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isawritesshit · 1 month

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The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

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"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

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mauesartetc · 4 months

Text

A while back I got a comment that demonstrated a misconception as to what the character design process actually entails, and I thought it had real "teachable moment" potential. So let me make this perfectly clear:

Drawing a character is NOT the same as designing one.

Let's say I wanted to draw a guy. No backstory, no defined personality traits or preferences, no details about his current life, just doodling some random, generic guy who popped into my head.

That's just a drawing.

But what if I decided to flesh him out more? What if I wanted his appearance to reflect his lifestyle and inner life as well? Here's where the note-taking comes in.

And now for the visual research:

I thought the bodybuilding angle would provide a fun contrast with this guy's profession. The mental image of a huge, burly dude working on a clock or watch with tiny, precise movements just makes me smile. Perhaps I could give him small, nimble hands that would suit his line of work.

Now that I have a better idea of how Mikhail's face and body will look, it's time to establish a pose.

Of course, I never expected to employ all the personality traits I started out with inside this single pose; those were just a jumping-off point. No one drawing will ever be able to encapsulate every single facet of a character, unless they're extraordinarily flat and generic (see also: random guy I doodled at the start of this post). If I wanted to write a story with this guy, I'd have to figure out how all the traits play off each other and how they'd cause him to react to different situations. There would be a lot more note-taking and development involved, but for the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) brief, let's just focus on visuals for now.

On to color!

I decided to give Mikhail a carnation in his pocket (for its round shape), specifically a red one, which represents deep love and an aching heart. Thus, the flower needed to maintain its red color for the symbolism to come through.

For some reason I initially pictured this guy wearing a pink shirt (perhaps as an offshoot of the "romantic" angle), but I wanted to try some different colors inspired by the 70s catalog pages I found. I ended up really liking the contrast of the cool blue shirt with the warm red pants, and that option made it into my top three as a result. I lined them up next to each other to compare them, and in the end, blue won out over pink. I think it also reflects the "colder", more cerebral, less-emotional parts of his personality well (namely "systematic", "stern", and "callous"- one from each column!). Just goes to show that you shouldn't get too attached to your first draft, as better ideas are just around the corner.

I then lightened the blue of the shirt so it wouldn't compete so much with the rest of the outfit, and wouldn't be quite as loud and "in your face". Mikhail strikes me as a bit of an introvert, so the calmer, quieter blue is a better fit. I added a darker belt and watchband and de-saturated the flower just a bit to make the values feel more balanced, and I think we've got it!

Let's see the final result!

Y'all, I was not expecting this process to make me emotional, but there's something special about fully realizing a little guy you've spent hours working on. All of a sudden you look at him and go, "Oh my god, there he is. That's him." This man wasn't even a twinkle in my eye a couple weeks ago and now I'd protect him with my life.

And the thing is, the only reason I'm calling this design "done" for now is that I basically just brought it into existence to make a point. But if this dude were attached to a larger story, he'd be nowhere near finished. I'd have to make a ton more iterations and go a lot more in depth with my research than I did (especially with the Armenian cultural stuff). Overall, though, I hope this quick project properly highlighted the difference between a single drawing and a more fleshed-out character.

Later!

#character design #art tips #art advice #art help #concept art #long post

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littlexscarletxwitch · 9 months

Note

Hi!!!!! I hope you’re doing well!! I really like the way you write, I was hoping to request a fic with either Wanda or Natasha, or both if you vibe with it, and F! avenger reader with a whole bunch of pining. Maybe they go on a mission and one of them runs into like a sex pollen/ aphrodisiac that really makes them crave their crush and enhances preexisting feelings for that person. You can totally ignore this if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I appreciate you either way!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

paring: wandanat x fem!avenger!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with no plot, sex pollen, insatiable r (or at least I tried), wanda and nat doing whatever r needs

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering (r receiving), mouth riding (r receiving) thigh riding (r receiving), tit sucking, slight blood kink (?), kinda dom!reader, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: Half way through writing this fic I was like "Wait, is this supposed to be smut. I mean it's sex pollen so it has to right?" and I'm still not sure but I just went with it lol. AAAAH, my first wandanat fic, I'm so excited you guys. I really hope you guys like it. It was quite a challenge writing a threesome and some parts I feel like they are bad but meh. Just go with it. Thank you, nonnie, for this request. I appreciate you just as much. I hope you like it. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The moment the intoxicating honey-like scent filled your lungs you felt as if your whole body shivered.

Your eyes clouded for a few seconds, your body losing balance as your legs trembled. The whole room felt like it was spinning and your thoughts were getting louder and louder. Images of red hair, tangled limbs and short black nails rushing through your mind.

“Y/n, everything okay?” you heard Steve’s voice through your earpiece, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“You have been silent for quite a while now, detka,” you heard Wanda say.

“You’re still alive, right Y/n?” Nastasha joked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. All clear, let’s head back,” you said, trying to ignore the way your body was starting to feel different in every conceivable way possible.

As you made your way back to the quinjet you felt your heart rate increasing, you blamed it on the adrenaline of the mission, the nerves of getting out in the field once again and decided not to think too much about it, pushing everything back deep inside of your mind.

“Okay, good job everyone!” Steve congratulated all of you. “Fortunately for us, this Hydra base was empty, but it’s not always going to be like that…” he kept on going with his speech but you weren’t listening anymore.

You took a seat, feeling as if your legs would give out on you any second. It felt as if someone was hammering your poor brain, you felt your skin on fire and you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt as if your senses magnified and you felt everything ten times stronger, no matter how hard you tried to stop feeling anything at all.

“Y/n, you okay?” Clint said while placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you said as you gently shrugged off his hand off your burning skin, not wanting him to notice it.

Okay,” he said, sitting next to you, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

You did the same, in hopes that getting some rest will make it all go away. As you drifted off to sleep, two pairs of eyes were watching your every move. Taking down mental notes of your body language, something they would usually do. But this time they could clearly tell that something was off with you.

“Something is up with her,” the redhead mumbled, squinting her eyes at you.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” the brunette concluded.

“Can you like, check on her?”

“You want me to go through her mind?!” Wanda hissed in disbelief.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act so innocent now, Wan,” the brunette's eyes opened wide in realisation, of course Natasha knew about that. “I know you do it all the time, it’s like your little hobby, isn’t it?” the redhead teased her.

“No, I do not. Those things are private,” Wanda scoffed.

“It’s okay, I’m judging. I mean I think I would also do it if I could,” she had a grin plastered on her face.

“It’s not funny, Nat,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, right. Just do it,” Natasha nudged her.

“Okay, okay,” the brunette mumbled some Russian curses and a second later her eyes were turning red.

“What do you see?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, getting lost in your mind. “Everything’s a blur.”

“What do you mean ‘a blur’? It can’t be right.”

“I’m just telling you what I’m seeing, Tasha,” her brows furrowed as she tried to concentrate even more.

There had to be something that could tell the both of them what was wrong with you. You barely talked to them when you got in the quinjet, that was so not like you. You were always trailing behind them, that was one thing they liked about you. Wherever they went, you followed them like a lost puppy.

They also found it cute that even though everyone was aware you had a thing for the two of them, you never dared to do anything about it. So the two of them would tease you, making you flustered, loving the way your cheeks would go crimson red. They liked you, they really did, that was why Wanda and Natasha were so eager to know what was wrong with you. So they could make you feel better.

“Wait a second…”

“What? What is it? Tell me.”

“I think she’s in pain, but she’s not physically hurt. No, this is deeper, quite strange really. Oh, Nat, I think she’s—”

“Okay, everyone you are free for the rest of the day. See you all at dinner. First round is on me,” Steve said, as the quinjet landed. His loud voice woke you up in the process and distracted Wanda.

You groaned in annoyance, sleeping did nothing for you, everything felt ten times louder and you felt like tearing your skin off your body.

You got up quickly and made your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“The fuck’s wrong with me?” you mumbled to yourself.

