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hxltic · 9 months

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bein yelled at by ghost. you’ve been in the army this long, been yelled at by sergeants and others alike, majority men—obviously—but none of them like this. The others you didn’t even flinch as they screamed directly into your ears, probably even worse than other men just to intimidate you as a woman.

You caught him in a bad mood and it seemed completely unrelated to work, but as his partner and soldier, he had to tell you things that you didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, I got your message Simon, didn’t mean for that to happen. Won’t let it happen again.” You place some things of yours down on the dresser as you enter his quarters. He’s standing there in thought, unreadable.

His mask is still on with his gear connected to his body.

“Damn right, you won’t.” He gruffs, heavy in his accent.

All you could do was question what this meant. Would he not let you do it again? Were you being thrown in a different squad?

“What does that mean?” You stop your moving for a direct answer. You almost took that personally.

He explains, “You made an impulsive decision that would have led to half our unit being taken out. The amount we sent to that building was more than usual.”

“I understand, and that was on me. In my defense though: it was a suggestion in the moment, one that the other members also formally agreed to. It wasn’t just me.” You giggle, even though you’re aware these aren’t giggling matters. You just needed to lighten the mood.

“There were 35 men in that building alone. Led by Gaz and König!”

He fully pronounced the words, turning to you aggressively. Had you known this was the severity of his mood, you never would’ve taunted him in any type of way. This was when he had to be your boss.

“I understand but-“

“It doesn’t matter who agreed! You are seen as a leader standing next to me and you introduced the idea. I cannot be there to stop you every time you do something stupid.” His eyes were laced with anger, an anger that arose out of the protection built for his squad over the years.

“Every time?”

He said that like you did something stupid every day. He’s had bad missions before too, and we should all just be happy everyone made it back safe. Well, maybe one or two. He quickly turns to you, but stays in his spot.

“Every bloody time. It’s the mission before that. Then that. You cannot keep jeopardizing this team.”

Despite the offense you took to his words, you understood him.

“I understand.” You speak. For the night, you split off into your own quarters, not wanting to anger him any more than you already have. You’ll just have to be better with your decisions. There’s more than just your life on the line now.

The next few days, you’ve been kind of stand off-ish, hoping he’d come to you when he was feeling so. Instead, you were all assigned a mission, one they’d put you in charge of. Naturally, you’d felt it best to prove yourself and win his attention back. He was still Simon, and you still loved him.

. .

You all returned back to base with a more than successful mission under your belt. This made you extremely happy, as it’s finally a good time to speak to him.

You approach his door, then knock. You never knock.

A deep, “Come in,” is all you get.

You walk in to him sitting at his desk, his back to the door.

“Hey,” is all you can muster. You’d had the balls to walk in, but Simon is still a scary man. Your hands come down from his shoulders to massage over his biceps.

“I’m sorry for the past few days. I hope I redeemed myself?” You try.

“Hm,” He grunts, standing from his desk and filing papers into the drawers. This made you a little wary.

“Are you feeling okay Simon?” You fiddle your fingers together as you watch him walk around to the other side of the table.

“Fuckin’ fabulous.”

Your hands drop. You’d expected something, or some type of praise. Instead, you got this.

“What’s wrong? I thought I did good this time?”

“Is there something you want?” He shoots back. You glance at him, then around the room, then the floor. “No? Alright then.” He continues on as if you aren’t there. You stand in disbelief.

“What has got you so upset Simon? You can talk to me.”

“Did ya come in my room with nothin to say? What are you here for?” he snaps back.

This was a knife in the heart. You’d been terrified of the business portion of your relationship engulfing the rest, but you didn’t want to believe it. Maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe it wasn’t you.

“Literally what is your problem?” You wanted to yell, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. It didn’t feel right yelling at him.

You attempt to walk to his front, hoping that seeing your face would bring him some sense of calmness or bring him back down to Earth, but that was long gone. He’d lost all professionalism or softness.

Or maybe that was just it, and there was too much professionalism.

You reach him and plead, “Simon please, let me help y-“

“Fuckin’ hell, I don’t need your goddamn help!”

His head whips around, and that was all it took for you to realize the severity of everything going on. You’d physically retracted back and flinched. It’d been a long time since you’d done that.

“What do you want?” He throws the pen he’d held to the wall, and if you could see, you’d say there was a visible dent. That was your second step back, and you only took more as he came forward powerfully, his frame enlarging with each step.

“I-“

“Do you want me to praise you for your fuckin’ job? Now that you’ve decided to take it seriously?” He growls.

This was completely untrue, it wasn’t easy getting into 141, and it didn’t take anything but seriousness. Despite this, it didn’t take away from how his voice seemed to reverberate through your bones. You were retreating from him the best you could, but you didn’t want to look away, afraid it’d make him angrier.

Your hands felt around behind you as you got closer and closer to the wall, but not before detecting a small table that almost had you stumbling backwards when you knocked it over. Along with some more pens, a vase fell, shattering about and leaving tiny shards for your feet to step on the one day you decided not to wear the house slippers Gaz always made fun of you for.

He could literally take your breath away, but the piercing sensation under you couldn’t compare to the expression he wore that was dripping with malice. You felt like prey under a predator, caged to the wall with nowhere to go.

Your back hit with a thump, your hands flying back to the wall but close to your figure. You’d wanted to put them between you two, hoping it’d prevent him from coming closer, but it wouldn’t work. So now you search for separation by forcing your cheek against the wall, eyes frantically darting back and forth between nothing in particular and the raging man towering over you. You don’t think you could look at him anymore.

You whisper, “S-Simon. Please-”

He was so close his breath was to your ear as he leaned over. You were scared. In fact, you’d spoke it so lightly, you don’t even remember if you did or if it was just a thought.

“This,” he was referring to today, “is absolute bare minimum. Your job is to take orders, then get it done with the least. Casualties. Possible. Do you understand me?” He enunciates every part of the sentence, every word, so deep and low but strong that you had no choice but for it to be engraved in your brain. He was infuriated.

You didn’t want to breath too hard, afraid it’d also upset him, so your shortness of breath had you quickly nodding. The last words had you trembling.

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?” His words seem to shake the room, booming loud and clear enough to make you flinch again and your eyes squeeze shut. It was even worse than before—you were terrified.

He made you feel like a little girl again, answering to her father that she could never seem to impress no matter what she did. That’s why she joined the army. So she could be in charge.

But it didn’t stop because your eyes had to blink open to reality, and the time bomb called a response was ticking, just like his already gone patience. It also didn’t stop things from getting blurry, and before you knew or could stop it, there was a tear gathering that eventually released to your cheek.

“Y-yes sir,” you whimper on unsteady breath, Closing your eyes in prayer he would retreat. He was there for a little longer, but once you felt his presence leave back into the heart of his room, you still didn’t move an inch. You eventually shuffled uncomfortably to the door, not even feeling okay enough to close it behind you. You dashed as fast as one could go with millions of tiny glass in their feet, and before tending to it, you shut your door and fell to your butt with your back pressed against it and cried.

It’d been so long since you’ve cried over this specific issue; you thought you’d left it behind you. You technically had, but it was reawakened. The mission fatigued you, and you were so exhausted, but the only reason you didn’t lay your head down in the bed and fall asleep was the glass that would distribute painfully throughout your sheets.

You wrapped your feet and slipped into the night with the occasional sob.

. .

Sometime in the night, your locked room was intruded, assumingely by the one man graced with a key. Large hands scooped you up effortlessly, before bringing your head to one shoulder. You felt warm lips seep into your forehead.

He whispered things to you, things you couldn’t hear, but your head was held protectively with his strong hand over your ear. You’d been rested in another bed, one that smelled like him. He removed the tape from your feet and actually cleaned your wounds before tucking you in and sliding in beside you.

He felt like he didn’t deserve it, the guilt enough to bring him to tears, but he also felt like he didn’t deserve to cry. So instead, he tucks your head into his body closer, praying the sleeping version of you would recognize this as an apology until the morning.

©️ hxltic pt.2!

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cleo-fox · 2 months

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Conquer

Part 1 of 3

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

Text

pt IV good omens but all i know is i watched three episodes on a stream with you all

Three hours being in a server with good omens fans in the wild *insert random emojis to sound like optimum clickbait youtuber except this ain't clickbait*

Okay I woke up. Before everything just WASHES out of my brain, I'm gonna describe whatever happened last night best as I can, because that's what I do.

Some of you were unable to attend the stream, and were sad. But don't worry I got you guys here's the rundown:

people joined the server. people were confused. i was afraid. i was assured that i should be, which was meant to comfort me.

people introduced themselves. someone said they had worked in a brothel as a bartender, which was cool, they said they had many stories. they did not elaborate for fear of scaring the newcomers. The newcomers, aka, me, were already scared, and it was not of the brothel stories.

I brought an emotional support orange with me. It looked uncomfortable. I thought it would be rotten. It was not, but we would not know that until later.

@thescholarlystrumpet entered fabulously, and started the stream.

i didn't realise the show had started for a good two minutes because there was a random voice over that was telling us about Earth's star sign (Libra) and somehow that didn't compute in my brain as being part of the episode. I thought we were checking audio.

