#hels x ex | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

Text

Sticks and Stones: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (2) Resolved to make an effort, Loki tries his best. But old habits die hard, some harder than others. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references/ Wankst. Humour/Mild angst. (w/c 4.8k) Recommended Folklore Track: Mirrorball

“Oh blast it all,” Thor wailed like a child, throwing a pile of sticks to the side. Another bundle of promising kindle had turned to mush in his hands.

“We need to find ones that aren’t wet, Odinson – I told you. Sometimes they don’t seem wet, but they are wet.” Steve instructed, standing abruptly from where he’d sat on his haunches. Dismay was thick in the air. “Everything is wet here, Rogers." Thor whinged, kicking leaves. "The allusive flame taunts me.”

Loki sucked in his cheeks. The urge to expel a witty innuendo was almost unbearable. But he was trying to be amenable. Turning over a new leaf, as it were.

When the four of them had trudged back to the cottage last night, Loki had turned in to his sparse lodgings immediately with only the most cursory of bedtime salutations. To his surprise, sleep had descended quickly. He had been expecting to toss and turn for hours on that thin single bed, cursing Rogers and his brother and you; each with the time and thoroughness that was due. But he had slept well. And when he woke, the smell of bacon wafting through the floorboards greeted him.

Your laughter chimed against the clatter of porcelain downstairs, his brothers following suit. He had snuggled deeper into the lumpy pillow, inhaling in the way he used to against your hair. And now, beneath a canopy of green and gold autumnal majesty, they had made camp for this morning’s torture; fire-building. Loki buried his hands in another damp pile of foliage, grasping a hunk of twigs he found there. To hel with it, he thought as he closed his eyes; feeling secretive warmth spreading from his fingertips. Magic wrapped around each stick of wood concealed beneath copper leaves, drying it instantly. He glanced over to you, thrumming some moss between your fingers. “I found some dry ones,” he said nonchalantly, hoping it sounded believable.

You peered at his outstretched hands. “Oh yeah…” you replied. Loki frowned as your attention swung back to the wisped moss being pulled apart in your fingertips. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Thor looked over at his brother, aghast. “Cheater,” he rumbled loudly. To his side, only Steve’s ass was visible, shaking side to side as he still searched on his hands and knees through the undergrowth for where dry wood might lurk. Loki turned, one palm facing up. A column of ferocious flame burst from his skin, funnelling up like a portal. The sound of its violence ripped the air, squawks of local wildlife jibbering in the trees above. Steve lost his balance, falling to the side into the shrubbery. He let out a strangled cry, while Thor scooted backwards and knocked him further into the bushes.

“If I wanted to cheat,” Loki snarled, “there would be much easier ways to do so, brother.”

As quickly as it appeared, the flame ceased.

Loki turned back to you, smoothing his anorak. “Sorry about that,” he quipped with a cheerful smile.

In the time it had taken to complete his theatrics, you had selected one of his pile which you deemed suitable. You turned it over in your hands, fingers curled around the trunk of the weighty stick. Loki swallowed thickly. The innocently sensual glint in your eyes as you looked at it was almost too much to bear. Or maybe it was his imagination.

You hadn’t raised a smile all day, after all. He knelt on his haunches, mirroring your intrigue while you ran a finger down the larger stick. “We need to whittle a groove down here” you said. Loki nodded, moving his eyes between the line your digit took and your face.

Your eyes met.

He saw your gaze drop to his lips, only for a millisecond. “Could you?” you whispered, avoiding eye contact again.

In a flash of green, Loki produced a short dagger. He held it to you, handle first.

“I mean really we should use the one in your pack,” you smirked, eyeing Steve brushing sodden leaves from his ass as Thor fumbled fruitlessly in the undergrowth in a last ditch attempt. Loki felt his heart pound faster. He saw his chance. “But mine is better, Agent” he murmured darkly. “You know that.” “Guys – come over, please!” you shouted over his shoulder. Loki flinched. Truly, she now immune from my overtures, he mused bitterly; remembering the times a line like that would have had you groaning in his ear like a harlot.

He smoothed a rakish curl back from his forehead, collecting himself while his brother and the captain gathered round. Thor was muttering Asgardian curses under his breath, his hair wild. Twigs stuck out at obscure angles, a small slug clinging to the scruff of his jawline. Loki peeled it off, flicking it away.

“I think not that I was made for nature, brother,” Thor lamented under his breath. Loki chuckled, cut short as his dagger, poised in your hand, began to cut away at the centre of the large stick. There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “That’s not standard issue,” Steve chided quietly, lips hardening. Loki folded his arms, elbowing Rogers in the process. “Watch what I’m doing,” you said sternly, eyeing the men with suspicion. They stood in rapt attention, watching every rut of the blade, every splinter and chunk which sprung forth. But not Loki.

Loki watched your face. Each furrow of your brow, flick of concentration, ghost of a smile as you looked with satisfaction at the result. “Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, running a cautious fingertip through the rough groove. “Now what?” Thor grunted. “Tis still a damnable stick.” You laughed the sweetest, most condescending laugh that Loki had ever heard.

It made his heart twist in his chest. “Now...you each take one of these” you handed each of them a smaller stick from Loki's haul. Loki’s was the longest.

A smirk curled the corners of his mouth against his better judgement. You rolled your eyes, snatching it back and switching it with Steve. “Sharpen these, so they are at a 45 degree angled point. Remember your angles from yesterday, Thor?” Thor frowned. You made the angle with your forearm. “Ah, yes” he smiled. “The little mountain.” For the next few minutes, Loki felt your appraising stare fall on him in intervals. He crafted his edge to perfection, sliding the dagger’s blade so close to the wood’s bark it almost shone. The rough hacking of the other men’s pocketknives peppered the air. Aside from that, and birdsong, there was silence.

When all of them had finished, you called them back around a small, cleared patch of forest floor. The branch with the groove you had made lay on the ground. The three men stared at it, sharpened sticks in hand. Suddenly it all felt very...human. They glanced at each other vacantly. “Loki?” you chirped, gesturing to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.

“On my knees?” he heard himself purr, the feigned incredulity palpable. You nodded sternly, just once.

“Very well,” he murmured, sinking down.

His knees hit the leaves with a crisp, gentle thump.

Immediately, wetness began to seep into the fabric. Like the gusset of her underwear, he mulled. He looked up at you the way he used to while you would have him kiss up your thighs, yanking his hair as he atoned for some imagined grave misdeed with sexual favour. The essence of his vulnerability. A rarity, only for you. He was such a slut for you, back then. Anything you desired. Anything he desired- “Loki?!” you snapped. He had been staring at your chest, eyes glazed. Carefully, he tilted his chin upwards. “Apologies,” he husked. The swallow which bobbed in your throat made his loins ache. Your voice was high. Higher than she intends, surely; he thought.

“Kind of...position it so the big stick with the groove is between your knees-” you’d said.

Loki shuffled, straddling the branch. It brushed the bulge of his cock pulsing lightly against his trousers. “Between my thighs, you say?” he asked innocently. “No, your knees. Well – thighs, sort of yes. Just keep it steady.” You were becoming flustered, Loki noticed. Loki liked that.

You bent down slightly, touching the hard round of his bicep before recoiling like it was a hot stove. “You um...hold the stick like this, no...like-”

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the angle of his hands to grip the smaller, pointed stick. “That’s it...and then you rub it back and-” you swallowed, “-back and forth. On the one between your thighs. Knees.” Loki bit his lip, beginning to do just that. The sound was awful as his pace quickened after the first few strokes. Scraping, raw squeals that jarred the air.

“Like this?” he panted. A mist of sweat was forming at his hairline. He could feel it tingle.

“Like that,” you replied shakily. Your breaths were short. They were in time with the thrust of his arms as you hovered by his shoulder, guiding his wrist as it pumped back and forth. Thor and Steve glanced silently at each other, brows raised.

Loki saw Thor’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, a meaty finger protruding from one straightened arm to the smoke beginning to waft from the groove. “Look, Rogers…” he gasped with the wonder of a child. The smoke became thicker, billowing in heavy flow. You fumbled to the side, grabbing some tufts of dried moss.

“Now tip it in, tip the ash in-” you said frantically, barely contained excitement in your voice. Loki complied, watching as the smouldering embers blossomed within the web of moss.

“Be careful,” he whispered, setting the stick in his hands down. He brought them up protectively around the moss. You held it forward, “blow, Loki” you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed on the small ball which had begun to smoke.

“Blow?” he said, forehead creasing while you nodded. Your eyes narrowed at the tuft clenched between your fingers. “Until you get-” “-a spark,” Loki finished quietly.

He blew on the moss, flinching as the vegetation burst with flame. Thor and Steve gasped, crowding round as you dropped the raging ball of fire to the groove of the stick below. You grabbed Loki’s spear, prodding the moss. Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.

He felt that he should be bored. Or annoyed. Longing for home comforts and solitude or some such. But, admittedly, he would not have thought of this whole scenario. Against his wishes, he had learned something.

What you had done? How you had transformed nothing into...something. Like magic. When he set fire to things, he cared not how they burned. Just that they burned. And, Loki thought, they always do.

After what felt like an eternity, Loki closed the door to the cottage and turned the key.

He was the last one in, favouring a meandering pace behind the three others huddled together in a jovial formation. Water saturated him, rolling in thick droplets from his forehead down the carve of his jawline. He had never known rain like it. It had fallen like milk, heavy and thick and relentless in every direction.

Hair was plastered to his skull, to his neck. It stuck in clumpy tendrils and made a weird noise against the garish anorak when he moved. He flicked his hands forward with frustration. The clench of his stomach against the soaking fleece made him shudder.

