out of your reverie. Using Lucas' firm chest to steady yourself, you pushed yourself out of his bubble with an indignant huff. Straightening your posture and fixing your clothes, you slipped out and away from his looming presence.

He made you feel small. Not in the way that most men try to, but in a cute way. He didn't make you feel vulnerable but rather precious, as if you were something to be treasured and adored. When he looked at you, he didn't look down on you. Instead he gazed upon you as one would an oasis in an endless desert - like a divine blessing.

"Anyway," you said, coughing to clear your mind of how toned he felt pressed against you and how warm his mouth felt on yours. "There's work to be done in the bathroom. Follow me."

"Perhaps a drain that needs to be snaked?"

Ignoring the insinuation he was playing into, you led him up the stairs to the master bedroom's personal bathroom. Walking further into the room, you stopped in front of the shower and faced him with an exasperated look. He watched you, all hints of his prior teasing hidden as he transitioned into work mode and waited for you to address your latest concern.

When he didn't pick up on the issue on his own, you rolled your eyes. Whipping your hand toward the shower, you pointed at the handles that lined the tiled walls.

"These have to go."

"Are you sure? They could come in handy."

"For what, pray tell?"

"Strenuous activities."

"This is a bathroom, not a waterpark."

"I could turn it into one."

"You're ridiculous," you sighed, ignoring his goofy grin. "The previous owners were elderly and needed them. I, however, do not need them and want them gone."

"Well, your wish is my command. I, however, think they could be fun." Catching your disinterested frown in his peripheral, he brushed past you and looked inside the shower. He grabbed one of the handles and gave it a harsh yank. Seeming to pass his little test, he nodded and hopped inside.

You scoffed. "Going to demonstrate, are you?"

"Come on. This kind of fun is better with two."

He winked, beckoning you forward with a flick of his finger. Curiosity got the better of you and you joined him. It wasn't a small shower and yet it felt cramped. Lucas' body, his presence, filled the entire space, only retreating enough to let you in before encapsulating you in his warmth. Your breathing stuttered as you glanced up at him. His flirting had evolved beyond light teasing and now lust painted his features in a dark yet radiant glow.

His arm slithered around your back and you gasped at how hot his skin felt even through your shirt. He made an offhand comment about removing your clothes but you didn't quite register his words, too busy staring into his large, playful eyes. Your lips were already parted from your prior gasp, allowing the subsequent squeal to pass unhindered as you jumped, cold water cascading down your body.

Lucas laughed. "Oops."

The water coming out cold for several seconds when it's first turned wasn't usually a big deal. It was, however, shocking when you hadn't expected it to turn on in the first place. Not to mention you weren't typically inside the shower before the water had a chance to heat up.

Even as the temperature started to rise, you couldn't shake the chill that trickled down your bones and lingered in your joints as Lucas ran his fingers along your skin. Out of nowhere, he dropped to his knees. His hand wrapped around the underside of your forearm and he dug his nails into the tender flesh just to watch you squirm, as if you weren't already providing enough of a show.

Crawling upward inch by inch, his grasp landed on your elbow. He guided your arm up past your trembling lips and furrowed brow. Somewhere above your head and just off center, you felt ice greet your curled, cautious fingers. You jolted.

"Is it cold?" You heard the teasing lilt in his voice and you could picture the cheeky smile that no doubt accompanied it.

Water continued to fall around you and you risked a glance, eyes falling onto Lucas' soaked form. His dark hair clung to his forehead. The remnants of his mirth dissipated into desire once your gazes locked. Droplets trickled free from beneath his sculpted chin. Though you couldn't see his actual skin through the drenched fabric of his now skin tight shirt, you could see every bump and divet of his toned chest all the same.

Shivers tore down your spine when he lifted your other arm. A familiar ice-cold sensation greeted you. Noticing your brief discomfort, he encased your hand with his and brought it back down to his level at your hips. Whispering sweet nothings against your pulse, he left a chaste kiss on your wrist while his warmth flowed from his long, slender fingers to yours.

"It's just the handles. Think you can hold them for me?"

Your eyes had long since fluttered shut and you felt sensitive to his touch and to the way his plump lips brushed against your skin. Nodding in acknowledgment, you secured one of the handles with a tight trip, earning a pleased hum from the man hovering inches from your tensed thighs. He released your other hand and you immediately missed his touch. All the same, you searched for the second handle.

The cool tiles your hand brushed against during the ascent were slick with stray beads of water, reminding you of the fact that the water was still on and that steam had started to spread and fill the bathroom. Latching onto the second handle, you held back a gasp at the vast contrast between the icy metal and the near scalding water. A steady stream trailed down your shoulders and down the curves of your breasts hidden beneath your blouse. Even so, the burning temperature never diminished, not even when the excess water reached your ankles and disappeared into the small pool that engulfed your feet.

Hot air fanned against the exposed skin that peeked out from your disheveled shirt. Snapping your attention down to Lucas, your breath caught in your throat when his lips covered the slice of skin with sweet kisses that soon turned fierce. Teeth nipped along your hip and nails raked down your back, forcing a gasp to tumble from your lips. Seeking an audience and having found it in your widened eyes, his touch returned to its prior soft and caring caresses.

Trailing upward along your center, his fingers made quick work of your blouse's buttons. One by one they popped open. Kisses were quick to replace them, his lips eager to taste every inch of your skin. When the stretch began to inconvenience his exploration, he switched from sitting on his knees to towering above you. Without pause, his lips latched onto your neck, his tongue trailing along your pulse.

You fastened your grip on the handles. A soft moan floated through your parted lips. He took notice of it and smirked, leaning back far enough to take in your expression. Finishing off the last few buttons, he took a moment to just admire your form. Large hands cupped your breasts, teasing you through your bra with no intention of going further.

"Lucas," you whispered, the sound almost lost to the downpour of water that surrounded you in a blanket of warmth.

"Is this okay?"

"Do you think I would have let you get this far if it wasn't?"

He winked at you, his tone much more playful than his touch. "I knew you liked me."

Rolling your eyes, you readjusted your grip on the handles and mumbled about not having signed up for a workout and if he could just get to the point already, to which he was happy to oblige. His touch dropped from your chest to your waist. Ghosting across the hip before squeezing your sides, he continued to tease up until a cold glare and an irritated sigh filled the small space.

"You're so impatient."

"Is this a test to see how well the water heater works? Think you can get to the point before the water runs cold?"

After throwing his hands up in mock defeat, he made quick work of your skirt, unzipping it before tugging it down to pool around your ankles. Once again he dropped to his knees. His breath warmed your exposed skin as he leaned in close. Gentle yet firm, Lucas gripped your thigh and calf and lifted you free of your skirt before resting your leg on his broad shoulder.

"I'm sure the water heater is fine. Don't even think about it. Just focus on how I make you feel."

"Annoyed," you huffed, shaking in uncertainty as he raised your second leg onto his other shoulder, your body and most of your weight transferred to his sturdy frame.

"Don't let go."

A quick flick of his eyebrow reminded you of your grip on the metal handles and you tightened your hold, a feat you hadn't realised possible. With you secure and wrapped around his neck, his lips found your thigh. Teeth brushed against your skin as he moved closer to your thrumming core. Kiss after kiss, he painted your leg with his affection in light nips and gentle teasing.

Water flowed down your body, changing its natural route to follow the pattern impressed upon your skin by his touch. Pale indentations littered your skin. Trails of his feather-light touch lingered in your memory; in particular, the delectable memory of his fingers slipping across the vast, wet expanse of your form. From the backside of your thigh to the hollow of your hip around to your smooth, arching back and down to the curve of your ass - his touch imprinted onto your skin and you felt him everywhere at once.

Once his lips found your clothed cunt, he indulged. Anticipation flooded your system and an airy moan left your lips, drowned out by the pounding of water in your ear. Nuzzling his nose against your clit, his breath was both warming and tickling even through the soaked material of your underwear.

A small gasp broke past the water barrier and caught his attention. Throwing you a quick glance, he grinned against your skin before his tongue teased your entrance once more. His nails dragged along your hip, hooking on your underwear. Inch by inch, he pulled the fabric down, giving him access to where you wanted him. The thought of his tongue running circles on your clit had you trembling in his arms.

"Don't worry - I got you, princess."

Discarding your panties alongside your skirt, Lucas adjusted himself. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and spread your legs further apart. With your body cradled in his large, strong arms, you relaxed. Easing your death grip on the handles, you allowed yourself to enjoy the ride.

Lucas showed no hesitation. The time for teasing was over. He didn't test the waters nor did he lick at your pussy like it was ice cream melting in the summer heat - he ate you out like you were a gourmet meal.

Diving right in, his tongue dipped into your cunt. He set a fast pace, stimulating your nerves with his constant movement. He didn't bother to look at you, too focused on his task, so you opted to close your eyes and allow the sensations to overtake you instead.

Warm water continued to pour all around you. Despite the scalding temperature, it paled in comparison to the heat brewing within. Attentive to when your breath hitched and when you'd mewl, Lucas targeted the spots that had you quivering beneath his tongue. You had no choice but to react to the way he played your body like a fiddle personalised to his touch.

The closer he drove you to the edge, the weaker you became. Unable to keep your body straight, you had since slumped around him. The further you fell into him, the more pressure you put onto the handles. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew your muscles would despise this little adventure but you couldn't find the rationality to care, too lost in the feeling of his tongue pressed flat against your cunt before it ran upward to your clit.

As he sucked the little nub between his plump lips, tickling the oversensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, he eased a finger into your anticipating cunt. Not bothering to hold back, your moans filled the spaces between the abundance of lust and the endless steam.

With precision acquired from his experimental tongue flicks, his finger hooked upward to press against your sweet spot. Your body curled inward unto itself, cramping in a painful way that you all but ignored in pursuit of your high.

Despite your hands being occupied with the important task of keeping you upright, you wanted to feel his wet locks within your grasp, you wanted to grab him tight and ride him harder. You weren't so far gone, however, that you were willing to risk an embarrassing accident in the shower with the man renovating your home.

Whether he sensed your hesitant desire or it was of his own desire, Lucas raked the hand that wasn't now two fingers deep into your cunt along your backside while pushing himself even closer to your body. With no space to be found between you two, he broke free from your clit to speak against your skin. Though muffled, his words cut through your haze with clear intent.

"Ride my face, princess."

With barely enough time to place his mouth back against your cunt, you folded your ankles behind his back and exerted the last of your energy to pull yourself up whilst also encaging him between your thighs. He moaned and the vibration went straight to your core.

Like a man starved, he worked his tongue deep into you, teasing the spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyes. His nose nuzzled against your clit and upon seeing the effect the additional stimulation left on you, he added his thumb into the equation to press firmly against the sensitive nerve center.

Chasing your orgasm, you tensed your body. The swirling, impending wave of ecstasy was within reach and you felt your primal urges take over. From your fingers and the indents forming across your palm from the force of your grip on the metal bars, down from your curved yet slouched torso to your trembling legs and thighs that showed no remorse to the man between them, you tensed in preparation of the total relaxation that was soon to follow.

It hit you like a freight train.

Your body trembled and curled in pleasure as your orgasm tore through you in a flash of light.

Lucas swirled his tongue deep in your quivering cunt and dug his fingers deep into the plump flesh of your crushing thighs. He chuckled deep from within his own body as your pleasure mixed with his anticipation. He didn't relent even as your staggering breaths came out in whimpers, oversensitivity building within your pulsing core. Your body was losing its strength fast and you knew you couldn't hold on for another round.

"Lucas," you whined, squeezing his cheeks twice before letting your legs fall limp around him.

"Pretty fun, right?"

You nodded, eyes drifting open to gaze upon him. Deliberate in his slow and sensual pace, he placed a light kiss against your tender clit before inching his way up your body, lifting himself off the shower floor and releasing your shaky legs back to ground-level in the process. Unwilling to stand on your own for long, you pried his arms around you and fell into his form.

He chuckled again, this time the sound much lighter and carefree, turning off the water and holding you, his strength and energy unhindered despite having held you on his shoulders for so long.

Unlike earlier, his entire body now pressed against you. You could feel his hard cock through his soaked pants and, though still sensitive, it awoke another layer of desire: the desire to please.

Despite uncoordinated fingers and a chill seeping into your bones now that the water was off, you undressed him. The shirt took too much effort, what with the slick buttons that wouldn't stay put within your pruned hands. The pants, however, were much easier once you had given up on your delicate approach. You slipped your own shirt and bra off on the way to the bed, gesturing for him to do the same with his boxers.

He didn't have to be told twice, stumbling out of the wet material and tripping onto the bed in the process. With an airy giggle, you fell into bed beside him.

"Are you going to tell me why I should keep this bed next?"

"Keep it?" He snorted, knocking on the headboard twice. "I'm about to prove why you need to upgrade to a much sturdier frame."

"Enlighten me."

Lucas rolled to hover over you, his arms trapping you on the soft mattress. Staring into his deep, chocolate eyes, time seemed to slow. Droplets of water bounced from his tousled hair to land on your forehead and cheeks. The back of his finger ghosted across your cheek, collecting the stray water and smearing it away. Its remnants glistened and shone, catching the sunlight fighting to break through the blinds.

"Don't hold back, Lucas. Ruin me."

His eyes widened for a brief second before his lips devoured your own. There was raw desire behind his hungry kisses. His mouth didn't stray far from your swollen lips, only breaking contact to nip at your neck or tug on your ear.

If it would elicit a sound, small or loud, he'd pursue it. He'd tease until you rewarded him with verbal confirmation of your pleasure. He was easy to read but you didn't mind, giving him as much as he craved. Your unconstrained whines and moans filled the room and he'd have it no other way.

The louder you were, the harder his cock grew.

You could feel it between your thighs. When he leaned down to whisper right into your ear in that deep, rumbling tone of his (a simple action that sent your cunt into overdrive), his cock would brush against your entrance. Electricity tingled within your core with every fleeting touch.

You thrusted your hips up into his, tempting him to take you, practically begging him to fuck you senseless.

And Lucas never disappointed.

Several rounds later and the room was painted in orange as the sun began to fall. You needed another shower, or perhaps a bath that you could rest your aching body within. The silk sheets slipped over the curves of your body, sliding across your raised knee and falling off your breasts completely as Lucas sat up. Cool air tickled your exposed skin and you frowned, tugging the sheet and blanket back up to your neck.

He stared at you with a serious expression for a solid minute before something mischievous twinkled within his gaze.

Your frown expanded.

"Spit it out."

"Give me two months alone to work on this house as I see fit and I promise you'll be satisfied. You won't want to change it again."

"You want me to leave you alone in my house for two whole months so you can play around and experiment?"

"Yeah," he drawled, a playful smile lifting the corners of his lips. He trailed two fingers up your arm. "Pretty much."

"Do you think I'm crazy? No way!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's my house! My pride!"

"I promise you'll love it or a full refund."

Full refund? Now that gave you pause.

"Are you yanking my chain?"

"Nope. Totally serious." He gestured offhandedly. "Take a vacation and come home to paradise."

You had poured a lot of money into the house already and the total pending was enough to put most into a lifetime of debt. Even to you it wasn't chump change, but your pursuit of the perfect home was well worth the money sinkhole it had become. When it came to your estate, you had no regrets.

And yet…

Hook, line and sinker, he had caught your intrigue.

Silence followed as you searched for the trick or the fine print, as you tried to rationalise his train of thought and discover his angle, but you kept coming back to the same conclusion:

He either built the house of your dreams or he tried to return the ridiculous amount of money you had poured into this monster project.

No matter what, you won!

"Fine, it's a d-"

"And if you love it, you can tip me by taking me out on a date as a thank you."

You scoffed. There it was. "Seriously?"

"As a heart attack."

"Fine. It's a deal."

Two months flew by when the extent of your worries had been if sleeping in was worth missing the breakfast menu and what time was considered too early to start the margaritas. There was no denying that this vacation was just what you needed but you were happy to be home. Paradise got dull fast, what with all the quiet and the relaxation and the complete lack of chaos.

Perhaps Lucas had been onto something when he said you were more interested in his company than the renovations.

You scoffed as you dragged your luggage to the front door. The taxi disappeared down the driveway, leaving you to observe the yard. It looked the same but you weren't worried. The thought of Lucas slacking off for even an hour seemed too far-fetched for you to even humour. In fact, it only fueled your desire to see the interior. The entirety of his focus would've been devoted to finishing the job.