It turned out, the episode had begun, and everyone was acting like this is a completely normal way for a show to start.

We time-jumped from the fall of man to modern day society so fast that I got whiplash.

There were a lot of orgasmic noises. I asked why. I was told in no uncertain terms that those were screams of labour. I'm sorry to everyone who has given birth ever.

There were three babies. I tried to keep track, it was hard. I thought the Antichrist won prizes for tropical fish. I was wrong.

I fell in love with Crowley and his hips and was very gay on the chat. This was heartily applauded.

I didn't realise an hour had passed when the episode ended, which it seemed was to be a common theme. I said nothing happened which everyone found funny for some reason.

I was very concerned about Armageddon. Everyone assured me that it would take place over the course of the season. I asked why we'd speedrun through millennia in five minutes but eight days took several episodes. I was a naive fool. Time is a social construct and this show cares not for social constructs.

They fucked up the mission. This was also to be a common theme.

I begged for a break and had to shake my head to try and get the brain rot out. I did not succeed.

The second episode commenced. The intro concerned me, because the cartoon Aziraphale looked pregnant or like a chicken. I asked if Crowley had impregnated him. He had not.

The pornography scene had to be replayed because I was so lost and had not relished it properly.

There was a lot of crying on the chat. Every few minutes someone would say a normal sentence in English and everyone would respond with crying emojis. Needless to say, I was concerned. This was also to be a common theme.

I asked why we were talking about random children. I was told it was The Them and they were the Antichrist's friends. I liked the hellhound.

I wanted to adopt the Antichrist, and grew more thirsty for Crowley every time he was a casual accessory to murder. I'm relying on this fandom not to use this as evidence with the cops. The chat was not reassuring, they said maybe.

I thirsted for Crowley more. This was also to be a common theme.

Aziraphale was very cute, I realised. That was nice. It was not nice when he had gay panic and said mean things to Crowley and they broke up. This was also to be a common theme.

I got so gay for Crowley that I ate the emotional support orange. It was gaseous. The chat was concerned, and everyone got excited every time oranges were mentioned after.

The third episode was a fucking roller coaster. Crowley and Aziraphale were your average high school couple but biblical for 6000 years.

Both were casual accessories to murder, and sometimes the cause of the murders, before going out for a date. Crowley got horny and he stopped listening every time Aziraphale ate. This was also to be a common theme.

The chat was keeping count of the husband breakups. This was not nice.

The Bentley was silver in many scenes, and people were forced to concede that they saw it. I was smug.

Crowley was sexy. She served gender, or as some people in the chat said, she served cunt. Her hairstyles got better and better. No one liked the 60s one. I did. I like everything she does. I love him.

Things happened. The fandom infected me. Someone mentioned how the book said Crowley felt lonely. I was near tears.

Crowley walked down the aisle for Aziraphale. We all were happy.

The book case, the thermos, the bandstand. I was broken.

Everyone said very emotional goodbyes.

I made a post on tumblr that was absolutely incomprehensible but accurately conveyed my love for Crowley. I fell asleep.

Same time next week, I believe.

I hope this was an adequate summary of the livestream for everyone, I am broken irreparably and if anyone mentions the bandstand I will have to start drinking and not stop till I get a happy ending. I cannot afford alcohol. I will ferment grapes myself if I have to.

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minervas-hand · 9 days

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Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

#okay gonna go reread Spying Omens again because that's my headcanon now #I hope Azi tears out the Earth Observation cams or servers or whatever it is #where's Murderbot when you need a good hack #good omens meta #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens

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fictioonbanger · 10 months

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speed racer eren being jealous pleaseeeeeseee

race car driver eren!<3 [2]

[just now seeing this so hopefully it hasn’t been LONG, and literally FABULOUS req..]

warnings; jealousy, smut, riding, missionary, etc >

speedracer!eren; who was standing next to his racing car on the track, talking to his crew members. eren had a big race today, it’s not like this was something new though. eren had been racing for awhile already and won so many of them, with you being at every single one. you never missed one, so why didn’t eren see you in the stands yet. usually you’d be there right in the front leaning over the metal low gate keeping the race on the other side, waving to him with a big smile and blowing kisses. but you weren’t and eren had began getting a little worried, still looking around in spots that you wouldn’t usually be in. hearing your soft laughter bounce of his ears, eren whipped his head in the same direction with a big smile plastered on his face. there you were, looking beautiful as always, with a big smile on your face as you laughed more. it confused him a bit that you were in the entrance way instead of sitting. eren was so caught up in your beauty that he hadn’t realized the muscled arm that peaked over the wall as you spoke to the person infront of you. his mood changed quick, who were you talking to? why were you talking to them? who’s fucking arm was that? and what could be so funny that you’d laugh out loud like that? only eren made you laugh that way, or so he thought. eren began to march his way towards you, his crew members very confused. “m-mr. eren! where are you going?! the race is about to start!” one of his members spoke up and instead of acknowledging what they spoke, he turned to give them a deadpan look, them nodding their heads as a “sorry” . eren turned and began to finish his way towards you, you finally had realized eren and smiled even bigger. doing a small run to him wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. eren didn’t look at you or even acknowledge the kiss you gave him. automatically you knew something was wrong, looking at erens eyes that were starring at the wall. seeing the flick of a lighter and a hand covering it to light his cigarette the person walked from behind the wall. it was his opponent, jean. all dressed in his racer outfit taking a drag out his cigarette.

speedracer!eren; who quickly turned his head to look down at you expecting a explanation. now, it was pretty obvious on how much jean and eren hated each other. trying to push each other off the tracks of the race, bumping heads anytime they’d both have to sit for a double meet and great, trying to be better than the other at anything and everything. you felt a bit uncomfortable with the tension as the two starred each other down. “eren..i was just telling jean about your recent win last race!” you smiled at eren, that dropping seeing how worked up he had seemed. “how come you look so pale renny boy? scared you’ll lose the race.. and your wife.” jean mumbled those last words hitting a long drag of his cigarette before dropping it to step and twist his shoe on it to burn it out. he walked up towards you two, eren slightly moving a hand infront of you and making you step back a bit. “thanks for the company sweetness.” jean smirked at you, all you did was nod not looking at him. you could see how eren was acting and really didn’t want to add onto it. “race’s about to start, we should get to the track yeah renny?” he chuckled loudly before smiling at you again and walking toward the track. eren didn’t say a word, silent the whole time as you both stood there. “ren-“ you tried to speak up, grabbing his shoulder. eren looked at you deadly, now walking up more on you and starring down at you. he grabbed your chin and peered into your eyes pulling your face closer to him. “i’ll see you after the race.” was all he said in his rasped voice as he let you go and walked off. not speaking another word following behind jean to reach the track. you didn’t understand the issue, i mean you DID know about their history.. but didn’t think it was such a big issue.

speedracer!eren; who of course won the game without breaking a sweat, people in the stands cheered for him behind you as you leaned over the gate. waiting for eren to come to you as he usually did after winning. he didn’t, instead walking off the track and going to collect his medal. you were dumbfounded, he was ignoring you, like you weren’t there. why? cause you spoke to his stupid rival to brag to him about eren. it’s not like you were flirting with the man god no, jean was a good looking man, his personality just not so the same. you left the stands to find eren, finding him talking to the owner of the stadium the race was at. accepting his trophy for winning and taking pictures with fans, once again eren had not even glanced at you. you stood there arms crossed as you watched him finish up, eren sighed as everyone left his sight and looked at you with a smirk shaking his head. you were really confused now, what was he smiling at? like he didn’t just death stare and ignore you. eren walked up to you trophy in hand and stood there looking at you for a bit. he slid his free hand on your waste to pull you closer to him, him leaning down to speak into your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin ruin you tonight pretty.” you were shocked from his words, but also a little (lot) turned on. eren moved back up so you could see his face as he let a smirk creep his lips. you didn’t say anything, only walking beside eren as he held your hand bringing you to his car. the parking lot was empty as the last cars began to leave, eren hadn’t cut the car on. sitting there and watching out the window, seemingly looking around to see if everyone was gone. and when the coast was clear he unbuckled his seatbelt, groaning from exhaustion and stretching out a bit. he leaned his hair chair back too, you watched all his actions not having a single clue of what he could be possibly doing.