After the first attempt, he had reluctantly admitted there was no point in drying himself every ten seconds. Even magic, he had surmised, was no match for the English countryside.

Muffled roars sounded from the living room. Loki rounded the corner, cursing every squelching step. Predictably, his brother’s head was lodged in the soaking neck of his roll neck sweater. His hiking trousers lay in a bedraggled heap on the floor, water pooling around them through the floorboards. Muddy bootprints were smeared in circles over the rug. Steve held the hem of the sweater, rolled over Thor’s head and arms, yanking it. “I’m going-to take-your gosh-darned-head-off,” he grunted; before there was a wet pop. Thor stumbled backwards, landing in a chair in the corner. He began to laugh.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I wish to bathe,” he said plainly before turning to the doorway. Steve’s eyes widened. “The lady got first dibs, Laufeyson. You’ll have to wait. Shouldn’t have dallied on the ridge.” Loki froze, a grimace descending.

He closed his eyes, clicking his neck with a tilt to the side. Thor laughed, shaking his head. He pointed to Loki, then to Steve. “What need have we three of hot baths?”

“Speak not to me of my affinity of baths. Tis you who had your very own bathhouse on Asgard” Loki snarled. He rolled his molars, the deep chill setting into his bones only half born from the wet clothes sticking to every crevice. He looked longingly at the bathroom door, thinking of what lay out of reach. The sweet caress of hot water on his aching muscles, covering his weather-worn limbs with the kiss of a million bubbles that only sought to bring him pleasure. A vision of your naked body sinking in foam fluttered in front of his waking eyes, your lips parted to the ceiling as you let your thighs fall open-

The boiler made an alarming rattle in the kitchen.

“I’ll check it,” he muttered, casting a final glance to the bathroom door as he passed. He heard a splash. And then a small groan of satisfaction.

In the kitchen, Loki gripped the counter-lip and hung his head. He stared at the greyed cream of the surface while seidr rolled up his body, every inch of sodden fabric plastered to him airing free. A waft hit his hair, blowing it over his shoulders. Shaking it back, his eyes meeting the row of mis-matched mugs from yesterday. “When in Nilfheim,” he mumbled to himself like a mantra.

He returned to the living room, three steaming mugs in hand. The others had managed to light a stove in the corner and were now wearing pyjamas. Tops and bottoms, Loki noticed. A rarity indeed. He looked again at the fire. The flames were small, but they were there. He decided to be pleasant. “Did you use the groove technique?” Loki smiled, setting a mug down on the armrest of Thor’s chair. The men laughed while Loki straightened, staring pensively into the licking flames. With mild interest, the god realised that this was the first time he had been in this room. No mean feat, considering that the cottage only had three downstairs. The kitchen, the bathroom, and this one. He glanced around at the sparse décor, as antiquated and dulled and beige as the other spaces. “I remember those,” Steve nodded, aiming towards a radio on a corner-shelf. Loki chuckled, before sipping his tea. He smacked his lips. “Honestly, Rogers. What possessed you to house us in this place? Surely there are nicer.” Steve shrugged. “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, brushing his pyjama bottoms. “I mean, look at this chair!?” Loki exclaimed, gesturing to where his brother sprawled. It was some kind of cream leather, cracked at the worn areas where a thousand mortal arses had sat. Stains adorned the peel of its chafed skin. “A son of Odin, in a chair such as that. It’s insulting.” The words were bitter, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. Steve saw it. “Actually it is rather comfortable, brother” Thor piped up. He re-adjusted himself, leaning backwards, “rather comfortable indee-” In a flash, his tea sloshed in the air; hands flying to grip the armrest as the whole chair slid back to a lying position. Loki jumped to his feet, seidr fizzling in the palms of his hands. “Calm down,” Steve said, patting Loki’s lower back. “It’s a recliner, it’s supposed to do that. Had those in my day too.”

There was silence but for the crackling of the fire which had grown to a healthy blaze. It was comfortable. Loki quietly transformed his clothes to the flannel pyjama bottoms that had lain neatly folded beneath his pillow upstairs. “What about the top? You’ll freeze.” Steve murmured, pulling his mug closer to his chin. Loki smiled, shaking his head. Fresh curls bounced around his collarbone. “I think not that a thin layer of cotton will help in that regard, Rogers.” “Modesty, then” Steve scoffed, nudging his head in the direction of the bathroom. Both brothers rolled their eyes.

“Our dear Agent has seen me in much more raucous states of undress, I assure you” he sniffed, staring pointedly at the flames. He could almost feel the wrinkle of Steve’s nose. There was another silence which hung between them, heavier this time. “What happened, Loki?” Steve whispered, leaning forward like a teen girl at a sleepover. He pulled the blanket in his lap to his chest. “Between you and-” he gestured with his head again towards the door. “You guys were pretty perfect together seemed like.” Loki bristled, feeling his brothers eyes on him too. He knew it would come to this. “We had an irreconcilable differing of opinion.” “On what?” “On me.”

Loki straightened, rolling his shoulders back and resting an ankle on his knee for good measure. Casual. The scratch of cheap upholstery made his back tingle. “Well that could mean all manner of things, brother. You are insufferable.”

Loki swallowed, blinking several times. Steve reached out, patting his hand gently, but Loki flapped it away. “Apparently I am...what were her words exactly? Oh, yes. Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.” He looked pointedly between the men. “I mean, can you believe that?!” Thor and Steve’s eyes met, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“Well, yes” they said in sync.

Loki bristled again, raking a hand through his hair. “Not to the point where it subsumes all my admirable qualities, surely?” he said, beginning to pick at the green of his bottoms. “I mean really. Is it truly arrogance if what I say is true? I cannot help being a god.”

Silence was deafening.

Loki looked to the side, seeing Steve’s face contorted in a theatrical twist. One eyebrow was raised, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimacing caricature. “You do go on about it a lot.” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Indeed, brother.” Thor concurred. He nestled back in the recliner with a satisfied sigh. “I shouldn’t have to walk with these groceries...I am a god. I have no need of a parking permit, I am a god...I can only imagine how it is to be your significant other, especially for so long-” “Hey, Thor – did Loki tell you about ‘that time’ on Asgard?” “Why yes Rogers he did. All of them. And anyone else who’d listen. Especially the part which highlights exactly how impressive it is that he is...” “-a god,” they both finished. Loki stared between them, open mouthed. His furious gaze landed on his brother. The betrayal in his voice was palpable. “How dare you,” he growled. “You’re one to talk, spouting off about your powers and flaunting your lineage at every chance you can grasp. The audacit-” Thor raised a waggling finger in the air, pushing his feet against the chair and sitting upright. “Ah-ah-ah, brother. But I am both self-effacing and charming, isn’t that right Rogers?” he beamed. “He is quite charming.” Steve agreed, reluctantly. “You on the other hand...it comes across as more..” The three of them looked between each other. Loki’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Of all the times your gentle hands had cupped his, your caring words of encouragement that he think more of what he was saying; he had not listened. Not really. The armour of arrogance was a comfort to him. It was secure, unchanging. Unlike everything else. And in truth, he’d thought you’d liked it. Despite your occasional protestations.

Until the end, that was.

A creak from the hallway signalled your imminent emergence from the bathroom.

In all the commotion, none of them had heard the boiler cease its ragged howl. A few seconds later, your head poked around the door. Wetted hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to the curve of your neck. Loki looked up through his lashes, stomach fluttering as your palm slid innocently down the wooden frame. Moisture still clung to your skin.

Loki hoped you weren’t cold. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” you said, looking to Thor and Steve before your eyes met his. He looked away quickly. “Goodnight,” the three of them chimed, some more enthusiastically than others. You stepped out in full view for a moment, adjusting the towel around your body. “Did you use the groove technique?” you smiled, nodding to the fire. “My brother made the same joke already,” Thor said, reclining on the deceptively comfortable chair again with a flourish. “But alas, no.” Loki’s heart skipped as you focused on him. Something swam in your eyes as you twisted the towel by your armpit. Something that wasn’t irritation, or coldness. He saw your covert gaze drop to his neck, lower to his chest, then to the flat of his stomach. He shifted, curling his long legs up on the sofa.

“Join us,” he said, gesturing to an empty armchair in the corner. You shook your head, offering a weak smile. “I’m exhausted, clearly you guys have more stamina than I do.” Loki felt the mighty need to agree rise in his throat. To articulate the validity of your statement, and its infinite reasoning and commend your observations. For the first time, he was aware of its overwhelming crawl upwards like dragon-fire, sanctimonious empty words writhing like live insects in his mouth – desperate to be spat. He forced them down, under the watchful eye of Steve. The words sat in his stomach like a stone.

“Goodnight, Agent.” Loki murmured with a respectful nod. You returned it silently, before closing the door.

A sliver of open curtain cast moonlight on the wall.

Loki stared at it.

Then he stared at it some more. How long had he lain here? He turned, grasping at the vintage midgardian alarm clock on the side. He squinted. Nine-forty. Loki groaned, rolling back against the lumpy mattress. Tonight, unlike the last, sleep evaded him. Although he had only been in the maze of his thoughts for fifteen minutes, it felt like eternity. Why could he not read you? It was always so easy before, he pondered. His eyes tracked along a crack in the ceiling. Before she raised the drawbridge.

He sighed.