You felt your tummy sinking, a fire starting in your lower area. You closed your eyes as the pain became unbearable. But closing your eyes only made it worse somehow. Your mind was filled with thoughts of them, their hands, their lips, their kisses, their scents.

“Fuck,” it came out as a moan.

The only thing you could think about was Natasha and Wanda. And that was when it hit you. You needed them, you always had, but this time you needed them or you felt like you could actually die. They will know what to do, they could help you.

“Detka!” you heard someone banging on your door.

You gasped in relief at the perfect timing.

“Y/n, we know you are not okay. Just let us inside,” the redhead shouted through your door.

Once you open the door, they realise how bad this whole thing was for you. With just one look at you they could tell you were a mess. Your breath was uneven, your cheeks were as red as ever and a thin layer of sweet covered your whole body.

“I, I—,” you tried, but your voice simply wasn’t cooperating.

“We know, baby. We know,” Wanda cooed, as Natasha closed and locked the door behind her.

“This is bad, you shouldn’t be here…”

“It’s okay, malyshaka. We are here to help you.”

“I don’t think I can control myself…”

“We don’t want you to,” the redhead said as she stood behind you.

You could feel her hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“It hurts,” you almost cried. “I need it to stop… I need you… Make it stop,” you said breathlessly.

And that’s all it took for Wanda to connect her lips with yours and for Natasha to kiss your neck. You swear you could come undone just by the feeling of their lips but it wasn’t nearly enough. Moans escaped from your mouth repeatedly, gasping for air.

Somehow the three of you made it to your bed, Wanda’s lips never leaving yours and Natasha firming her grip on your waist. Soon enough the three of you were stripped out of your clothes, and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as soon as you made skin to skin contact with them.

“Fuck,” the word rolled out off your togue onto Wanda’s lips the moment your exposed core touched her thigh.

You felt a wave of pleasure washing over you, clouding all your senses and just focusing on the overwhelming feeling. Your head fell back as it hit Natasha’s stomach and she seized the moment in order to finally have a taste of your lips.

As Natasha took care of your lips, trailing her rough hands all over your torso, you started rocking your hips, Wanda’s thigh hitting the right spots on your core. It soon all became too much and you started riding her thigh at a much faster pace, knowing you were closer to your relief.

The coil inside you finally snapped, a wave of immense pleasure washed over you as you cursed over and over again, their names slipping out of your lips. You were a sweety horny little mess, you had a first taste of them and now you needed more. It was a hunger that was yet to be satisfied.

As you catched your breath, you got up from Wanda’s lap and gently pushed Natasha over the bed.

“What are you—?” she raised a brow at you, confused at your behaviour.

They have studied you before and they knew for a fact that you were no leader, you were a follower. You were also a people pleaser, everybody’s needs coming before your own. So you taking the lead in this situation got her off guard.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before getting on top of her, straddling her head with your thighs.

Without a warning you let your weight fall on top of her, her lips getting immediate access to your cunt. Natasha wasn’t able to resist you, she started licking, sucking, biting, getting moans and whimpers out of your pretty lips.

Her hands found your thighs and gently squeezed, her nails digging into your flesh. You felt Wanda getting behind you, rocking herself onto Natasha’s abdomen. She kissed your neck, leaving love bites all over your sensitive skin.

The room was filled with your moans and whimpers as Wanda and Natasha took care of you. You didn't care how loud you were being, you felt in cloud 9 with the two Russians hitting all the right places.

Your head fell back on Wanda’s shoulder, her hands trailing up your body pinching and massaging your nipples. All while Natasha worked her tongue in and out of you, her nose hitting your clit making your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You felt your second orgasm getting closer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long if they kept on working their magic on you.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you gasped.

Natasha moaned in your cunt as she felt your hips rocking even faster, and wanting to help you out, she did her best work on you. Wanda didn’t trail behind and she kept on teasing your breast and sucking on your skin.

“I’m— I’m—,” a loud moan cut you off as you came undone on Natasha’s lips.

She helped you ride out your high, getting as much of your juice as she could. She moaned at the taste of you, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull getting confirmation you were as sweet as she had always imagined. The moan she let out sent a shiver up your spine, making you squirm.

“How are you, malyshka?” Wanda whispered in your ear, as she helped you get off of Nat.

You throw yourself at her, feeling the fire inside of you starting back again, as your lips seek for hers. You kissed her roughly, biting her lower lip so hard that some blood came out. You tasted her blood on your tongue as you licked the small wound you had caused her.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled on her lips, breathless.

“It’s okay,” she whispered on your lips.

You didn’t mean to be rough with her, but it was out of your control. The fire inside you was too strong to keep it under control.

“I want your fingers… I need your fingers,” you said, reaching for her hand and putting two of her fingers inside of your mouth.

Wanda moaned at the sight before her, she swore she was soaking wet. But right now it wasn't about her, it was all about helping you. Poor Y/n, suffering like a bitch in heat.

Once you were done sucking, you guided them to your aching cunt, letting her take care of you. Even though you had already come two times, you were still as wet and as needy. She easily pushed two fingers inside of you, her eyes closing at how warm you felt.

“She’s so tight, Nat.”

“Really? I guess we’ll have to work on that,” you heard the redhead chuckling, but you were lost in your pleaser. Through your hooded eyes you watched them kiss each other, making you even hotter and wetter. Wanda knew you needed this really bad, so being the lady she was, she quickly picked up her pace. She felt you clenched around her fingers and that only made her thrust her fingers even faster.

Natahsa loved the scene unfolding before her eyes but wanting to take part, she got closer to Wanda, her lips reaching out for the brunette’s breasts, sucking her nipples.

“Shit,” she gasped at the feeling, her finger stopping for half a second.

“Wanda…” you moaned out annoyingly, making Natasha chuckle.

“So– sorry,” she breathed out, getting back to her work.

Your hands travelled up or body, pinching and massaging your own breast, as you watched the redhead sucking violently Wanda’s nipples. Getting whimpers out of the two of you.

“Wan, I’m close,” you whispered.

“We got you, moya lyubov.”

The moment the pet name reached your ears you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, coming for the third time.

“Fuck!” you manage to say, short of breath.

You felt the fire inside you finally being put out as Wanda’s fingers helped you ride out your high.

“You finally had enough?” Natasha joked.

“Maybe,” you shuddered, still trying to recover from the activity.

“Well, you better have, it’s our turn now.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her, a small smile forming on your lips.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x fem reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha romanoff smut #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

Note

Proxies with a fem reader going to a pumpkin patch so she can pick out her pumpkin? :>

Proxies and Fem!Reader going to a pumpkin patch!

obligatory toby is platonic but tbh i dont think romance ties too much into these specific hcs also i havent been to a pumpkin patch in years so im really scraping my brain trying to remeber what people do asides pick pumpkins...and google... a lot of google... i admit i had to fight myself not to make this a group thing where it's all together but im 80% sure you wanted these separate no unique gifs for each character, too eepy (its 6am rn and i couldnt sleep for the life of me SOBS)

Masky:

I feel like out of the three he's probably going to give the most resistance, he just doesn't like being around where loads of people may be; too much noise you know? But with enough coaxing and reassurance I do believe you can convince him to tag along

Most straight forward about it, wants it to be in and out, so he kinda beelines and tries to find a pair of pumpkins that'll do

"Babe... those ones are too small to carve..." "They're. Average."

Sorry I had to make that joke

Anyways

Out of all the activities there you might get him to sit down for a hayride if it's not too too packed!

Overall it's an okay experience, but really this guy would prefer the pumpkin carving at home after the fact; out on a porch sitting next to one another, alone in comfortable silence! He saves the seeds to make into snacks later

Hoodie:

A little more willing to go out! I feel like he's the easiest in terms of talking into stuff! As long as it's not anything dangerous he's more than willing to spend time with you.... all the better to keep his eye on you.. both in a cute aww he wants to protect you way and a creepy way but hey that's creepypasta for you

If they're offering shitty quickly constructed rides count him in, he's going to be the one dragging you!