Without a doubt it would be nothing less than a masterpiece.

With rattling keys, you opened the door and stepped inside. Even with your expectations through the roof, the sheer elegance in the design swept you off your feet. A breathless gasp slipped through your slackening jaw. There was a mixture of all your prior ideas blended into this final, beautiful outcome. It was everything you wanted but were never quite able to express.

"Do you like it?"

You jumped. His smooth voice sent a tremble down your back. Spinning to face him, you smiled. "Like it? I love it!"

"I'm glad," he said, flashing a grin that shone bright even in the open, sun-filled foyer.

He was dressed in a simple white tee and blue jeans. It was a casual look but it suited him well, drawing no attention away from his chiseled jaw and dazzling, toothy smile. It was the first time you had seen him out of his 'work clothes' and you found you rather liked it.

Twirling around the room, you inspected his handiwork. Care went into every inch. There wasn't a single piece that didn't match. He had even replaced some of your random decorations with much cuter, suitable pieces. Items you hadn't realised were ruining the vibe were now gone and you felt the room was much fresher and happier.

"You're amazing!"

"That's why you pay me the big bucks."

"It's so intricate and… perfect. Thank you. Really, thank you so much."

"Anything for you," he drawled as you drew closer to him, entering the bubble of his vibrant warmth.

"Well, I think you've more than earned that date. Should we go now?"

Despite your words, your hands had a mind of their own. Slipping beneath his shirt, you ran your fingers along his abs. He hadn't let himself go at all. In fact, he felt (and looked) more defined and toned since your last rendezvous. You licked your lips, a subconscious reaction to how his body pressed against yours.

"And here I thought you would have forgotten."

You shook your head, a coy smile on your lips. "How could I have forgotten our little side deal when it was just as tantalizing as the main meal?"

"In that case, I'll grab my jacket. Unless… you wanted me to show you how to put those shower handles to good use again?"

"I don't believe for a second that you haven't found something new to play with, not with that perverted mind of yours. Don't tell me - there's a hidden lift perfect for two."

"You act like you don't love how innovative I can be," he teased, leaning down into your space whilst tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "But yeah, I could show you some other secrets hidden about… or I could just show you the sex dungeon in the basement instead."

"The what?!"

"I'm kidding. Probably. Maybe. Should we check?"

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

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a-hopeful-mess · 4 years ago

Text

My thoughts on ACOSF - SPOILERS

So I actually quite liked the book. There’s obvs stuff I would have liked to see and stuff I would have changed for like my personal tastes I guess (like I kinda wanted a little more fluff and cuteness between Nessian, like they have so much angst, that’s down, but their relationship does develop into something more loving and I would have liked to see that more especially at the end). There are some things that I disagree with (like the hiding the pregnancy from Feyre, obvs that was a bad decision and kind of a weird one, not to mention her reaction was just kind of like “damn that sucks but its fine”, I was expecting more pushback, although it’s not her book so we can infer that happened bts). One of the biggest complaints I’m seeing is about Nesta’s powers and how pissed people are that she/sjm made her give them up. But like... a) Nesta was always Nesta without her powers, when she was a human she clearly had the fire, the iron will, the regality, all of it. and b) she clearly CLEARLY hated and resented the power, she never wanted it (she only took it to spite the Cauldron), and it was a source of fear for her and a reminder of her trauma. So I’m not mad at all that she gave it up. Not to mention, she gave it up for Feyre who she inarguably horribly mistreated in their past, so tbh I think it’s kind of fitting and full circle that she was finally able to give a part of herself to truly help her family, which was something that she always wanted to do but never could get herself to do until she learned to love and accept herself and her place in the world. So many people just wanted her to rage and burn and unapologetically say fuck everyone and everything; but that has always been her defense mechanism against the world and against feeling, and this book had always been about her learning to fully accept and come to terms with herself and her life, and so obviously that was going to at least shift. Not to mention, (which people on tumblr love to ignore) there is accountability. Even when you have trauma, even when you have mental illness, you are still accountable for your actions and the people you’ve hurt. I say this as someone who has dealt and is dealing with both. If you are going to interact with people (especially people you love and care about and who love and care about you), there is a level of obligation to fix the things you’ve broken, atone and apologize for when you’ve inarguably fucked up. That’s not saying that she shouldn’t be allowed to heal and grieve and exist in the way she wants and mold herself to them, it’s not saying she has to grovel. It’s saying that to move on and truly integrate back into that family/group/place/whatever, that part is necessary. And I think fairly well done.

Other thoughts:

I liked seeing her sorta dislike Rhys, acknowledging that he’s a good person but that she just like doesnt vibe with his personality, I thought that was great and authentic and refreshing since we’ve only ever seen him from Feyre who is.... his soulmate and in love with him so of course he’s perfect to her

Obvs the Valkyries 2.0, whole storyline was immaculate, would 10/10 die for Gwyn and Emerie and I’m obsessed with their friendship and so happy Nesta got her own found family

Just something I noticed, Mor is like barely in this book. I’m not saying she should have been because I don’t think so, it wouldn’t make sense and Nesta doesn’t like her so yeah, but it’s just an observation. Like what you up to girl?

Smut, sex level 1000, wow

I think this book is just genuinely a really good continuation of the series. It truly built on the world we had seen, the problems that we left off with after ACOWAR and ACOFAS, idk just all of it was a really solid and satisfying continuation of the series I love so much. Also, tbh, I was expecting the book to sacrifice plot for smut, so I’m just pleasantly surprised that there was an actual plot and it was relatively balanced

#acosf #a court of silver flames #acosf spoilers #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #nesta #cassian #nessian #SJM #sarah j maas #acofas

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

Text

Of Blood and Roses*

Chapter One

Sequel to Balance on the head of a Pin

Pairing: Loki Odinson X Lauren | Word Count: 7590 Warnings: Fluff, smut, NSFW

There was a wrenching feeling like her stomach was trying to lead the way to wherever it was they were going. Pain from the blow to her head had Lauren moaning in distress.

“Almost there, darling. A few seconds more.”

The voice seemed to come from very far away, but she curled into it, desperate to keep her stomach from succeeding in leaving her body. When it all came to a halt, Lauren gave a hard gasp and prayed not to vomit.

Softness pressed to her lips, then cool, soothing magic slipped down her throat and settled everything, letting her stomach return to its original location.

When his mouth lifted, Lauren kept her eyes closed but smiled until the cut in her mouth pulled and murmured, “Loki…”

***

Knelt to a knee on the golden floor of the observatory dome, Loki cradled Lauren to him and gently touched her cheek. “Can you open your eyes, my love?”

“Head hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know, darling. I will take care of everything once were are in the palace. Once I know you are safe.” Still, he traced his fingers over the bruises, numbing her skin.

She relaxed again, slipping back into the semi-conscious state she’d been in when they left Midgard.

“Loki,” Thor murmured. “She would not want to be seen in such a state, and you have her blood on your face.”

Loki cared not about the blood on his face, but his brother was not wrong. Lauren would hate if the first impression people had of her was one of her less than immaculate. Not because she was vain, mind you, but because she would want to put her best foot forward. He pulled the cape from his back and draped it over her.

“Why not just use your magic and clean her up as you are want to?” Thor asked.

“Because,” Heimdall answered before Loki could, “he intends to take her to the pools.”

Loki only smirked at the observant Guardian, but Thor chuckled, patting Loki’s shoulder when he got to his feet. “Ah. I should have guessed. You are smart to do so.”

“I would have done so even had she not been injured. It will accelerate her conversion, bringing her further into our world and closer to her true self.” Loki made certain his cape covered her adequately, cradled her close, and brought her bruised cheek to his chest.

“I called for them to bring horses,” Heimdall murmured.

Loki glanced at the big male in the golden armour. There was compassion in his eyes and soft affection when he looked at Lauren. “Thank you, Guardian.”

“No poofing?” Thor waved his hand.

“You saw the trauma the magic of the Bifröst caused. Until she is fully healed, I dare not risk it.” Loki brushed her unmarked cheek. “He struck her so hard. I fear there is damage to her head I am not seeing. Until I can take her to the healing pools, I will not do more than primary care.”

Hoofbeats racing down the bridge had Loki’s head snapping up. There were far more than needed, and a low warning growl rumbled in his chest.

“Loki.” Thor held up his hand and peered at him quizzically. “We are home. There is no danger here.”

He relaxed but only a little when the four people strode into the observatory. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif. He should have suspected.

“My King!” they cried out together and rushed toward Thor only to jolt to a stop when Loki stepped back.

Holding Lauren tightly to him, he summoned his staff to his right hand. Edgy and defensive, Loki took a second step in retreat and brought the weapon to bear.

“Loki. Brother.” Thor let his hammer drop to the ground. “No one here wishes your Lady any harm.”

“There has been trouble,” Hogun murmured. “Should we call a healer?”

“I can heal my own,” Loki snarled.

“Of course, my prince,” Heimdall said softly, moving to stand with Loki. “Hogun meant no insult.”

Loki looked to Heimdall, to the golden eyes which saw much, and found understanding. “I am… uncertain,” he said so only Heimdall would hear him.

“You are bonded all of a day. That you are wary of those powerful enough to harm your Lady when she has, already, seen harm is not an oddity. Come.” Heimdall motioned toward the door with his sword. “I will see you to your horse. Then, you can see to your wife.”

The three warriors exchange a look of incredulity at the word wife.

“It’s not… possible,” whispered Fandral.

“The binding is finished? Already?” Volstagg asked, looking at Thor.

“Just. Last eve she took the final step,” Thor smiled fondly at Lauren. “She is a remarkable woman.”

Loki ignored them all, moving when Heimdall did, keeping the Guardian between himself and the others. Lauren whimpered, the pain in her side beginning to throb through their bond. Her brow furrowed, and she mewled a sound of distress.

“Thor!” Loki snapped, striding purposefully toward the doorway and vanishing his staff. “We must go!”

“Take my mount,” Sif said, appearing on the opposite side of Heimdall. “He has the smoothest gait and won’t jar the Lady Lauren.” She motioned to the chestnut with the four white socks.

With a nod, Loki transferred Lauren to Thor’s arms and stepped astride Sif’s gelding. The horse shifted restlessly, but Sif was there to keep him calm. Thor transferred her back, but Loki’s cape slipped, revealing the blood which had dried on her throat and caked the torque around her neck.

The four gasped, but it was Sif who placed her hand on his boot. “Tell me they are dead.”

“There was no other outcome for the ones who hurt her.” Loki gently tucked his cape around Lauren’s shoulder and brought her close to him.

Sif nodded before swinging into the saddle of a big white mare. The Warriors Three mounted around them, and Thor swung astride another gelding at his side.

Loki focused on Heimdall, the Guardian standing in the doorway, and gave him a nod of thanks. “Heimdall.”

“Welcome home, Prince,” Heimdall said and tilted his head.

“Sif,” Loki murmured, turning her gelding to face the city. “My Ástvinur has shown me the error of my youthful misdeeds. I sincerely apologize for taking your hair.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in shock, but she nodded slowly. “Thank you… prince.”

“My dear, Sif,” Loki smirked. “When have you ever called me prince?” Without waiting, he set his heels to the gelding’s sides and took off down the bridge at a gallop.

As expressed, he had quite a smooth gate, the gelding, but when each hoof connected with the ground, it sent vibration through the horse’s frame and caused Lauren to flinch.

Loki sent a wisp of green magic tumbling around the equine’s hooves and between one beat and the next, all sound ended as he began to run an inch above the surface.

The gelding’s ears flicked, and he snorted, a large dark eye rolling back to look at Loki.

“Easy. You are fine,” Loki murmured to the horse. “Just run for me.”

He snorted again and stretched out, his strides lengthening as they ate up the ground.

Loki released the reins, allowing the horse to do his job, and lifted his now free hand to Lauren’s cheek. “My heart,” he murmured, stroking her face. “Open your eyes, my heart.”

“Loki,” she whimpered.

“We are on the rainbow bridge, my darling. Do you not want to see it?”

Her lashes fluttered open, but before she could look down and likely grow dizzy from their speed, he turned her chin to look toward the city.

“Oh my… stars,” she whispered, the wind nearly stealing her words. “How beautiful.”

“Welcome home, beloved.” He gently kissed her temple and let the wind wisk the tears from his eyes long before they could fall.

Her head tilted back on his shoulder to peer up at the sky. “Amazin’. It’s just like you showed me.” A smile curled her lips but her lashes fluttered closed, and she drifted again.

“We are almost there, my heart. Soon you will be well, and then we can rest.” The sun had not yet crested the world, dawn a few hours yet from breaking, so when the gelding left the bridge to race through the streets of the city and climb his way toward the palace, there were few to see their arrival.

At one time, he would have been put out by such a homecoming. No fanfare. No pomp. No revelry. No joyful shouting or flowers spilled at his feet. At one time, nothing would have satisfied him more than returning home as the saviour of Asgard. As the prince worthy of both throne and exaltation.

Today, he could not have cared less that no one witnessed his return. His mind had a singular focus. A singular task. Nothing and no one mattered but seeing Lauren reached the healing pools beneath the palace.

The twisting maze of streets fell away behind him as his steed ran without flattering. Once the initial shock had worn off, it appeared Sif’s mount enjoyed the lack of sound created by his airborne hooves.

He put quite a bit of distance between himself and the others, leaving Thor to his escort. But Loki felt better without others too near.

Perhaps Heimdall was correct. Maybe it was the newness of the binding and the injuries Lauren had received which made him anxious. Still, he could not shake the feral feeling welling inside him. The need to protect, provide, and claim was overwhelming as if the instincts of the wolf he’d worn had not faded when his body had resumed its human shape.

Something about it seemed… different, but Loki could not put his finger on the how.

He pushed the thoughts aside when he arrived at the steps to the palace, and the gelding slowed to a halt, his feet gradually returning to the ground. The guards on duty came to attention, his helmet and horns hard to mistake.

Loki threw his leg over the horse’s neck and dropped lightly to the ground. “Thank you, swift one,” he murmured to the horse. It wickered and walked off toward the stables, blowing only a little.

He could not wait for Lauren to be well. She would adore them, the horses of Asgard. They could run for hours and never tire. Jump heights unimagined by humans. He would take her to the barns and let her choose her own. A mare, perhaps. Something with spirit but without the bullheadedness of the males.

“Prince Loki.” The two approaching guards drew his attention. “We were not aware of your return.”

“Have things changed so much I am required to announce my comings and goings?” he snapped. “Remove yourselves from my path. My Ástvinur requires my attention.”

They had drawn close enough to catch sight of the blood on his face, but Lauren was well covered with her bruises hidden against his chest.

Still, they asked, “Do… you require a healer, highness?”

“I do not.” He walked past them, continuing up the stairs and through the high doors of the entrance hall.

A clatter behind him announced the arrival of the others, but he was already striding away through the Hall of the Ancients. A voice called to him from the shadows, but Loki paid it no heed, continuing on past the early risen servants when a familiar face caught his eye.

“Selvina,” he called out to the woman who had been housekeeper to the palace for as long as he could remember.

“Prince Loki!” she gasped and curtsied deeply. “We did not expect you back yet. The King was going to send word so we could prepare for your arrival.”

Loki stepped beyond the shadows yet blanketing the hall. “Expectations changed when they tried to take what is mine,” he growled softly.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting to the blood on his face, then down to the woman cradled in his arms. “I… I will see your rooms prepared at once.”

“Thank you, Selvina. Lauren and I will be in the caverns.”

“Oh, the poor dear. Will she be alright?”

Loki looked down at Lauren, at the dark bruises of fatigue beneath her eyes. “She will be. See food and mead are also waiting. We will return in one hour.”

“Yes, my lord.” She bowed again as he walked away, heading for the stairwell which would lead down into the caverns where the healing pools waited.

“Loki.”

He stopped. “Now is not a good time, Father.”

“How badly is she injured?” Odin asked, stepping into the corridor at Loki’s back.

“I have taken care of what I could be certain of. She took a blow to the head and when we travelled the Bifröst it… hurt her.”

“I see. You know which pool to use?” Odin asked, moving closer.

“I remember my lessons,” he snarled. “I am not some child.”

“You are still my child,” Odin murmured. “You have said so yourself.”