speedracer!eren; who was tapping the arm rest like he was thinking, looking out at the empty lot. you looked at him and decided to speak up, shifting in your seat to face him. “ren.. are you upset at me?” you asked in a hush tone to not disturb his thoughts. he stopped taping and looked at you and didn’t speak, just taking in your appearance. eyeing your body and your helpless face. “cause if you are i-“ “suck it.” you looked up at him with wide eyes confused on his words. “w-what?” eren sighed and started unbuckling his belt, your eyes adverting towards the bulge pushing from his pants. “did i stutter? suck it.” you swallowed at his words, starring at him then looking at his print. you slowly moved to lean over the seat placing your hands on erens pants to help undo them. he watched you with low eyes, tangling his fingers in your braids waiting for you to take him. you finally released his dick, his tip pink and plush already glistening from pre cum. you looked up at eren once more, turning your attention back on his dick. you rubbed your thumb on his tip to spread his pre cum, placing soft kisses on it. eren was breathing hardly watching your every move with a fist full of your hair. you took him fully into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down at a slow pace. eren groaned loudly once he felt your lips on him, tilting his head back to rest it on the seat. starring at the roof of his car with a mouth wide open, soft moans leaving his lips as you jerked him off. he looked down at you, hair infront of his eyes, he saw you just slowly jerking his dick. eren gripped at your hair more causing you to wince, he tilted your head back to look up at him. “did i tell you to stop?” eren tilted his head waiting for your response, you slowly shook your head no. eren hated when you didn’t use your words, you knew that. he guided your head back to his dick, taking it in his own hands and giving soft taps on your cheek with it. “what’d we say about using our words baby?” eren said holding his leaking dick infront of your face, centimeters away from your lips. “mm, no ren..you didn’t tell me to stop.” you spoke out softly starring at his dick waiting to put it back in your mouth. “then suck my dick like i said beautiful, you know it’s yours. act like it.”eren smirked before pushing your mouth fully on his cock.

speedracer!eren; who never took you both home that night instead fucking you silly in his black tinted car. having you ride him all night for talking to jean, yet alone be around him. “he couldn’t fuck you like this baby i s-swear.” eren moaned out as he fucked himself into you, balls slapping against your ass with every quick thrust. you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer towards you as you grind on his dick. both your cum mixing under where you were sitting on eren. “o-only you make me feel good ren..” you whispered in his ear, that’s all he needed to hear before flipping your back onto the backseats. he did a slow deep stroke before you could process the position change. you’ve came with eren more than 4 times it was so obvious you were both so overstimulated with the pleasure of each other. eren was a moaning mess above you, telling you how good your pussy is and how no one could ever make you feel the way he makes you. “h-hate when you talk to other men..especially l-like jean. he’s no good.” eren said this falling into your scent now leaning down to place wet kisses on your neck and the crook of your collarbone. thrusting deep into you, his strokes were reaching for something. to come inside of you, making you a babbling mess under him. “i-mm! i won’t ren! fuck!” you tilted your head back as your eyes rolled you were gonna cum and he could feel it. the way you clenched around him, keeping him in as he kept rutting into your dripping cunt. “good baby..fuck! now cum on my dick yeah? with me please..” you moaned out a loud response, hands gripping on erens flexing arms. eren did a loud sigh and began pumping into you faster, shooting all his cum inside of you, moaning your name loudly and not with a care in the world. “f-fuck baby! ‘m cumming ren!” you squirmed under him, cumming and clenching on his dick. moaning and leaning up to kiss ren passionately, it seemed he was wanting the same. he slowed his pace, still thrusting in while you moan each stroke. he finally pulled out and placed peppered kisses all over you, as he smirked. he seemed so achieved, especially with his win today. mans pride was through the roof, but it didn’t bother you.

#black reader #black y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren x black y/n #eren jeager smut #eren x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader smut #eren smut #eren jeager x y/n #eren x you

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heartless-tate · 1 month

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I have a request!!

I need some angsty Rhys x reader like I need the air I breathe. I’m talkin someone died and was brought back by the grace of the Gods or something along those lines. And I need the other party to lose it.

Can be smutty too I won’t be mad about it. But if it doesn’t fit don’t force it. Love your works! You’re a fabulous writer 💜

Come back to me | Rhysand X Freader angst

A/N: sorry it took so long! I’ve been very busy. P.S this shit wasn’t proof read so if it sucks it sucks. I’ll do better on my upcoming fics 😭 And thank you so much anon!

warnings: death, allusions to sex, wasn’t proof read 🥴, MDNI!!!!

“No!” Rhysand snaps at you. You growled challengingly at your friend. He was so fucking stubborn.

“Rhysand I swear to the cauldron above I will skin your ass if you don’t let me go on this mission.”

Rhysand bristles at your new threat. You were always creative with them. His eyebrow quirks. He sighs and rubs his temples. He looks around his office as if trying to find an escape. He stands abruptly and approaches you. His wings gently cocoon you, and he drops his head on your neck defeatedly like a pouty child.

“Don’t call me that...” he mutters into your skin. Your fae ears catch it. His breath was warm against your skin, and you wondered briefly why he had been so touchy as of late.

“What?! Your name…?”

“Yes.You always call me Rhys- call me anything but my full name. We’re closer than that dear.” He whispers, lifting his head up. You huff. You wonder why you feel your body gets hot at the nickname. It was just Rhysand- he gave pet names to others. Right? Your eyes find his violet ones. You were tempted to scream at him again but you saw his tired eyes, and softened. You sigh.

“Fine. But I’ll go with you.” Rhysand spoke before you could say anything else.

——————

It wasn’t just Rhysand that tagged along. Azriel and Cassian did too. Whatever- at least you got to go. Ever since your best friend, Rhysand, returned from under the mountain he’s been weirdly protective. He had always been protective- but now he was outrageously paranoid of anything harming you. It was odd.

You were on a simple mission. Track down a group that has been disturbing some of the night court’s cities, take them out. Simple really. Or so you thought. Once you had successfully tracked the group down, Azriel had stopped any of you from proceeding further. He wanted to observe the band of rouges to see what they were doing. And their powers. You didn’t see a point in it- as you were there. Azriel was there. Cassian was there. Rhysand was there. You four could take out this lowly group in minutes! Or so you thought.

After about three days of restless following the group, it was safe to say you were ready to take them out. You didn’t pay any mind to Cassian trying to stop you from proceeding. Azriel had been scouting the area for any others. Rhysand was with him as back up. Leaving you and Cassian to watch the group. You felt a hand grip your wrist and jerk you back..

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Cassian whisper-barked at you.

“Cas- I’m hungry. I was just going to get some food.” You whispered sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. His eyes softened he contemplated.

“Fine stay here, don’t move and keep your eyes on them- I’ll go on a quick hunt real quick.” He muttered. You smirked in victory once he left, now it was time to show them that you could be helpful.

————————

“Something’s wrong. I sense it.” Rhysand yelled to Azriel over the wind. There was no other members of the band of rouges around. Azriel flared his wings slightly and nodded in response.

“Let’s head back, I’m sure everything is fine.” He responded.

Rhysand wasted no time and turning swiftly in the air. He started a fast pace back to the camp where the group was resting. Azriel followed suit. Something was wrong. He could sense it. His skin had goosebumps, and he felt restless. He had a shaky feeling of anxiety. Why? He couldn’t figure this out.

The camp came into view, and he was about to dive into the forest to hide himself from the group. But his eyes caught something- a body. A body in the middle of all the men. The men were cheering and whipping it. Rhysand’s eyes sharpened and he felt sick. It was- you. A sense of rage and utter wrath of a thousand burning suns filled him.

Azriel flinched when the whole area went completely dark- it wasn’t nighttime- it was Rhysand’s wrath. He felt a shiver work it’s way up his spine. He caught sight of your naked body being beaten.

A loud book of thunder sounded, causing all the men to pause their fun. They didn’t have time to react when something large hit the ground. Majority of them fell to the floor, scampering. Dust was everywhere.

A tall looming figure with bat wings spread in front of you, covering you. Rhysand. Everything hurt. So fucking bad. You were covered in blood and vomit- whatever they had shoved down your throat was working fast. You felt sick. Vunerable. Everything was so hazy. You didn’t have time to process the screams around you or why. You felt your body collapse. Something was wrong. No- it’d be fine. You’d get flown to Madja and healed and you’d soon wake up. You tried to keep your body up but failed, collapsing to the mud.

Rhysand felt dread at hearing the thump on the ground. There were bodies everywhere. His senses were heightened. The only heartbeat was Azriel’s and yours. But yours was the only one that mattered right now. And it was so slow-

He shoved Azriel away from your collapsed form quickly, cradling your head. Your scent- it was fading. Your skin was so pale. He realized with a sick feeling you were dying. His eyes met your weakly opened one’s. Your eyes started to close.

“Nonononono- cmon we need to get her to Madja. What are you doing?! Let’s go!” He yelled, quickly hailing your body in his arms. Azriel flinched.

“Rhys- it’s too late. It’s an hour flight, and where we are it’s impossible to winnow! And the poison they forced on her has spread mostly.” Azriel whispered. Rhysand ignored his words, shaking his head. His wings flared, preparing for flight.

“Where’s Cassian- get him- we can make it-“

“Rhysand- we fucking can’t. It’s not possible.” Azriel’s words and reality finally seemed to hit Rhysand. Rhysand collapsed in the mud, holding you close to his chest. He was rocking you back and forth, tears falling from his eyes.