While I'm not sure what rides would be there I'm sure there'd be but you're gonna be there for way longer than originally planned

Saving this for another day but Ferris Wheel trope where it gets stuck, one of y'all totally shouldn't send in a character for me to do that for wink wink nudge nudge

Probably the most emotive you see Hoodie, ever, it's actually a little jarring at first but it's cute in it's own way that he's getting all hyped up over some rides

overall? y'all forget to actually. pick pumpkins so you guys have to almost immediately return to go browse at the pumpkins that remain. Does the thing where you knock on produce to make sure it sounds right. Does he know what he's going or what he's looking for? No clue but hey there's that mental image, Hoodie kneeling down on the ground, head pressed against a pumpkin and tapping it

Ticci Toby:

Pretends to not wanna go but really he's totally fucking stoked that you wanna go somewhere with him, him? like him him? Toby? Well if you insist-

That bit sounded mean but I believe Toby feels.... I don't know how to put it but like I think it's because he used to be bullied and left out that he still gets a little surprised when you willingly invite him to hang out; not that he's complaining though

Haunted corn maze. This fucker beelines for the corn maze. You have lost your silly friend with an affinity for collecting empty snail shells (hc)

Good luck trying to find him, if it's one of those mazes with scare actors he's not going to flinch or scream so there goes your audio cue

Eventually you do find him though! So it's not totally disastrous! It just takes you upwards of fifteen minutes because you yourself got lost before looping back to the entrance, only to find this little shit sitting right by the entrance

Seriously how the fuck did he do that?

No clue

You know how sometimes pumpkins are bumpy or a lil... off looking? Leave it to this fucker to make several jokes about how they look, primarily ragging on the bumpier ones

"Hey look, it looks like you" "shut the fuck up"/j

Generally a very good time as long as you ignore the small heart attack you got when Toby disappeared! Good luck cleaning the mess after carving up your pumpkins

He probably tries to see what the guts taste like

idk what raw pumpkin guts taste like

not sure if its any good because ive only tried pre canned pumpkin puree and used it for baking so idk if it tastes good straight from the source

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #masky headcanons #masky x reader #hoodie imagines #hoodie x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year

Text

All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 3

Hello my beautiful people, here i am with the third part, LET THE ANGST CONTINUE. I dunno how long this series gon be, so bear with me guys, and i'll promise i'll stop the angst train soon, just not now :d Comments, feedback and reblogs are appreciated, i love your reactions. love y'all

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings:, torture, language, graphic scenes, again: military men, mention of urination (weird i know), canon typical violence i guess, overall distraught

Summary: While your try to hold it together both body and mind in the midst of darkness and pain, Simon and the team try their best to get to you, without walking into a deathtrap.

A soft feather like touch is grazing the inside of your wrist, so light but apparent, eyes snapping open. Is he here? A wave of relief washing over you momentarily before registering your own finger on your own skin, caressing the veins under the thin skin.

You choke on the sob that erupts from you, realizing you tried to comfort yourself unconsciously, your mind in shambles, making you believe Simon got through all the Shadows to you. Damsel in distress you said? You snort at that, the fast switch in your head is comical at this point. You are loosing your mind already? That cannot be the case, no. You are stronger than that.

You keep petting your wrist, now fully aware of the fact that it's just you, not Simon making sure of the pulsing under his fingers. It became something so intimate between the two of you. When you woke up in the hospital, in the midst of nightmares, fire and pain, you could feel the sensitive touch of callused fingers, holding your hand the same way, all the time. Wrapped around your hand, warm, fingers meeting on top of the veins where you can feel the rhythmical thump of blood rushing in them.

So you woke up like that, him on your bedside, not letting your hand go for a second, pulling his chair closer when you found his gaze, devoid from the black camouflage makeup or haunting image of a skull. A handsome man with worry in his deep gaze, telling tales of how much hell he's been trough.

So it became a habit, a couple thing if you will. He does this anytime he seeks comfort, and anytime he feels you need reassurance of his presence. When you first sat up with a hole still in your chest, when he confessed how fucking terrified he was when you hit the ground, when you walked out scarred mentally and physically, when he tried to catch you attention, or when he wanted one more kiss before you turned back to the stove. It's a silent i love you. Neither of you are good with words, but you found other ways to communicate.

You doing it gives a tiny bit of ease in the middle of the dusty cold room.

You look around, slowly to see every corner and darker part, and while you are certain no one else is in the room with you, you are still cautious with your surroundings. Everything is in the exact same place as before your head decided to give in to the bleariness. You remain on the sad wooden chair screwed to the ground in the middle, a reeking bucket of your piss behind you in the farthest corner, old electrical boxes so old you can't see the color of them under all the rust. You inspected everything, the boxes are rooted, they might open but you doubt you'll have enough juice in you to crack open any of it.

Other than the boxes and your makeshift toilet the space is empty, and it was a miracle that you even have the luxury to pee in something. Graves left you with one of his goons for a while, inspecting your every move, so when another Shadow brought it, you peed looking into his eyes. The man was so flustered he left the room minutes later, and you thought about how Soap would laugh at this story after going on a rampage of your humiliation. You couldn't care less. If this is all you have to endure, so be it. You are off the hook easy so far, and you fear Graves is waiting for the big finale. You are the bait, and he's hiding out to lure the targets closer and closer before he can land a solid attack.

The moment Graves left you behind, you had a deep breath, having a moment without the poker face and resistance. Now you are going mad in the quiet. Just how he said. Memorized every bit of the space around you, counted the steps on the other side of the door, focusing on the difference between boots, your brain high from stress. He wants you to crack, and you have to admit with shame, that if someone can do it, it's him. He knows you well, as a person and as a soldier.

You freeze when the door bursts open, Graves and two of his Shadow following behind. Here we go again, you think.

"You know what time is it Darling." Yeah, you know the drill already. He comes and watches as his men does the dirty job. God forbid Philip Graves gets blood on his hands.

So the first punch lands right to your stomach, air knocked out of you with a painful grunt. Shit, no foreplay this time? He's getting impatient. He wants progress, his math didn't work so he's upping his game. He anticipated the task force by now, a siege, an attack. Anything. You can see on his face, frustrated expression with deep purple bags under his eyes.

The blows are calculated. They cause pain, creating vivid colors on your skin, but too far from being fatal. A busted lip, blackeye, cuts and bruises deep enough to bleed, but drying out in a short time. It's not time yet. That might be your play.

He observes every hit on you, instructing the men assaulting you when he needs to. The pain is irrelevant at this point. You can barely feel the abuse after the impact. Which is good and real bad at the same time.

You need time. You have to buy some time for yourself, and for the guys to get to you before it's too late.

You realize you are on autopilot mode. Your brain working in military mode. Endure. Survive. Plan. No matter what. Just the reminder of a ghost touch on your wrist collect the tears in your eyes with the sting of the blade pushing slowly under your nail.

You blocked the pain so far, but your body has limits. In the middle of the constant blows, you didn't noticed the ziptie locking in on you ankles. Now when the sharp metal is threatening to broke off your first nail from your finger you try to move you knee up to meet with the man's jaw. But the impact never comes, and makes you wonder when it all happened. When the numbness left your body and switched places with pure agony and terror. Soon your hands are tied to the damn chair that's been your only support in this hell, and your wrists are painfully tight against the wood.

You hyperventilate, you cannot know but can imagine the pain you are about to experience. Simon told you it was probably the worst he ever felt. And he never says things like that unless he means it.

Then you scream.

He was ready. Blood boiling, heart aching, but ready. He was so close to action, and that clouded his judgment. Or blinded is a better description to it. He missed the subtle but clear signs that the others caught sooner. Though they agreed on the plan, it was clear and fast forward, they couldn't go with it. First Price suggested to take a step back, have an eye on everything, before making a move. That's what he did, watched and monitored and he ignored every fucking red flag that was in his face. Then everybody else hinted on the fact that the plan won't work, but he's too stubborn to hear them out.