If what Rogers and his brother said was in truth, then it meant the unthinkable. That she was right to do what she did. Was he truly so conceited that he had let love which evaded him so long slip through his grasp for the sake of his pride? For what? To feel important for a fleeting moment? A thousand fleeting moments would be more accurate. A chill ran down his spine. Does she think that, in truth, I never cared for her at all? He closed his eyes, attempting to diminish the intrusive thought. In an act of mercy, his mind conjured the memory of you wrapped in only the towel downstairs. Hair wet, droplets kissing down your neck as you played with the side of the cotton.

‘Come here, Agent’ he would growl, spreading his thighs wider on the bed’s edge. He knew how much you loved the thickness of his thighs. At least, you used to. The version of you still in love with him would sashay across the room, bare feet leaving wet imprints on the floorboards. A coy smile playing on your pouted lips.

Would you wait until you had straddled him to release the towel, or in the moment before you did so? Loki pondered this for a moment, before deciding to indulge in both.

He could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably against the crotch of his pyjama pants, the spill of your perfect breasts into his imaginary hands making it throb. ‘Darling,’ he would sigh as he buried his face in your cleavage. His thumbs would graze your delicate nipples, guiding them to his open lips as you ground against his lap. A hand would nudge his tip inside your perfect heat before you edged down...down to meet the root. And then, you would kiss. You always wanted to kiss the first time you were fully joined. Entwined. Twin-gasps would fill the air, giving way to moans of quiet pleasure as Rogers and his brother slept next door.

Or tried to, at least. Loki spat in his hand, before slipping it beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Cold fingers wrapped around the mass of untended lust that waited. He pumped once, pulling the foreskin back gently and letting his fist nestle against the neat of his pubic hair.

A ragged exhale escaped him.

How long has it been, he wondered briefly, before tightening his grip.

He extended his thumb, pressing harshly against velvet flesh as he swept upwards. The god’s eyes rolled back in the darkness, back arching up into his pleasure. Low pants began to pepper the air around him, each swipe of his hand more frantic than the last.

Too loud.

He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut while visions of you flashed through his mind. He settled on a memory of you in his bedroom in the tower. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on the edge of the bed you shared, your fingers curling around his abs as they clenched beneath the touch. Your lips fastening around his trembling cock as you made him yours in each stroke of your tongue. Each slurping kiss that lingered as you sucked, his head falling back as he lost himself in you. Always, he thought between staggered breaths. Completely hers.

Loki’s fingers dug into the mattress, the rough methodical slap of his fist against flesh a din to his ears. But gods, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed to allow himself a stolen moment of pleasure where you loved him still.

Climax began to bubble in his deepest centre, swirling behind his eyelids. Loki’s thumb circled the tip with every fuck of his palm, squeezing tighter while droplets of precum made the pyjama pants damp. His teeth were gritted to the ceiling, bared in a grimace. His chin pointed upwards, the pillow folding in on his cheekbones with the force of the brace. His breaths were short. ‘Mmmm’ The god’s eyes shot open.

He paused, wincing as his fist froze tightly halfway down his cock. His ears pricked, concentrating. ‘Mmmm-uh’

Loki’s head fell to the side, facing the wall. The wall on the other side of which, you lay.

He closed his eyes, summoning every magnification of his senses that he could. Your voice. No more than a whisper, seeping through the stone.

‘Loki, yes…’

He’d know those sweet sighs of pleasure anywhere.

A breath he’d been holding rattled free, timed with a tentative tug of his cock.

He could hear everything now. The rustle of bedsheets tangled around your knees, the beat of your heart quickening as you reached your peak with him in your head. The press of your fingers on that spot just about your plump, beautiful clit. Were you imagining the flat of his tongue caressing against your desire? Loki thought you were. Orgasm began to rise alongside some unplaced feeling, his legs tensing; toes curling into the mattress.

She wants me.

In a split-second decision, he whipped the bedsheets from his body and jumped cat-like to the floor. Within two strides, he had opened the door with a creak and slipped into the cramped hallway. Your door loomed before him, adjacent to his own.

What are you doing, he thought; suddenly horrified as the chill set in. He looked down, cock hard and leaking against his pyjama pants.

He began to step back, emitting the loudest groan of a floorboard he had ever heard in his life. Loki grimaced, hushing the accursed building with clawed fingers. But it was too late. He heard the succession of your bare feet meeting the floor, and in a matter of seconds; your door opened. Just a crack. “Loki?” you warily whispered into the darkness. He cleared his throat softly, casting a glance over his shoulder before daring to meet your questioning eyes. That dragon-fire bubbled in his stomach like acid, quippy lines and heavy-handed flirtations that begged to be freed.

How had he never noticed before how much effort it took, not to let them out? I thought you might need a hand, You called for me, so I’ve come to... make you c- I know you still desire me, which is to be expected, Admit it, no one can pleasure you like me, For old times sake- Because, Loki realised, he had never tried. You opened the crack of the door wider, looking to either side of the landing suspiciously. His eyes ran from your bare feet to the hem of a nightdress falling around your thighs. He recognised that nightdress. Your favourite. It had dead leaves on it, which he never understood. But maybe now, in this place, he finally did.

You only wore it when the nights grew colder. And only when he was not there to hold you for warmth.

Which these days, he thought with a pang, is always.

All too late, the god realised he had become distracted from his newfound restraint. It had wound like ivy around his thoughts, vines twisting and flourishing with alarming speed. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “I thought you might want some... company,” he growled suggestively.

His cock pressed ferociously against his hip, covered from view by one thick forearm.

Your eyebrows rose beneath a deadpan stare. “You can’t be serious.” Like an out of body experience, Loki raised the forearm covering his crotch to rest high on the door-frame. The unmistakable scent of your arousal seeped into his nostrils, an interrupted climax lingering in the air.

Moonlight from the cracks in your curtains licked across his chest, his obliques – casting deep shadows in his cheekbones, Loki would wager.

Hair fell around his jaw, tingling the flushed skin. He could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against the cotton, as desperate for your touch as it always had been. The thrill that in mere seconds, he would feel you against him again where you belonged. The heat of your skin flush to his own, the muffled mewls from your lips as you kissed, the insatiable wandering of your hands as you devoured him like an addict’s first fix. You would be so happy. This time, Loki would make sure of that.

He looked down deep into your eyes, smouldering with all his might. “Deadly, darling.” he purred.

Your disbelieving stare fell to his crotch. It widened. “Oh my god, Loki.” you hissed. “Yes...?” he crooned presumptively in response. The rakish smile spreading barely had time to reach his eyes before the door slammed in his face, almost taking Loki’s fingers with it to the other side.

>>Chapter Three: A Long Way Down Tags (contd in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @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 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki angst #loki series #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki gif #loki

664 notes · View notes

aemonds-fire · 2 days

Text

Crush

Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female (Oneshot)

Summary: Months ago Aemond hesitated to tell you how he felt. After your boyfriend breaks up with you, he won't make that mistake again.

Word Count: 3807

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, SMUT, Little plot, lots of smut, profanity, Size kink, Praise kink, Aemond being hot, seductive, funny, and adorable.

Personal Favorite 💖

Masterlist

‘Why the hell did I let them talk me into coming to this club?'

You know your friends are only trying to help you get through a rough breakup. “It’s time to stop moping and sitting around in your pj’s,” they tell you. “You need to get dressed up, go out, and have some fun,” they insist. So you give in, pampering yourself with a full beauty routine, choosing a racy bra and panty set, and putting together a little black outfit.

Checking yourself in the mirror before you leave, feeling better than you have in the past two weeks, with some of your old confidence coming back knowing that you look good. When your little trio walks into the packed club, you’re glad your friends talked you into coming out tonight, instantly feeling the intoxicating energy from the flashing lights, pulsing music, and dancing crowd.

Snagging a spot at the bar, you buy the first round of drinks, genuinely smiling for the first time since your boyfriend broke up with you. You’re enjoying your second drink and playfully teasing one of your friends when you spot him on the dance floor. Your now-ex-boyfriend who has his hands on his new girlfriend’s ass.

Wanting to act like it doesn’t hurt, you let your friends drag you out to dance. You try to enjoy yourself; you really do, but now the music is too loud, the club is too hot, and you just want to get off the dance floor. Giving your friends a weak smile, you let them know you need a break from dancing and head back to the bar.

Squeezing into a gap at the crowded bar, you try to catch the bartender's attention. While you wait, your mind goes back to your ex-boyfriend. Even though the spark between you was fading, the breakup came out of nowhere. How quickly he had another girlfriend led you to think he may have been cheating on you. So strong was your suspicion, you went to get tested just to be safe. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ you tell yourself. ‘It’s over, and you’re better off without him,’ you try to convince yourself, but it still hurts to be replaced so easily.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a drink is placed in front of you. When you look up, the bartender says, “It’s from the guy at the end of the bar.”

Turning to look in the direction she’s pointing, you see the buyer of your drink, his long silvery white hair an easy giveaway to his identity. With a tilt of his head, he motions for you to join him.

You’re relieved to see a friendly face, so you don’t hesitate to pick up your drink and make your way over to him. With a genuine smile, “Hi Aemond, I didn’t see you over here.”

Aemond Targaryen returns your smile and immediately offers you his seat at the crowded bar. “Fortunately, I did see you.”

“Thank you, and thanks for the drink too,” you tell him as you slide onto the stylishly modern barstool, draping your leather jacket over the back.

You’ve known the Targaryen siblings for about a year, with Helaena being the one you met first. Since you were new in town, she took you under her wing, showing you the best places to hang out and eat and introducing you to people, including her brothers. Aegon is laid-back with a great sense of humor. He’s also quite a flirt, but a playful smack from his sister made it clear that you were her friend and not to be messed with.