He gently caressed your face. Your eyes opened. He whimpered softly at your weak expression. “No.nononononono! It wasn’t suppose to happen like this. There was so much I had planned for you- for us.” Rhysand said. His words were soothing. You felt yourself relax. You felt Rhysand’s talons scrape your mind, and gently broke your barricade. The pain in your body disappeared. You were able to process his words better. Death, you were dying. Us. You had never realized there was an us. You couldn’t help but press your face against your hand. You think you could die at peace like this. You weren’t sure if the tears on your face were his or yours? Maybe both. You were so tired- you felt so relaxed with his warm body and wings covering you. We’re the woods always this quiet? It was getting harder to keep your eyes open. Rhysand’s hold tightened.

Rhysand came to the realization if he was panicked you would feel it- he needed to calm himself for you. It was the least he could do. He took shaky breaths pressing his forehead agaisnt yours. “I’m so sorry..” he muttered agaisnt your skin.

“..you have nothing to be sorry for…” you grunted out. “..I love you Rhysand.”

“Don’t call me that.” He groaned out. Nudging his head against your body gently. Your choked laugh filled his ears.

“I love you so much Rhys.” You said again. He made a noise of pain and kissed your wet eyelids.

“I have loved you with every fiber of my being since the day I met you, and I will continue loving you until the day I die..” He whispered loudly. His lips were soft as they gently pressed to the tip of your nose. He watched as your shaky hand reached forward to wipe his watery eyes. Your fingertips were soft. He savored the moment, closing his eyes. Until he felt your hand fall. His eyes widened open, panic settling in. Your eyes were fighting to stay open. Your chin lifted foward as if to kiss him. He bent forward. His forehead again rested against yours. You were both staring at eachother. Something snapped- a gold tether between you too. You felt your heart throb one last time. And everything went dark.

Rhysand screamed. It was guttal and terrifying to Azriel who stood off to the side giving you two privacy. He felt his heart break. You were dead.

——————

Rhysand refused to let you go. Your corpse remained in his bed- it had been two days after your death. Somehow his magic had kept your body intact and clean. He refused to eat, drink, or even leave your side. He spent his hours curled up agaisnt you, crying and begging for you to come back. You were his mate. He had loved you as much more then a friend for a millennia of years by now, and he had a sneaking hint you were mates. But the mother was so cruel- killing you just as soon as the bond snapped.

His claws dug into your skin gently as he rocked your corpse back and forth. A knock sounded at the door, eliciting a growl from him. Azriel stepped in.

“Rhys. You need to eat. Y/n wouldn’t want you-“

“Don’t say her fucking name!” Rhysand growled, eyes going dark. Azriel shivered in fear at the sudden darkness. Nobody could get to Rhys. It was scary. His brother was slowly killing himself. And they couldn’t do anything about it.

Azriel nodded and left the room, deciding to leave it be. Rhysand curled his wings back around you. He climbed on top of you, gently straddling. A few tears dropped down his face, landing on yours. His forehead met yours.

“Bring her back home- please..” He cried out.

Rhysand flinched. He was hearing things now. Was he in so much pain he was delusional now? He whimpered. He thought he could hear you calling his name. Maybe his time has finally come and he’ll be with you again.

“Rhys..!”

Rhysand jumped, hearing your sickly coughs. You. You. You. You were breathing. He was surely in the afterlife now. His head dropped to your chest, ignoring your cries of his name in favor of hearing your heartbeat. It was there- you were alive.

Rhysand choked on a sob. He didn’t know what to say.

“Rhysand!” You yelled louder. He flinched.

“Get off of me- your suffocating me you big Illyrian baby.” You groaned. He wuickly jumped off of you. Onyl to wrap you in his arms and cradle you to his lap like a child.

“Rhys?” You questioned. His head was pressed to your chest again. Where your heart was. You felt something wet drip down.

“You were dead. Gone- dead. I lost you!” He choked out. “I thought..” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he made a whimpering noise. He was having a full break down.

“Rhys. I’m right here, I’m alive, calm down.” You muttered. Your body was sore but you couldn’t feel much right now. All you could focus on was the weird attached feeling towards the male holding you. How were you alive? You had no idea. But you weren’t mad. That’s for sure.

Rhysand gently pushed you down against his sheets. You were in his bed, in his shirt and boxers. You smelled of him. There wasn’t much to say. He was acting on instinct. His hand roamed your body, as if ensuring you were real. His wings cradled you, blocking out the world. He grabbed your face, turning it, inspecting you.

“Rhysand!” You snapped. He flinched in response. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m fine.” You repeated trying to calm his mother hen. You could feel his emotions now.

“No. You’re not going anywhere. That’s for sure.” He whispered, eyes holding a dark look. You nodded in response. You flushed slightly, remembering. He was your mate. He finally smiled down at you. It was slightly crazed, but it was better than crying. His eyes were puffy.

“I’m here to stay.” You whispered as his lips slowly met yours. Your first kiss with him.

—————-

Rhysand was very clingy. The last two weeks have been spent with him up your ass. The inner circle was delighted to see you alive. And Cassian begged forgiveness. He thought it was his fault. You assured him, it wasn’t his fault. Which led to Rhysand sitting you down and giving you a very long lecture. You weren’t allowed on missions until next starfall. Of course, it annoyed you. But you also decided to relent and obey Rhysand this time. Armen said you were a miracle and not to question your resurrection.

You and Rhysand had been taking it slow as far as the bond. It strictly stayed to small pecks on the lips. He wanted to ravish you- but he wanted you to be comfortable with him. You were. How couldn’t you be? Azriel told you how he stayed beside your body. It made you tear up. And now, all that was left of the ‘accident’ was a protective Rhys. He refused to leave your side for more than an hour. Sleeping arrangements were made where you could sleep in his room or yours, but best belive he had to be in the same room. If you didn’t want him touching you that night he was more then happy to sit in a chair and do paperwork (and watch you as you sleep but you didn’t know that.) But you always ended up wanting him by you. It brung comfort.

You were ready for more. Specifically tonight. You convinced Rhysand that you would be okay while he joined his brothers at Rita’s. But you knew he’d be back within two hours. And would waste no time attaching to you. So you worked fast. You made yourself look pretty in the mirror feeling slightly self conscious. You felt a shift in the air realizing Rhysand was near. You rushed to the kitchen looking at the meal you prepared. You were shaking. This was embarrassing. What if he didn’t want you?

“Love?” Rhysand’s sweet voice filled the air as he sensed your distress and rushed into the dining room. He paused upon seeing you. You were gorgeous. No female on this planet could hold a candle to your beauty. He swallowed the saliva building in his mouth. You were standing in one of those sundresses. He gulped. You were clammy. His eyes slid to the plate of food where he usually sat for dinner. His eyes slid back to yours.

He felt himself harden. “Y/n?” He whispered.

“I’m accepting the bond.” You whispered.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

“I’m accepting the bond Rhys.” You said louder, feeling embarrassed until he plopped down on the chair. He wasted no time in devouring his food. It was gone in under two minutes. His eyes found yours again.

“I suggest you sit and eat your plate. Because once I get you in my room you’re not coming out for a very long while.” His pupils were dilated and his wings were flared. He was holding himself back.

You certainly didn’t waste any time eating your plate.

#acotar #acosf #imagine #x reader #azriel #acotar 5 #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #Rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand smut #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #rhysand and feyre

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (The Epilogue)

Summary | A final visit to our favourite family.

Word Count | 1.6K

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, allusions to smut, brief talk of difficult pregnancy, family dynamics, lots of fluff & a little surprise for you in this.

Authors Note | Well, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we made it! Trial & Error Season 2 is complete, which marks the end of the line for my favourite threesome and their family. I firstly wanted to say thank you to each & every one of you for continuing to support this story and me. I never dreamt that you would love these three as much as I love them, and I will always be eternally grateful to this story for helping me through some tough times this year. I hope you love this ending as much as I do, and if you, I'd love to hear from you. Please always feel like you can scream at me in my inbox, and reblogs & comments also really help. This isn't it from our fabulous threesome, I have one-shots and ideas to bring to life in the future, but for now, it's adios to Joel, Pretty Girl & Tommy. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow@thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is warm but there is a slight breeze that crosses your skin, moves the long grass on the ground and rustles the trees. The summer has been hot, but it’s moving into time of year where it cools a little, isn’t so stifling that it makes you want to tear your skin off or spend all your time in an ice bath.

You smile, watching not one, but two young children, just after their second birthday’s, sit in the grass and play together. Twins. Two baby girls. Your heart is full. Your soul is full. Your family is complete in a way you never thought it would be. Sitting on the porch, mug of coffee in hand, you can see the broad expanse of a man walking towards you. The sun is blocking his features from view, framing him perfectly in light. You’d know that outline anywhere. Joel.

“How are my girls?” He smiles, bending down and placing one of his palms on the back of Ava’s head, the other hand holding one of the toys up for Addie to take hold of in her little hand.

He stands again, walking up onto the porch to where you’re sat. He dips to kiss your forehead, then, when you tilt your head to him, he presses a kiss to your lips too, “And how is my pretty girl?”

“I’m good,” You smile, snaking your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss, “Worked hard?” You ask once you’ve pulled away, letting him sit next to you on the porch bench.

“Can you not tell?” He chuckles, pulling the rag from his pocket to wipe his brow of sweat.