"What are you suggesting? Leave her there to fucking die?" He's dangerously close to jump on Price for putting a complete halt on the mission. "There should have been proof of life delivered for hours now. Fuckin' 'ell she might be already DEAD!"

His voice is roaring, filling the room, dancing in his teammates ears. While they were prepared for Ghost's wrath, they never could fully understand the lengths this man will take to do what need to be done. Right now Simon is mere inch away from marching right down to the Shadow hideout, and demolish the place to the ground.

"You let me take the lead for a reason, Simon. What do you think why we haven't seen proof of life? So you lose your mind over it, because they anticipated us hours before. They know we had eyes on the area for days." Price is steady against Ghost, but he's a little out of breath, eager to reason with Ghost to prevent him do something life threatening stupid shit.

"You know Lt. the Captain is right. Every corner of that base is orchestrated for us. Every man there moved the same everyday, took the same route at the same time as before. They made it look hard but easy enough for us to try." Johnny is passionate as always, Ghost admires the fire he has in every damn situation. But in this hell of a state, Simon can't see past the red.

"She's the bait for us to go down there, and when the bastards have us, we guaranteed her death with ours."

Price and Soap talks from different sides of his head, desperate to knock some sense into his brain, making him see the ovious. But if they are right, Simon can't get closer to the goal. That means more hours and days of suffering. Suffering that he endures, and guilt doubling down on him when he registers he's afraid of his own suffering first, and not yours.

Simon's heart breaks over and over, the heart he had doubts about ever existing, head pounding against the thick skull of his. And while every fiber in his body tells him to break down the fucking doors and destroy anything and everything in search of you, he have to admit his brothers are correct.

Soap picks up Ghost's break, he can hide his face behind the mask, but he cannot hide his feelings, not when Soap watched his two teammates break into shreds, then slowly picking up what remained and putting the pieces back together. Before Simon can protest, Johnny is nudging him outside of their small long forgotten barn that sheltered them the past few days.

Simon lets Soap to guide him further, where he can breath, and might have that long awaited collapse Soap would have had at the first moment if it was about his significant other. To be honest, he already had his fair share of outrage and terror the moment he got the news about you. His best friend for years now, a friend he found in a place void of this kind of relationship he has with you.

He overcome that fury, but Ghost is a stubborn son of a bitch, and he's not sure he can turn his friend's head to the right way.

"C'mon man. You need to see what i'm seein'. You saw yourself, just think about it." Simon takes deep breaths, the cool fresh air clearing his head, the wind forcing some tears out of his eyes.

"I know." Simon grunts, head hanging defeated. "I know." He clears his throat in effort to swallow back his words. Fight is in his nature, not acceptance.

A few moment goes by like this, Johnny supporting his mate with silence, a comfortable and an awkward silence at once.

Just as Soap would try to speak again, Gaz approaches the men out of breath, stumbling over in his words before he can say it.

"We got a video, a minute ago. She's alive."

Ghost shots up, like he was shot with electricity. He lunges towards the barn, the boys hot on his trail.

The small laptop show a horrific scene, right in the middle of a scream. If Ghost wouldn't know better, he would think it's someone else, not her. But the inhuman voice is coming out of your mouth, he knows, because he sees your face fully for a moment before the video continues on to show how your nails are being removed one after one. While your face was shown in a swift blurry move, the picture of raw meat under your nails are as sharp as his precious knife in his holster.

Price reaches for the laptop, but Simon claps his hand before he could close it down, and prevent Simon to see all of it.

"No." He grumbles, Price retreats, not pleased at the slightest. He's done watching, the sound is enough to imagine the content of it.

It goes on and on, the images burning into Simon's memory, and he wants it that way. If you have to go through that, he'll too. This is going to be his fuel for what's about to come, because he will ravage the very existence of Philip Graves. He will erase his memory off of this goddamn earth, with nothing to remain.

Slowly every one of the guys takes a step back from the proof of life they awaited so much, and only Simon stays rooted in front of the screen. Not much is visible of the place, dark hugging the room, black gloves on the torturer, black tactical wear on the others holding her down, no face shown, no other sound just the screams and some grunts of the captivators. Because she still fights, of course she does. She has to.

Just as Simon feels his own limit of watching you in anguish, not fucking feeling anything anymore, your voice changes, turns into words before the torturing hand freezes, and video cuts off.

"Do you...do you remember Istanbul Phil? Hmmm, the good ol' days huh?"

Blood rushes with full force again in his veins, the words awakening his senses. Your voice drowning in the accent at the end Soap laughed so much on, and he did have some low chuckle himself when he first heard them in his ears through the comms.

All pair of eyes locked at him, realization hitting every one of them. You gave them a way in.

Taglist: @cabreezer0117 @multitargaryen @embers-of-alluring @batmanunicorns523 @5seastar @sweetybuzz25 @levisbebe @galagcica @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @afro-hispwriter @v-v-x-x @levi-llama @kat-nee @kuwizo @thefairybird @haythemsychopathicgirlfriendic @woodeelf @sinon36 @actuallyanita @khjssss

Please let me know if you want to be tagged, or be removed from the tags from now on.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley angst #all hell breaks loose

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giggly-squiggily · 9 months

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Mental Image (Big Windup)

Heyo! Guess who has more Big Windup content to share? This girl! I love the characters so much y'all, and Abe has been sitting there waiting for me to write him as a lee- so here we are! I hope you like it! :D

I'm tagging you in this @intheticklecloset cause I know how much you love these boys :D Take that, hehe >:D

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist):

@cupcake-spice13

Summary: Mihashi's struggling to figure out this whole smiling thing, so Abe and Tajima try to help him out- sorta.

“When you get up on that pitcher mound, wear a big smile!”

Mihashi tried. He practiced in the mirror when no one was looking. He pulled on his cheeks. He tried to mold the wobbly cringe that was his mouth into what he hoped would come off as a confident smile.

Nothing. He looked terrified. Well- at least what he saw reflected what he felt.

“This isn’t working…” He groaned to himself, tucked away in the dugout’s corner after another failed attempt to smile. He thought he was doing well until Tajima told him he looked like a guilty criminal trying to lie his way out of a murder.

From terrified to guilty- and now even murderous. This smiling thing was difficult.

Footsteps approached, followed by a weight flopping beside him on the bench. “Ugh, my legs are gonna be sore for days.” Abe groaned as he tugged off his gear. “How about you? Are you holding up alright, Mihashi?”

“Eh? Erm, y-yeah, I’m fine…” The pitcher ducked further into his arms, ears red. How could he face Abe after such a disastrous attempt to follow his advice?

“Hm…” The catcher raised a brow at him, suspicious. “Mihashi, are you still hung up on what Tajima said?”

Silence.

“Do you want me to go talk to him?”

“N-no! No, please…it’s okay.” Mihashi startled up in a panic, rapidly shaking his head.

“Then what’s eating at you?”

Mihashi chewed on his lip, forcing the words to come out. “I…I’m trying to do as you said. Wear a b-big smile when I go to the pitch…but it won’t come out right.” He ducked lower in his arms, ears burning. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to d-do it..”

Abe blinked. Then he reached out and poked Mihashi in the armpit.

“That’s it? Man, and here I thought it was something else.” He shook his head with a grin as the other boy spasmed, giggles bubbling over. “Look, I know I told you to do that, but you don’t have to follow everything I say. I’m your teammate, not your master.”

“I know that! I just…want to.” Mihashi shrunk some, rubbing his side. “It’s good advice, I think-know!” He looked up wide-eyed at Abe’s amused smile. “I-I want to smile on the mound!”

“Heh, fair enough. Well, forcing it isn’t gonna work. We’ve figured that out already.” The catcher leaned back in his seat, gracefully ignoring the burning blush Mihashi wore at the comment. “What you need is a mental image. Something you can think of that makes you smile naturally. So,” Abe raised a brow at him expectedly. “What’s something that makes you happy?”