Aemond, who’s a few months younger than you, is very different. Nowhere near as open as Hel and far more serious than Aegon, he's always intrigued you. He’s soft-spoken and reticent, holding back much of who he is, and that makes him difficult to read. You think that guardedness stems from a childhood accident that cost him an eye and left his face scarred.

For a while, you wondered if he liked you at all or if he was just trying to be nice because of Hel. But at parties, your boyfriend usually ended up playing games with Aegon and the guys, and you somehow ended up hanging with Aemond, just talking. Having those chances to talk one-on-one, you discover quick intelligence, a wry sense of humor, and a few shared interests. You decide that he’s just naturally reserved—someone who needs time to relax around people.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I saw you,” he says, leaning down a bit to be heard better. “You look amazing."

Smiling at the compliment, “You clean up pretty good yourself."

While you’ve struggled to get a handle on his personality, there is no question in your mind regarding his looks. Dressed in black, his button-down shirt and trousers look tailored to his tall and trim build, he exudes sleek athleticism. His casually rolled-up sleeves show off his slender forearms, a stylish, expensive watch on his wrist, and beautiful, large hands with long, slim fingers. His angular face has chiseled features that give him a uniquely handsome appearance. Not even the faded scar or black leather eye patch can detract from his striking good looks. Tonight, his pale, silvery hair is simply pulled back into a loose braid that ends between his shoulder blades.

Taking a sip of your drink, you give him a curious look. “I’m surprised to see you here. Let me guess, Aegon dragged you out and then disappeared in search of something in a short skirt and heels."

“Are we that predictable?” He asks with a crooked grin. “Aegon wanted to meet up with some pretty little thing he’s had his eye on, and I apparently need to get out more.” Reaching for his own drink, ”What’s your story?”

“Some friends decided I needed a night out,” you admit sheepishly. As you answer, you see your ex-boyfriend back on the dance floor.

Aemond, noticing your stare, turns to see who you are looking at. He then moves around to stand between you and the dance floor, blocking them from your view. “Forget about him; he’s not worth it.”

You look down at your hands folded in your lap, trying to push down the hurt you feel when he urges your chin up with his fingers. He looks at you intensely and says, “Don’t cry over that asshole. You deserve far better than the likes of him, babe.”

Meeting his gaze, you nod your head and pull yourself together. ”You’re right. It may take some time, but I’ll be fine.” You down the rest of your drink with a determined smile.

Before you can stop him, Aemond somehow manages to catch the busy bartender’s attention and motions for another round of drinks. When you protest, he leans closer, putting his arm around you and resting his hand on your shoulder. “I’m taking care of you tonight, pretty girl.”

“You'll be better than fine, and it won’t take as long as you think,” he continues with a cocky little smile. “You just need someone who knows how to treat you."

A little jolt goes through your body; whether it’s from the heat of his hand resting on your exposed shoulder or the difference in his demeanor, you’re not sure. This is a more confident and assertive Aemond that you haven’t seen before, and the little nicknames are completely new.

But unsure of your instincts, you jokingly say, “Yeah, some day my prince will come.”

“Hmm. Maybe he already has, princess,” he replies before leaning very close to you, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “I’ve always had a crush on you, always wanted you.”

His words cause a flutter in your chest. When he takes hold of your hand and starts rubbing his thumb on your skin, your breath catches in your throat. “You never said anything." is all you can manage to get out as you turn your head to look at him in surprise.

“That was a mistake I‘m not making again."

Your faces are only inches apart; you’re studying him with wide eyes while your mind races to process this new revelation. The sounds of the club disappear; all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. Closing the slight distance between you, his lips barely brush against yours before pausing, waiting for a signal from you to continue. When your lips instinctively part, he takes that as the go-ahead to kiss you slowly.

His mouth is soft and hot, and his tongue running along your bottom lip feels so good. He pulls back much too soon for your liking, now that passion has sparked inside you. When you impulsively reach to wipe a trace of your lipstick from his mouth, he quickly captures your thumb, drawing it into his mouth, licking and sucking on the tip before releasing it with a kiss.

As warmth rushes through your body, you can feel your skin tingling. The thinking part of your brain tells you this is a bad idea; it’s too soon after your breakup and too impulsive. But the seductive look on his face, the breaking of physical barriers, and his admission of wanting you has started a throbbing between your legs.

Since you’re still stunned silent, he takes the initiative. “Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

Biting your bottom lip, trying to sort your thoughts, you ask, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Aemond’s mouth tightens at the question, “I wasn’t sure if the attraction was mutual or if you just saw me as Hel’s kid brother. So I hesitated.” He looks away from you before adding, “Then you met him."

Knowing that opening himself up to others is not easy for him, you gently squeeze his hand in encouragement because you’re raw from your breakup and you need to know just what you could be getting yourself into with Aemond.

Shrugging his shoulders. "You seemed happy, and I thought I blew my chance with you.”

Little things about your friendship start to click in your mind, bringing a smile to your face. Now you’re the one holding his hand, rubbing circles with your thumb on his skin.

With a hopeful smile, he asks, “Can we get out of here?”

His request makes your heart thump in your chest, and you shift your hips in your seat before asking, “Where to?”

“My place?” Quickly adding, “We could talk some more or..." leaning close to your ear, his voice dropping lower with desire. “I could show you how much I want you, princess.”

Deep down, you’ve always loved the sound of his voice, and this new seductive tone causes a shiver to go up your spine despite the heat that is spreading through your body. Almost before you realize you're doing it, you’re slipping off the barstool, hoping your legs won’t shake.

Steadying yourself with a light hand on his chest and smiling up at him, you take a breath and say, “Alright, we can go... talk.”

Your reply earns you a rare, dimpled grin from him. He helps you slip on your jacket before firmly grasping your hand to begin leading you through the crowd to the exit. On your way out, you pass a grinning Aegon, but Aemond only glances at his brother, not bothering to stop.

Once outside, in the chill night air, he puts his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot. “You’re just going to ditch Aegon?” You ask with a chuckle.

“He knows what I’m up to,” he replies with a smirk. Laughing at your expression. “Aegon would get your boyfriend to play those stupid games at his parties so I could have some time with you.”

Reaching his car, he pulls you into a slow, deep kiss, holding you close to him with his large hands on your hips. Soon you’re fisting at the soft, expensive fabric of his shirt because it feels so fucking good kissing him, feeling him press his hard body against yours. You let his tongue tease its way past your lips to dance with yours as his fingers dig into your skin before he reluctantly pulls back to open the car door for you.

During the drive to his place, you text your friends, reassuring them that you are with Aemond and that everything is fine.

Curious about something, “So when Helaena would suggest a girls movie night, but we would end up at your place, you put her up to that?”

“I did not; she volunteered to do that.”

“My friend sets me up so her brother can walk around like a slut in sweatpants and a messy man bun. Wow, you Targs are something else,” you laughingly tease.

“I was desperate, pretty girl." His blush was visible even in the dim light of the car. “But you noticed,” he chuckles.

Aemond’s apartment is in one of the pricier buildings in the city, but you know his family has money. You’ve been here before, hanging out with the siblings for movie nights. Before you can even toe off your heels by the door, he pulls you to him with one arm around your waist, burying his face in your neck, nipping at your skin, then soothing the little bites with his tongue, making you moan softly.

“Wanted you so bad for so long,” he murmurs between little wet kisses over your throat.

Playfully, you tease him while tugging on his long braid. “Have you been thinking dirty thoughts about me all this time?”

“Fucking filthy thoughts,” as he crushes his lips against yours in a demanding kiss that takes your breath away. You both work to shrug your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. You can feel the wetness forming between your legs as his long fingers caress the bare skin of your waist.

Pulling his shirt up, your hands explore the lean muscles of his flawless skin. When you bite at his lip, he groans into your mouth and grinds his hardening cock against you.

Trailing his lips down your neck, “Tell me you want me. I need to hear it," he pleads.

“I want you, Aemond; I want you to fuck me,” you moan breathlessly.

With your words, the last shred of restraint either of you had disappeared. By the time the two of you reach his bedroom, both of you are half naked, leaving a trail of clothing and shoes along your path.

“Fucking gorgeous tits,” he mumbles against your hardend nipple before taking it into his hot mouth again, sucking eagerly. Your other breast is being cupped in his strong hand, his fingers teasing the delicate peak. “Perfect tits all for me,” he hums as he switches to begin lavishing the other with attention.

His loose braid is long undone, and your fingers are tangled in his silky, soft hair. You can’t resist the urge to bait him a little. “You think just ‘cause you lick it, it's yours?”

His eye immediately shoots up to your face, and you feel a rough hum against your skin. Backing you up until your legs bump into his bed, he playfully pushes you down on the mattress.

“Aemond?” You squeak as you see the evil gleam in his eye. Kneeling on the floor, he pulls your legs to the edge of the bed and presses his face between them, rubbing his nose over your covered clit and inhaling deeply.

Resting on your elbows, you watch him tug down your panties, leaving you naked. He pushes your thighs wide with his large hands, and you see him shamelessly stare at your soaking wet pussy. “Who made you this wet, princess?"

You let out a gasp as he flattens his tongue and licks the length of your slit, never taking his eye off you. “Mine now,” he says with that familiar smirk of his.

Giving him your best, not impressed look, “It’s gonna take more than that, Targaryen.” you reply sassily. You watch him stick out his long tongue and start flicking your clit, before placing his lips over your little bundle of nerves, alternating between sucking gently and swirling his tongue over it.

Before long, you fall back on the bed, closing your eyes and giving yourself over to the wonderful sensations his mouth creates. His lips and tongue move through your folds, teasing your entrance, before returning to your swollen bud. Every little whimper or sob he pulls from you seems to spur him on. Compared to your ex, Aemond is the pussy eating champ.