Loki looked at the ceiling and sighed in resignation. “I was a son of Odin for many years, but there are also many harsh words and harmful actions between us. This is not the time to discuss reconciliation, Father.”

“You are correct, of course. Might I at least… see her?”

Odin took another step closer, and Loki turned his head to see his father over his shoulder. “Not now. It would… distress her to have anyone see her so.”

“I care not for the nature of her dishevelment,” Odin scoffed. “I wish only to see the woman who will save my son.”

“And so you shall. After she is healed.” Loki walked on, avoiding any more arguments. He would not allow anything but the most favourable first impression. She was his wife and a Princess of Asgard. Already rumours would fly to become fodder for the masses of how he arrived here, bloodied, wearing his battle gear, with his unconscious Ástvinur in his arms and gone straight to the pools.

People would judge him for losing her, for having her stolen out from underneath his nose, but once they met her, saw her, grew to know her, they would see how special and lovely and unique she was. They would no longer be surprised someone had tried to take her from him. It should be no surprise they failed.

Two guards stood watch at the entrance to the caverns. They straightened but made no move to stop or question him. He was their prince once more and went where he wanted when he wanted.

Soft lights flared one by one as he descended into the moist heat of the cavern. While these pools, hot springs really, were for private use by the royal family, they did drain together into one giant mineral spring which was available for the public to use at will.

Bathing in the water of the combined pools would cure much of what ailed one, but the two pools beneath the palace were unique. Each worked in its own mysterious way. One healed the body. One restored magic. Both trickled over into a waterfall which drained out through stone, mixing and diluting the waters with runoff from the underground springs until they became the healing spring for the city.

His Father believed he was only here for the first, but he would lead Lauren through both before he took her to their chambers. Odin was not yet aware of Lauren’s state as his bonded or he would not have questioned Loki’s choice of pool. Had she still been of Midgard, allowing her to bathe in the waters of magic could have been dangerous, but as she was now of Asgard, the waters would only bring her closer to her true self.

Her radiant beauty would shine for all to see.

He paused at the base of the stairs and breathed deeply of the mineral scents and warmth, the musty cave smell which would last forever. A flick of his finger sealed the doorway to keep out would be intruders. Another shed him of his clothes. A third had a handful of candles flickering on a rock outcropping.

Loki let his cape fall to the rock and walked into the water with Lauren still fully clothed. She hissed when her feet came in contact with the warmth, then whimpered when he sank deeper still, making his way across the sandy bottom until he was chest deep and Lauren floated in his gentle hold.

He cupped and poured handfuls of the water over her damaged cheek, tenderly stroked wet fingers over her blackened eye, watching as the bruises faded away. He freed her hair and washed the blood from her throat. The water glowed softly, a milky white which hid much of her from view, and he continued to card his fingers through her hair, letting the water work until her lashes fluttered open.

“Loki?”

He smiled and cupped her cheek. “Welcome back, my heart.”

“Where… where are we?” she asked, allowing her feet to fall down until she found the sandy bottom. “What is this place?”

“The Pools of Neth,” he murmured, stroking her wet hair back from her face. “You were injured, my love. I feared more severely than I could fix. So I brought you home. To Asgard.”

“So… I didn’t dream the bridge or the city?” Her gaze dropped to his bare chest, and her hands soon followed.

“No, darling.” His body stirred with her tender touch.

“And the water is really glowin’ like a lit up milk bath?”

He chuckled at her description. “It is.”

“Is there a reason I’m still dressed?”

He waved his hand, and she wasn’t. “Your reaction to the magic of the Bifrost concerned me. Often, a head wound can be hard to detect, even for me, but can make one sick when such powerful magic is used. I would have had to take you to an actual healer or bring you here, to be certain of your recovery. I chose here.” He cupped her face and bent to kiss her hungrily before sweeping Lauren off her feet and heading for the pool’s edge.

“Loki,” she moaned and buried her face in his throat.

“I am only switching pools, my love. Then I will return to what I started.” He walked from the water and up a gentle incline to find the smaller of the two pools. Here the water was a soft lavender, warmer than the first, and at its deepest came to his shoulders. Stepping down into it, he felt the surge of renewing strength begin to flow through his veins.

Lauren groaned in delight and threw her head back. “Oh… wow…”

“The first pool was for healing the body. But this one renews magic and the heart of an Asgardian. Being in it will speed your conversion. You will grow stronger, faster, become harder to injure,” he whispered and delicately touched her throat. “You will heal with a swiftness not known to man. Your beauty will know no limits. You shall be a goddess. My goddess,” he crooned, pulling her out in the pool with him until she had to cling to him to stay afloat.

Her arms went around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her thighs brushed against his, and he knew she could feel his arousal. “Once you are fully of Asgard, I will worry less about silly things like shoving at guns,” he scolded.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she muttered.

“Most definitely not,” Loki grumbled but kissed the tip of her nose. He took his hands over her back and down her side, trailing his fingertips over the place where she'd been wounded. “You terrified me today. Watching the blood soak into your dress.” He nuzzled his nose beneath her chin. “Watching it run down your throat… It was terrifying, Lauren.”

She tilted her chin back and tightened her hold, almost purring when he kissed a path along her jaw to suck lightly at her pulse. “I wasn't scared. I knew you'd come. I heard you howl and it was like all my fear melted away.”

“You were rather calm,” he murmured, nipping her ear. “Even bloodied and bruised you were... magnificent. Still,” he sank his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back to see her heavy-lidded eyes, “I’d prefer you not do it again.”

“So would I. Loki… I feel…” She shuddered, and her eyes gleamed with his magic.

“How do you feel?” he whispered and bit at her jaw.

“Warm and… like somethin’ is strokin’ my nerves.”

He jacked her up to bring his mouth to her breasts and began to lap at them slowly, biting gently to make her nipples harden. “It’s the magic flowing through your veins. Exquisite, isn’t it?”

“Oh… god…” she moaned. Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist and her scorching hot core came to rest against his hard cock.

Loki growled and dropped her down to take her mouth, kissing her hungrily again as he moved them through the water to the edge where he pressed her back against the smooth basin and began to rock his hips into her. “The water enhances your senses. It sends its magic bubbling up inside you like a geyser until it crests and pours back out. Those who are truly powerful can spend much time soaking in the waters. Those whose magic is less need only minutes before it becomes too intense. Shall we test your limits, darling? Shall we see how strong you are?”

“Loki,” she whimpered, burying her hands in his hair. “It feels so good.”

He grinned at the flush forming on her face. “The water, pet?” He rocked his hips into her core and adored her shudder. “Or is it something else you are speaking of?”

She opened her eyes enough to show him the gleam of green emeralds. “Both.”

Loki growled excitedly. “My little minx. Are you trying to seduce me?”

Her lids lifted a little more, and she smiled a curl of lips so sultry it stole his breath. “I assure you, sir. I don’t need to try.”

“No. You certainly do not,” Loki murmured, nipping his teeth into her bottom lip before pulling her from the wall to lift her up and sit her on the ledge.

Her body gleamed, sheets of lavender water cascading back into the pool and splashing over Loki’s chest. Her hands were on his shoulders, his held her waist, gentle but firm. He stepped between her knees, nudging them apart, and brought his hand up to caress her side. The tender touch made her giggle, but he paid it little mind, needing to be assured she was whole from the wound she’d taken.

“Loki.” Lauren cupped his cheeks and lifted his chin. She smiled when their gazes locked. “I’m fine. I promise. I feel… really, really good actually. Really good.”

“Really good, darling?” He smirked up at her. “Are you certain you could not feel… better?”

Her feet and lower legs dangled in the water still, keeping her connected to the pool’s magic, but Loki pressed her knees further apart. The slow glide of his fingers up her thighs had her panting and quaking, her desire growing to connect them through his heart stone, the torque a shining adornment around her throat.

“I’m pretty sure I could feel better,” Lauren sighed, carding her fingers through his hair when he began to press sucking kisses to her abdomen.

“Oh, I know you could,” he chuckled and dragged his tongue over her serpents. He delved lower, licked and nipped and sucked at her thighs. Her scent flourished to mix with the minerals in the air, and it was heavenly. “You smell divine, my love.”

He looked up, watched her face as he nudged her closer to the edge of the pool, and slicked his tongue up her core. Her breath burst out on a moan and a shudder and her hands clenched in his hair, but Loki was lost to the taste of her. Too intent on forcing more of those sultry little moans from her lips, he paid the sharp tugging of his scalp no mind.

He licked at the ambrosia flowing from her, savouring every drop as her cries grew louder, and the tension of her core grew tighter. She moaned, and it echoed, making him chuckle when embarrassment fluttered in his heart stone.

“Don’t laugh!” she scolded only to jolt when he brought his hand to her slick folds and pressed his fingers deep.

“I like laughing with you, pet.” He stroked his fingers through her walls and curled them up into the special spot inside her. She gasped, and he grinned. “But I like making you moan as well. Will you come for me, love? Come apart on my fingers so that I can bring you back into this pool and have you come apart on my cock.”

“God, Loki!” she cried out, then mewled like a kitten when he caught the hard berry of her nipple between his lips and worried it with his teeth. “Enough!” she choked, dragging his head back by his hair. “I just want you, peaches!”

She kicked off the ledge, falling into his arms, and nearly sending them both under when he stumbled backward.

“Lauren,” he murmured, locking his arm around her waist to keep her still when she fought to bring her legs around him. “Wait.”

“No. I want you,” she whined and took her teeth to his throat.

“Dammit, woman! You'll have me in a moment! For one bloody second will you look at me?” he barked.

She jerked back in shock. “Loki!”

Hurt laced her voice. “I'm sorry, my love, but I need you to look at me,” he murmured and cupped her cheek.

What was that? He frowned as he peered into her eyes.

“What? What's wrong?” she asked.

“There is a spark… or…. I thought there was,” he frowned and stroked her cheek. “Whatever was there is gone now.” But he was certain he’d seen something.

“A spark of… of what?” she asked, sounding concerned.

He smiled for he didn't want her to worry. “Of magic, darling.”

She gave a bark of disbelief. “Uh huh.”

Unwilling to argue with her, Loki changed the subject. “Perhaps we should take this back to our room where I can make love to you properly?”

“Because you're so concerned with proper,” Lauren teased and wrapped him in her thighs. “Please, Loki. Valhalla is callin’. The water feels… delicious. Take me now,” she whispered, licking his mouth before moving down to slick her tongue over the moisture on his chest.

“You're going to be the death of me, woman,” he growled but gave in, shifting his hold to her ass. He lifted her up, notched his head against her opening, and slowly sank her down his cock.

She moaned at the stretch, her forehead coming to rest against his. “God… every time,” she whimpered. “I love it.”

“You fit me so well, my heart,” he murmured, beginning to rock her gently.

Gentle went out the window the moment she moaned, “Harder.”

Tight walls gripped him with every stroke, fluttered and quaked as he took her hard and fast, standing in the middle of the pool. The magic bubbling in his veins became an intoxicating counterpoint to the singing lust and desire.

Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped from his chin, the heat of the pool nothing compared to what was slamming through his body with every upward thrust of his cock.

Lauren wrapped her arms around him, bringing them as close as possible, causing their bodies to slide together. He could feel the hard points of her nipples drag on his chest. Her nails dug into his back when the pleasure became too much, and she screamed her release, the wave of ecstasy riding her body along with the magic from the pool.

Her body reacted so forcefully, Loki was helpless but to follow, roaring out his own climax when the magic surged back through him.

Gasping for air, he stumbled through the water to grab the pool’s edge and cling to it while Lauren hung limply against his chest.

“Damn…” she breathed against his throat and made him shiver

His body stirred with renewed life and the desire to have her again, causing her sheath to spasm and grip him, doing nothing but stirring the cycle all over. “Woman,” he growled softly when she snorted a giggle. “If you are so insatiable, I'd prefer to hold round two on a flat surface where I will not drown when you wear me out.”

“I wear you out?” she teased, her amusement practically humming on the air. “Who was the one comin’ here for recovery purposes, hm?”

Loki chuckled and grinned at her smile, but when her lashes lifted, his heart skipped a beat. The spark was back but had become a swirl of violet twisting with the green of his magic. She blinked, her lashes brushing the flush on her cheeks brought on by the heat of the pool. Then, they lifted and whatever had been there was gone.

“Loki?” she frowned up at him.

“I am simply astounded by your beauty,” he murmured and it was no lie. The pool had done exactly what he’d wanted it to. “Look at you sparkle.” He took her by the waist, swept her into his arms, and walked out of the pool.

Lauren laughed and threw her arms around him, bussing a kissed to his cheek. “Flirt.”

“Is it flirting when it is the truth?” he asked, letting her body slide to the ground.

Once she was stable, Loki stepped back and waved his hand, producing a full-length mirror. “Look, my darling.” He glided around behind her and pressed himself to her spine. “You are stunning.”

She gave a soft gasp and brought a hand to her lips. “What…? How?”

He stroked his hand up her creamy, soft skin and cupped her breast. The light glow she’d had after finishing their bond had become a radiance, a golden luminescence. He’d dried her hair, and it fell in waves and curls down her back to her waist. Her face had thinned but only a little, sharpening her cheekbones and jawline even further.

His fingers continued upward to circle around her throat and tilt her head for his lips to walk the line of her jaw. “You bathed in the Waters of Neth. Now, now you are much closer to your true self. You are as you would be had you been born of Asgard. Only a little different, an enhancement of your beauty.” He brushed his fingers on her thigh, needing to touch her for she was just so incredibly soft.

Lauren let her head fall back on his shoulder, nearly purring in pleasure. “Y’all keep touchin’ me like that, we may as well just get back in the water,” she teased, sliding her hands behind her to grip his hips.

“I am considering it,” he murmured, kissing her pulse point.

“Or…” she moaned, “you could show me a little of the palace. Like… the corridors which lead to your rooms?”

She pressed her ass back into his cock with a wiggle that had him gasping for breath. “Minx!” he groaned.

“Not sayin’ I don’t like it down here.” She took in the cavern with its soft glowing lights, luminescent waters, and sparkling roof full of silver flecks. “But… I would like to see somethin’ of the place you grew up in.”

“Would you, now?” he crooned before sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder. “You wish to sightsee instead of staying right here with me?”

“Well, I did say on the way to your room,” she snickered.

“Our. Our chambers, my heart. What is mine is now yours.” He released her slowly, moved around to stand before her and sighed. “Such a pity to cover such perfection.”

“Oh, hush!” she huffed and blushed.

Loki chuckled, but waved a hand and garbed himself in the long day coat he preferred, rather than the armour and cape he had been wearing. “Now you, my love. Whatever shall we put you in, hm?”

“You’re the fashionista, peaches. I’m just the mannequin.”

“And a most fetching mannequin you are.” He stepped forward, placed a gentle kiss on her lips, and let his magic flow, wrapping her in it until he was certain she would be utterly exquisite in the gown he’d created. “There,” he smiled. “Befitting the newest Princess of Asgard.”

Her eyes darted to his, but she made no protest, only glanced toward the mirror and froze. “Oh, my stars!”

She pressed her hands to her waist, to the white fabric and its wide golden belt. The dress, a simple v-neck which showed off her torque, was unadorned except for the belt bearing his symbol in twisted coils and knots, and the clusters of intricate flowers created in gold which capped her shoulders and held her cape in position. It descended in a v part way down her back where a small clasp appeared, both ornamental and to keep her cape from dragging too far behind her. He’d returned Frigga’s bracers to her wrists, the circlet to her brow, and highlighted her features with smoky eyes and her lush, wet mouth. He’d created tiny braids, wrapped them in beads of gold, and left them to catch in the curls he’d tightened in her hair, sweeping half up in her customary tail, while leaving the lower mass to rest on her shoulders and stream down her spine.

“By the Norns, I want to kiss your mouth until all that shine is worn off,” he growled.

She smirked at him coyly. “When we get where we’re goin’, I just might let you.”

A rumble of hunger left him, and Loki collected her hand, leading her carefully toward the stairs out of the cavern. He flicked a finger at his cape, making it vanish, and a hand at the candles before assisting her up the stairs.

Winding they were, but they did not take long to climb in her enthusiasm. The toes of her boots were silent on the stones, but without hesitation until they reached the turn which showed the exit and she paused.