You put a palm on his thigh, looking back out onto the land you now call home. It’s vast, fields upon fields of open land. You can see the other house in the distance, the one Tommy and Joshua call home, the one that you spend half of your time in. It’s a pleasant walk between them, one you’ll take tomorrow morning, twins in arm. A ranch. Land bought when you’d found out you were pregnant again, this time with two babies, not one. It's further outside of the city, which you love. Peace and quiet and a wonderful place to raise your children. Joel and Tommy had worked hard throughout the nine months you’d carried Ava and Addie, taking contracting jobs wherever they could find them, squirrelling away enough money to build the life you have now. You’d offered the inheritance money from your parents who had passed away just before you’d met Tommy, which had built the two houses you all called home. Joel has insisted on sheep for the ranch, whilst Tommy had wanted cattle, so they’d compromised and gone with both.

You hadn’t thought that being the wife of two ranchers would have been something you’d enjoy, but you’d proved yourself wrong. You could take Joshua to school each morning and pick him up each afternoon, you could spend as much time as you wanted with your baby girls, you’d learnt to bake properly, and cook meals for everyone each evening. You would all sit together, eating and drinking into the evening, until you fell into one bed or the other, curled up next to Tommy or Joel, and sometimes even both of them, until you fell asleep and started all over again the next morning. It was the life you loved, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You can see Tommy walking from the other house, Joshua’s hand clutched in his own. He’d taken him out today, let him ride with him on his horse, mostly in an effort to tire him out because at six years old, he was starting to run rings around everyone with his energy.

You watch as they come into view, Joshua dropping Tommy’s hand when he recognises his baby sisters. He’s always been so gentle with them. He kneels down on the blanket with them, picking up some of the toys in his hands to start playing with them. He hands Ava a small wooden car, and Addie gets one that is slightly bigger that she can’t quite hold properly. He tries to get them to engage in a race but it’s relatively futile, they just giggle at him and wave their arms around.

You chuckle to yourself as Tommy heads up onto the porch too, he bends to give you a kiss similar to the way Joel had, but leans against the post that connects the porch to the roof that covers it, taking out his own rag to wipe his hands with. You’re about to open your mouth to ask if anyone is hungry, when the front door is ripped open and the newest addition to your family comes bounding out.

“Didn’t keel over and die today then, old man.”

You bite back a chuckle, as does Tommy, but Joel doesn’t seem to find it so funny.

“What have I told you about bein’ rude, Ellie?”

“I wasn’t being rude,” She shrugs, “I was just being observant.”

You think you hear him mutter something about her being a little shit under his breath, which of course is no better than her previous comment, but you let it lie, “Anyone hungry?” You ask.

Everyone agrees, so you push yourself up and head down the steps to pick up Addie. Joel follows behind, taking Ava in his arms, whilst holding his hand out for Joshua to take, walking everyone into Joel’s home, where the pot roast has been cooking for most of the day.

Ellie hadn’t really been planned. Once the twins had been born, you’d thought that was it. It had been a hard pregnancy, you’d struggled with sickness at first, and then at the sheer amount of extra weight you’d been carrying around. You’d swollen in places you didn’t even know you had, and spent that last month being as still as possible. With the way your relationship had changed, you’d agreed early on that the twins would be as much Joel’s children as they were Tommy’s, but whenever Joel watched you walk away to spend time with his brother, which he didn’t resent in any way, and you took the twins with you, that big ranch house felt awful lonely to him, with Sarah still being away at college.

He’d shocked you and Tommy when he’d sat you both down and mentioned adoption. Giving a home to someone who needed it. It had more rooms than he knew what to do with, space enough for another child. You don’t think you could have picked someone more perfect for him than Ellie. In some ways, she was the complete opposite of Sarah, but in others, they were very similar. She wasn’t ever going to be a replacement, Sarah still visited often, was still a huge part of everyone’s lives, but she kept him company in those lonely nights, made him laugh, kept him on his toes, and you loved her just as much as if she were your own. She was a love all of Joel's own.

Everyone takes their seat at the table, helps themselves to as much food as they want. Between mouthfuls of your own food, you help Addie eat, with Joel doing the same with Ava. Tommy is helping Joshua, who still doesn’t quite have the hang of how to properly cut things with his knife and fork, and Ellie is talking, mainly at Joel, about what she’d been doing that day. Its domesticity at its best. You and the two men you love with every fibre of your being, your children who you would lay down your life for, including Ellie. Everything you always wanted, all at the same time, no compromises.

You sit around the table for most of the evening. Ellie helps you put the twins to sleep upstairs when they start dropping off. She knows the dynamic of the family, you’d sat her down one day when Joel and Tommy were out working, fumbling over the words of how to explain exactly how things worked.

“So, they both love you, and you both love them?” She’d asked, mixing the batter for the cake you were making together, “Sounds cool,” She’s shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “Just so long as I don’t ever have to hear what you and my old man get up to.”

You’d smiled, given her a hug, and promised to keep it down with Joel whenever you were there. It proved to be difficult, that man knowing how to make you cry out and scream whenever he got his hands on you.

Once Joshua has settled himself on the couch, resting quietly with the TV on in the background, and Ellie has gone to her room to read or whatever else it is she does up there, you reach next to you and take hold of Tommy’s hand. He clutches it right back, with Joel’s arm resting across your shoulders. You look up at Joel, who is smiling softly, with that glint in his eyes that tells you he’s dying to take you upstairs.

You look Tommy directly in the eye, “Together?” You ask, squeezing his hand.

“Together.”

And that’s how it is. That’s how it will always be. Some nights spent alone with your men, others spent sandwiched right between them as they take turns making you feel good, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you don’t know who you are or what day of the week it is. And then being able to snuggle into one of them, tonight you know it will be Joel, who will drape his arm over your waist and press his front as close to your back as is humanely possible, with Tommy clutching your hands from the front. Your two men, their girl, and the life you’d risked almost everything to have.

THE END.

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spooky-bunnys · 10 months

Note

Kokonoi has me obsessed!!! If possible, could I please request an Alpha Bonten Kokonoi x omega male reader

Like maybe while koko is in a meeting with rest of the high members some low level member comes and flirts with reader till the point he’s uncomfortable, koko just senses distress and dashes out and beats up the other guy— idk somethign along those lines 😭 (love your writing man, you’re fabulous)

Of course dude. Aww thank you man. I love writing for you guys. Hope you enjoy!

(Name) sighed softly. Watching his husband lovingly. Kokonoi had called a meeting, due to something (Name) had found while he was going through the financials. (Name) had found that money was being taken from Bonten and wired to an off shore account.

So of course he immediately told his husband, who quickly called a meeting with the higher Bonten members. While they were discussing who had access to the main account, (Name) felt like he was being stared at. He shifted uncomfortably before looking around.

He met the eyes of a smug looking Alpha. He was staring at the Omega, like he was some meal he wanted to devour. (Name) shivered at the look before he raised a had to his bond mark. He stared down at his lap, not noticing the distressed pheromones he was releasing.

When the silver haired Alpha smelt the pheromones, he stopped talking an growled quietly. He looked towards his Omega. (Name) hadn't even noticed that his Alpha had stopped talking. He just continued to grip his bond mark, while staring at his lap.

The silvernett clenched his fist and looked around. Trying to figure out what was making his Omega so uncomfortable. That's when he saw the smug looking worker staring at (Name), like he was some prey. The other turned to see what had made the male so upset, when they saw the new guard staring down the Omega.

Kokonoi looked at his boss, silently asking for permission. Mikey waved his hand at the other Alpha, giving the guard his own glare. Kokonoi quickly made his way over to the guard who didn't take his eyesore the figiting (Name).

That was until his view was blocked. The guard growled and glared up before he froze. A livid Kokonoi staring back at him. "Are you eyeing my Omega like he's some piece of fucking meat?" (Name) looked up at the growl made by his husband. The guard had stared trembling and was as pale as a ghost.

(Name) went to stand but a softly placed hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see his pack Alpha and Boss shaking his head. (Name) sat back and watched nervously. The guard didn't say anything, angering Kokonoi more. "I said" he grabbed the guard shirt collar and dragged him close. "Were you eyeing MY OMEGA LIKE HE WAS A PIECE OF FUCKING MEAT?!"

(Name) flinched at the raised volume. The guard opened his mouth then closed it. He shook his head no, obliviously lying. Kokonoi grinned menacingly. Ran laughed loudly. The guard turned his head to the laughing Alpha.

"Mm what a liar. We all saw you doing it. If you thought lying was gonna save you, you were oh so very wrong." Kokonoi threw a punch at the distracted males face. Throwing the guard to the ground he continued. Throwing punch after punch.

(Name) once again tried standing. Wanting to calm his raging husband. Before he could actually move to comfort his Alpha, Kokonoi stopped and slowly stood. He turned to Sanzu with a wide grin. "Have some fun Sanzu. I'll join once the meeting is over." Sanzu shot two pills into his mouth then laughed psychoticly.

"You got it~" he quickly grabbed the unconscious male and practically skipped out the room. Kokonoi pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping his hands and face off. Then made his way to (Name), kissing the Omega softly before going back to the meeting.