Finding a rhythm that has you moaning “Fuck, you’re good at this.” He swells with pride, determined to make you a quivering mess. He relentlessly applies just the right amount of pressure on the right spots again and again. Your world is nothing but sloppy, wet sounds coming from between your legs and the orgasm building deep inside you.

When you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, your nails rake his scalp, causing him to moan into your pussy. "Mmm, baby, I’m close..don’t stop,” as you start to grind your hips against his mouth. Before you know it, waves of ecstasy that have your toes curling are crashing through you,leaving you shaking and breathless.

Aemond stares at your quivering pussy, watching more wetness leak from you. “You never answered my question. “Who makes you this wet? Hmm?”

Still blissed out from your orgasm, you gasp as he slides a long finger inside you. “You do, only you,” you whimper.

“That’s my pretty princess,” he coos as he adds a second finger, slowly dragging them in and out of you. “You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?”

‘Mmm yes,” While he rises from the floor, you move to the center of the bed, stretching contentedly and giving your legs a rest. You enjoy the sight of his erection straining against his boxers while he opens a drawer in his nightstand and pulls out a condom packet.

“Aemond, we can skip that if you want. I already got tested after the breakup; all good.

“I’m good too, promise," he says as he drops the condom back in the drawer. Lowering his boxers, he frees his hard cock. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue at his perfect size while you watch him lazily stroke himself. Just looking at him makes your pussy clench; he’s the perfect blend of beauty and masculinity.

“Do you realize how fucking gorgeous you are?” You wonder aloud, your voice smokey with your arousal, taking in the glorious details of the sight before you. From his tousled hair falling past his shoulders to his defined, lean muscles and slim hips, you think he is a work of art.

His pale skin, already flush with his own desire, colors even more down to the tip of his beautiful, long shaft. Joining you on the bed, positioning himself so he is looming over the length of your body, he lowers down to kiss you, his hair falling in a silvery curtain around your head. You can taste yourself as he plunges his tongue past your teeth, deliciously invading your mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his waist and your hands on his back, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his weight on top of you. The soft hairs on his chest and legs tickle your sensitive skin, while his cock is hot and hard against you. You part your thighs wider to let him settle between them, curling a leg around his hip.

“You ready for my cock, pretty princess?” His voice is rough with his need to be inside you when he starts moving his length between your sensitive folds, coating himself with your slick wetness.

Nodding desperately, “Mmm, yes,” you murmur, ready to start writhing beneath him.

Finding your entrance, the head of his cock slowly pushes into you, making him hiss, and he doesn't stop until he can’t go any deeper. “Fuck, you're tight around me.” Slowly, he withdraws halfway before sliding back in and holding himself steady. Giving you a cocky grin, “I think you’re used to something smaller being in you.”

You know it’s true. You’ve never felt this full before, so wonderfully stretched. Your eyes go wider, and a moan escapes you when he gives a more forceful, deep thrust into you.

“Hmm, I’m right,” he smirks knowingly. His muscles flexing with each snap of his hips.

Sensing that he eats up praise the way he eats pussy, you’re happy to give him what he wants. “Fuck, you’re big; it feels so good.” Each time his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, a little jolt of exquisite pleasure goes through you, and you grip his hips harder, raking your nails along his skin.

“So beautiful.” He’s captivated by the sight of your tits bouncing as he pounds into you. “Taking all of me so well, princess.” He coos as he hooks an arm under your knee, the new angle causing more friction against your patch of nerves as he somehow picks up his pace.

“Close, so close,” you whimper. It’s not long before the tightened coil suddenly snaps, making you cum hard with an earth-shattering orgasm that leaves your body shaking.

Your pussy clenching around him starts to send him over his own edge. His balls tightening as he keeps fucking you through your climax. His release leaves him grunting and shuddering as his cock twitches and spurts hot cum deep inside you.

Both of you are left reeling as Aemond rolls off and flops on his side next to you. He gently gathers you into his arms, pulling you close and burying his face in your hair.

You can hear his soft hum of satisfaction, and you can feel his heartbeat against your hand on his chest as you lie in his arms, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“You good, princess?” He asks and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead with your contented sigh of "yes." Soon you both force yourselves from the too-comfortable bed to clean up. When you come out of the bathroom, Aemond gives you a soft, well-worn t-shirt to put on while he is already wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, no shirt, and his hair is up in a messy bun, earring a muttered, ”Slut,” from you.

“How come I call you princess, and apparently my nickname is 'Slut'? he teasingly asks.

“Awww, would you rather I call you ‘Prince Aemond'? You come back with mock sarcasm.

Grinning, “Prince Aemond, I like that.” Laughing when you roll your eyes at him, he heads to the kitchen for water and snacks for both of you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond #modernaemond #modern aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n

161 notes · View notes

spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack · 2 months

Text

aemond loves to watch you. aemond watches you dress, undress, bathe, and even do mundane chores. Do you know about this? He hopes not...

(18+) minors dni, you will be blocked.

warnings: smut, rough sex, squirting, fingering, aemond whimpering a lil, the reader is helaenas twin sister, perv!aemond, the reader a seductress lowkey. biting, public teasing, snarling YES he snarls. heavy breeding kink.

first time I've written on Tumblr in like 4 years, enjoy babes x (this sucks but the fandom is dying)

Aemond was a man of honor, duty, and sacrifice. He never strayed far from his morals.

But when he found the passages that led throughout the red keeps walls, he couldn't resist.

He had shuffled throughout the walls, begging to hear something, anything valuable. He had no clue as to what room he had stopped at to take a breath. But he found out shortly after his queries when he heard soft whimpers, his imagination trailed far, but he reigned it in, conforming to his expectations.

He pushed off the wall, his dragon-riding boots making null noise as he steadily walked towards the sound. The whimpers transformed into moans as he urged himself closer, there he spotted you, from a hole big enough for his remaining eye to see you; rolling your hips into your dainty fingers. Aemond almost felt bad, how unsatisfactory your small fingers must be for you.

It wasn't until your head fell back that Aemond grew.. hard.

Your eyes rolled back as you rode your fingers to completion, crying out as you squirted everywhere. Aemond couldn't believe what he was seeing, Who knew Helaena's twin was everything she wasn't.

And so, his obsession began. His visits had no pattern, but every time he'd visit; you would be ready and halfway to orgasming, or you'd be getting dressed/undressed, or bathing. It wasn't until a whole two moons after his first visit that he realized the synchrony of it all, as if you knew he was there...

His worries were pushed away as you opened your milky thighs, glancing in his direction. He blinked, then blinked again. You couldn't know he was there, Right?

Then as if you answered him, you pushed yourself onto your knees sliding two of your fingers into your wet cunt. Aemond's breathing hitched as his hands fell to his belt buckle, as his hands undid the belt, your hands moved faster; your whimpers of ecstasy turned into full moans.

It wasn't until he was pumping his cock he realized that you were moaning his name like a whore. He let out a quiet whimper as your fingers moved faster, his hand wrapped around his cock as he gently stroked. A pang of fear struck him as he looked back up, your eyes on his as your fingers moved in and upwards; searching for that spot.

Aemond wasn't exactly quiet with his advances on you, and after the first time he had seen you bare, you searched the walls; tapping like a madman until you found a small crack shaped almost perfectly for him to peek through. So you let him. And as your eyes met you bent your neck to the side with a final call of his name, "Aemond!" You wantonly moaned, your thighs shook as they clenched around your wrist.

Aemond couldn't last after that display, his hand tightened at the base of his cock. His cum, literally, painting the walls.

His heavy breathing rendered him unable to look up, for if he had he would have seen you staring directly at him. Your eyes were half-lidded as your chest moved hastily.

Dinner that evening was.. awkward to say the least. "So, sister... Mother told me she's planning your betrothal.." Aegon teased, Helaena sat beside him; head down fiddling with her fingers. You sat on the other side of Hel, and Aemond sat beside you, at the head of the table.

Your doe-eyes flittered between your mother, Alicent, and your eldest brother. "Oh?" Alicent looked peeved at Aegon's incessant teasing. "How do you feel about marrying-" Aegon was cut off by your mother's sharp tone. "Aegon! That is enough out of you... May we have a prayer, dear husband?" Viserys nodded, exasperated. Alicent nodded, placing her enveloped hands against her face.

the murmurs of your mother blessing your food didn't distract you and Aemond from glancing at each other, you picked up your goblet of wine; holding eyecontact.

Your ring finger danced along the ring of the cup, Aemond shuddered as he glanced in his mothers direction; only to see her scolding Aegon.

It wasn't until he felt your hand slide up his thigh, towards his inner thigh that he turned back to you. Your face bore no smirk, no grin, yet he knew you where up to something. He picked up his fork and played around with his potatos.

His breath hitched as he felt you grip the base of his cock, something Alicent noticed. "Aemond, Are you okay?" You turned to your mother, "I think he's unwell, mother, ill lead him to bed as it seems he's having struggles seeing.." Alicent looked scared for a moment, before nodding. "Of course, dear. I'll see you on the morrow." Alicent dismissed you.

You got up and walked to your fathers side, placing a kiss against his cheek. "Goodnight, father." You turned and pretended to help a sickly Aemond.

Your breathe quickened and your chest rose, causing your Aemond's attention to travel. "I promised myself we wouldnt end up like Helaena and Aegon." You whispered.

It was when you got halfway you your chambers Aemond pinned you against the wall, his rough palm placed softly on you throat. "What was this act set for, sister?" His gruff voice spoke out, his one violet eye glimmered in the moons light.