“I’m… really nervous,” she whispered when he frowned down at her.

He knew, of course, how could he not, but Loki cupped her cheeks. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You will do amazing here. I have complete faith in you,” he whispered and kissed the end of her nose instead of messing up her lips.

With a little tug, she started forward again, and he led her out into the hall past the two guards on duty. Both snapped to attention, causing their armour and weapons to resound at her back, and sent Lauren scurrying forward to cling to his arm and turn to see what had made the noise.

“Goodness! Y’all gave me such a fright!” she half scolded, half laughed.

Loki watched the mouths of both men fall open in awe and just managed to contain his laughter. Collecting Lauren’s hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “As Thor has so recently reminded me, none who call the palace home would ever dare harm you, elskan min. Even if they do make a ruckus.” He smirked at the men as he tucked Lauren’s hand in his elbow and led her away. “Their current posting has them guarding the caves. A most boring posting to be sure as we rarely use it.”

“With how good I feel, I’d think y’all would be down there more often,” she murmured, but her attention was elsewhere, taking in the coffered ceilings, the detailed panelling on the walls, and the heavily carved doors and doorways. “Loki… this is incredible!”

She stopped before an open doorway, but only so she could reach out and touch the animals etched in the wood. “It’s so beautiful.”

“One could say the same of you, little sister,” Thor chuckled, appearing in the doorway. “White. Why am I not surprised?” Thor teased. “It is good to see you well. Come!” He clasped Loki by the shoulder and tugged. “Now that you are healed, there are introductions to be made.”

Loki resisted. “Thor, can this not wait? It was late when we left Midgard and dawn is but hours away. She is fresh from the pools but will grow weary soon enough.”

“You’re doin’ that thing again,” Lauren said.

“What thing, darling?” Loki asked.

“That thing where you talk about me like I’m not standin’ right here. Don’t make me tweak your ear again.”

It was not quite a glare she levelled his way, but it was close enough. “I simply do not wish to wear you out, my heart. It has been a long, emotional day. Introductions could wait.”

She smiled at him, that smile, the sweet one that always saw her getting her way. Then she brought her hand to his face and stroked his jaw, and he knew he was lost. She could have whatever she wanted.

“Elskan min,” she purred. “I wouldn’t want to be rude. Just a few minutes? Please?”

He sighed but nodded, glared at Thor, and stepped past his brother into the room, finding precisely who he’d expected to. Though it annoyed him, this deviation of his plans, Loki didn't feel the need to draw weapons to keep people away from her this time.

Volstagg smirked from where he was sat, bent over a half-finished carcass. “What happened to the unyielding God of Mischief? How easy you give in to your woman!” he laughed, causing Hogun to smile, while Fandral, lounging with one leg thrown over the arm of his chair, laughed along with him.

Sif only arched a brow, her demeanour stern but curious from her place beside the fire.

“Have a care how you speak to my brother, Volstagg. Especially as his bonded Ástvinur has been known to be quite vocal in his defense.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lauren said as she stepped out from behind Loki, allowing the four their first real look at the Princess of Asgard.

There was a beat of silence before the mad scramble began. Volstagg stood so swiftly, he nearly turned over the table. Hogun was quick to right it. Fandral tried to exit his chair only to come close to falling on his face in the process.

He was the first to cross the room, coming to a stop when he was a few feet away to offer Lauren a sweeping bow.

Her hand had wrapped around Loki’s elbow, and she’d stepped into him with the first explosion of movement, seeking safety in his shadow when their action disconcerted her.

“Highness,” Fandral crooned, glanced at Loki, and offered his hand. “You are fairer than the softest spring day. I dare say you are more radiant than the moon at its apex. I am honoured to make your acquaintance.”

Lauren blinked at him, a blush rising high in her cheeks when she looked up at Loki.

“Fandral, beloved. One of the Warrior’s Three and Thor’s companion,” Loki supplied.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in understanding. Mischief blossomed in their green depths, and she smirked up at him for a moment before focusing her attention on Fandral and offering her hand.

He was quick to accept, but before he could actually kiss the back of her hand, she struck.

“Hm. The women of Asgard really are blind. Pretty enough, but I much prefer my brooding dark God,” she murmured softly, in a voice so sweet one could not take insult from it.

Fandral’s head whipped up in shock, his eyes enormous. He stared aghast at Lauren who continued to smile and blink at him with her big doe eyes until Fandral threw his head back and laughed.

“She is definitely a match for the God of Mischief!” he crowed, giving back her hand.

Lauren giggled, Thor’s laughter boomed, and the others joined in, leaving only Sif standing alone.

Loki magicked a cloth for Volstagg before he offered Lauren his hand, allowing Hogun to beat him to it.

“Hogun, highness.” He bowed over her hand.

“Hogun’s hound Ming is the mother of Usun,” Loki murmured, causing Lauren to look at him sharply.

“Really?” she whispered. When he nodded, she turned back to Hogun and threw her arms around the startled man. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Y’all don’t know how much they need him!”

“Lauren, darling. You’ve quite thrown poor Hogun off his game,” Loki chuckled as the man looked at him frantically. “She’s a bit of a hugger.”

“Hush, you!” Lauren huffed, pulling away, her cheeks now quite red. “Usun is a blessin’. You may have thought of him, and Thor may have brought him, but I’m sure Hogun had somethin’ to do with bringin’ him up! Until we can get the kids away from her, he’s their last line of defence!”

Worry instantly filled the heart stone, and Loki cupped her face between his palms. “They are alright, my heart. The others will inform Maria and she will be certain to keep an eye on them. Do you trust me, my love?”

“In everythin’, Loki,” she whispered.

“Then trust me now. I will let nothing happen to the children. Nothing!” he vowed.

“What children?” Volstagg asked.

“Lauren’s niece and nephew are… in an unpleasant situation,” Thor murmured. “One which would not stand on Asgard.”

“Rescue mission?” Volstagg’s eyes lit up.

“Not at this time,” Loki murmured, caressing Lauren’s cheek. “Breathe, my love. I promise they are protected.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I just… worry.”

“I know. Let us continue the introductions so you can then rest. The portly one is Volstagg.”

“I beg your pardon!” Volstagg pounded a fist to his large midsection. “Tis all muscle!”

“A man with a hearty appetite is appreciated where I come from. Us southerners like to eat, after all,” Lauren offered kindly.

“You are as sweet on the inside as you are lovely on the outside, highness,” Volstagg said, his smile lifting the corners of his moustache.

Lauren blushed and tightened her hold on Loki's arm. “I wish y’all would just call me Lauren. If he can be Thor to everyone, can't I just be Lauren?”

“I'm afraid my love’s title is still a touch… unsettling to her,” Loki said smiling down at Lauren. “But if that is what you wish, darling, I see no harm in it amongst Thor's companions.”

“Because I need your permission to request such a thing?” she scoffed, and Volstagg snickered.

“Mm. I shall reserve the right not to answer loaded questions like that one.” Loki chuckled, collected Lauren’s arm, and moved past the three men and his brother to approach Sif before the fire. “Lady Sif,” Loki smirked. “Meet my Ástvinur, Lauren before I succeed in saying something else foolish.”

“See? You can teach an old dog new tricks,” Lauren teased before turning to Sif.

“I remember you,” Sif murmured and nodded her head. “We met once before.”

“Mostly in passin’, not really an introduction when Thor wanders by and points me out before carryin’ on without so much as a hello,” Lauren laughed. “But I’m ever so pleased to finally meet you. Thor talks about you so much, I can’t help but admire a woman like you.”

Sif looked taken aback before a rather shy smile spread. “He talks about you, too. The woman who tamed the God of Mischief.”

“I wouldn’t call him tame,” Lauren snickered, glancing up at Loki. “Housebroken, maybe?”

“Teasing wench!” Loki gasped and bared his teeth in a snarl. “Watch it, woman.”

“My what big teeth you have,” she quipped.

“I’ll show you teeth,” he growled, snaking his arm around her waist to pull her in and nip into her bottom lip.

Lauren smacked his chest. “Behave you big oaf!”

“Big oaf? I bring you all the way to Asgard, and this is the thanks I get,” he huffed, feigning hurt.

Her brow arched. “Mmm hmm. And what of Asgard have I seen? Caves, walls, and a single room.”

He pulled her in tighter and lowered his head. “Did I not show you the rainbow bridge? A view of the city? Pleasure unimaginable?”

“Loki!” Lauren gasped, her face flushing crimson. “Such a cad.”

“Ah, yes. But I am your cad,” he grinned, brushing their noses together.

“And a terrible tease,” she grumbled but buried her hands in his hair.

“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips. “But a fantastic flirt,” he whispered and kissed her deeply.

“Does this happen a lot?” Sif asked.

Thor snickered. “Yes. They lose themselves in each other, and the world disappears around them.”

“Incredible,” breathed Fandral.

“The bond is solid,” Hogun murmured.

“Have you tried this boar? I swear the meat is succulent as hell!” Volstagg stated.

Loki broke the kiss to lift his head and peer down into Lauren's eyes. A sea of green gazed back, and he smiled. “I swear, nothing here changes,” he murmured for her alone. “It is good to be home.”

Next Chapter

#Blood and Roses #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfiction #asgard #thor #thor odinson #god of thunder #southern belle #avengers au

368 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 2 years ago

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Everything about this was absolutely perfect! I couldn’t imagine a better outcome for Rudy (and, of course, Alejandro). Your writing is stunningly gorgeous, and I have completely fallen in love with your prose!! It is magical!

The smut was intensely hot!! And the way you capture the romance, and the emotions between MC and Rudy was nothing short of perfection!

This is, by far, my favourite Rudy fic ever.

Your writing is poetry, and this was brilliant!!

Rudy’s touch is a balm after Soap and Alejandro’s enthusiasm. Somehow every light caress of his fingers over you begins to soothe - just the right pressure, in the right places, and you relax deeper and deeper into each touch, almost forgetting the deep throb between your legs that says more with every heartbeat.

It almost feels like exaltation. Its hushed prayers said at an altar, asking for forgiveness before stealing away to commit sins. Its promises dripped in honey, sweet and smooth.

This is exactly how I picture Rudy—tender, a caretaker. Dipped in reverence with every single touch. He’s the pillar, the foundation. And you managed to capture that so perfectly here. Beyond perfect, really! Rudy is so utterly immaculate in this, and it makes me crave this so badly through your stunning, STUNNING writing!

Alejandro helps you as you try to push yourself up. His hands are firmer against your back than Rudy’s, and it brings a sharp laugh to the top of your throat - that you now know what all their hands feel like on your body. That you can tell them apart blind. Your mind skitters to other thoughts, replaying the previous night then—

It’s little moments like these that bring everything together. Of course she would know their touch by now—it’s been nonstop touching and intimacy since this all began. Plus, the way you carve out Alejandro’s character is brilliant. It’s HIM. I can see him doing this, HEAR his voice in my head. Amazing!!

This:

“Que romántico eres,” comes Alejandro’s reply, deep and humoured. “Si,” is all Rudy says. Then he’s kissing you.

And this:

Rudy kisses you like it’s your first time and your last, cradling your face in his hands as he does it as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His lips are soft as they press against yours, the pads of his thumbs rubbing callous-rough over your cheeks. A kiss here, then he moves. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheeks, each eye then your forehead.

HAD ME SCREAMING!!!!! I had to take a break, go for a walk. Make a tea. I get more embarrassed over these sweet, tender moments than I do downright filthy smut and you are litro the QUEEN of fluff????? It's so subtle (which I ADORE) and so perfectly balanced amongst everything else going on! GODDDDDD. It's perfect!! It made me so sappy!!!!!

It’s Soap first from his clothes sticking to you; warm and pink peppercorns, clean Scottish pine, and the moss of the forest. He’s citrus bright tempered by an equally sharp wit and kindness, and you smile into the neckline of his hoodie as the memory of him this morning floats over.

Alejandro is next as he presses himself against your side, moving your hair back to find more spaces to kiss you. He’s spiced sandalwood and frankincense, sweetened by oudh and cut by the alcohol still lingering around him. When he lazily slips his tongue into your mouth for a kiss, you swallow down on the feeling of honeyed whiskey. He makes you dizzy with it.

Then finally Rodolfo as he brings your face back around to him. His warmth is gentle - honeysuckle candles and the soft smell of salt-tinged wildflowers on the coast. You trace patterns absentmindedly against his neck as you breathe his scent in stronger until it calms your heartbeat, soothed by his hands on you, cupping your head to him and strong at your lower back.

OKAY. SO. I love scents!!! I love talking about how characters smell to others because it can be used in so many different ways (like, comforting = you feel safe with them; spicy = attraction, etc), and the fact that you added this as well is making me weepy!!! YES to ALL OF IT! I love how Soap is bright and sunny because it fits his personality.

Alejandro is deeper, and aromatic because he's a bit more serious, but still playful when he can be. AND INCENSE?? AHHHHH. So, I lowkey h/c him as being very spiritual/religious and going to church ALL THE TIME. Like, whenever he loses someone, when he almost loses someone, etc., he goes to church. And I always pictured the scent clinging to him. I also see him as going to confessional A LOT. He has a priest who he sees nearly weekly, and this just brought everything together for me. Sorry for rambling about my Alejandro h/cs! I just adore the man and then seeing the connection had me grinning SO WIDE.

AND RUDY. MY BABY! Comforting scents. Always. Oh, I'm gonna cry.

This was amazing!! It's one of my favourite fics of all time. I am so hooked on your writing!!! It's so beautiful and poetic. And your imagery?? To die for!

Softly

Rodolfo Parra x f!reader

A/N Rudy knows how to take care of you when you’re too tired for sex but still want it. This was inspired by @yeyinde ’s utterly fantastic body electric, and @sprout-fics equally wonderful afterburn. I’ve set this in the morning after and we are entirely ignoring the fact that sex would totally be off limits this soon after xD It can be read as post everyone x f!reader but I strongly recommend going and reading both pieces :) I just wanted to explore how everyone would be with reader after it all, and how it might start.

Although not yet written this is placed after Soap x f!reader and Alejandro x f!reader - we pick up after Alejandro’s turn. Sorry I’m jumping right in the middle of my thought, you’re gonna have to try to keep up a smidge 😅 If I can wrangle the brain I’ll also write their pieces but of course I wrote the sweetest first <3 There’s some Alejandro x f!reader at the start, then some Alejandro x reader x Rudy, but this is predominately Rudy x f!reader.

Shout out to @0celestialbitch0 for checking my spanish, thank you my sweet 💕

Rating explicit Word Count 3635 words. Warnings m/f/m, two partners and mention of more, unprotected vaginal/penetrative sex, having so much sex it makes you sleepy, fluff fluff fluff because Rudy is the sweetest

🔞🔞 This work contains explicit adult content and is intended for audiences over the age of eighteen. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older, have read the content and warnings and wish to proceed 🔞🔞

Your limbs are leaden. They anchor you to the cot, the aftermath of the aftermath finally catching up on you.

It’s not, you realise slowly, the press of Alejandro above you that’s keeping you in place, nor is it gravity; it’s just the dull weight of your own body, muscles relaxed after so much attention.

“You still with us?” Alejandro’s accent is velvet on you. One of his hands leaves your hip to rise and span the side of your neck. Letting the fingers dig in slightly, he tilts your face upwards to his. “Hmm? ¿Bonita? All tired out now?”

Yes.

No.

Neither comes out, just a soft hum as your fingers grip his shirt, and the strands of hair at the base of his neck. He tips his head back ever so slightly at the grip, teeth bared in a grin that you return.

You feel so good. Sated, heavy, and like you could just lie here for hours with his weight on you. In you.

You tug on him instead until he leans back down over you with a deep chuckle, noses knocking as you chase a kiss he won’t quite give you. Instead, his smile is a press against your lips, tongue peeking out to tease then escaping away until he finally holds your face in both hands and kisses you fully. You sigh into it, and hold him closer to you, trying to drag him down, down. Like if you kissed him hard enough he’d join you where you are in your daze.

Rodolfo is over Alejandro’s shoulder. He comes into your vision as your head tilts to the side, a sign Alejandro takes to pepper your neck in kisses. The blunt drag of his teeth has you shaking lightly as Rudy steps up.

You reach for him and he comes to you like you’ve beckoned him into your arms, within reach in one broad stride. His touch is light as his fingers thread into your hair at your temple, his thumb rubbing comforting sweeps over and over. When he talks his voice is as soft as his touch.