That night the guards screams filled the Bonten hideout. Reminding all the workers, don't mess with the upper members Omega's. Or else.

#male omega reader #male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #bonten #bonten x male reader #bonten kokonoi #kokonoi x male reader #kokonoi #kokonoi hajime #hajime kokonoi

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whoistartaglia · 9 months

Text

come one, come all

there’s a fabulous magic show in town hosted by the two most famous magicians in fontaine. you unknowingly meet one of them—lyney, a man with a smile full of secrets—in a quiet bar in monstadt.

lyney x reader (pre-release)

there’s a curious man sitting next to you at the bar.

the tavern you frequent is located in a small village at the edge of monstadt, known to host the occasional traveler and adventurer, but none as peculiar as him. his clothes are clean and fashionable, and there’s a look on his face like he knows more secrets than you, has more tricks up his sleeve. moreover, what’s stranger is that he ordered only one drink and has yet to touch it, only observing it, faintly reminding you of a moth studying a flame.

“is something wrong with it?” the man breaks out of his hypnosis at your teasing question, and looks up in suprise. you explain, “i know the bartender, and he’s really great. if something’s the matter with your drink i know he’ll replace it.”

“oh, no,” he says dismissively. “it’s nothing like that. i was just interested in it—we don’t have this brand of wine where i’m from.”

“and where’s that?”

“fontaine,” he replies simply, and yes, now that he says it, you can hear the distinct accent.

“why are you in monstadt?”

“for the same reason everyone else is, i imagine,” he replies, taking a ginger sip from the glass. “for the show.”

ah, yes, the show. a magic show, famous in fontaine and most of teyvat for its impressive tricks and wonderous miracles. you’ve been hearing of it since the twin magicians announced their arrival to monstadt to entertain and wow the masses.

that’s why there are more than an abundance of travelers, adventurers, foreigners, in monstadt. some of them have tickets; many don’t. they hope the magicians will take pity on them and spirit a ticket to them in the middle of the night. or maybe they intend to steal one from actual holders. perphaps a bit of both.

“are you also going?” he presses.

you purse your lips and look down. “no, i’m not.” the tickets were too expensive and too difficult to get your hands on.

“did you want to?”

“of course i did,” you respond, the words coming out more bitter than you intended. it’s the closest thing to magic the world has to offer. tricks to make you forget it’s only an act; displays to dazzle even the most prudent of disbelievers. card tricks, doves from hats, sawing a lady in half and convincing the audience she’s actually been split in two.

of course you want to go. anyone in teyvet would, especially you, who comes from a small town in monstadt, who may never see anything like it again.

“i see,” is all the man says.

there’s an uncomfortable silence you feel obligated to break, and you ask after a second, forcing the lingering bitterness out of your tone, “are you going to watch?”

“yes,” he says, hesitating. “i am…going.”

“do you have a good seat?”

he smiles faintly.

“the best in the house.”

“i’m glad.” you swallow and stand up, placing down enough coins for you and the stranger. he watches you with veiled interest, especially the way you straighten up and conceal the frown creeping on your face.

“i should go,” you tell him. “i’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“yes, you do” he says faintly, agreeing with you. before you can opine on the strange statement, he smiles. “it was wonderful to meet you.”

you turn and leave, waving to the bartender wiping down the bar as you do. before you’re out the door, he calls, “i shall see you tomorrow!”

you pause and turn back around, intent on correcting the man, but he’s already gone—leaving nothing but a golden, shimmering ticket left in his wake.

•••

it’s a trick, a lie, a falsity. your subconscious screams at you that the piece of paper in your hand, that reads admit one in black inky letters, is a fake. it can’t be real—there’s no way.

yet you find yourself traveling to the shining capitol, with the ticket clutched in your hands. the wind begs to rip it away and the crowded streets tempts it to get lost and stolen, but you hold on tight, your grip only loosening when you hand it to the collectors at the front entrance.

they let you in without a second glance, and still in a state of disbelief, you find your seat, front row, center spot. best seat in the house. you look around for the man you saw last night but he is nowhere to be found, and a part of you wonders it he gave up your ticket for you. but that doesn’t make sense, you just met, it’s too peculiar, too much like a fairytale, a magic spell, come true.

your wandering thoughts are caged and tamed at the diming of the lights. you turn and face the center where a spotlight shines and a puff of smoke reveals two figures. the twin magicians. lyney and lynette.

the crowd errupts in applause, it’s the first trick of the evening, and you join in, until the smoke fades, and the magicians come into view. the sister with cat-like ears smiles adoringly at the crowd, and the brother does the same. but whereas lynette’s eyes are roaming, meeting as many fans as possible, lyney’s have yet to leave you.

at your shock and surprise, lyney dips his head slightly, and smiles, all too familiar from last night. turning back to the main crowd, he introduces himself and his sister, and announces to the crowd.

“come one, come all! we have a great show in store for you! magic will be casted, miracles with be had, and...” his eyes find yours again, and winking he continues, “hearts will be stolen, tonight.”

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pebblethestone · 3 months

Text

One Wrong Action ²

Vox x Reader /Alastor's sibling

Summary - going out for a walk what happens when someone shows up and ruins your day?

Masterlist

One Wrong Action Masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3

Words - 1100

Warnings - swearing

A/n - hello yet another chapter I've made a Taglist so if you would like to be added just send a comment and I'll be sure to add you

─────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹─────────

Your ears twitch hearing Charlie as she starts to rant about the hotel to Vaggie, angle dust nagging your ear off as you try and be patient as you can with him.

“Well, I would never have of guessed that you and that strawberry pimp are even related, I mean you are both deers~~ bu-” As you hear him say strawberry pimp you burst out laughing not that you did that much as Angle moves back a little surprise with your sudden outburst. Wiping the edges of your eyes as you feel tears.

“Oh my I have never heard anyone call him that, it's great, I will be using it at some point” A lazy smile falls on your face as you hear that Charlie has stopped talking, you look at her as her eyes widen as well as Vaggie's.

“What? Can I not laugh at something so stupid? Am I really that scary to you?” you asked as your lips fell back to a line, you know that being an overlord and people didn't trust them very much but you do try and gain the sinner's trust unless you just dislike them in general for example Val like who wouldn't hate him.

“No, no it's just we didn't expect you to laugh, you're always so serious. Plus we've never seen you react like that before.” Charlie explains to you.

“ah I see, it does not mean that am always serious its just a resting face I seem to have. And you all hardly know me” you say to her as she nods at you and then carries on talking to Vaggie.

“So anyway, sugar do you have a tail? Like a little one? Like deers?” he asks as he tries to take a look.

“That for me to know and you to find out, Angle Dust” the corner of your lip moving up.

“Ugh, you're just like your brother with more words than just an answer,” he says to you annoyed.

“well, we are related so would it not come to you, that I may have similar attitudes to him” you say watching him as you give him a little wink. getting up from where you were sitting and started to head towards the door.

“Y/n, where are you going?” Charlie says from behind you turning your head to look at her she looks a little worried.

“Just on a stroll hon, and to get some cooking stuff, since I do want you all to taste my fabulous cooking for tonight's tea” you say opening the door and heading out, not waiting for Charlie to reply to you.

---

As you walk down a street to get your supplies you hear a car slow down to your walking speed you stop and turn your head to look at it as the window of the car rolls down, the first thing you see is a TV head. Your face scrunching up.

“Vox, I would say what a surprise but it really is not when you do this 'every week'” you say to him the tone of your voice deepening as the end of your words. Watching him open the car door and stepping next to you, you let out a pitiful sigh.

“but we haven't talked in days, and you never use the brick of yours to reply” You roll your eyes at him as you walk he walks along with you. As you walk into a restaurant that you own.

“Well, you seem to forget that I am not very good at using technology and all the buttons are too close to each other, it's a real pain to type with.” as you side-eye him, those years ago his TV head was much larger, but now it was thinner much be lighter, still looked good in his suit maybe change a little and the way he walked. Wait what are you saying? Shaking your head as you pin your ears back annoyed at yourself.

“Well, I thought that using an older version of a phone would make it easier for you, how about I make you something easier to use?” he says to you.

“no, am fine with the technology box that I have” you say your ears still pinned back. as you walk into the back of the restaurant where all the supplies are. You see him turn his head towards you.

“ah, I remember those ears, always pinned back when you're pissed as something,” he says his hand moving up to pat than that he once did. As you quickly grab his hand.

“Remember that last time you did that I broke your screen am sure you don't want that to happen again” you say as your grip on his hand tightens and your sharp teeth appear as he takes that sign to step back.

“Well you didn't say that to me when we first meet, I only touch one hair and all I saw was a fucking first punch me, but you did like it when we were together~” he says to you a little smirk dancing on his face. Oh how punchable it looked. As your face turns into a snarl.

“You dare say that to me on my turf?! We are not together anymore you have to let it go vox! I'll be at that meeting only because it's a deal and I have to go!” you half shouted the tone of your voice going funny as it cracked.