Aemond didnt know where this side of you had come from, Long had left the virtuous maiden that begged for flowers and jewels, now came the sultry nympho. Your fingers trailed his scar as his hand let god of your throat, his finger trailed you collarbone, the crevice of your breasts, up to the side of you neck. His faint touch made you shiver as you cupped his cheek, Aemond smashed his lips against you.

It was as if time had stopped, and you two were somewhere else. You moaned into the kiss, Aemond groaned at the noise, he pulled back; pecking you lips, your cheek the all the way down to your neck, where he had previously explored with his finger. His canine tooth teased the area between your neck and collar bone, then he bit down.

Not hard enough for it to draw blood, but enough to give you pleasurable pain. You moaned into the silent hallway, too loud. Aemond ripped his head back, shushing you.

"Come, my room is this way." Obviously Aemond knew where your room was, but as you gripped his hand all that mattered was you and him, his eyes trailed your hips as they swayed beneath the heavy dress

You shut your chamber door behind him, immediately reaching for the dagger on dresser. You put it behind your back and cut your corsets laces, your dress fell at your feet. Aemond untied his pant laces, as your nimble hands undid his tunic. Your shared heavy breathing and flushed faces made your stomach do twirls, could this really be it?

Aemonds soft palm landed on your cheek as he brushed your silver locks away, pushing his lips to yours as you moaned in surprise. You gently took a steps to the bed, disconnecting from the kiss; leaving a line of saliva connecting you two. The backs of your knees hit the beds boards, making Aemond grunt as your fell onto your back, looking up at him.

Aemond snarled, his fingers plunging in your heat, his thumb rubbing your clit; It took you by surprise, though your back arched and your thighs shook as it took you only a few curls of his gloriously long fingers to cum; His name fell off your tongue.

Aemond gripped one of your clenched thighs, pulling it apart as he leant in. "Are you sure?" He asked his voice thick of lust, you moaned as his hand travelled further up your thigh.

"Yes," You whispered, leaning up to his ear. "Take me"

He smirked as he positioned himself, aligning himself before gently thrusting his hips slowly. You had seen his cock multiple times, but to feel it was a complete different heaven. "Aemond! Oh my gods-" Your arms swung around his neck as he sped up, his cockhead directly hitting your g-spot. His silver hair almost hid his face, if it weren't for a little wooden clip Helaena had placed earlier.

When Alicent found you two together in the morning, she was accompanied by none other than Aegon himself. She sighed in utter disappointment; before leaving the room as Aegon howled in a fit of laughter...

He growled as he hid into your neck, nipping every few thrusts. "I'm gonna cum, sister." Your heavy breathing was music to his ears, just another sign you were close to cumming.

"Cum- cum inside me, Aemond," Your eyes grew teary as you clenched your thighs around his waist, "You want me to breed you, to fill you entirely, to make you mine forever?" Aemond asked rhetorically, but you still near-screamed your answer.

"Yes!" You yelled, jerking as you squirted, hitting his pubic bone and abdomen. That seemed to be the final thing to blow Aemonds fuse, "Im gonna come deep inside you, fill your womb with my seed." He hissed as your back arched, scratching his back.

182 notes · View notes

hermitcraftheadcanons · 5 months

Note

I’m sure somebody has made this point but on the off chance that they haven’t…

If X and Wels are the responsible adults of the server (because let’s be real, no one else is, they’re all too chaotic), then Ex and Hels are everybody’s favorite wine aunts.

EX and Hels can be responsible too! responsible for crimes, that is.

-Mod Mleem

#hermitcraft #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #welsknight #helsknight #mod mleem

187 notes · View notes

helsex-moved · 2 years

Link

Next chapter is up, a lot of lore in this one :p

#Axl Writes #hermitcraft fanfic #helsmits #Doc's helsmits #hermitshipping #hels x ex

5 notes · View notes

greg-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Your love is in trouble

pic by: @masterwords

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You agreed to go on a date for the first time after breaking up with your boyfriend, Aaron - it’s not going well.

based on this post <3

Warnings: angst ❤️‍🔥 lmfaoo

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Hitting the shuffle button after picking a playlist to keep you company while getting ready turned out to be a huge mistake. You can never know if your and your ex’s song might randomly play, making you cry - just an hour before your first date with another man.

First date: first in every sense of the word. Your first date with this Ryan guy, your first date after him. Him, Aaron Hotchner, your Aaron, the man you had been trying for months now to get over.

You felt embarrassed, using a q-tip to fix your mascara, as the tears started to fill the corners of your eyes. This was a first date, you should have been smiling and dancing to happy songs and giggling while texting your friends about Ryan. Not crying over your ex-boyfriend, again.

The song was still playing and you knew you should have just turn it off, but you hadn’t let yourself listen to it in so long, and deep down you wanted to let yourself drown in your memories of him. No matter how much it hurt.

You stared at Aaron as he put the pizza in the oven. Two years and you still couldn’t get enough of his broad shoulders. As soon as he turned around, you walked straight into his arms and pulled him into a tight hug, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

The romantic song that was playing in the background fit the moment perfectly. You started whispering the lyrics against his skin, meaning every single word.

“This song reminds me of you,” you said. “Of us.”

He didn’t answer immediately, you guessed he was paying attention to the lyrics.

A few moments later he finally spoke. “We should dance to it then.”

Aaron took your hand and gave you a little spin, before pulling you against his body, swinging both of you slowly to the rhythm of the song.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaving a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, honey.”

“It’s really growing on me,” he said, referring to the song. “We should dance to it on our wedding.”

“Aaron!” you whined, and let your head drop on his chest.

He chuckled and pulled you closer, always loving seeing you flustered.

You would never forgive the two of you for ruining the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to you. You let work schedules and stupid fights get between two people in love.

The sound of a notification from your phone disturbed your thoughts. It was your best friend.

Ready for tonight? :)

You sighed, and dropped the phone on your bed. She was the reason you had agreed to go on that damn date. “You can’t cry over him forever,” “It’s time to move on, my love,” “If you don’t give him a chance, how will you know?”

The fact that you felt pathetic and lonely had also contributed to you saying yes. Maybe Ryan wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

Except he was. Well, maybe not bad. But he wasn’t Aaron and you made the mistake of comparing Ryan to him in every one of his moves.

He didn’t pull out your chair like Aaron always did, he got offended by your sarcastic comments instead of replying with the same energy, he didn’t fight you when you offered to split the bill, and he didn’t insist on driving you home himself. You figured he got mad because you declined his offer to join him for a drink to his place and that was why he didn’t even wait for you to call a taxi.

For some reason, though, you hadn’t called a taxi yet. Instead you were standing outside the restaurant, staring at a contact you hadn’t dared to call in a very long time.

“Honey 🧡”

Okay, maybe it was toxic that you hadn’t changed the name of his contact yet – or that you hadn’t deleted it at all – but you had never claimed to be perfect.

You took a deep breath and called his number, fast, so you wouldn’t have time to think this rationally and change your mind.

Aaron answered your call even faster.

“Hello?”

Your eyes closed at the sound of his deep voice. You had missed him.

“Aaron?”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

There were a lot of things you could have said, but talking with him broke your heart all over again, and you started crying; your sobs making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Can you uhm…can you come pick me up, Aaron?”

“Tell me where you are.”

It was impossible for you to stop crying, so there were still tears in your eyes when Aaron arrived and parked his car right in front of you. You got in quickly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

The car smelled like his cologne; a comforting scent to you, helping you to calm down.

He started the car, without saying a word. You didn’t dare to speak either, but you could tell by the direction of the car, he was driving you home.

“I was on a date,” you finally said.

His knuckles turned white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Did he do anything to you?” he asked, coldly.

“No.”

A deep sigh escaped him, and it was clear that it was a sigh of relief.

“Why did you call me, Y/N?”

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I was crying about you before my date. I am crying now that it’s over. I’m tired.”

Aaron was silent and you felt panic taking over your body. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. Or if there’s someone in your life-”

“There’s no one else,” he cut you off.

You wished you were a profiler like him; to be able to read him and his reactions. Was he angry? Was he annoyed? Was he over you? Closed off Aaron was your least favourite Aaron. You wanted to know him, to understand him.

“Aaron, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, frustrated.

“How you feel!” you said.

“I’m upset you called.”

“Okay,” you said, softly. “I understand.”

His silence was driving you crazy, so you spoke again. “Thank you for coming even though I upset you.”

“I’ll always come when you call,” he answered. How could he say such sweet words with such a cold tone? You missed the days where he’d call you his love with a voice sweet like honey.

When you finally arrived at your place, Aaron got out of the car first and before you even had the chance to unbuckle your seat belt, he was opening the door for you.

Standing in front of him, you finally looked into his eyes. Yours were shinning with tears still, and you swore Aaron almost said something about it.

“Well…thank you again. And, I’m really sorry for upsetting you. It was immature of me to call you like that. It’s just been hard, you know?”

Aaron simply nodded.

“Okay…goodnight then,” you said, defeated, and turned around.

But as you did, you felt Aaron wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling you back and into his arms.

You let yourself break down completely, your face buried in his chest. His arms tightened around you, and you thought you could stay like that with him forever. It was safe and warm in his embrace, so you cried and sobbed while he rubbed your back in soothing circles.

“Shh…” he said. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you begged him.

“I won’t. I promise, my love,” he promised, and pulled back just enough to finally kiss your lips the way you’d been dying to.

“Let’s go inside, okay?”

