#Boom Overture | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

Text

Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax

The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.

Where was he?

The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.

What's more, they didn't seem surprised.

It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.

He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.

“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.

The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.

“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.

“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”

Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.

Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.

Steve gagged.

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”

Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.

Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’

You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.

“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.

“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.

Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.

There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.

Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.

“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.

“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.

Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.

Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.

“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”

He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.

“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.

Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.

Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.

“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.

Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.

Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.

“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.

“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.

“What?” Loki said sharply.

Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.

“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.

“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”

The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.

“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”

“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.

“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.

“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.

The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.

The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.

“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.

“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”

"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.

His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”

“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”

Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.

Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.

“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.

From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.

Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.

“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”

You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.

Thor’s jacket hissed.

“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”

The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.

It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.

The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.

Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.

“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.

Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.

“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.

Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.

You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...

“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.

“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.

“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.

The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.

“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.

“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.

“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.

An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.

You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.

Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.

You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.

The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.

“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.

Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.

“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”

You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”

A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.

“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.

“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.

The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.

--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @muddyorbs @arch-venus25

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki series #loki fluff #loki angst #loki imagines #loki odinson #loki x yn #loki gif

609 notes · View notes

random-thot-generator · 6 months

Text

A Nice Guy

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK x FEM READER

Summary: You've teased and taunted your neighbor Kyle for months on end, curious to see just how much a nice guy like him can take before he snaps. (And then, ya know, smut happens.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Explicit language, Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, Rough sex, Good boy Gaz has left the building, No use of Y/N

(Notes: This is just a smut purge, folks. Don't think about it too hard, just go with it. Hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 2.2K

Ask anyone in your building about the soldier who lives across the hall from you, and they all will basically tell you the same thing.

"He's a good lad."

"Solid bloke."

"Couldn't ask for a better mate."

"Such a nice young man."

So, general consensus: Kyle Garrick is a nice guy.

Maybe a little too nice, you think.

You see how he looks at you, where his eyes linger. He may be a nice guy, but he's still a red-blooded man under that faded ball cap and warm, friendly smile. He just needs a little... push.

So, push him you do.

You make it hard for him to ignore you. It starts with lingering touches and longing looks, but soon graduates to less subtle overtures.

You stop him for a chat sans bra in the chilly hallway, an innocent smile on your lips when your nipples pebble under your tight tank top and his attentive gaze. He licks his lips and tries his best to maintain eye contact, but he fails again and again before you finally let him off the hook.

You see how his warm brown eyes darken and his breath hitches when you 'accidentally' brush your hand against the front of his trousers at the post boxes. You murmur a shy apology and bite your lip, but he sees the way your eyes slide down his torso to catch on the bulge below his belt. You raise your brows and smirk before sauntering away.

But Kyle Garrick is a nice guy.

He tries to avert his eyes when you bend over in your short skirt to pick up the keys you dropped, because, oops! you're such a little klutz. If he happened to catch a glimpse of red lace disappearing between your thighs, it's never mentioned.

He grins and bears it when you press up against him in the crowded lift, apologizing even as you back your ass up against his crotch. You're rewarded for your efforts when you feel his cock twitch in interest, and he leaves the lift with his workout bag clutched over his jock.

His smile is strained but indulgent when you stroke his thigh under the table at the pub. Your friends sit around you, laughing and drinking, oblivious to the torture you're inflicting on the poor man beside you. You giggle then hiccup, announcing that your last glass of wine went straight to your head. It's obvious that you're a little too drunk to be held responsible for your actions. Yet he never offers to remove your hand or stop you, so you knead his flexing thigh for the rest of the night.

Poor Kyle.

It becomes a game to you, winding him up. You revel in his pent-up frustration; love how he now glares at you with that feral light in his eyes when you peer up at him with innocent guile. You know he wants you, and you want him, too, but watching him struggle to maintain his control is just so addictive. It's a high like nothing you've ever experienced before, and you know you won't be satisfied until you make him break.

You just never expected him to break the way he did.

A fancy boxed mattress gets delivered to your flat, the delivery guy insisting that it's yours; the invoice backs him up. There's a card attached to it, a short note scribbled inside:

'Congratulations! You won!'