“Wait Y/--” Before he could say more you click your fingers together as you appear in the kitchen of the hotel with everything you need as you put stuff where it's meant to go.

You go over to the door to lock it, heading back to the counter in the kitchen leaning your elbows on the counter as bring your hands up to your face and drag your hand down your face unsure of what to do with what's happening with Vox. Grabbing a glass on the side as you throw it on the floor leaving sharp shards of glass on the tiled fool.

--Vox 3rd P.O.V--

“Wait Y/n” before he could finish what he was going to say you had disappeared like you always do exactly like your brother, he let out a sound of anger.

“Fuck, how the fuck do i all ways mess this shit up” he says to as if he's talking to someone his face feeling into all sorts of emotions, all he wanted was to be with you again but he had managed to mess that up as well...

---

Part 3

---

Taglist - @hxzbinwrites @22carolina08

#x reader #reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader #alastor x sibling reader #alastor x sister reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x brother reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader

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joi-me-hoi-me-noi · 3 months

Note

Hope your requests work now😁

I would like to request maybe todoroki and reader have a secret relationship and class 1-A thinks there’s something wrong with him so they follow him into a restaurant and they see him and reader kiss.

I’ll leave the rest up to you😁😊

OH MY GOD YESSSS!!! THEY'RE WORKING!! Also, thank you for your help and the request anon. Please enjoy!

TODOROKI x READER - SECRETS

As soon as they saw him 'accidentally' burn his UA outfit on the shoulder, they knew something was wrong. Todoroki would never do something like that.

"Midoriya, ask him what's wrong." Mina pushes the boy toward his friend.

"Hey Shoto, is everything alright? You've been acting strange." Shoto perks up at this and looks at Izuku.

"What do you mean?" Todoroki's leg was bouncing.

As Izuku was about to say something else, Sero tapes his mouth shut and stands next to Izuku.

"Sorry about that." Sero pulls the boy along until Shoto goes back to studying or whatever he was doing to distract himself.

"What the hell was that Izuku?!" You find yourself listening in on the group sitting directly in front of you.

"You told me to ask him." He gets hit over the head by Bakugo and then they continue whispering.

"Let me try." Momo gets up and approaches Todoroki.

"Hey, Todoroki. Do you want to study after class is finished?" He looks up at her.

"Uh, sorry, I can't."

"Why not? You owe me study time you know."

"I'm...I'm going out with family to a dinner. Apparently, I can't miss another one of those. Sorry." His foot is tapping yet again.

You shake your head at the group's antics and continue to focus on your work. The bell rings and you quickly pack your things. A hand slams down on your desk, startling you.

"In a hurry, L/n?" You simply nod and hurry to pack the last of your belongings.

You didn't have to look up to know it was Bakugo. Bakugo quickly snatches the notebook off of your desk and holds it above his head.

"Can I have it back please? I'm really in a hurry." You hold out your hand, waiting for him to give it to you.

"I just noticed how weird you're acting too. You know anything about Icy-Hot?" He moves his eyes to Todoroki then back to you.

"Why are you asking me? We don't even talk to each other." You send him a glare and using your quirk, you grab your notebook from his fingers.

You leave the room and quickly make your way to the dorms to get ready for your date. You look at yourself in the mirror and you know you look fabulous. A ding turns your attention to your phone, a text from Todoroki.

'Check your balcony.'

You simply shake your head while letting a small laugh leave your lips and open the door to your outdoor abode. As you look around, you see an ice slide that he created for you both to escape your dorms. He was at the bottom, giving you a small wave. You wave back and then let yourself glide on the slide.

"Well, you dress up nice. Let's go!" You pull him along as you both run through the woods to get to where you need to be.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Mina runs into the living room area of the dorms where almost everyone resided and opens the curtains to show them what she saw from her balcony.

"Todoroki left!" Everyone was flabbergasted, he would never.

"What if he's just playing with us." Everyone looks at Kaminari like he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"He doesn't know how to play people!"

"Damn! Sorry!" Mina was already grabbing her jacket and throwing on her sneakers.

"Where are you going?"

"To spy on Todoroki! Are you guys coming or not?!"

All of sudden, the people who were still awake started to grab their things and put on their shoes.

"Let's go!"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"I'm so glad we made it to the reservation." You smile at your boyfriend lovingly as he does the same.

It was a beautiful venue, you wondered where he got the money to pay for this. probably from Daddy's wallet The stars twinkled onto the candlelit balcony where you both sat. He scootches his chair a bit to be closer to you as he holds your hand in his.

"You know I really do care about you." Shoto presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand while looking at you.

"You're just new to this and it's okay, we all have our firsts." Your other hand is placed on top of his.

You kiss his knuckles and smile at him, the stars illuminating both of your eyes. As your hand moves off of his, he brings his hand up to the side of your cheek. You look into his pretty eyes; it was the first time he was initiating something like this.

"Can I kiss you?" You smile and watch as his lips turn into a soft smile.

"Shoto, you want to waste your first kiss on me? Are you sure?" You joke, looking away to the stars before he gently turns your face, so you look at him directly.

"I wouldn't want to kiss anyone else; I'll savor the moment forever."

That makes you smile even more until he starts to lean his head in and closes his eyes. The moment feels different than the cuddles and hugs, it's intense. Your eyes flutter shut as do his as your lips connect into a kiss. One of your hands resting on his shoulder while the other goes through his hair, messing it up slightly. His hand still rests on your cheek while the other is on your waist.

Soon you both pull away, slightly swollen lips and little grins on your faces.

"That was really... good. You sure it's your first time kissing someone?" That makes him let out a light chuckle.

"Yes, I'm sure. I want another." You both lean in again but you look to the right and see Uraraka hovering in the air, snapping pictures of you both.

"WHAT THE FUC-"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

After walking to the perfect spot to watch Todoroki at his 'family dinner', they climb into a high enough tree to see what's happening and if he lied to them.

"Guys, what if it is a family gathering?" Izuku asks, playing with his hands nervously.

"Then we leave, but it's obviously not. He was acting wayyy too nervous about it when we asked." Mina tells Izuku.

The continue to sit in the tree until they see him sit at the table with-

"Oh my god! Is that Y/n?" Sero squints his eyes as well as everyone else.

Momo makes binoculars and holds them up to her eyes, pointing them at the table Todoroki sat at. Her mouth dropped and it was confirmed, he lied and he was going out with you.

"Hey, Ochaco. Wanna do something real quick?" Mina asks with a smile.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"I can't believe you guys spied on us." Your arms were crossed over your chest while you walked back to UA with the group.

"You both were acting weird, we needed to know what happened to the both of you." Mina stated.

"Well now you know."

As you approach the doors of the dorms, Mr. Aizawa was standing at the entrance.

"Thank you for letting us go out tonight." You and Shoto walk by Aizawa, he gives the both of you a small nod.

"All of you who went out will have early morning training." Everyone groans, watching the two of you walk away free.

"Why don't they get in trouble?"

"They asked."

#fluff #requests are open #mha x reader #mha x reader fluff #mha fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader fluff #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader fluff #shoto todoroki fluff

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misc-obeyme · 8 months

Note

Hello! Congrats on on getting to 1000 followers! Your writing is great!

For the event, may I request the NSFW prompt #9 "You have no idea how much I want you" with Asmodeus?

Thank you and congrats again!

Hello!! Ahh you're so sweet, I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing! <3

Okay, this is the first smut I've written for Asmo so I hope it turned out okay! I tried to keep the reader's outfit vague so it can be imagined as anything.

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event! (There are only two prompts left!)

GN!MC x Asmodeus with prompt "You have no idea how much I want you."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: fingering & penetration (reader receiving), er... does this count as semi-public? I think it might lol. Please correct me if I'm wrong!

Everybody knew that Asmodeus threw the best parties. So it was no surprise when you showed up to the Fall and found it packed with people. You sat at the bar for a while, taking in the music, the lights, the noise of the demons around you chatting and laughing.

You could see Asmo from where you sat, surrounded by beautiful demons all jostling for his attention. He was often in the middle of a group consisting mainly of his fans. You watched fondly as he interacted with them. He was in his element - greeting everyone, happily taking selfies, and always smiling brightly.

Although the event was taking place at the Fall, it was actually a promotion for a high end luxury perfume. Asmo himself was wearing it, of course, but there were also samples. It was a subtle scent, but it lingered in the air of the club.

Asmo was wearing a beautifully tailored suit with pink embellishments. His hair was immaculate as always, his skin glowing. He looked amazing and you couldn't help feeling happy simply by watching him.

And then he looked across the room and saw you. The way his face lit up made your heart race. He had been smiling the whole time you'd been watching him, but now his smile was radiant. Knowing you made him feel that way caused your stomach to flutter.

Asmo cheerfully spoke to the people around him while also making his way toward you.

You decided to make it a little easier by slipping off your seat and moving toward him.

Eventually, the two of you met in the middle and you found Asmo's arms around you before you could even say anything.

Although he was wearing the same perfume that you had been smelling this whole time, there was something else you could sense in the scent, something uniquely Asmo. It made your skin tingle. Or perhaps that was the way he was holding you.