“Okay.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #hotch 🪐

507 notes · View notes

fantarain · 2 years

Text

perhaps there’s something there that wasn’t there before?

this is not a beauty and the beast au, I just thought the song fit them. but if it interests anyone I may make an au

#I only drew this because I wanted to draw hels in belle’s coat #helsknight x evil xisuma #exhels #hex #my art #fanart #late night sketch #I stayed up all night because I knew if I didn’t draw hels staring lovingly at ex I would go insane #I was lazy with ex’s design lol I didn’t feel like designing anything crazy..

58 notes · View notes

coffeedepressionsoup · 3 months

Text

Somebody Does Love | MYG - He Falls First

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where Yoongi is a man with a crush, and Sammy is a diligent shipper. Part 4 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 3.9k+

Warnings - lil swearing, drinking is injurious to health, smoking too (dk if that bit is in there), flustered Yoongi Pro Max

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona

A/N - It would seem the word limit is me overcompensating for the long break. Hehehe. I have received so many positive and encouraging comments throughout this time, some anonymous, I wanted to write a slightly longer note to thank you all. On some of the worst days, your enthusiasm puts a smile on my face. Thank you, and take my warmest love.

Partially proofread. Basically word vomit. Written in three frenzied, sleepless nights. Please be kind. Like, reblog and comment to let me know what you think of this chapter. Also, feel free to DM me to be added to the taglist. That's all. Enjoy!

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

Sammy tries his best to keep a straight face as he looks at his friend of more than 8 years explaining why he decided to drop by his house - the third time in two weeks, which is more than the number of visits in the last two years, combined.

Min Yoongi, the friend in question here, allegedly found inspiration at a park earlier that day and had the beats for a new song in mind, for which Sammy was being requested to work on the lyrics. Could it have waited until the next day? Apparently not.

The urgency (of the creative variety, of course) is why the award-winning music producer was hunched over at Sammy’s living room sofa, having hijacked the latter’s laptop.

However, the explanation did not seem satisfactory to Sammy. I mean, obviously, there are some good beats that Yoongi presented in the short while that he was there. But that is not unbelievable. He has previously seen him finish a song in less than an hour.

Even the inspiration is not doubtful. Not in the least. Of course, he can believe in finding inspiration for a song at random places, at random times. Sammy himself had made a song about the annoyance shaving can be after a particularly annoying early morning schedule.

The urgency, however, is the fishy bit. Not that it’s too late in the night. It’s 10:27, Sammy checks his phone. It is not too late at all for his friends to get together for drinks or movies. But turning up at his house though? And Yoongi?

Sammy has had to often take in a drunk and dejected Jaehyeong at around midnight when he was going through a difficult breakup and would end up in his neighbourhood because the ex used to live close by. Dojoon and Yijeong would often come in unannounced for impromptu jamming sessions. Hajoon would drop by to cuddle Woolfie. You get the drift.

But the most Yoongi had done, in all their years of knowing each other, was call and ask if he was down for a drink and/or meal. If it was regarding work, a .wav file over chat. Never has he barged into his house, unannounced. What are the odds of that happening after 8 years of knowing one another? Thrice within 14 days? Sammy wondered.

The first time did indeed take him by surprise.

Sammy was getting out of the gym in his building and heading towards the elevators to climb back to his apartment. He had promised Y/N some of his signature japchae for dinner. She had been nagging him for it ever since she arrived in Seoul. The previous night at Hajoon’s place, he pinky swore that he would make it for dinner the next day. He was ordering all the ingredients he’d need to fulfill that promise. It was as he was going to add spinach to the cart that Yoongi’s caller ID floated on his screen.

“Hel-”

“Are you at home now?”

“Uh-yeah, wh-”

“Okay”

And the line disconnected.

Sammy had intended to call Yoongi back. But by the time, he got back to the apartment and freshened up, he heard the buzz of his doorbell. Expecting his grocery deliveries, Sammy was disappointed to find someone else at the door.

He was more surprised when he realised that someone was Yoongi, with the straps of a tan corduroy tote bag clutched in one of his hands. The two men stared at each other for a few quiet moments - one in confusion, the other in fluster. Meanwhile, Sammy’s groceries arrived and since they were at the door already, the two friends quickly emptied the items and returned the bag to the delivery person.

Once the door was shut, Yoongi held up the bag, saying, “I had some leftover food.”

Sammy nodded. Yoongi had made him food at times when he was sick, and even when he had locked himself in his apartment save the daily hour-long walks with Woolfie to finish his first solo album. This was not a new thing. And even then, the rapper did not announce “I made this for you.” It was always variations of “I made too much,” “I don’t want this anymore,” or sometimes just quietly shoved into the arms, without any explanations.

But what he wondered was why now. He was neither sick nor stressed. They did not even have an ongoing argument that needed to be smoothed over with pensive bribery or a crony bet that required settlement.

“What’d you make?” he asked, carrying the meat that arrived in the delivery alongside a few other boxes to the kitchen.

Yoongi followed with the remaining items in his arms and placed them all, including the bag he was carrying, on the granite-top kitchen island. “Just threw some stuff together,” he lied comfortably. Nobody had to know that he went shopping that noon and handpicked the ribeye fillets among other things.

Sammy smirked at the very vague and characteristically predictable response. “Want some beer?” He saw Yoongi’s head nodding in his peripheral vision as he dived into the fridge to fish out a couple of beer cans.

Stood across from each other, at the kitchen island, the two opened and tipped their cans in silence and took a swig each when Yoongi’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and gestured to Sammy that he would take the call, who nodded back in acknowledgement.

Yoongi walked out of the kitchen with the beer in one hand and his phone held up to the ear in the other.

Sammy was making a mental checklist of the things he needed to soak, wash, peel etc. and in what order as he glanced over the ingredients laid out on the countertop in front of him. When his eyes fell on the tan corduroy bag placed there, curiosity caught up. He dragged it towards himself and brought out the casserole inside it. It was heavier than he anticipated.

He opened the lid to reveal a piping-hot pot full of japchae. His confused frown gave way to a knowing smirk within a couple of seconds when he joined the dots. He closed the lid and continued sipping on his beer as he checked the time on his phone and walked out into his living room.

Y/N will be home soon and things will get interesting, he thought.

Just as he plopped himself on the sofa and turned the TV on, Yoongi, who was perched up against one of the bookshelves, finished his call, shoved his phone in his back pocket and joined his friend.

By now, Woolfie had woken up from his evening nap and strolled out. He wagged his tail and shoved his snoot up Yoongi’s crotch, as he usually does, earning coos and cuddles from the man.

Sammy patted his dog on the back a couple of times from beside his friend, resulting in Woolfie withdrawing from the aforementioned crotch and sitting down in front of the couch, like the goodest (we know it is a valid superlative adjective for all dogs) ever boy that he was. Yoongi chuckled and continued showering pets on the husky till he heard his friend’s almost prosaic statement, made apparently to no one in particular.

“Y/N loves japchae.”

Yoongi tried his best to not react to the statement. He took another swig of his beer attempting to appear nonchalant. But chalant, he was. Of course, he knew Y/N loved japchae. She lamented missing the dish and reprimanded Sammy for a good part of two minutes the previous night for not making it. When Hobi suggested ordering the dish, she rejected the idea claiming she wanted the kind with slightly burnt garlic, the one that Sammy made once by mistake and has since and will forever have to make it that way for this adorable little friend of his.

However, Sammy would never describe Y/N as adorable or little. He would choose something along the lines of tenacious and talkative. Adorable and little were Yoongi’s interjections as he observed the japchae exchange unfold. Adorable because everything about Y/N seemed to warm his heart at that time - her voice, her hand gestures, her face, her anecdotes. And little because he often found himself wishing, throughout the night, to hold her close and safe, near him, like a little flower.

That morning, when they were leaving Hajoon's place, Yoongi remembered the smile she had as she waved her goodbyes. At one point, her eyes landed on him, and she said a simple, “See you around.”

He managed to smile back and nod in acknowledgement. He wished to no one in particular that the around would come sooner than later. Then his eyes fell on the jacket that was draped across her forearm. His jacket. His smile faded and anxiety crept back in.

Yoongi had attempted about twice through the night to will himself into owning up as the owner of the jacket. But he failed. Sometimes he drowned in her eyes, or the curve of her smile. At other times, his will just wasn't strong enough to face the mountain of curses and rebuttals he'd heard about his perceived self, or rather of his absence.

As he saw her drive away with Sammy, he decided what to do. He will cook one of her favourite dishes, directly own up for his fuckery and apologise, no conditions applied. Simple enough plan, one-third of which he seemed to have completed successfully. With his friend's single comment though, all his resolve started to fall apart.

This was too forward, wasn't it? Is he encroaching? In a space where he doesn't belong? Is he making this too easy? Too hard to deal with?

Sammy saw in glee as the top of his friend’s ears and cheeks turned a bashful red. He stopped at a channel playing “Tease Me” by Seo Inguk and paused.

Yoongi gulped down the last bit of beer in that can, crushed the sides a little and cleared his throat. “Everyone loves japchae. It is easy to make.”

“Is that why you made it?”

Yoongi turned to look at his friend and looked into his eyes. Fucker had caught on, had he not? He cursed internally but held his gaze, unfaltering.

“Yes.”

Sammy let out a laugh and did not implore more. If he teased some more, there may be actual smoke coming out of the poor man’s ears.

Before Yoongi could act annoyed about being inflicted with stupid, pointless questions, their attention was drawn by Woolfie’s gentle growling. The dog jumped up on all fours and pattered towards the front door of the duplex, wagging his tail.

Familiar enough action for Sammy, he continued surfing channels without reacting but glanced over at Yoongi ever so often.