Did you win some random drawing? Sign up for a chance to win online? Then again, you're always buying raffle tickets from the kids in the building for some fundraiser or another.

It must be serendipity. You had been complaining about your old mattress hurting your back just the other day in the lift, and then, boom! A new mattress appears. You shrug it off and smile, pleased with your stroke of good luck. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth, you decide, and begin to drag the box into your flat.

"Need help with that, pet?"

It's Kyle, leaning in his open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, benign smile on his face. He's dressed for a lazy day at home- a tee, sweats and trainers, so, it's no bother helping you out. He steps forward and lifts the box to his shoulder, muscles bulging under the tight fit of his tee.

"Lead the way," he says, herding you back into your flat, making you jump when he kicks the door shut behind him.

He helps you remove your old mattress and unboxes the new one, grinning as you laugh in delight at the way it expands to full size before your eyes. The two of you wrestle it into position on your bed, then he helps you with the sheets.

You're bent over smoothing out the wrinkles when you feel him step behind you. You glance over your shoulder and the air catches in your throat. His legs brush the backs of your thighs as he steps closer, a dark, hungry expression on his face.

"Kyle—"

That's all you get out before his big hand lands on the small of your back and he slides it forward to press your chest into your new mattress. "Sorry, pet. Can't help myself," he apologizes, but he doesn't sound like he's sorry, and he doesn't remove his hand.

But Kyle Garrick is a nice guy. He would never take advantage of your vulnerable position. He would never crowd you forward, never grab you by the waist as he buckles your knees with his. He's not the type of guy who would manhandle you onto all fours on your brand-new mattress, would never dare to yank your leggings and panties down your thighs before burying two fingers knuckles-deep in your pussy.

Your grunt of surprise says it all.

But this is Kyle Garrick, the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet.

Yet the man who is now kneeling behind you with his fist clenched in your hair doesn't resemble that nice guy at all. This man is anything but nice, and he is intent on ruining you.

You whimper out a pitiful cry as his hand connects with your ass, hot and stinging. "Ah!" you squeak, embarrassed when you feel a trickle of arousal slip down your thigh.

His laugh is low and dark as he crooks his fingers inside you and smacks your ass again. You clench down hard on his stroking digits, gasping a cry when he plants his thumb on your clit and rubs hard, fast circles into it. Toes curling, your body jolts away from the intense stimulation, but he just barks a mean laugh and slaps your ass again before hauling you back.

You try lifting your head, but he tightens his fist in your hair and pushes your face back into the mattress with an amused, breathless grunt. "Oh, no ya don't. You wanted to tease me, huh?" he pants out as he hauls his cock and balls over the top of his sweatpants. He smacks the head against a reddened cheek. "Make me lose control?" he husks out as he hikes your hips higher. He grunts out a laugh. "Congratulations, pet. You won."

The words on the card dance before your eyes as his first thrust shoves your head into the pillows, sheets rucking up at your knees. Your shocked little cry makes him huff out another laugh. "Do ya like your prize, sweetheart?" he bites out, holding his full length inside you. He grips your hips hard enough to bruise as his chin drops to his chest. His breath hisses through his teeth before he mutters, "Fuck. Knew you'd feel good, but shit..."

He grunts out a low growl as he draws back his hips, a slow drag that acquaints you with every ridge and vein of his cock. You're clenching desperately, walls spasming as they try to cling onto his retreating length. He groans as he withdraws, not stopping until the ridge of his swollen tip catches on the rim of your entrance. He forces himself to look away from his glistening, wet length, yanking your head back to meet your eyes.

"Should I be the bigger person here, pet? Should I give ya what ya want, or should I tease ya with it?" he asks with a wicked grin as he circles his hips.

His hips then flex and his cock inches in just enough to give you hope before he pulls out again, and the walls of your cunt clench like a fist, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

You squirm and whine, trying to push your hips back, but he holds you firm. "Ah-ah! C'mon, I want to hear ya say it, first. Tell me what ya want." When you only whimper in frustration and jerk your hips, his hand cracks over your ass again as he gives your head a rough little shake. "Say it," he snarls.