“¿Cariño? How are you?” For him, you try.

“Goo- good Rudy,” your voice weaker than it had been earlier.

At that Alejandro rolls his hips into you. It’s a lazy roll, little intent behind it other than to pull a few more sparks of pleasure from you. You gasp, ankles locking again around Alejandro’s waist, his teeth pressing firm at your neck with a wolfish grin.

“Si, she’s good. Our chica bonita is so good.” There’s pride in his tone - deep and warm and it blossoms something in your chest so you hold Alejandro a little tighter. His smile feels softer against your skin.

“You need to rest?” Rudy asks, pulling your attention back to him.

You do. You really do. A whole night’s sleep and now it seems you can only take two of them before feeling tired again. But Rudy is right there, and the pull you feel towards him is undeniable, equal to the man on top of you.

You shake your head, then no to make yourself clear. Want you too, to be sure. A smile breaks on Rudy’s face at that, sunshine and bright and you just want to be closer to him for that alone.

Finding strength, you reach up and hold Rudy’s hand, your fingers just about linking in his to pull his touch fuller. He cups your face with it, gentle eyes assessing you like he has so many times before but never like this, never in these circumstances. He looks over your expression, your reactions to both men, every little move you make.

“Si. You have me.”

Alejandro yields you with a huff of a laugh, pressing one final kiss to your temple on the other side before pulling away.

“Take good care of her Rudy.”

When he pulls out you miss it instantly - the soreness you feel only seems to be soothed by the thickness of a cock in you, and a small moan slips between your teeth. Your reaction brings a smug smile to Alejandro’s face and tempts him down to kiss you again, your sudden gasp as two of his fingers press into you swallowed by him.

“Keep it there, ¿si bonita?”

You can only nod a mumbled yes, trying to chase sensations as they slip away from you, your fingers clinging to his shirt. But Alejandro steps back leaving you empty, in emptiness. Your whine does nothing to call him back to you, his smile not faltering for a second, although you think the self-satisfied pride almost drops into something kinder. Only Rodolfo’s voice quietly calling your name pulls your attention away.

In your peripheral Alejandro slides his two slicked fingers into his mouth with a smirk, then Rudy steps forward and he’s all you can see.

His gaze is soft and kind, eyes liquid, as his hands trace over your form. As if he’s mapping every sore spot you have before he moves, soothing you with gentle hushes when you whimper at a pain point, all the brighter for the contrast to his kindness.

It almost feels like exaltation. Its hushed prayers said at an altar, asking for forgiveness before stealing away to commit sins. Its promises dripped in honey, sweet and smooth.

Up your legs, skirting your thighs along the outside, and then up to tug Soap’s oversized shirt back down your body.

“Let’s keep you warm, si?” He murmurs - as if in way of explaining - before his hands soothe down both your sides. A final check, a reassurance for himself that you seem to pass.

“Can you sit up for me cariño?”

“No, no,” the words fall from between your lips, tongue slipping as you try to form your thoughts. “Rudy I’m too tired- too tired to ride you.”

“Está bien,” he murmurs in gentle tones, firm hands rubbing over your shoulders and thick fingers into the tension in your neck. “I’ll do all the work. Promesa.”

It’s the look in his eyes - too kind and soft, pleading with a promise of more care to come - that has you moving towards him. You nod and Rudy’s smile brightens.

“Easy, easy,” Rudy soothes, perhaps taking your bitten-off noise as a sign of your soreness. To reassure him you loop your arms around his neck and kiss it, trusting Alejandro to ease your weight up as you lean against Rudy’s chest. Your legs splay awkwardly under you at the shift and it takes some uncomfortable shuffling until you’re settled - legs on either side of Rudy’s hips in a sore stretch, but pressed comfortably against the man and in his lap.

Behind you Alejandro tuts. “It’s all gonna leak out,” he grumbles, his hand slipping between your legs from behind, fingers gently nudging at your sore pussy to push his and Soap’s cum back into you. You hiss at the surprise intrusion, head dropping with a dull thump against Rudy’s chest. Alejandro’s touch softens.

Rudy takes his time acknowledging Alejandro’s comment. Instead - sooner than any of them - his hands are gentle on your face and lifting it. He watches your expression as it shifts with Alejandro’s touch, before speaking in muted tones to the older man that you don’t quite catch. His eyes never leave yours.

“Que romántico eres,” comes Alejandro’s reply, deep and humoured.

“Si,” is all Rudy says.

Then he’s kissing you.

He takes his time with it, languid and luxurious. No rush to be anywhere but here. It shoots a thought into your head, sharp then smoke curling - how a part of him must have just ached last night, that you weren’t kissed as much as you should have been. Because that’s what it feels like - like he’s making up for kisses you haven’t had.

He’s all warmth and soft touches, it feels like slipping into a warm bath after a long day, every part of you warmed and relaxing. And when he slips his tongue into your mouth the sensation pulls at you like a lapping tide. Over and over you rock up against him, lulled and content.

“Hermosa chica,” Alejandro groans somewhere to your side at the scene, his voice deep with awe. His fingers stroke down your neck and you tremble and whine at the praise, leaning your head in his direction. But you just can’t seem to unmoor yourself from Rodolfo.

With a shift, Rudy takes your attention back from Alejandro. He bands his arms around your waist and ass as he rises on his knees, kissing his way down your neck to gently suckle at the love bite there. Every time you whine at the bruise he laps his tongue over it, alternating with gentle kisses and the odd nip that makes a smile bloom. And when you’re distracted with it there’s a shuffle, and then his cock is bare, thick, and warm between your legs and pressing between your slick folds as you both settle again.

The press of him has you gasping, but you rock against it all the same - like an itch that’s only better when it’s scratched, it hurts and soothes all at once. So you chase the pleasure.

“This ok cariño?”

Your head is hazy with it all - the thin line between pain and pleasure blurring and mixing until it’s both, each as rich as the other and just as intoxicating.

“Yeah— Yes. So good.”

Rudy helps, but even so the exertion would have been worth the small groans it pulls from him. Groans that are echoed deeper by Alejandro, muting the wet sounds that aren’t only coming from between your bodies.

The slick of Soap and Alejandro’s cum eases the way, your poor pussy still sore from the beard burn Price gave you. It pushes through your puffy folds, stinging and soothing in equal hot-cold measures, never enough to make you want to stop.

“That’s it, ir poco a poquito,” Rudy murmurs to you, hands warm and guiding the roll of your hips on top of him. Each roll burns you up, feverish and more sensitive than you've ever felt.

“¿Que esperas hermano?” Alejandro questions. Rudy huffs hot breath against your skin at the comment.

“Siempre apuras estas cosas,” comes his grumbled reply. ”Nuestra chica necesita lenta,” said with a kiss to your neck.

”Nuestra chica—” Alejandro begins to repeat back at Rudy, then, “Bonita, what do you want?” He comes into your vision again. Hair sticking up from where you must have pulled it, the thought sticking muddy in your head that you’d marked him somewhat too. Then, “Hmm? More?” he asks, firmly pressing against your clit with spit-slick fingers, and your mind blanks with a jolt.

The yes bursts from you before you can catch it, even as your hand snaps down to grab Alejandro’s wrist. It’s out and Rudy pulls you tight into him. Protective, possessive, this was his time with you, and guilt pangs in your chest - despite muddled thoughts you can still feel Alejandro pulling one way and Rudy the other.

“I liked it Rudy, really,” your voice wobbles as you reassure him. “You’re so good— sweet, to me.” And that’s the truth.

He only smiles indulgently against your neck.

“This is what you want, hermosa. Just that.” He finds your eyes when he says it, and the sincerity calms you and builds you up at the same time. Rudy’s hand is on your cheek, so you tell him more, breathless but sure, before taking his thumb into your mouth. Something flickers in Rudy’s eyes at your action, his breath caught before it escapes in a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl.

“Joder!— I— Cariño—” Then he’s kissing you again. Needier, sharper than before, his teeth catching on your soft lips before he pulls back and kisses the spot in apology.

“More hermosa chica? Yeah?” He asks, trailing kisses down your neck and rutting up into you like he can’t quite control himself. It makes you dizzy with his sudden enthusiasm, sharp and bright flashes of pleasure shooting up and down your spine.

“Please,” you moan against his forehead, now holding his face in your hands to keep him close, rolling your hips against his. Unsure if it’s to move away or closer.

“Ok. I got you.”

Rudy lifts you with ease, his gun-calloused hands digging into your thighs. You whine at the loss of his heat, absentmindedly still rocking your hips until he moves to hold you with one arm secure under your ass. When you still he lines himself up with your entrance, smearing mixed slick along your puffy folds before pressing gently against you.

“Tranquilo cariño. Hmm? Go slow. Easy.” He makes sure to find your eyes as he says it. They’re liquid warmth and you know you’re safe.

Your thighs tremble, and your forehead knocks against his.

You inhale.

You exhale.

You nod.

“Please Rudy.”

He lowers you back down and you can’t help the moan that bubbles out of your throat.

It’s like being able to breathe again after near drowning - your throat hurts, your head spins, but you move regardless.

Smooth and you’re liquid against Rudy, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and moaning into the bunched fabric there. It chafes and irritates, and you use what energy you have when he lifts you again to pull it back with one hand, breathing relief and relaxing against his warm skin.

“Like this?”

“Yes, yes. Like this Rudy.”

Slow.

Easy.

Good.

You rock together until Rodolfo finds perfect time, lifting you up then sinking you back down onto him to the hilt, effortless in his strength. The man is bloody perfect. You tell him so, between the little gasps he pushes from you. “You’re good Rudy…So— so good. Fuuuuuck—” The way he fits in your sore cunt, it’s just the right amount of pressure, just the right friction. You cry out, twisting in his hold at how beautifully overwhelming it is.

“See?” Comes Alejandro’s gravel-rough voice as he shifts closer, “Our girl likes it like this.”

You bare your teeth in a smile at Alejandro’s comment, but would bite down on him if the man was close enough. Instead you hold Rudy tighter, clinging to him as he lifts you up on your knees then lowers you again in a perfect slide that has sparks skittering behind your eyelids.

It’s not like anything any of them have done for you. Last night was drunken pleasure, only sobered by the things you did. They all gave as much as they took, but this—

Rudy cups the back of your head as he moves you single-handedly. It only strays to thread through your hair, fingers massaging into your scalp before he has to move it down to hold you. His grip is firm, but it’s closer to being held than moved. He’s sweet and you just know he’s giving you everything, the thought urging you to hold his face and kiss him.

So you do.

Rudy was watching you as he slowly fucked up into you - even though he couldn’t see your face you realise this as you lean back to look at him and find his eyes already on you. They’re glazed over and soft, but attentive bright as you move toward him. You don’t give him a chance to speak before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s messy and not your best kiss. Every heavy slide of him into you has your mouth opening on soft moans and whimpers, eyebrows scrunched with the confusing blend of pleasure and pain. He chuckles warmly as you try to kiss him at the same time, nuzzling his nose against yours then dragging it up to kiss your forehead.

“No, no,” you mumble, trying to pull Rudy back down. “I…I was kissing you.” He comes back down to you with no complaints, settling you heavy in his lap, using one hand to pull you both back together. He seems no more urgent in his kisses than when he first started, but they feel headier for the heft of his cock in you.

“You can have both,” he says with a smile against your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper just as his hips rock up again. It sparks something and you realise suddenly you can come from this alone - the pressure of him filling you, rubbing insistent deep in you as his tongue slips over yours. You clench and he groans, rutting up harder.

“Rudy…” You don’t know exactly what you’re asking for but you need him.

“What? What is it cariño?” He doesn’t stop when he asks, holding your face gently in both hands, barely a breath from you as he presses in, in, in. It makes you curl in, one hand clinging to his shirt, the other seeking your clit.

Alejandro says something, an exchange in Spanish that goes over your head, followed by the warmth of his hands on your waist.

“You should have said,” Rudy murmurs. Then his thumb is on your clit, wet with spit and smearing it in deft little circles.

It barely takes anything until you break with a soft cry. More gentle than any time you’ve come in the past twelve hours, but it still leaves you shaking in his hold. Rudy soothes you through it, hushing your little gasps with kisses and gentle rocks until you finally settle against his chest.

“Easy mi cariño, easy.” He still twitches in the tight clutch of your cunt, but doesn’t press you for more. Instead, he sweeps the sweat-stuck strands of hair from your face and rubs soothingly against your skin under your shirt. Alejandro moves into a space somewhere behind you too, his warmth a presence at your back like a blanket being placed over you.

The smell of three men comes to you as you even out your breathing with deep inhales.

As you come back down you realise. “You… you didn’t…?” You’re hazy with fatigue, but still sure on this.

“It’s ok.”

“Rudy—,” you start but he gently cuts you off.

“Está bien cariño.” He says it with such kindness, and although it has to be - you’re truly too sore and spent now for anything - you know he means it honestly.

So instead, “remind me to give you a blowjob later,” you promise him before settling against his chest.

It doesn’t take too long before the pressure of Rudy’s cock in you becomes heavy and bright.

“Too much.” You don’t think he’s heard you, heavily turning your head to try and speak again against his ear.

“¿Qué?”

“Too much,” you repeat, whine dropping to a soft moan as you try to lift yourself up, your thighs trembling and protesting the effort.

Rudy understands. With gentle hands he lifts you up from his lap again, slow and smooth until he slips from you with an exhale, air hissing through his teeth. You miss the fullness of him and you don’t.

“Better?” His voice is against your chin, lips finding and pressing to your cheek in adoration as you lower back into his lap. You hum your reply against his ear - yes - pressing your face down onto his shoulder again.

You find yourself once more weighed down by your own body. Sleep pulls and tugs at you and you let it, wrapped around Rudy and safe in his embrace. The last thing you’re conscious of is the sweet murmurs of both men, and two sets of hands soothing over you.

#rudy parra x reader #FIC REC #MUST READ #gorgeous #stunning #perfect #how you're not a NY Time best selling author i'll never know!!!

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hollygopossumlovesj2 · 8 years ago

Text

Daydream Believer

Characters: Dean x Original Female Character (However, I don’t really specify gender so if you want this character to male, go for it.)

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: Minor Character Death, explicit sexual content, adult language. Angst, fluff and smut rolled into one unhealthy little story. Also, copious amounts of that beautiful black machine, Baby.

A/N: This story is the product of @butiaintgonnaloveem‘s Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge. The ending is kind of open, so if you want to imagine that Castiel made it in time there’s that possibility... I hope this has enough Baby in it for the challenge. As always, let me know what you think!

Tagging: @jensen-gal, @dancingalone21, @jotink78, @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics

We were heading back from a hunt the first time I'd gotten Dean to sing with me. Sam had stayed behind to work on the on going project of digitizing the Men of Letters' library. He'd tiredly shuffled the two of us out the door, his brown hair askew, and probably gone back to the uncomfortable wooden chair pulled up to a table. Last I'd seen it, it was stacked high with books that he was translating so he could figure out what category it fit under.

Now we were sore from our hair follicles down to our toenails, and dripping wet from the rain. There had been more vampires than we'd planned on, as usual. Plus, the impromptu thunderstorm hadn't really helped matters any. It turned out we really could've used Sam's help. However, we'd dispatched all of them by the skin of our teeth and now had the wounds to prove it. Now we were in the safe confines of that beautiful, shiny black machine also known as Baby, and smearing her immaculate interior with rain water, mud, and blood.

You know, the usual.

In fact, I was driving because Dean had a gash in his right thigh that was slowly oozing blood even with a tourniquet. I'd argued with Dean about stopping to get a hotel for the night, but he was dead set on getting home to the bunker that was still a few hours away. I knew it was probably because the man still didn't like being separated from his brother for too long.

Even though Dean had me to keep his bed warm, the brothers were still painfully codependent. I supposed if I'd grown up in the life as young as they had and been through half of what they had, I would be too. So, I'd bandaged it up the best I could and told him to cool it in the passenger seat. He hadn't taken too kindly to being bossed around, but realized that it was futile to argue with me. I had a stubborn streak that rivaled his.