“Oh-uh…I don’t really know? Um…pitching?”

“How about something unrelated. Family? Friends?”

“Erm…”

“Pets? Random dog videos?”

Mihashi tried, racking his brain for ideas. Alas, nothing came to mind, too racked with performance anxiety.

“This might be a problem.” Abe sighed just as Tajima bounced over, dirty and gleeful.

“What is? Is Mihashi trying to smile again?” The cleanup batter giggled at the memory, turning to the mentioned boy with shining eyes. “I won’t laugh this time- give it another go!”

“Tajima, not now- we’re in the middle of something.” Abe waved him off, but the other was already getting comfortable, tossing off his helmet and stretching his arms high. “Go do that somewhere else- you stink!”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Spring clean!” The smaller boy reached out, poking Abe in the gut. “Don’t act like you smell like roses and sunshine just because you stayed squatting all morning! We all stink here- right Mihashi?”

“Uh-”

“Right! See, he agrees!” Tajima was still poking, increasing the amount of fingers when Abe started to squirm, lips trembling. “Come on- say it with me! We stink!”

“Tahhahajimahaha, nohhohoho! Gohohoho awahahahy!” The catcher batted at his hands, giggle breaking up his words. He tried his best to double over and block him out, but that only seemed to encourage Tajima to go for the ribs. “Nohohoho, not theehhere!”

“Aww, is someone a teensy weensy bit ticklish? Is he?” Tajima cooed, bringing his other hand into play as he tapped along his ribs. “Say you stink to and I’ll stop~”

“Nehehehehehver!”

Mihashi sat in awe, eyes wide and mouth agape at the sight. He had no idea Abe was ticklish- let alone THIS ticklish! He thought he was bad…

“Mihashi! Watch this!” Tajima winked before closing the gap, squatting down so he could tuck himself into Abe’s defenses. Within minutes, his hands were on his sides, going straight for the lower ribs.

“TAHAHAHJIMAHAHAHHAHA!” Abe arched backwards with a squeal, loud and high pitched. He jerked back so harshly his hat flew off his head, revealing his smiling face to the pair. Mihashi forgot how to breathe, absolutely mesmerized by the sight. “STHAHAHAHHAP THAHHAHAHAHT- NOT THEHEHEHHERE!”

“Do you still think you smell good? Huh, do you?” Tajima cooed, burying his face into Abe’s belly for extra tickles. “You know what to saaaay~”

“AHEHAHHAHAHAH FUHUHUUUHUUHUCK! GEHHAHHAHHAHAHA! FIHIIHIHNE FIHIHIHIIHNE!” Abe cried, rapidly slapping at Tajima’s shoulder. “FIHIIHINE WE AHAHHAHAHALL STHIHIIHIHIHINK!”

“See? Now was that hard?” Tajima sat back, grinning like a goon as Abe slumped, arms hugging his trembling frame as he gasped for air. “And that, boys, is how we get Abe to agree to just about anything.” Standing up, he ruffled Mihashi’s hair as he passed, Coach Maria calling out to him for another drill. “Bye guys!”

“Ahahahsshole…” Abe groaned, lying flat against the bench as he reached for his discarded hat, pulling it over his flushed face. “Fohohor the record..I ohohonly said that so he’d stohohop…I dohohn’t stink, right?” When no response came, he moved his hat with a raised brow.“Oi, are you even listening?”

“Huh? O-Oh, yeah, I am.” Mihashi nodded. “We smell bad, I got that.”

“What, no I said I don’t stink!”

“Eeh, sorry-!”

“Boys, come on! Time for drills!” Saved by Coach Maria it seemed.

Abe made a noise of complaint as he got up, pulling his gear back on. “Ah man, we never did figure out what makes you happy, did we?”

“It’s okay. I actually think I have it now.” Mihashi nodded, pulling his hat low as he turned to the field. Abe missed the slow smile spreading over his lips as he replayed the scene of Abe smiling again and again in his head, burning it into his memory.

Maybe this smiling thing wasn’t so hard after all.

Thanks for reading!

#big windup #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #mihashi ren #abe takaya #tajima yuuichirou #tickles for the boy #he deserves them all #akljrejkarjekjrajkrjkae #I love them your honor #this show has got me in a choke hold and I'm okay with that kajejrkakjerjka

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fatasskitkat · 2 years

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so i'm wondering if any other feedees/gainers/whatever label you ascribe to yourself have had this same thought-process. have any of y'all wanted to make irl friends w/ people in the community so that you could go out to eat w/o fear of judgement by the peers you're eating with? to be able to revel fully in the joy of eating and the shared experience of group dining sans scrutiny?

heavier topics & expounding on the above under the cut. tw: ed discussion, mental health, fat phobia

i think for me this train-of-thought originates largely from a fat-phobic standpoint; when i was south of chubby (read: anywhere from when i was a beanpole post high school to being actually properly active & in shape in my early-mid 20s) i'd have issues eating out with others, whereas eating alone would give me no such issue. now that i type it out, probably a combination of restrictive e.d. tied with self-image/esteem issues, married with fat-phobic conditioning.

these days i don't give a shit. i've done, and am still working on, my own shadow-work on my psyche (and working through a variety of anti-depressants + dosages helps too). now we get to the crux of the post.

sure yeah from a horny reptile brain perspective it'd be cool to be encouraged to gorge oneself to bursting by a group of friendly kinksters, but i'm more talking about from the not-horned up side of things. just to be able to let loose amongst peers who also revel in the pure enjoyment of food (or the vicarious satisfaction from FAs watching/indulging the more exuberant of peeps), without the toxic societal norm of being a fat-phobic shithead rearing its ugly head.

i guess this would fall under the purview of soft-feedism, but also under dismantling of toxic social norms? yearning for irl friends who're into feedism and also not shitheads? idk.

anyway this has been a rambly stream of consciousness, but i wanted to posit the question(s) in the intro paragraph because i'd like to hear some perspectives from other feedists/feedism-adjacent peeps. i would not be surprised in the slightest if this has been discussed to death already, buuuuut this is my dosh gang blarg and i'm allowed to post my own privately-public (or publicly-private?) journals.

thanks for coming to my ted talk, i give u a smooch :*

#theysomfter #blaggin'#feel free to rb if it suits ya #feedism.

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linawritesocs · 6 months

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Here is my writing for you <3

Aka reasons why I KNOW Lilia x Lina x Rollo is canon frfr

First of all, the vibes and the aesthetics are there. Trust

The :D x :( x :| dynamic is so fun. So so fun

Lilia is scooping you and Rollo up in his arms and giving you both forehead kisses <3

You and Rollo have things in common and I think you'd be able to help each other get through a lot of stuff!

Plus Lilia is there to always support you and he's very understanding!! No judgment from him at all, absolutely 0

Again, LILIA AND ROLLO WOULD FIND YOUR SMILE AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU STUNNING!!! GORGEOUS!!! They wouldn't want to change a single thing about you!

They'd take such good care of you, no cap. Seriously. They'd be absurdly good at it. And they're incredibly careful and ask if you're comfortable :)

Why did they fall for you? Not sure with them but in my head, they saw a failgirl meow meow (affectionate) and went "OMG I LOVE THEMMM" and "...Okay so I love them"

Also that one Halloween drawing you did is like. Stuck in my head permanently. The vampire x witch x priest one.

Ngl I think y'all should have a pet cat. Idk why but it seems right

So the fireworks during masquerade, right? Or whatever they were if they weren't fireworks, I'm not sure jsndkfs

I think Rollo would take you both to a place that's kinda far and the sounds aren't very audible, but the view of the town is great! And you get a clear view of the fireworks so that you don't have to miss how pretty they are!