Your mind is reeling. It's too much and not enough, and it's all happening so fast, but you got what you wanted. You made him break, you just never considered that he could break you, too, but now it's happening, what you've always wanted to happen, and it's...

... Just. Too. Much.

"You!" you cry out, plaintive and high. "I want— you!"

He sighs in satisfaction, his breath gusting over your back. "There she is. There's my girl," he moans, then spears your body on his length again, relishing the way your eyes go wide, how your lips form a perfect little 'O'.

He grips your hair and gives your head a lazy shake. "Now, say you're sorry," he croons.

You heave a sob, squeezing your eyes shut, shaking your head no, even as you begin to chant out a breathy, "'M sorry, 'm sorry. Sorrysorrysorrysorry..."

A dark chuckle makes you shiver as he folds himself over your back, his plush lips pressing a tender kiss behind your ear. "I forgive you," he whispers, letting go of your hair to smooth it away from your face. "Now, show me how sorry you are."

Hooking his hand over your shoulder, he takes hold of your hip and proceeds to pound you into the mattress. You keen his name out as your back arches, and his next thrust collapses your knees. "That's it, love," he puffs out, riding you into the bed. "Cry for me... Tell me how sorry ya are... for making me wait so long."

You would if you could, because you are sorry. You are so-so sorry for making him wait and denying yourself, but words escape you. With his big hand splayed between your shoulder blades, his hips rocking between your trembling thighs, the ability to speak abandons you, leaving you to babble incoherent sounds into the sheets.

His grunts and hissed curses are your benediction. His bruising thrusts battering your tender folds, the slap of his balls against your swollen clit are your atonement. The sweat that drips from his chin to patter across your back is his blessing.

This is how he forgives you.

Your pelvic muscles tighten, walls bearing down. He's worked you up so fast, your building orgasm takes you by surprise. It barrels past you at a speed that you can't keep up with and slams you into a wall, your release gushing as your core contracts. You clench so hard it makes you cry out, a pleasure that dances on a razor's edge of pain.

"Bloody— hell!" Kyle whines, bowing over you as you grip him like a vice. "I can't... You're too... Fuck!" he snarls out.

His hand grips your shoulder as his hips begin to piston, rutting into your tight, spasming walls as he comes unhinged. A string of curses and praise pour over your head as his weight presses you into the bed. He's dragging your orgasm out to a point of overstimulation, but there's no escape. You lie beneath him and pay your penance, wailing when he wrenches another orgasm from your body on the heels of the last one.

Your spine curves when you cum, cunt pulsing, working to pull him deeper, and it's all over for him. He plows forward with one last feral growl, and then his body seizes up behind you, cock buried to the hilt between your shaking legs. His hips jerk with his release, his breath choking off in his throat.

And you're just... gone.

You can see, you can hear, you can feel, but your brain isn't really processing any of it. Awareness is slow to return, but eventually you become aware of the heavy weight covering your prone form, can feel the heaving breaths warm and damp against your neck, notice how hot your skin feels compared to the cold, sticky puddle on the sheets between your spread thighs.

You moan and twitch, unable to move, stirring the man above you into action. The heavy weight is lifted away, and you feel buoyed up on the new mattress, your body now floating with your blissed-out brain.

Kyle flops over on his back beside you, hooded eyes peering up at the ceiling as he tucks an arm behind his head. He waits until his breath has evened out before he turns his head to look at you. There is hesitance in his expression and caution in his gaze, but hope is there, too, flickering behind his eyes.

You blink, sighing out a breath as your lips curve into a slow smile.

"Thanks for the new mattress, Kyle."

He smirks, brown eyes going soft and warm as he hooks his arm around your waist to drag you closer. Hand cupping your ass, he claims a kiss before he whispers against your lips, "You're welcome."

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x fem reader #cod gaz x reader #cod gaz x fem reader #gaz x reader #gaz x fem reader #cod mw2 fanfic #mw2 fanfic

341 notes · View notes