Confused by the dog’s sudden departure, his face had a frown in the beginning which smoothened out and gave way to his mouth hanging open ever so slightly when he heard a familiar cooing voice.

Yoongi was not surprised by Y/N’s arrival, he was of course expecting it. He was however not ready for his heart to beat that fast at only her voice, even when sober. For some inexplicable reason, he stood up from the sofa.

He heard Y/N’s giggles from the corridor and when he finally saw her, he regretted standing up because he could feel his heels faltering a bit.

Y/N was half carrying, half dragging the 50-something pound Siberian Husky and muttering phrases like “Yes I missed you too bubba.” “Aww my little baby.” “I know I know.” “I love you so much.” into his fur, which was peppered by pleased grumbles and breathy sighs from the dog. He was quite happy having resigned his weight over to one of his favourite humans, not minding one bit for having his hind feet dragged leisurely across the carpeted floor because she was gone for a tad bit longer than he would have preferred. Fines would have to be paid.

Sammy’s anticipation was killing him but the sight of his child with one of his best friends endeared him a lot more. Grinning at the duo, he clicked a couple of pictures and walked towards one of the shelves.

“Come on big boy, time for your walk,” he called out as he picked out one of Woolfie’s favourite leads. The boy, snapping out of his baby mode, whoofed and ran towards his dad in earnest, earning a giggle from all the adults in the room.

Y/N could place all but one of those sounds. One from her, unmistakable. One from Sammy, who had managed to hook the lead on. She turned to see the source of the third giggle, whose face had now frozen into a taut smile.

Sammy’s voice emerged before the other two people could say anything. “Yoongi, Y/N. Y/N, Yoongi. Y’all remember each other right? From a few hours ago?”

“Yes, of course, hi,” Y/N said.

“Hi,” Yoongi whispered back.

Sammy stopped near the turn of the corridor and said, “Yoongi bought us japchae. He made too much.”

And with that he walked out of the door, laughing once he was out of earshot.

What he left behind was a red Yoongi, warm to the touch. The last thing he heard was, “Oh thank you so much! Hope you are staying for dinner.”

Sammy does not yet know the details of what transpired in the 35 minutes that he was gone. He apologised to Woolfie for cutting their walk short but his curiosity would not allow him to not observe the progress of what could become a legendary love story further down the line. He would even volunteer to write the foreward if a book was ever written on the matter.

Was he building castles in the air? Yes. But was it unfounded? No. Even with the japchae out of the equation, he saw his 33-year-old friend fluster like a teenager with a crush. He also had to stomach about 1:40 minutes of “Oh I thought he was haughty at first but he’s quite a good listener. Helps that he is cute,” from when they started driving back from Hajoon’s place, till Y/N left for work that morning. He liked to believe that he was a realist, but what is life really without the dystopian fantasies of romance we build in our silly little heads?

He had come back to the pair of his friends in the kitchen - Y/N straining out some noodles and adding them to a pan of sauce and Yoongi chopping spring onions, with Ash perched upon his shoulder, observing his skills like a diligent invigilator.

The tail end of the conversation that Sammy managed to catch was - “That is probably a smoother blend, but the aftertaste of Glenfiddich sits better with me,” Y/N said, to which Yoongi replied, “I agree. But you have to try Bowmore once. I might have a bit of the 15-year-old left, I can bring it over next time.”

Which had offered a very flexible segway to the second visit that Yoongi made to Sammy’s place. Sunday night. As Y/N and Sammy were watching the match highlights of an earlier Arsenal vs Liverpool game, the bell rang.

Sammy was less surprised this time when he buzzed Yoongi in. He held up an unopened bottle of Bowmore 15 Scotch Whiskey this time instead of a tote bag. He walked in to see Y/N scream at the TV with half a chicken wing pointed at it with some of it still in her mouth, muffling the expletives.

When she saw Yoongi, she smiled a wide smile to greet him. He smiled back but when he saw the packets of chicken and beer cans strewn around, felt immediately like he was intruding. Intruding into quality time between two people. All because he could not stop thinking about one of these two people at all, and had also not mustered enough courage to exchange numbers with. He admonished himself internally endlessly for everything in the next couple of seconds of silence where he thought of what he could say.

He settled on, “I-uh told you about this,” held the bottle up again, “Thought I would drop it by.” He went up and placed the bottle on the lounge table.

“Are you not staying?” the question was immediate. Innocent enough but filled with a slight tone of disappointment that tugged at his heart.

“Yeah, what the fuck dude. You gotta have at least a couple of drinks with us.” Sammy patted him across the back. That encouraged him.

“Yeah. It’s only going to be fun when you have someone else who also enjoys and understands scotch,” Y/N said, ignoring the hurt Sammy displayed at the slight jab, adding, “Stay for a bit if you have nothing else lined up.” That convinced him.

“I did not mean to interrupt anything,” he said half matter-of-factly, half apologetically.

“We are eating fried chicken and watching a week-old football match. Trust me, you’re adding life to the party,” Y/N said as she scooted over to allow Yoongi enough space to sit by the lounge table, facing the TV.

Yoongi blushed and could feel his ears heat up as he sat down beside her. Y/N did not notice it but Sammy did. “It is true though, Sammy does not really enjoy anything other than a beer.”

“Well, fuck me that I like for my tongue to not burn out of existence,” Sammy grumbled as he brought over three glasses and ice.

A little more than half the bottle was finished that night between Y/N and Yoongi, who bonded quite seamlessly over teasing Sammy about giving up after a single peg, scotch in general and discussions over media’s ever-evolving role in influencing a person’s life choices on a day-to-day basis.

Although Sammy would have offered the sofa to Yoongi for the next few hours anyway, he stepped back when Y/N urged Yoongi to not drive back. He also exaggerated how tired he was with a couple of over-the-top yawns, which would have been suspicious if he was amongst sober company. He therefore hurried back to his bedroom and shut the door, allowing his friends the privacy he thought they probably sought.

He was partly right. Yoongi and Y/N had both wished to have met one-on-one but neither had the balls to ask the other first, caught up within webs of self-doubt and anxious ominosity in their heads. Even with Sammy having retired to his room, as they sat alone, only with each other for company, they did not dare go where their mind sometimes wandered to.

There had been occasional hand and shoulder brushes throughout the night that they managed to glance over. With Sammy gone, though, they became hyper-aware of their proximity. Y/N turned to look at Yoongi and when he did the same, they were one head tip away from a kiss. Theoretically.

He tracked as her eyes moved from his own and fell to his lips and then back.

Y/N could feel warmth wash over all her body. She also felt his warm breath sync with hers. His face was flush and his lips luscious, inviting.

She had thought about these lips often in the past few days. Not intentionally, but she caught herself with her mind wandering quite often. Him - his demeanour, his voice and his attitude pulled her in. If she was reading things right, there was an interest she could read as well. If making the japchae was not a loud enough argument for that school of thought, the glances and the smiles surely were. Since Sunday, there have been a tonne of those and the eyes never lie, right?

And those damned eyes. They seemed familiar but at the same time, she found new depths in them each time she focussed on them. She stared at those dark orbs for a while before tracking back down to his lips.

This man was too beautiful for Y/N to hold her sanity. But she had to try. He was who he was in the public eye, but he was also Sammy’s friend.

Sammy is one of the most important pieces in the stained glass panel of her life. And pursuing something like this with one of his friends and industry peers would intermingle things beyond a point of recovery.

She readjusted her posture with an audible sigh.

Yoongi drew in a sharp breath and looked down at his hands fiddling with a coaster on the floor. An apology sitting at the tip of his tongue. But before he could get it out he could hear Y/N say, “We’re drunk, aren’t we?”

He looked up to see a smile on her face. He would call it fond but there was something else in it. However, he could not stop smiling back. He nodded slightly and let out a huff of giggle. For a moment it felt like he was 16 again.

Y/N slapped her thighs and got up. “I will get you some covers,” and by the time Yoongi managed to drag his ass up onto the couch, she was back with a comforter and a throw blanket.

She held the folded items out to him, “‘s all I could find.” He muttered a thank you and when he went to grab them, his left palm grazed over hers, ever so slightly. But it was enough to spark him awake, out of whatever sleepy haze he was in a moment earlier.

He heard Y/N say “sleep well” on her way back to her room. He lay on his back staring at an empty spot on the ceiling, trying to replay images from earlier that evening and the last thought he remembered having was that he had to ask her out. Properly.

Yoongi woke up to a slight pinching sensation on his chest. He opened his eyes to see Ash making biscuits on his pecs. He nuzzled the kitten closer to his face and drifted off again for a couple of minutes before waking up to a strong waft of coffee that Sammy was brewing in the kitchen.

Y/N had left for work already. Yoongi left soon after coffee and a handful of muesli. He expected Sammy to tease him in some manner but was not met with anything other than what their normal mornings post a night-long drinking session sounded like.

Work kept him busy enough for the next couple of days. But not enough for him to completely ignore what he decided to do. Ask her out. Properly.

Which brings us all to today. Wednesday. Almost midnight. Yoongi was a little taken aback to learn Y/N was not in. But that minor flick of a longing he could not put a name to yet, immediately lit a few of his neurons alight and he had to get the beats and melody down before it slipped away.

Sammy, amused as he was, also impressed by the tune, brought out his trustee Fender CD60 to play around with.

Splayed across the living room floor, with a few beer cans, a couple of notebooks, a guitar and a laptop on each of their laps - that is how Y/N found the two men when she came in after her departmental dinner with a few of her university colleagues.

#bts x reader #bts x y/n #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts #min yoongi #bts suga #suga #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #suga bts #min yoongi fic

124 notes · View notes