I'm trying to think of date ideas but I'm kind of blanking rn? I know it'd be something more low-key... OHHH what if cat cafe??? (I feel like I keep mentioning cats but that's literally your and Rollo's energies, I can't just forget cats)

Whenever you're sick, Rollo would definitely take some time away from NBC, like a few hours, so he can see you and make sure you're doing all right! Maybe he brings you some food or medicines he heard is good for you!

I'm sure Lilia does a really good job too, plus he'd make sure you aren't lonely and in low spirits!

Random thought: If Silver is basically the son of Lilia and Lina, what's Rollo's role? I feel like he doesn't dislike Silver, that's all, but if you have thoughts... 👁️👁️

Cottagecore house cottagecore house cottagecore house

Once y'all graduate I can see you having a cottagecore house. Yes just like Seth and Rollo

That's all I have rn but PLEASE RAMBLE IN YOUR RESPONSE IF YOU WANT!!! I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT THEM <333

HSDHDJSJSDJKSJS TARUUUUU THIS IS SO CUTE I'M GONNA CRYYYYYY

and you're right. rollo x lina are just cat x cat. both of them are so cat-coded.

THE IMAGE OF LILIA SCOOPING BOTH ME AND ROLLO UP IS SO FUNNY but it's okay i know he can do it

everything about the vampire x priest x witch au is perfect. lina and lilia already dating and lilia going "hey dude wanna form a polycule". rollo naming one of the bells john and making cole and sebastian worry for his mental health. rollo being So Scared that someone is gonna find out about his relationship with those two but when cole and sebastian do find out they just go "OMG SO YOU DO HAVE BITCHES SLAYYYYY- ahem, we mean. wow.. you're not maidenless.." lina secretly being a catgirl and hiding her cat ears under her witch hat and fully turning into a cat when she's comfortable around rollo. honestly priest!rollo is a very popular au concept especially with a vampire/witch/other "monster" s/o but like. come on. we all know this is the best one /lh

. I GUESS SILVER CAN ALSO BE ROLLO'S SON THOUGH THAT'D BE SO FUNNY IT'S LIKE ".. so. uh. y-you're dating my father." ".. yes" "and you're also dating my mother" "also yes" ".. uh. does that make you-" "i am literally one year older than you" "okay father number two" NO BUT THEY EVEN LOOK KINDA SIMILAR. KNIGHT OF DAWN WHO. i'm actually obsessed with the way how silver actually looks and acts like a mix of them. he can appear very suddenly, scaring others in the process, just like lilia, he's eepy like lina and also tends to blame himself a lot just like them and he looks a lot like rollo and is very serious and responsible, just like him. he is literally their son. i'm gonna sob

here are some of my fav lina x lilia x rollo concepts if you don't mind me sharing!

lilia is 700 years old and he's been through so much and it took a lot of time for him to change and become the gremlin that he is today. lina is MUCH younger than him, but she also had to go through a lot of horrors. lilia never says that their trauma isn't valid and never says stuff like "well at least you didn't have to fight in a war". he just hopes they can feel a bit lighter when he's around.

i've mentioned before that i imagine lina's unique magic hurting them a lot in exchange for them to do things as good (or better than) as others so yeah, maybe rollo would find lina suspicious at first but then imagine him finding out about what her magic is doing to her and he's like. "SEE. I AM RIGHT. WE HAVE TO SAVE YOU WE HAVE TO GET RID OF MAGIC WE HAVE TO-" and lina is standing there like "sir.. why do you want to save me.."

*sobs* rollo putting a flower in lina's hair while she's sitting lost in thought and comparing her to that flower *CRIES*

rollo being confused why lilia is 100% okay with a poly relationship and lilia is like "well. uh. well. you see. i have EXPERIENCE" mallenoa and her husband (possibly crowley)

ACTUALLY IT'S SO FUNNY bc if you think about it lina x lilia x rollo is like a reverse version of that relationship. it's not the "actual queen" and a "trash man" it's "the nbc student council president and the most talented student from that school" and "a wet cat i found on the street and said "i just think it's neat"".

*SOBBING* LINA HAS NOTICEABLE FANGS.. DO YOU KNOW WHO ALSO HAS THOSE.. which means linalilia can just bite rollo whenever they want.

lina and lilia dye each other's hair all the time and try to make rollo join them. they fail but it's okay

#AGAIN THANK YOU SM!!#lina answers #friend: taruchi!

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efangamez · 1 year

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Hi :) I'm very, very depressed. 2/15/23

So I wanted to make this post to kinda humanize me a lil bit. If it's putting too much out there so be it. But don't get sad just yet though, there is a bit of hope! TW// Self loathing, self harm, eating disorders, depression

From about Thanksgiving, I have been very depressed. In this post. I kinda wanna talk about the things that have been making me feel this way and what happens because of it.

Living With Parents Living with my parents is a huge drain. My mother is not as homophobic and transphobic as my dad is, but it certainly is there. Also, we live on a farm, so I'm expected at any moment to help my family with whatever they need. This is a puts a HUGE damper on my mental health. Not only do I have to constantly remind them of my boundaries, but I also cannot express my gender as freely as I would like. I just want to wear dresses, maybe try some make up, hang out with friends, etc. But, here in south VA, I have no car and I have a phobia of driving, so there's that.

2. Burnout

I've been suffering from a lot of creative burnout. With the release of Reilley's Roadtrip, the last 1st Edition Neon Nights expansion, I have just felt completely wiped off the face of the earth. Yeah, sometimes I'll muster enough courage and energy to release a small game, but damn if I don't have the energy to make games more than 20 pages. I just feel...drained and conflicted. I have ALWAYS wanted more people to enjoy my games. I have. But I do ask people leave reviews for my games when they pick them up for free, and no one has been doing that. Wrath of the Undersea, my most recent game, has no reviews on Itch. That really sucks. I really like that game. Granted, more people downloaded it, but I want people to do more than that. I want them to have fun and maybe throw a little love my way. Idk, maybe I'm being super selfish with this. I'm a one person team living on a very small budget below the poverty line. I can't really afford to both hire people for games AND live. I can't. Also, I started these game jams recently, but I feel like I'm not advertising them enough and that kinda sucks, you know? Doesn't feel right. Idk. I do wish that I had my Twitter again, but it's kinda like a give-all thing over there that I just do not have the energy for. I guess I just kinda miss attention. I think that's the big thing here.

3. Self-Image Issues.

I am fat. I weigh WELL over 200 pounds, and because of this, I have major body issues. But get this; I am too fucking depressed and burnt out to work out. Hell, it is EXCRUCIATING to have to shower and brush my teeth now. And ALSO because of this, my gender dysphoria is CRAZY rn. It creates this super hellish loop that is just too much to bear sometimes. Right now I am so burnt out I want to take a month of unpaid vacation to just clear my head. Yeah, that will put me back a couple grand, but so what? Idk.

4. I Tire of Even Writing This

I am so burnt out even venting right now is a chore. I'm pushing through, but it's super hard. I can't even describe my own feelings without feeling I'm dumping everything on everyone. This sucks.

Anyway, yeah, idk why I am even publishing this. Hopefully people relate? Maybe send well wishes? Idk. Love y'all.

#burnout #burnt out #depression #sad #games #indie #gamedev #game dev

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uglyshirtsinc · 9 months

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Idea 4: Vanny comes back

I'm gonna be honest, this one is my personal favorite, and I am quite surprised that it hasn't been done yet.* Think of the angst potential!

*This is no longer true

Imagine it's been a few weeks since the 3 star ending and the 3 goobers are getting more acclimated to living with each other. Gregory is getting used to the fact that he has 2 adult figures that actually care about him. Vanessa’s nightmares are starting to become less severe. Freddy’s head was reattached to his body, and he now remotely controls a child-size bear doll (like a Lonely Freddy but not evil) so he can still easily be with Gregory when he isn't at the pizzaplex.