I had a few good gashes too. A couple of them probably needed stitches, but they could wait. At first, the rumble of Baby's engine beneath me and her wheel in my grip had been enough of a thrill to keep me wide eyed awake. I could count on one hand how many times I'd been given the honors of driving her. However, as the adrenaline spike threatened to wane, I found I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open.

I knew how much Dean treasured his car and treated it accordingly. Her suspension was a little rougher than a newer car and the solid steel chassis made sure we felt each bump and dip in the road. Dean never complained, but a pained, bitten off groan escaped him through gritted teeth if it was a particularly jarring bump. Like now, as I was unable to avoid a pot hole due to the size and a car coming the opposite direction at the same time.

Dean let out a pained grunt, gripping his leg through his blood soaked bandages as he nearly knocked his head into the roof. "Sorry." I gave him a quick apologetic glance when he settled, unable to take my eyes off of the road for too long. Baby's steering was smooth and sure, no doubt Dean rotated and balanced her tires regularly, but I just didn't trust myself. Plus, the rain was still coming down in buckets and pooling in the road. Luckily, unlike those newer ‘plastic roller skates’ (As Dean liked to call them), Baby was heavy which made it less likely that we would hydroplane.

A few moments later, Dean finally eeked out an, "S'okay."

After the traffic died down a little and we were on a boring back road with barely a street lamp to light the way, I felt my eye lids drooping in the heat of the car. Shit. I had the heat on full blast, not wanting Dean to be cold because of blood loss. But damn if it wasn't making it really hard to stay awake.

Dean's go to remedy would be to pop in one of his favorite tapes, but I had my own idea. "You know what my Dad and I used to sing on long trips?" My father and I had been dumped into 'the life' after a djinn had taken my mother. I'd been an only child. So, after that Dad and I were close. We hunted together until a werewolf had bitten him, leaving me banged up and nearly broken. That's when Dean and Sam had shown up, driving onto the scene in their shiny black steed.

I'd found myself laying in the back seat in no time, bundled in an old, scratchy blanket. I'd noted the smell of gun powder and leather between gasps for breathe as I'd tried to distract myself from the pain in my ribs. The smell of Baby's interior would be a strange comfort from then on.

They put me back together over the next month, then helped me to hunt down my father. It had been the hardest trigger I'd ever had to pull.

Anyway, my Dad and I had adopted a song for just this type of situation. It worked to pass the time every time.

Dean grunted in my direction. He wasn't really a man of few words like most suspected. He knew many words and when he was comfortable it was hard to get him to stop. But right now he was in pain and I understood. There was only so much a handful of aspirin was going to help.

"You have to sing your part." I added, earning a side eyed glare. I knew it was all bluster. Dean and I had been getting a lot closer over the past year. He knew that my connection with my father was special and that each tidbit that I shared was somehow a piece of myself.

I cleared my throat, the only noise to compete with was the hum of Baby's engine. I started off quiet, but gained confidence as I continued on. "Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings, of the bluebird as she sings-"

"Oh no." Dean groaned, but a tired smile tried to appear on his pain tight face. "Really?" He re situated himself slowly so that he was leaning on the sturdy door of the Impala, his head leaning sideways on her seat. It was like he could draw comfort from her steel beams and leather just by contact. A child cradled, safe in their mother's arms.

"Oh, c'mon. You've sang less worthy songs..." I put my hand on the ankle of the leg he'd just stretched out. The warmth of his skin bled through his damp socks and it was comforting. I smiled back at him, "The six o'clock alarm would never ring. But it rings and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes-"

"The shavin' razors cold and it sings-" He broke off in a laugh, his gravely voice sounding almost comical in contrast to how the original sounded.

We both sucked in a pained breath and began to belt it out, "Cheer up, sleepy Jean! Oh, what can it mean. To a daydream believer and a homecoming queen..."

We continued to sing, our sing a long powering the rest of the trip home with tired smiles as Dean seemed to melt further and further into the upholstery.

Upon arriving, I let Sam stitch up the gash on Dean's thigh since he was a lot more experienced than me, and attended to the smaller cuts on both of us. Once he was done, Dean insisted on stitching up the long gash on my arm and butterfly bandaging the smaller cut on my shoulder.

We slipped into dry, more comfortable clothes before Dean carefully cleaned every thing with precision. Then he settled down with a towel in my lap and my arm resting between us. He leaned into my space, his forehead touching mine. I bit my lip against any sound as the needle first pierced the skin. That was always the worst part and maybe the repetitive nature of continuously stabbing was the second.

Dean always apologized, his brow crinkling in concern and concentration as he focused on the task. He got a few stitches in before he drew in a deep breath, a sheepish lilt to his features, his eyes bright. "You once thought of me, as a white knight on a steed." He began to sing in a low, gravely tone, so much grittier because he was tired and the pain killers had yet to kick in. It made a laugh bubble up my throat as I nuzzled my nose against his temple. "Now you know how happy I can be. Oh, and our good times start and end without dollar one to spend. But how much, baby do we really need."

The man couldn't carry a tune to save his life, his tone going flat more often than not, but it was perfect. In the wake of his laughter, warmth spread through my chest, making me feel vulnerable in a way that I seldom let my self be. Suddenly, the stab and tug of the stitches was the furthest from my mind. "I love you."

I know he never quite believed me when I said those words, the twitch of his lips unsure of what direction to go in. If he should be happy or if he should worry. He'd always settle on a quiet, "I know."

It never made me feel bad. I never doubted or questioned if he loved me. All I had to do was pay attention. He would care for me with the same attention that he put aside for Baby. He fixed what he could when I was broken. He polished the dents and scratches that littered my psyche in the vulnerable, dark night. He made sure that, on top of preparing himself, that I was prepared for each hunt. Did I have boots? Did I have enough warm clothes if it was going to be cold? Did I have the right weapons? I liked to think that he knew I was capable of taking care of myself, he just wanted me to know that I didn't have to all the time. After hunting by myself for a year, it was nice. It was more than I could ask for.

He touched me in much the same way that he caressed his car when he tucked her in a night. Sure, firm hands over engine warm curves, a soft light in his green eyes. Yeah, I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Once the clean up is completed, and Dean's nightly walk through the bunker proves that everything is locked up tight, he returns to the room we've been sharing. The lights are out when he stumbles in, and it never fails that he stubs his toe on the trunk at the foot of his bed. He's got to have a permanent bruise on his big toe.

He hisses out a very indignant, "Son of a bitch."

I feel the drowsy smile tug on my lips, halfway to a deep and deserved sleep when he finally slides into bed behind me. Exhausted, I let myself carefully melt back into him, feeling safe as his arms wrap around me. His warm lips drag through the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, eliciting a shiver.

His lips take their time as they migrate to the sensitive skin beneath my ear, his hot breath tickling my skin and producing a heat that melts my bones. "Cheer up sleepy jean." He laughs, his staccato breath on my neck stoking the fire. "Oh what can it mean to a..." He bites and licks the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. "Daydream believer and a..." He sucks on the skin, bringing forth a bruise that will stay for at least a week, marking me as taken. He pulls me closer to him, his arm around my waist pulling me into the pulsing hot length trapped beneath his boxers. His voice is an octave lower, basically a growl as he shifts his hips against you. "Homecoming queen..."

Now I'm a little breathless, "You're mis-" I shuddered, my breath catching in my throat momentarily as he slides his warm, open palm across my stomach and lower. "You're misusing the song, sir." I punctuated the 'sir' with a drag of my hips, reveling in the low groan I pulled from deep within his chest.

He hummed, stretching lazily behind me like an oversized cat. I turned over just so that I could see the content grin tilting on his face and cradle his jaw in my hands to savor it. "Should I be punished?" He whispered, the 'p' getting punctuated by his already slightly swollen lips.

I kiss those lips because I can't keep myself from doing so before I answer, "No, I think we've been punished enough." My voice is barely above a whisper, my lips gliding over his as I speak. "I think we should have a reward instead."

He wiggles his eyebrows before his expression grows soft. He tilts your entire hand so that it's now resting on the pillow between us before he lays careful kisses over the bandage covering the gash he'd sewn up earlier. If it were possible, I would melt further here. Seeing badass Dean Winchester place soul rending kisses over my wounds before pulling me closer so that he can reach the smaller cuts on my shoulder that peek out from beneath my tank top. His warm mouth against my chilled skin feels like an epiphany. Just like, when all of our clothes are gone and he slides into me while we're face to face, is a fucking revelation.

I can't find the words that I want to say, instead putting every emotion that I'm trying to communicate into one word, "Dean."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He says this as he hitches my knee up a little higher on his waist so that his next thrust is even deeper. He's got both arms tight around me like I might slip through his fingers like sand, and I suppose it's entirely possible. I'm unable to really think about that right now as a particularly deep thrust slides home and he moans sweet ecstasy into my neck.

Even though it's lazy, we don't last long like this. I come from just his cock hitting just the right spot. His arms tight around me and my head cradled against his shoulder. Dean comes a moment later, silent, shaking violently against me but not giving up the hold he has on my body.

All of those moments are leading up to this now, and I can say wholeheartedly that I wouldn't change a damn thing. That scent of gunpowder and leather surrounds me as I lay in Dean's warm arms cradling me to his chest. I can feel the comforting sway and rumble of Baby as she carries the boys safely away from another hunt.

As far as a hunter's death, I would count myself truly lucky.

"Just hold on, sweet heart. Just a little longer, okay?" I can hear the desperation in his voice, the pain, and its even more agony than the tear in my flesh I can feel pulsing blood from my side. He's got a firm hand over some bandages to staunch the blood flow, but I know it doesn't help much. I can hardly feel it.

"It's not your fault." I hear how weak my voice is and I know I don't have very much time. "I wouldn't trade a damn thing."

"Don't you talk like that." God, his voice has been ripped through by glass, jagged and bleeding. He knows this is the end. "Cas'll answer, he'll fix this."

I manage to put a hand on his face, noting that it's a little bloody, but there isn't time to clean it off as he leans into my touch. "Sing with me?"

He shakes his head 'no', tears welling up in his eyes. But, as my eyes slide shut, the last sound I hear is his gravely, tone deaf voice and the low rumble of Baby, and I smile.

"Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings..."

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 8 years ago

Text

Balance on the Head of a Pin

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x OFC | Word Count: 8051

Warnings: Light smut, lots of fluff, over the top Loki, holy crap this got long!

A feather-light weight tickled Lauren’s ear. It moved in slow, gentle passes along the shell, causing the sensation to slip into the dream she was having.

The Spanish Moss was hanging heavy from the oaks as she walked through the forest on her way to the ol’ swimmin’ hole. It dangled down far enough to brush her shoulder, tickle against her ear, and set her swiping at it. A big rattan bag bumped at her hip, over the white cotton crocheted cover-up which hid her bikini. Beat up leather sandals protected her feet from the twigs and rocks of the path but showed off the dark pink nail polish which graced her toes. Vanilla scented the air from the magnolia’s blooming down by the water.

It made Lauren smile. She’d missed the sweet scent being in New York. Another brush of moss tickled her ear causing her to pull slightly away.

A wicked chuckle rumbled by the same ear, and she startled to find Loki walking at her side. She giggled and turned toward him, her bag falling from her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Have I been gone so long, my Lauren, your eyes have grown weary looking for me?” he asked.

She nodded, her smile turning coy. “You’ve been gone simply forever, peaches.”

His hands slid around her waist, hot and strong, kneading into her flesh before sliding up her back. One splayed between her shoulders, the other delved into her hair. His eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, making the blue sparkle in a way which sent heat rushing to both face and belly. “If I kiss you, fair maiden, will you forgive me my absence?”

Biting her lip, trying not to smile like a fool, Lauren gave a slow nod, anticipation coursing through her. The hand in her hair tightened, pulled, and she gasped. The light in his eyes grew wicked and hungry, lids lowering to partially hide his lust. His head descended, and his smirk grew. Lips brushed hers, a butterfly caress. Once, twice. The third time they pressed firmly, moved leisurely, seduced her into opening her mouth and accepting his tongue.

A low moan broke from her throat. A mewl of pleasure followed when Loki licked her lips. She arched into him, rolled her body into his, and tightened the hold she’d placed on his neck.

His arm tightened, and the superhuman strength of his came into play when he picked her up, spun her around, and pressed her into the rough bark of the tree at her back.

A startled but aroused, “Oh!” erupted from her lips when his dropped to her throat.

“Lauren,” he breathed against her skin.

She shivered and clawed at his back. Heat and wet, a stroking tongue worked over her pulse. “Loki, please.”

“Lauren…” He bit lightly at her jaw making her moan. “Lauren, my dear…” A heavy weight squeezed down on her side. Another warm one fell across her thighs. “Lauren, sweet Lauren. You must wake…”

She was awake... wasn’t she? “Why?” she asked, giving a quiet sigh when lips walked her cheek.

“We will be landing soon, darling.”

Landing? Another hearty chuckle broke through a good deal of the fog as sleep slowly lifted. “Loki… don't stop…”

A kiss was pressed to her lips. The warm weight of his body was right there, so strong and hard. She arched into him, hands messing his hair, grinding into the weight pinning her down.

“I see you are having a pleasant dream, Lauren, my love, but there isn't time.”

“Loki, you keep calling me that, I'm gonna want to believe it,” she sighed, the words slipping out as her lids fluttered. Was she really asleep, dreaming she was awake? Or was she awake, only drifting?

“Would that be so bad, lovely Lauren?” His whispering lips kept skimming her jaw and throat, back to her ear and over it.

Sighing softly, she opened her eyes, blinking at the interior of Tony’s helicopter. “Loki?”

“Yes, Lauren.”

“How did I… how did we… what's goin' on?” she asked, his previous question going unanswered in her surprise.

When he lifted his head, she glanced at him and nearly moaned. His lips were full and red, indicating he'd been using them for quite some time. Heavy-lidded eyes gazed down at her, emotions clouding them. He looked remarkably pleased with himself.

“You went to sleep, darling. This was simply more comfortable for us both.”

She stared agape at the heavy silks and plush divan, the mounds of pillows, but mostly she stared at the God who lay at her side.

His hand on her ribs was the weight she'd felt in her dream, and his leg - thrown carelessly across her own - was the other corresponding weight. He was cuddled up with her, wrapped around her as tight as a creeper vine, but she was no better.

Her hands were so tangled in his hair her grip had to be borderline painful. His nose was, again, dragging over her cheek, and a sultry sound, almost a purr, was rumbling in his chest.

“Did you… magic us?” she gasped.

He nuzzled against her ear. “Technically I ensorcelled the interior. We simply benefited from my magic.”

Lauren pouted, lower lip poking out. “You did magic, and I missed it.”

Humming softly against her skin, Loki’s voice was muffled when he asked, “You would want to see me do magic?”

“I’d be as happy as a possum eatin’ a sweet potato if I could!” Lauren exclaimed.

“Possum eating a sweet potato.” He lifted his head to look at her. “My darling Lauren, you say the most… unique things.”

She blushed and looked away, hands sliding out of his hair. Being in New York so long had citified her some, but the southern kept slipping out. “I... I’m sorry. Havin' to go home just… brings it outta me.”

“Lauren,” he said, placing his fingers on her cheek, turning her face back to his. “I find it charming. Even when I don’t understand a word of it.” His knuckles caressed her cheek.

Lauren’s eyelids fluttered with the tenderness of the action. “Ain’t you sweet,” she whispered, pleased and embarrassed in equal measure.

“It is you who is sweet, my Lauren.” He kissed her lightly, a soft peck on her lips before he sat up, drawing her up with him. “So, you wish to see my magic?”

Curling her legs up beneath her, Lauren nodded. “I’ve seen you do small things, change the coasters, play pranks and stuff, but nothing on this scale.” She flicked her fingers over the fringe edge of a satin pillow.

He took her by the waist and drew her in close, until she was practically in his lap.

She looked at him questioningly.

He only shrugged, smirk still in place. “Watch,” he said, raising his hand.

Lauren’s eyes were glued to his fingers as green mist seemed to appear around them. It glowed softly, no brighter than a fairy light. It swirled with the roll of his wrist, flowing out in small arcs and curls. The immaculate space he’d created wavered, morphed, shimmered slightly and returned to the former glory of Tony’s overpriced helicopter.

Her feet hit the floor with a solid thump when the divan disappeared.