The day would start like any other: everyone wakes up, goes through their morning routines, and eats some breakfast. Gregory finishes first and gets up to go and wash off his plate in the sink. That is when it happens, Vanessa starts to feel a little off, like she is moving slower than normal. At first, she brushes it off as her still waking up. Then she hears a voice… a voice she only hears in her worst nightmares… VANNYS voice. Vanessa would then discover that she could no longer move or speak. She could only watch as she felt herself get up from her chair, and pick up a knife from off of the counter. The reason that she still has any knives at all is for Gregory to use to spread various condiments on his school sandwiches when he makes them.

Meanwhile, Gregory and Freddy are near the sink, having a conversation about Freddy's obsession with dad jokes or something (You are the Morbest superstar!) They turn around, preparing to return to Gregory's room to get ready for school, and they see Vanessa, holding a knife. Gregory would feel a sharp twinge of betrayal before looking at Vanessa's face to see that her calm green eyes, ones that had reassured him after many a nightmare, were now glowing a sickly purple. Freddy and Gregory would realize that the person in front of them was no longer Vanessa, but Vanny.

Vanny raises her arm, Gregory is looking for a way out. He is also preparing for the possibility of being killed, and he doesn't want to give Vanny the satisfaction of being scared if that happens. Through all this, Vanessa is trying desperately to retake control, all the while Vanny mocks her efforts, making sure that Vanessa won't be able to mentally look away from her worst fear, the death of her savior by her own hands. Freddy is preparing to try and jump in front of Gregory at the last second to try and cushion the blow of the knife using his plush form.

Just before Vanny is able to deliver the killing blow, she disappears. No warning at all, like a true glitch, Freddy and Gregory watch as Vanessa's eyes flicker from purple back to green, drops the knife and collapses to the floor, hugs herself and sits in complete silence for a few seconds before bursting into hysterical tears.

That is where I will leave it, what happens next is for y'all to decide!

I havent even finished reading this I'm still in the first paragraph but I have to say you say "child sized bear doll" i hear my one true love HELPY THE BEAR-

I have such a vivid mental image of Vanessa/Vanny standing in the kitchen behind Freddy and Gregory, who are unaware of it all. The idea that Vanny can return, like when you try to clean up a spill but the surface is still just a bit damp in a way you can't for the life of you clean off is so chefs kiss

#asks #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #glamrock freddy #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #fnaf vanny

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avid-adoxography · 2 years

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OH ALSO-

MEDICINE and LION with Strum perhaps? 👉👈

-@fictionallyinparadise

Hiii bestieeeeee!! I'm. LATE AF but here I am and I hope this lengthy teeth-rotting insight of my mind is worth the wait <;3c

MEDICINE - How do you and your f/o take care of each other when you're not feeling well? This could apply to a physical illness (whether it be the common cold or a chronic illness) or mental illness.

Silvia is constantly wearing her nurse outfit (and not the sexy one, she ain't build like that sdfghj) with Sturm being...,., well,.. Sturm.

I mean, that man literally charges through fucking walls head first, he gets into fights with the other Soldaten, his engine tends to overheat leaving burn marks where the metal connects to his body and not to mention the state his arms are, like... Unacceptable. Embarrassing even.

So, as you can image, she's been tending to his wounds since after the day they met, stitching up gashes, changing bandages, removing shards of various materials (mostly glass and metal) from his flesh and so on. Sometimes it's more about ordinary things, like putting a band-aid on a scratch (the kind kids would wear ofc) or rubbing some of that First Aid Med on a cut, what matters to her is to take care of her sweet mechanical teddy bear at the best of her skills. And to have her hands constantly on him too, ofc sdfghj.

Not that he minds that, actually he's become known inside the Factory for pawing at her door at almost every hour of the day for the most insignificant of reasons to have a chance to have her hands anywhere near and/or on his body (i will not apologize for the phrasing sdfghk) <;3c

When it comes to turn the tables though, Sturm is Silvia's emotional support undead: as much as unbelievable y'all might find it, Sturm has learnt to recognize tune shifts and other subtle variations in Silvia's voice in order to understand her state of mind, same thing for her gait. It takes the smallest of changes for him to pick up something is wrong™ with her and come to her aid.

He will get as close to her as possible without hurting her and just. Stays there. He's a surprisingly good listener and he won't leave until Silvia has assured him everything is ok or until she's finished venting. Or crying. Mostly the latter, and while perhaps Sturm isn't exactly built for finding comforting words, he sure gives the best hugs and he's there for her whenever she needs it, and she doesn't even have to ask. Not that she's actually able to do that without eating her own heart out first, but when it happens it usually leads to a very fluffy-touchy-mushy cuddle pile that is indeed a cure for all ills....

Come on, don't look at me like that, it ain't my fault we want each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound, ya know??? [from These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever]

LION - Was it hard to get close to your f/o? Did they have a difficult time opening up to you?

Honestly? Easiest thing ever for Sturm.

He literally started following Silvia around like a lost puppy looking for much coveted attention the moment she treated him with the same kindness she's shown to all the other Soldaten <3c (← lies and slander, Sturm def got waaaaaaaaay more pats and cuddles than the others jhgfasdsfdgh).

On the other hand though? It's been an absolute challenge for her.

Like between the danger of being torn to shreds for standing too close to his blades, the unabating efforts to find a way of communication, her own issues with showing vulnerability as she could no longer deny the feelings she has for him and most of all having such feeling be reciprocated, Silvia has been faced with an inner conflict the size of the whole village.

Fortunately, with the help of her adoptive father, Donna (and Angie too I guess asdfghj) and the Duke (who might or might not have pulled some strings to make certain things happen *wink wink*), she has finally felt comfortable letting down her guard and allow herself to trust again.

Call that the power of love or whatever, but now Silvia is ready to throw hands with Ethan, the whole BSAA and even Mother Miranda herself if they were ever to hurt her lover uwu

#thanks for the ask bestie and sorry for the wait + wall of text + unnecessary gushing ratio fjdndjd #resident evil village #selfship ask game #re8 #self insert x canon #fictionallyinparadise #avid-answers #i do not know what this man does to me but i get SO mushy gushy it's embarrassing sdfghjk #if y'all needed any more confirmation of our love language being physical touch and acts of service... here it is sdfghj #f/o: sturm #s/i: silvia baronio #ship: sturm und drang

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kumezyzo · 3 years

Text

Beggin' | Kuroo Testsuro

SUMMARY.... Kuroo enjoys the comfort of your thighs.

Warnings... Smut. Smut. SMUT | Overstimulation | Oral [F receiving] | Pussy drunk Kuroo | [tell me if i missed something]

Authors Note... Minors, kindly fuck off. Okay, this is nit the first time i'm writing smut but still, i know I'll come back and be like 'wow this is terrible'. Okay, anyway, I do hope y'all enjoy this. This was written suddenly under a few minutes so yeah..... Enjoy!

Kuroo always said he loved thighs. Specifically thick ones. He wasn't joking when he said he could die between a nice pair of them. And thats what he was planning on doing today.

And he got it. If you were asked who was enjoying the moment more, you or your 6 ft bed headed boyfriend, you wouldn't hesitate to say him.

He was currently suffocating himself in between your thighs. Eating you up like he would never eat again.

"Te- oh god.... Tetsu!" Was all you could really say. Not that he would hear, he was enjoying himself too much.

The image of your shared room was perfectly lewd. Tetsuro was burried between your legs. Your hand was gripping his head of hair tightly. He was gripping the outside of your thighs. Your back was arched off the bed, your eyes shut in euphoria. Both of you covered in a sheen of sweat. Lewd indeed.

The sounds were even more vulgar. Kuroo was moaning just as much as you were. He was licking up every fluid you were releasing at the moment. He could swear you tasted like a 5-star gourmet meal.

He then started licking your clit with vigor, wanting to taste you cum more than anything else.

Your gripped tightened on his hair, pulling him closer to your soaked pussy. Moans left your mouth carelessly as he groaned into you.