Lauren squealed in delight. “Well, shut my mouth! That was so cool!” Lifting her hands to either side of his neck, she stroked her thumbs along his jaw, completely undone with how amazing he was. “What’s it like? Were you born with it? Did someone teach you? Does the magic, I don’t know, feel like somethin’?” She bit her lip when his grin got bigger. “I’ve just… I’ve always been… curious about you.”

Loki burst out laughing and tugged her impossibly closer. “I learned from Frigga, my adoptive mother, to wield the magic of Asgard. And I could show you what it feels like, if you’d like.”

Challenge laced his voice. Challenge and seduction. The look on his face warned her there was more to his offer than some sort of lesson. But, here again, she felt a part of herself rise to the challenge, as if a wicked imp whispered in her ear.

“I’d like,” she said, eyes dropping to his lips before returning to his piercing blues. “Very much.”

His brow arched, pleased apparently that she’d accepted. Though the wicked light in his eyes was… almost the same as what showed when he tricked someone, yet, still, she trusted him to know what he was about.

“As you wish, Lauren.” He leaned in as if to kiss her, causing her breath to hitch, only he dropped his head to her throat, and drag his nose along her pulse.

It set her heart slamming in her chest.

“I noticed it while you slept in my arms,” he said, displeasure strong in his tone. “You smell… wrong. What is this deplorable scent?”

“A gift from my mama. It’s expected I wear it when I'm here.” She shuddered when he growled his disgust. Why did she find that sound so sexy?

“It is atrocious. I dislike it. You smell of… hn, old flowers and weeds. You won’t wear it again.” He lifted his head and locked eyes with her. “Will you, my love?”

It was both question and command. An enticement and a warning. It made Lauren weak in the knees, and she wasn't even standing. Falling into those blue pools, she licked her lips and swallowed so she could speak past the lump in her throat. “No, Loki. I won’t wear it again.”

“Good girl,” he praised her, hands lightly caressing her hips, and tracing patterns up her back. “Shall I fix it for you?”

“Please,” she whispered, so incredibly aroused she was surprised she didn't just burst into flames. What in the world was he doing to her? And why was she not more concerned by it?

“Such a good girl. Such… pretty manners. That deserves a reward.” Taking her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up. “Open your mouth, my Lauren.”

Parting her lips, Lauren watched his come closer. A pulse raced through her, over her skin, like static electricity.

His mouth closed over hers, and the frost flavour she was beginning to crave flowed over her tongue.

Heat and cold warred inside her, grew stronger, continued to pulse in ever-growing intensity. She didn’t even realize she’d thrown her arms around his neck until her breasts connected with his chest.

Ripping her mouth away, Lauren threw her head back and cried out. Pleasure the likes of which surpassed anything she’d felt with him so far blew through her system.

“Oh! Oh, Loki!” she moaned, body shaking.

“Breathe, darling. Let it flow.”

A high pitched whine escaped her lips, and she dug her nails into his back. She breathed great, heavy gasps, holding tight to the God of Mischief until the pleasure peaked and poured out.

It was exquisite!

Collapsing into Loki, Lauren panted against his shoulder, a few tears falling on his collar. “Oh, my stars…” she whispered. “How do you stand it?”

“Practice. Centuries of it. I’m also not human, darling. Plus, I was required to give you my magic, pour it inside you so you could feel it which is always much more… potent.”

“It felt like…”

“Felt like what, my sweet?”

She sat back, allowing her arms to unlink and relax from their tight hold. Lauren blushed and couldn’t look at him when she said, “Like what I expect makin’ love should feel like. There was more for me in these moments than all the times I…” She trailed off, embarrassed to have admitted to something so personal. He just seemed to draw the honesty right out of her. Was this, too, part of his power? Could one lie to a God of them? Or was it just not possible.

He was very still for a moment, so still, she began to grow uncomfortable, finally darting her eyes back to his. It wasn’t like she could pull away to look, not with how tight his arms around her were. Catching the look on his face, she nearly gasped. His eyes were dark, dangerous, almost feral, and watched her like a hawk.

“Loki?” she whimpered, retreating into herself. “What’s wrong?”

They cleared so swiftly, his eyes, she could have sworn she’d imagined what she’d seen.

“Nothing, darling.” He kissed her cheek. “We are almost to your home.”

“Oh! I must look a fright!” Lauren’s hands flew to her cheeks.

“Not a fright. Perhaps a little,” he chuckled wickedly, “dishevelled, but nothing I cannot easily correct.” His hands lifted to pull hers away, replacing them with his own as he lightly glamoured her makeup and fixed her hair.

Green light flickered at the corner of her eyes, but all she felt was a coolness caress her skin and wash over her hair. “Why is it different this time?”

“Because there is barely a touch of magic. Little more than a thought to control. What we did was more of a… sharing. There was much more power involved.” His hands shifted from her face to her shirt, tugging and straightening, fussing in a way she was unused to.

She shooed them away. “I can do that.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t see to my woman?” he asked.

Grabbing for his hands, Lauren held them still in her lap. “Loki? What’s happening here?” There was so much more going on than just him helping her with her family.

He looked at her, long and hard, emotions washing over his face in such rapid succession Lauren was hard pressed to follow. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, the helicopter touched down.

Lauren snapped her eyes to the door. “Loki, I’d be much obliged if for at least the next thirty minutes you didn’t leave my side.”

His lips pressed to her cheek, and his arm wrapped her waist. “Whatever you need, my sweet.”

***

Her heart rate spiked the instant the plea to stay with her left Lauren. The wild thrumming of her pulse in her throat had him holding her tighter, bringing her closer, putting aside his own desires for the moment to be what she needed.

Drawing his nose along her cheek, an action he noticed both soothed and aroused her, Loki brushed a trailing caress down to the rapid flutter and inhaled deeply. “Ah, there is my Lauren. My Amazonian Lily. What a… hm, delightfully beautiful scent.” He could eat her up she smelled so delectable.

“Loki,” she sighed, body melting into his.

A smile tugged at his lips. Her pulse slowed as her mind drifted away from her worries. Exactly what he’d intended.

“Come, darling,” he murmured, placing a kiss against the alluring line of her jaw.

He drew her by the hand to her feet, led her toward the door, and through it when it opened, stepping out into the hot, humid air. It slapped him in the face, the moist wet heat, nearly making him grunt in displeasure before he adjusted his internal temperature. Such was the benefit of being born a frost giant. Brushing back his hair, Loki pulled Lauren beneath his shoulder and took his first look around at her home.

They’d landed on a wide swath of well-groomed lawn. The colour was a vivid green, healthy and lush. What trees dotted the area were tall and old. Beds of brightly blooming flowers spread out in symmetrical lines and curves, surrounding the light grey gravel of the circular drive. A fountain sprang up from the center of the circle, big and ostentatious, nothing like the elegant ones of home.

Everything was too perfect, too contrived, too… false for his liking. All of it went against the natural flow of the land, against its nature. It was as if someone was trying to showcase their wealth.

When he shifted his gaze to the house, his brow arched. The big white place was three stories tall, wrapped in porches and balconies held up by columns. Dual staircases led up to the covered entryway, curving slightly as they rose, requiring one to walk up to get to the main floor of the house. The house spread out from the box-shaped front, the right side rounding into a large bend, jutting out into an elongated turret. The left was nearly a home of its own with a peaked roof instead of flat like the main building.

He knew little of human dwellings, nothing at all of this variety, and peered down at Lauren where she stood beside him, twisting her fingers together. “While your home appears… lofty in stature, I do not understand the nature of the layout. Why does the bottom section appear so short compared to the second and third story? Is there something undesirable about the ground level?”

Lauren shot him a small smile. “Back when the farm was a sugar plantation, at its inception, the basement there was for the servants. Kitchen, living quarters, storage, and all that.”

“And now, Lauren?” he asked.

“Mostly storage. The wine cellar. I think Daddy put a gym down there a few years ago. The house was modernized before I was born, moving the kitchen and such upstairs. Mama has a tendency to renovate when the mood strikes.”

“Indeed,” he said, leading her away from the aircraft, wind from the slowing rotors lifting their hair.

“Oh! The bags,” she said, trying to turn back.

Holding her in place, Loki flicked his wrist. “I have them.”

“Really?”

“You doubt me?”

“I guess not,” she giggled.

The sound made him surprisingly happy.

When they made the base of the wide cement stairway, the door to the house, a massive oak structure as white as the rest of the place with a large brass door knocker opened to reveal a woman only slightly older than Lauren. Marabeth, the elder sister.

“Well, look at you arrivin’ in style,” she said with a smile.

It was sharp, predatory, and Loki disliked her instantly. Did his Lauren have no one in her family who treated her with kindness?

A darker blonde than Lauren and with hazel eyes, Marabeth was heavier as well. Thicker in the hips and waist than his svelte, flexible woman. She was dressed in a white suit jacket and skirt, navy blue shirt, and white strappy sandals. The rings on her fingers flashed in the light when she crossed her arms.

“Mr. Stark insisted,” Lauren said, her smile brittle.

He moved his arm from around her shoulders to settle reassuringly against Lauren’s low back. “Now, Lauren my love. You know Tony would be quite offended to hear you call him Mr. Stark.”

The woman’s eyes swung to him, widened slightly, and travelled the length of his body when Loki reached the uppermost step.

It insulted him greatly. Who was she to admire what so clearly belonged to her sister?

“Loki, meet my sister, Marabeth Avirett. Marabeth, Loki Laufeyson.”

She stepped forward and held out her hand.

He only looked at it. “Charmed... I’m sure.”

Marabeth extracted her hand, her face pinched, and anger in her eyes. “Well, ain’t you just… something else,” she said, her smile faltering before she turned to head inside. “Mama and daddy are waiting on you in the library, Lauren Guillemin. I’ll send Lafayette to retrieve your bags from that… monstrosity on the lawn.”

“You needn’t concern yourself, madam. The bags are taken care of.”

Marabeth paused but didn’t turn, continuing into the house after only a moment more, and he glanced down at Lauren. She’d bit her lip to keep from laughing, shooting him a look of such gratitude it made him feel powerful. An odd thing, considering he already was.

“Thank you, Loki,” Lauren whispered.

He only hummed in acknowledgement, firming the touch he kept on her back.

Stepping over the threshold into her ancestral home, he had to bite back a sneer. The hardwood floors shone with a layer of highly polished wax. A stairwell, directly across from the door, rose up and split into two, curving up and outward toward the second level. A large, round oak table sat between him and the stairs, a blue and white vase filled with orchids rested upon it. More columns framed the openings.

Dual doorways led from the entrance to either side of the hall, doors which slid within the walls almost fully recessed, allowing him to see into either room beyond this entrance. But it was the paper on the walls which had his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Who in their right mind wants pale yellow walls with blue flower vines tangled upon it? It was ugly. Disgustingly so.

“Loki?”

He looked to Lauren.

“This way.” She held out her hand, and he took it, linking their fingers together.

Marabeth was watching them, so he lifted Lauren’s fingers to his lips, nibbled on her knuckles, and kissed her wrist. “Apologies, darling. I was simply admiring your mother’s lovely home.”

Her eyes danced with amusement. Her understanding of the inflection he’d placed upon the word evident on her face. She was so observant, his Lauren, she knew him far better than he’d realized if she could read his tone that well.

“Mama takes great pride in her home. I’m sure she’ll be pleased as punch you like it,” Marabeth called from her place between the open doors.

Lauren bit her lip, her smile wide with her back to her sister, the mischievous light glinting in her eyes again. It made him want to kiss her. Take her by the hips, jerk her up against him, and sink into her lush mouth. The mouth which tasted like the finest of Asgardian wines. She was addicting, his sweet Lauren.

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You keep looking at me like that, I will simply have to kiss you.”

“Like what?” she whispered back.

His grin became a wicked one. “Like you are auditioning to be my high priestess. All that mischief in your eyes. Be careful, sweetheart. I may just accept you into the position.”

“You have a high priestess?” she hissed.

Loki lowered his head till they were nose to nose. “I am a God, my dear.”

She stared up at him, mouth slightly agape for but a moment before her grin spread, and she slapped him gently in the chest. “Tease! You’re pullin’ my leg.”

He shrugged, face only a little smug. “Perhaps.”

“Are ya gonna continue to keep mama and daddy waitin’, Lauren Guillemin?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Marabeth Augustine,” Lauren rolled her eyes, still looking at Loki.

Better.

He could have purred with satisfaction to see her stand up to her sister. Instead, he tightened the grip he had on her fingers. Tilting his head, he gave her a wink and straightened up to follow after Lauren when she led the way through the double doors.

The new room was a parlour, frou-frou chairs and all. Polished wood furniture, lacy curtains, weird colourful floral rugs. Glass and porcelain statues, clocks, and chandeliers. It was pink. Even the cream walls had a border of pink flowers. It nearly made him shudder it was so revolting.

Long strides took them through the room, past multiple seating areas, to another set of double doors. These ones led into a slightly less ostentatious dining room. The furniture was more substantial, more in keeping with a masculine taste. The rug which covered the hardwood floors of darker, reds and golds, the mouldings white, and the walls burgundy. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room above the walnut table and eight padded chairs. Between the heavily curtained windows stood a mirror. An enormous one. One which ran from floor to ceiling.

As they passed by it, he glanced toward it and lifted his chin, smiling at the way he and Lauren looked together. His golden one walking at his side, a perfect foil to his dark might.

She glanced toward the mirror as well, blushing a pretty pink across her cheeks. Stroking his thumb over her wrist, he felt her heart kick up. Her nerves had returned, and her shoulders were tightening.

Detaching her hand from his, he shushed her with a look and tucked her fingers in his elbow, drawing her in against his side. It was a gesture of support and protection. An expression which was sorely lacking in this world.

She smiled up at him, looking into his eyes when they walked through the final door.

“Well, bless my heart! There’s my knee-baby!”

Holy Odin and the halls of Valhalla! The voice was worse in person than it could have ever been over the phone. High pitched and nasal, he quelled a flinch though Lauren’s eyes squinted when she could not entirely control hers.

She took a breath, turned her head, and he watched her smile freeze and fall away. Her entire being stiffened with indignation. “What’s he doing here?” Lauren asked coldly.

“Lauren Guillemin! Is that any way to greet your mother or speak to a guest?” her mother scolded.

Slowly, Loki lifted his head. A wolf on the hunt could not have looked more menacing if it tried.

Sweeping his gaze around the room, he took in the walls of books, heavy leather chairs in a deep cognac colour mixed with high backed green cloth ones, dark chocolate couches, and deep cherry panelling. A stone fireplace graced the back wall and above it, hung a portrait of some ancestor or other, the clothing on the people from long ago. But it was the people within the room he zeroed in on.

Marabeth stood off to the side with a man dressed along the same lines as himself. Light grey pants matched his suit coat. A white polo shirt stretched across a pot belly, Loki noticed disdainfully. He would never allow himself to fall into such a state. It was disgraceful. The man’s dark hair was grey at the temples, and the glasses he wore spoke of his poor eyesight.

Pitiful. No challenge.

He must be Marabeth’s husband, Samuel.

The woman with the voice was next. She was undoubtably Lauren’s mother. They were nearly identical in looks, though Magnolia was well into her fifth decade. Shades lighter, her blonde was of the bottled variety. An ageing woman’s last-ditch effort to retain her youth. Her dress was cream, sleeveless, tight through the bust, fitted in the waist, and flared out from her hips similar to the one Lauren had worn the night before. It had floral bouquets in pinks and golds and blues upon it. Her heeled shoes were a bubble-gum pink complete with bows.

She looked absurd. Like she was trying to be Lauren’s sister, not her mother. Was there any wonder why Magnolia was so crass to her daughter? The woman was working so hard to be something she had long grown too old for.

She was ageing - poorly - and resented it.

The salt and pepper hair of the man at her back bespoke his age loud and clear. Lauren’s father, Hoyt, was a big man. Tall. Strong. He, too, wore tan pants and a blue shirt. No jacket. His eyes, ones which showed where Lauren’s had come from, were narrowed and assessing.

Loki didn’t like being eyed and narrowed his own in warning.

Hoyt’s fell away, and Loki’s moved on to land full-force on the man Lauren glared at.

Caramel coloured hair curled around his face, hanging into his dark brown eyes. Loki begrudgingly admitted the male was… pleasing enough. He had decent features, but he wasn’t of Asgard. Dragging his eyes down the male interloper, he took in the muscled physique, the cocky stance, the much too appreciative stare of his woman.