Eyes shut tight, you felt yourself fall into more pleasure, giving yoir boyfriend what he was craving.

The pressure around his head released as your body relaxed. He let out a whine while lapping at your cum that was slowly leaking out of you.

"Baby, please. One last time, please?" He stared at your glistening core, pressing kisses on the sore lips.

You pouted shaking your head at the small feeling of overstimulation. "I cant Tetsu. Please, next time." He shook his head, sucking on one of the folds of your pussy.

He started slightly nibbling on it, hoping you would change your mind. Instead, your eyes filled with overstimulated tears and you started pushing his head away.

Kuroo internally sighed and slapped your inner thigh.

"My pussy. My rules. If i want to eat you out until you cant cum anymore, I will. So I'm gonna eat up all you pretty cum and you can't complain." He said sweetly.

You nodded, feeling yourself getting wet again and mentally preparing youself for a long night.

#kurro x reader #kuroo smut #smut #haikyuu smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu

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mrs-bartowski · 3 years

Text

Brace for impact y'all cuz my brain is being Extra Rude this fine Sunday. OKAY, so...

What with Lena's new unemployment status, obviously we have all these hcs about her being unable to afford the penthouse and moving in with Kara.

Then of course we have all the accompanying hcs about Lena's time in the apartment between now and when Kara gets back (blanket sniffing, inability to sleep in Kara's bed, ready-to-pack corner of belongings so as to not alter Kara's home, and all those other super fun things that make me wanna cry).

I see all of those (and love them) and I raise you one: the Mxy tapes.

So, we see right after Mxy leaves when Kara picks up "The One Where Lena Decided To Work With Lex" which is what, in combination with her realization that telling Lena the truth always has "huge" consequences, motivates her to make that super OOC decision to absolve herself entirely of her guilt and tell Lena she'll treat her like a villain if she works with Lex, yes?

Now, what if that wasn't the only tape Mxy left behind? What if he left a recording of each of those alternate timelines because, after seeing Kara twist what she learned to fit her frustration over Lena's continued cold shoulder and hearing what she said to Lena, Mxy decided she might want to watch them again at some point to remember the real takeaway: she's fighting for the relationship that saves the world...

Kara found the tapes stacked on the coffee table when she got home, with a note that said "You found the magic. Now don't lose it." She wanted to get angry, but instead she just put the tapes in a box on the shelf under the TV and tried to forget about them.

----------

Lena's hand shakes slightly as she slides the key into the lock, feeling the ghost of Alex’s hand rest gently on her shoulder as it had when she’d pressed the cold metal into her palm a few hours earlier with a silent offer and an encouraging nod. The door swings open slowly, and Lena is hit by a sudden wave of cold. Not temperature, but energy. It’s too quiet - no NSYNC on the speaker or Bachelorette on the TV. It’s too empty - no smell of fresh (slightly burnt) bread or yarn strewn all over the counter from Kara’s various crochet projects. It’s too...Kara-less.

Lena shakes off the feeling and slides her bag off her shoulder in the corner by the bookcase, careful not to knock Kara’s favorite cinnamon candle off the stool beside her, as she tells Alexa to play Nina Simone. She zips open her bag to pull out her favorite copy of Mrs. Dalloway and finds it missing. Realizing she must have left it in her desk drawer at LexCorp, Lena makes a mental note to send Brainy in after it tomorrow with the promise that he can change all of Lex’s passwords one more time before they leave the game for good.

Lena stares at the blank TV screen for a moment, dreading the thought of watching anything in this room without Kara’s head on her shoulder or in her lap. So, she crouches to look at the shelves of the TV stand, hoping to find at least one of the books she’d gotten Kara for her birthday last year wedged between the latest issues of CatCo Magazine and the recipe books Alex had gotten her in the hopes of spending less money on pot stickers every week.

She’s just zeroed in on The Color Purple when she notices a box she doesn’t recognize laying across the tops of the books on the other shelf. She reaches for it on instinct, then hesitates. She hasn’t touched anything of Kara’s since their falling out, and what if Kara’s “what’s mine is yours” rule no longer applies to her now? She considers leaving it alone and waiting for Kara to get back and explain, sliding The Color Purple toward her without taking her eyes off the box, before her curiosity gets the better of her and she caves, tossing the book onto the coffee table.

She opens the lid and starts at the sight of VHS tapes. Hasn't she taught Kara better than this? They'd converted all her old tapes to DVDs months into their friendship ("Kara, these things deteriorate so easily and the picture quality becomes awful, don't you want something that will last?"). She picks up the first tape and reads the label on the side: "The One Where Lena Doesn't Make It Back In Time." Her brows furrow as she stares, unblinking, at the title - demanding answers she knows only one person can give her.

She glances around, but doesn't see a VHS player anywhere, so she sets the tape on the floor beside her and picks up the next one. "The One Where Lena Can't Save Sam Or Herself." Lena shoves down her growing horror and discards the tape, hoping the next one will be less ominous. She picks it up and chokes back a sob as she reads: "The One Where There Are No Survivors."

Lena can't wait for answers anymore, so she gathers the tapes back into the box, grabs her purse and Kara's key, and heads to the closest library. Lena finds the old CRT sitting on a rolling cart in the back corner of the library, tucked between the stacks of kids' books. She pulls the first tape out of the box and slides it carefully into the slot.

30 minutes later, with tears and too-cheap eyeliner streaming down her face, Lena picks up the last tape. "The One Where Lena Was Never Your Friend." And here she'd thought things couldn't get worse. Lena takes a deep breath as she inserts the tape.

At the sight of the ruin that meets Kara and Mxy, Lena stifles the urge to laugh. Of course this is what a world without her best friend looks like. This exactly how it feels now, and she's only been gone a few weeks.

Lena's breath catches as she hears herself ask "who's Kara?," the mere thought of a world where the reporter had never believed in her, never cared enough to love her, almost too much to bear. Her hand drifts absent-mindedly to her chest as she watches herself reveal a kryptonite heart, and for a moment she can hear the sounds of her own screams as her mother's experiments rob her of the last of her humanity.

She presses her hand closer to her heart, sure that it's stopped beating at the sight of Kara on the ground, in pain at her hands but still refusing to fight her. Feels it shatter when her worst self says exactly the same words she'd said to Kara in the Fortress when asked why she had pretended to be Kara's friend for so long.

And she thinks it might kill her, this agony that's filling her body like acid. She wonders for a moment if this is what kryptonite feels like to Kara. Because it sure feels like her skin is getting seared off her bones and there are nails in her blood and it sure seems like she won't survive watching herself kill her best friend as she lies helpless and desperate on the floor.

And when Mxy pulls them out, Lena's breath returns full force until she's hyperventilating because Kara is gone and she doesn't know how long it will be until they get her back; and she was terrified of what she'd become when she lost Jack but she survived because of Kara; and if this is what losing Kara without ever having her in the first place looks like, Lena has never been more afraid than she is as she realizes what will happen to the world if she doesn't get Kara back. What she'll do to the world if it dares to take Kara from her.

So, when she gathers the tapes and goes to return them to the box and finds a note at the bottom that says "You found the magic. Now don't lose it," Lena promises herself that, for as long as she lives, she will do everything in her power to keep the magic that is Kara Danvers in her life.

----------

Alex knocks on the apartment door three days later and finds it unlocked. She pushes the door open and her hand drifts to her gun, but relaxes as she sees Lena's sleeping form curled up on the couch. Alex approaches a box she knows the contents of all too well and finds it open and empty on the table before she notices the VCR player and tapes strewn across the floor. She smiles softly as she recalls the image of Kara in the exact same position months earlier. And, as she carefully plucks the handwritten note from Lena's clutched fist, she smiles at the knowledge that, once Kara returns, no force in the world will be able to keep them apart again.

UPDATE: Ask and ye shall receive

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp headcanon #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers #this got so much more elaborate than I planned #but oh well #have fun suffering with me

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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,” you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #smut #fanfiction #the loki show

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