“Darling?” Loki poured every ounce of possession, every drop of seduction, into the single word and had all eyes turn to him. Being a God was so good. “Who is this… person?”

Her eyes lifted to his and the angry flush on her face faded. “George Montgomery, my ex-fiancé.”

Her hand had come off his arm with her anger. He wrapped his around her waist and drew her to his chest. “Truly?” he asked. “This is the man foolish enough to cheat on you, my Lauren? I may have to shake his hand. His loss is my gain after all.” But he didn’t move away from her, only cupped her cheek and smiled. Slowly. Playfully. Seductively.

She melted into him. “I’d prefer he simply went away.”

“Lauren Guillemin, you watch your mouth! George is my guest,” Magnolia berated.

“A guest you knew I had no wish to see.” Lauren sent her a glare. “Why is he here, mama?”

Marabeth stepped forward. “Now, Lauren. You know mama and daddy have your best interests at heart. Why George is here to make amends. He wants to see you again, and well, we just assumed you were lyin' when you said you had a fella.”

Loki felt the power surge within him. Rage burned with her sister’s words. With the inference. With the lack of faith. “As you can clearly see, I am not a contrivance of your sister’s imagination.” His voice rang with authority, causing the woman to flinch.

“Loki, don’t,” Lauren pleaded.

“They insult you, my heart. Besmirch our love. I cannot allow such a thing to go unanswered!”

“You sure picked a fancy replacement, Lauren,” George quipped.

“Watch your tone, human, or I will show you just how fancy I can truly be,” Loki snarled.

“Well, paint me pink and call me purple.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Here we go…” Lauren whispered, her head falling to Loki's chest.

He turned to look at the newly arrived speaker framed within a second doorway and arched his brow in sudden understanding of Lauren’s previous statements in regards to Cissy.

Unlike her blonde sisters and mother, this woman, a few years younger than Lauren, was brunette, petite, and wearing a strapless ruffled purple dress, tied in the front with a big white bow. An incredibly short purple dress.

“Cissy! Why land's sakes, girl! We can see plumb clear to the promise land!” her mother exclaimed.

“Oh, mama. This dress ain’t that short.” Cissy waved a dismissive hand.

Sharp blue eyes turned his way. Again he was assessed as if he were a side of meat by another of the females in this family. It was something Lauren had never done, or if she had, he’d never chanced to notice it.

“My, my, my, Lauren. How you’ve come up in the world,” Cissy smiled slyly. “And as for you, George, why would my darlin’ sister take you back when she’s hooked in such a… hm, fine man?”

“What the hell you talkin’ about, Cissy?” George snapped.

Cissy ignored him, slinking her way across the room. “You know, hun, when mama dun told me you’re new beau’s name was Loki, why I just couldn’t believe it. I didn't think it was possible. My mouse of a sister, attracting his notice. Figured if anything it was someone else by that name. But here he stands, plain as the nose on your face. The Loki.”

“Just how many people you think have a name like Loki, Cissy?” Lauren rolled her eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Magnolia said. “And I’m disappointed in your manners, Lauren Guillemin.”

Loki held Lauren tighter, warning her to silence before she could do something foolish like apologize, and gave them all a hard smile. “I do believe you’re correct, madam. How unconscionably rude of me not to introduce myself.” He tilted his head in regal acknowledgement. “I am Loki Laufeyson. Adopted son of Odin. Brother to Thor. Once Prince of Asgard, and the God of Mischief.” Rolling his wrist, he summoned his staff to his hand and dropped the butt of the weapon to the floor. Power rippled out from the connection, gently shaking the room and all within it.

“Dramatic much?” Lauren said under her breath, smirking up at him.

“I did not summon the helmet,” Loki smiled down at her.

She giggled and bit her lip to cut off the sound.

“You’re… you’re… that Loki?” Hoyt gasped.

“If by that Loki you mean one of the Avengers then indeed I am.”

“I’m such a huge fan,” Cissy cooed, slinking closer.

“How nice for you.” Loki didn’t even bother to look her way. “Lauren speaks so… highly of you all. It is a joy to finally meet my beloved’s family.”

Lauren shivered against him. He couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or anxiety.

“Why, I’m just… caught with my pants down, Lauren,” Magnolia said. “You could have told me.”

“I did tell you, mama. I told you I was seein’ someone. I’m not a liar, and I don’t appreciate bein’ painted as one.” Lauren placed her hand on Loki’s chest.

He could feel the way it fluttered there, shaking, her guilt in what she assumed was a lie present in her touch.

“Pish, Lauren.” Cissy waved her hand. “We all know you’re all hat and no cattle.”

“Lauren, I want to talk to you,” George stated, walking toward them.

Loki sent him a warning glare which the fool ignored. Very well, it will be your funeral. The man was not going to lay a hand on his woman.

“I have nothin' to say to you, George. And Cissy, you’re one to talk.”

Cissy sidled up next to Loki, daring to drag her fingertip down Loki’s arm. Her touch was foul. “You do not want to do that,” he warned.

“My, oh my. Just look at you,” Cissy giggled, fluttering her lashes.

“Lauren, I really think you and I should speak privately,” George said from less than a foot away.

“George! Can it! And, Cissy, so help me God, if you do not take your hands off my boyfriend I will snatch you bald!” Lauren snapped.

For Loki, it was all quite enough. No one listened to his Lauren. They all walked over her protests as if her opinion meant nothing. Cissy had increased her boldness, running her hand firmly up his arm. George was reaching for Lauren as if he had the right to touch her. Her mother was staring adoringly at George, and her father was clearly calculating how best to use Lauren’s new beau to his benefit while Marabeth and her husband were frowning disapprovingly off to one side.

He gritted his teeth together. “Enough!” Loki bellowed, slamming his staff into the ground. It cracked loudly, not so different from Thor’s thunder, causing everyone to freeze. “Remove your hand, woman or I will take it as penalty for touching me without permission,” he said coldly to Cissy. It came off his arm with a snap, but he could tell he'd only piqued her interest with his rejection.

With a simple twist of his wrist, his staff turned into a golden cane topped with a gleaming green stone. He swung it up and slammed the tip into George’s grasping hand, knocking it away from Lauren. “And the lady has stated she does not wish to speak with you. To try and put your hands on her is a great offence,” he snarled, pointing the cane tip at the man. “One which could land you on the wrong end of my anger.”

“You ain’t got a say in this, pretty boy, so butt out!” George snapped, rubbing his wrist.

“Now, y'all just calm down,” Hoyt said, stepping in at last. “We’re all runnin’ a little hot with these surprises and could use a chance to cool down. Lauren, why don't you take Loki to your room and get settled. Show him around the farm if you want, and we'll meet for lunch in an hour.”

Loki frowned his disapproval. Some patriarch he is. Odin would never allow anyone to treat his daughter with such disrespect including her siblings. “Yes, darling. I would very much like to see where we will be sleeping,” he said and dropped the butt of his cane to the floor, sending another wave of power rolling through the room.

“Oh, but I’ll have to get a maid to make up a spare room…” Magnolia trailed off when Loki shifted hard eyes her direction.

“That is not the Asgardian way. We would never allow our women to sleep alone; vulnerable in their slumber.” He glanced toward George and smiled smugly. “Or unsatisfied.”

“Loki, that's enough,” Lauren said, touching his chest. A pleasing blush had appeared on her face.

“Of course, my sweet.” Vanishing his staff, Loki traced his fingers over her cheek, tilted her chin up and kissed her. He didn't stop until George’s teeth ground together. “Take me to your bed, darling,” he purred against her mouth.

“Loki!” she scolded, her face bright red. “I'm of half a mind to make you sleep on the floor.”

“How cruel of you, my love.” Wrapping her tighter against him, he tipped his voice low, sultry, seductive. “Would you really deny me access to Valhalla? My Valkyrie, you know I only find heaven with you.”

She bit her lip, eyes dancing with amusement, trying hard not to laugh. Her hand caressed the back of his neck as she drew him closer. “You're a terrible flirt,” she whispered.

“I'm a fantastic flirt,” he whispered back.

“Lauren Guillemin! I raised you better. You can't be sharin’ space with a man you ain't married to!” Magnolia screeched.

Growing annoyed with the woman, her anger less about her daughter's virtue and more because the boy Magnolia preferred was not the one in Lauren’s bed, Loki traced his fingers down Lauren’s throat. He brushed them over her shoulder, and along her arm, all the way to her hand where he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the ring finger of her left hand.

She blinked curiously up at him, eyes alight, wondering what he would do next.

Screw it.

He threw caution to the wind and let his magic spark around her fingers. Bringing her hand to his lips, Loki kissed her knuckles, gave her a wink, and hoped she would play along. “Then it is fortuitous Lauren has consented to be my bride.”

The entire room gasped.

A wicked thrill coursed through his veins at a successfully executed trick. However, he didn’t look away from Lauren to see the reactions. Hers was far more important.

Her eyes widened, mouth falling open as her gaze darted down to the golden ring with the dazzling green stone which now graced her finger. Her lashes fluttered, then lifted, returning up to his. Shock turned her eyes teal before the same enticing, fascinating light, glowed in her beautiful eyes.

“Loki…” Her mouth closed and she swallowed hard. Her spine straightened as she stood taller. “I thought we were gonna wait, peaches until you could speak with my daddy?”

“Oh, dear. I have quite ruined the surprise now haven’t I?”

“No! You can’t!”

Humming irately, Loki glared at George. “What was it you so eloquently said earlier? Oh, yes. You do not have a say in this, so butt out!”

“You ain’t got no say in my life, George Montgomery. You were the one who walked out on me,” Lauren stated, her tone cold and unforgiving.

“I made a mistake, Lauren. Can’t we talk about this?” George reached for her arm again.

Loki was having none of it. A swirl of green magic wrapped his hand, wrapped around Lauren, and he appeared between the two of them his favourite dagger in his fist. He rolled it over the back of his hand and switched his grip as he pressed the lovingly sharpened edge against the human’s throat. “My lady is done with you, you dishonourable gutter snake! I will not allow you to upset her further.”

“My stars!” Magnolia gasped. “Lauren! Do somethin'!”

“Loki!” Lauren’s hands wrapped around his waist.

He settled his free one on hers but didn’t look away from the scared eyes of George. “Do not mistake me for some weak, mewling human you can push around! I am of Asgard. What I claim, and who I claim as my own are mine to protect. I do not hold with your ways. I would never betray the woman I love as you have.” Drawing his hand back, he flipped the dagger again, caught it by the flat of the blade and smacked the hilt firmly between George’s eyes. “You have caused me to distress my lady. That is unforgivable.”

Vanishing the dagger, he turned his back on the man. “Darling, are you alright?” Had he scared her? He had not meant to go so far, it was only this George pissed him off.

She peered up at him, but fear was not what he found in her eyes. They glowed with the wicked light of earlier. The mischievous light. The one which made him think of shimmering, diaphanous gowns which exposed as much as they covered, golden bangles on her arms, a diadem placed upon her brow, and her hair flowing in soft waves around her shoulders as she danced for him.

His high priestess. His Valkyrie. His goddess.

Lauren.

“I’m fine, peaches,” she smiled. “But how’s about we take that tour? I think there’s been enough excitement for one mornin’.” Her hands traced up over his chest.

It felt too good for such a public display. “I will follow where you lead, my love.” Sweeping his eyes over the rest of her gathered family, he smiled. “Apologies if I frightened anyone. It was… enlightening to meet you all.”

Marabeth and Samuel stood together across the room, clinging to each other.

Her mother had a hand wrapped around her throat, fear on her face.

The father was stiff, but his countenance showed only more calculation. Hoyt was going to be an issue.

And so was the youngest sister. Cissy was dragging her fingers over her décolletage, teeth in her lip, eyes appreciative. She continued to trace them over his body in a very displeasing manner. “Why don’t I come with y’all?” Cissy said, sliding closer.

“Your company is neither wished for, nor required, madam.” Gathering Lauren to his side, Loki urged her from the room.

“This way,” she said, tugging him the opposite direction, through the door her sister had used to enter and down a hallway.

“Lauren…”

“Not yet.”

He fell silent, watching her tail of hair sway as she walked quickly toward a stairwell. She darted up it, making him fear for her ankles when she ran on the wedge sandals. Somehow she made it safely to the top, continuing down the new hallway.

They were clearly in the large turret section as the walls curved slightly. To his left was a balcony rail which he peered over. On the floor they’d left was an open room with more highly polished floors. A ballroom if he wasn't mistaken, one lined with windows.

About halfway down the hall, she stopped before a door tall enough for a Frost Giant to walk through without bending. Turning the crystal doorknob, she shoved it open and walked in, heading deeper into the room bathed in light. So much light it streamed out into the hallway, causing Loki to squint when he followed her.

At the threshold, he paused to take the sight in.

The room was quite large. Contained both a bedroom and seating area, dressers and mirrors all wooden and antique in nature. Windows curved the length of one entire wall. Another space which was a touch too pink for his liking, but he could tell it had been Lauren’s childhood bedroom.

Wandering inside, he shut the door at his back and cast his gaze around the space, admiring the white fur rug before the fireplace, the soft couch with its saggy cushions and colourful blankets, the posters of people he couldn’t recognize nor cared to learn about. There were two doors, both closed, which he imagined led to washroom and closet.

White mouldings surrounded the walls, walls which, at one time had been painted a baby soft pink and were now faded from the sun. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the bed, and his eyes landed on Lauren who’d gone over backwards into the middle of the mass of eclectic bedding and pillows.

It was sweet, he supposed, very much in keeping for what he’d seen of his Lauren in this space.

Walking across the room, he flicked his wrist, dropping their luggage next to the door, and settled down beside her on the bed. “Lauren?”

A smile flirted with her lips before she giggled. “Oh man. Did you see George’s face? I thought he was gonna wet himself!”

Humming softly, amusement in the sound, Loki nodded. “Personally, I enjoyed the pinched look on your youngest sister’s face when you threatened to snatch her bald. You are far feistier than they have given you credit for.”

She laughed harder, wrapping her arms around herself. “And when you introduced yourself!” Lauren giggled uncontrollably. “Marabeth was fit to be tied!”

He chuckled softly and reclined beside her, resting on his elbow to watch her laugh. “And I am not a terrible flirt.”

She rolled to face him with bright eyes. “You are such a terrible flirt! So over the top. Besmirch our love? Take me to your bed? Deny me Valhalla?”

His grin widened. “Yet you did not protest,” he said, leaning closer while tracing his hand up her ribs.

“I was havin’ too much fun,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to his lips.

“So was I. This whole escapade appeals to my nature.” Gaze falling to her lips, he leaned down and kissed her, lightly brushing his mouth over hers. “I dislike your family. They are cruel to you. They disrespect you.”

Softly, Lauren asked, “Is that why you said we were engaged?”

It was one of two reasons. The first being he had no desire to be parted from her, and the shock it had given her family was invigorating. The second was the odd, calculating look her mother had exchanged with George. Something was going on there, and the instincts which had served him all his life had shrieked in warning. It was a warning he would heed.

“You must admit, the result was rather pleasing.”

She lifted her hand to look at the ring. “Is this… your staff?”

“No, darling. I made that special for you.”

Nodding slowly, Lauren looked away.

“What’s wrong, my sweet?”

Gently, he took her face in his hand, turning her eyes back to his. She kept her lids lowered shadowing them. What colour had come to her face with her laughter was suddenly gone. Her heart was beating hard in her throat, and her hands twisted together, fingers playing with her ring.

“Lauren?”

“What are we going to do?” Her eyes drifted up to his. “It was supposed to be a charade. A relationship to get my mama off my case. Now… now we’re engaged… and this isn’t supposed to be real… but it feels… you make me feel…” Her eyes filled with tears, and they sparkled like diamonds on her lashes.

“Lauren, don’t do that, my love.”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She wrenched her face from his hand and sat up, scooting off the bed.

He went with her and grabbed her hand. He tugged her back around to face him, finding the tears had broken loose and were falling freely. “No, no, my Valkyrie. No tears.” He cupped her cheeks, holding her there, wiping the waterfalls of sorrow from her face.

Her hands came up and wrapped tightly around his wrists. She looked up, her eyes locking with his as she whispered, “Loki? Are you playing with me?”

Next Chapter

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