"MC," he said, close to your ear so you could hear him over the noise. "I'm so happy you came! You look fabulous, as always."

Your outfit consisted almost entirely of things that Asmo had gifted you. This was because you wanted to look nice and you knew his choices would never steer you wrong.

"You're the one who looks amazing," you said, letting yourself relax in his embrace.

Asmo laughed gently. "Oh, hun, it's really good to see your sweet face. I love interacting with my fans, of course, but being with you is just so much better."

You looked over his shoulder at the fans who were still milling around behind him. "I don't think your fans like me all that much."

Asmo glanced behind him before turning back to you with an amused expression. "They're just jealous. Don't worry about it. Why don't we go somewhere a little more… private?"

You cocked your head at this, but didn't say anything as he took your hand and pulled you across the room.

You soon found yourself in one of the VIP rooms. The lighting was dim, there was Demonus already poured into two glasses, and you could just barely hear the music from nearby.

You didn't really have much of a chance to take in this new location before Asmo was kissing you, his hands gripping your waist.

You gasped against his lips as you felt your back meet the wall.

Asmo kissed along your jaw and then your neck before pausing to rest his head on your shoulder. His voice was low and breathy in your ear. "Seeing you here tonight reminded me that you're the only one who truly knows me. You're the only one who matters. You have no idea how much I want you."

The last words made you shiver beneath his touch. You gripped his jacket, arching your back as you pulled him in closer to you, feeling his body flush against yours. "I want you, too, Asmo…"

Asmo responded by kissing you again, hot and heavy. You opened your mouth for him as you pushed off his suit jacket. It fell to the floor, forgotten.

You found Asmo's shirt already had the several top buttons undone. You began to run your hands along his chest, up under the shirt, gripping his shoulders.

You pulled away to catch your breath, gasping in air as you pressed yourself against him. You could feel his erection on your thigh as he buried his face in your neck and moaned softly.

Asmo's hand traveled up your thigh, pausing before touching you further. "MC," he whispered against your neck. "Is this okay? Can I… ?"

You knew that if you said yes, you would soon find yourself having an orgasm against the wall in a VIP room at the Fall. There was something thrilling about that thought. And there was something about knowing that he needed you so bad he couldn't wait until you went home.

Most importantly, though, you trusted Asmo.

"Yes, Asmo," you said. "Please-"

Asmo made short work of your clothes, getting just enough of it out of the way so he could have access to the throbbing hot space between your legs. You weren't idle, either, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock.

He sucked in a breath when you wrapped your hand around it. Then you were trying to hold back your cries as his fingers expertly teased you. Your knees were already shaking, but you managed to hold onto his cock, making him moan prettily into your ear as you continued to stroke it.

Asmo put his forehead against yours. "Tell me how you feel, darling. Tell me what you want me to do."

"I-I," you said, not quite able to form a coherent sentence while his fingers were stimulating you. "Ahh, Asmo, I want you inside me…"

Asmo didn't need to hear anything else. He took his fingers away from you. The tips of them were covered in your cum and he put them into his mouth briefly to suck them clean. And then he pulled your legs up, lifting you easily so you could wrap them around his hips.

Your arms circled his shoulders, holding on tight as he carefully buried himself deep inside you. A spike of heat radiated through your body as you felt him begin to move, slowly at first and then speeding up. One hand held you up and the other was back between your legs, his mouth roaming from your lips to your neck and back again.

You clutched onto him as each thrust filled you with a new wave of pleasure. That combined with the return of his fingers made the tension build inside you, tightening and tightening, until you felt yourself unravel, your mind going blank as you orgasmed hard on his cock.

Although you knew from previous experience that Asmo had amazing stamina and could keep going for much longer, you felt him squeeze you tightly and let himself cum, the sensation of being filled making you moan his name.

Asmo kissed you again, his lips sweet and lingering.

"You're so perfect, MC," he said. "All I want now is to take you home and keep you in my bed all night."

You laughed against his lips as he continued to kiss you. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you."

Asmo giggled at your response, his lips traveling over you again. Soon enough, you two would clean yourselves up and exit the club, making your way back to the House of Lamentation and the peaceful seclusion of Asmodeus's bed. But for that moment, you were content to stay where you were, your legs still wrapped around him, his arms holding you tightly, the feeling of his lips against your skin, the scent of sex now mixed with that of his delicate perfume.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmodeus smut #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #obey me asmo #obey me asmo smut #obey asmo x reader #misc 1k event #misc writes #misc naughty times

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he-calls-me-kitten · 2 years

Text

PlayDate

9 demons, 1 angel and 1 immortal wizard. A game night with your harem, planned especially by Asmo. What could possibly go wrong?

Honestly it's just a overly long tease fic what the heck-

TW: There's smexy stuff with organic paint and all so read at your own risk.

"I've never been more excited for a game night! I'm sure Asmo has lots of fun games in store for us!" Diavolo laughed

"I'm suprised you even showed up, Simeon." You nudged the angel next to you. "Especially knowing that Asmo planned it."

"Well I was worried about you." He replied. "I couldn't, in good faith, leave you with the demons on top of Asmo in charge."

"There was really no need Simeon, I'm here to look after MC too you know?" Solomon said, smiling. Simeon laughed at that.

"Attention everyone! Your fabulous game host is here!" Asmo strutted into the room with a peach fur scarf around his usual outfit, just to be extra. You applauded him on, clapping and laughing.

"Asmodeus I really hope you have picked the games carefully keeping in mind Diavolo is joining us." Lucifer said sternly.

"Oh come now Lucifer, don't be like that! I'd like to play any games he has for us." Diavolo chided. Barbatos nodded in agreement.

"The first game for tonight is...Strip Jenga!" Asmo said, bringing out a jenga game box. "The rules are simple, my lovelies! Pulls the pieces from the tower and whoever makes it drop has to strip!"

"Absolutely not." Lucifer bellowed sternly.

"Gah! I knew it! I'm out of here!" Levi got up to his feet.

"Why'd ya have to add stripping as a penalty?!" Mammon said, shaking his head as he draped his jacket on your shoulders. "It totally messes MC's games and I don't want anyone seeing MC!"

"Oh but you're allowed to see are you? Seriously Mammon you think we'd fall for that?" Satan too draped his jacket on you.

Belphie sat annoyed with his brothers. "Gosh this is such a bother. I'm going to go sleep and-"

"Everyone sit down. Its extremely rude to treat your host this way." Diavolo's booming voice made them stop in their tracks.

"Thank you Diavolo! I knew it was a splendid idea to invite you!" Asmo cheerily hopped about as he built the tower. "Solomon a little help?"

Solomon flicked his wrist and everyone watched the tower build itself. The game was eventful would be a gross understatement.

Everyone had knocked the tower a couple times but noone had done it as much as you. Even with the extra jackets, you lost a good half of your clothes - down to your socks and shorts and tank top. And even with lesser clothes than before everyone seemed to sweat as they kept stealing glances at you. And noone was allowed to wear clothes for the rest of the games.

_______Game Fin_________

"Alright! No more of this! Can we change the game please, Asmo." Lucifer said, eyeing Mammon as he tried to take a picture of him, to sell no doubt.

"Alright then, moving on to the next game. Sexy twister!" Asmo announced and threw what looked like a box of colored stickers.

"What are these? Are these edible?" Beel held up a giant red circle, roughly the size of a grapefruit. "Why do they have glue on one side?"

"If I'm inferring this correctly, I assume there is no mat and we have to stick these circles on ourselves and become the mats." Barbatos said, gingerly sticking a blue circle on his bare shoulder.

"And correct! Here we should all stick it on each other, that way we'll get the back too!" Asmo said, sticking something on your behind. You struggled to see a big yellow dot on your shorts.

You giggled. This was rather fun. You put two circles on Simeon's shoulders, one on Diavolo's chest, one on Belphie's face.

"Here MC, if you don't mind, I'd like to do one on you too." Solomon smirked as he daintly stuck one right under your chest.

"Hey no fair! My turn!" Levi stuck one on your thigh and then scurried away realising what he'd done.

"Now that were all covered I'll spin the wheel and we all must try and touch the color okay! What you touch it with doesn't matter!" Asmo spun the little wheel. "Touch Yellow!"

You instinctively touched a yellow circle on Barabtos's back. But apparently someone spotted Asmo's sticker on you.

"Apologies MC ... it's the first thing I saw." Diavolo apologized even as he squeezed on your ass tighter than needed. A lot of them glanced your way and blushed. Diavolo, you lucky demon.

After that it seems people were just looking for the colors on you. On "Touch Blue!" you felt Levi's hand grope around your thigh, above the circle. And Belphie straight up fell asleep holding your leg too.

"Touch Red!" had Solomon almost cupping your chest while Simeon grabbed at your waist. You were clutching Lucifer's tensed up thigh for the last round of the game.

______Game Fin_______

"I need a bathroom break before the next game." You raised up your arm and bolted out of the room. All that touching and close contact...well you simply had to go clean up.

By the time you came back, everyone stood around a little white chair. "What's the next game?" You were almost afraid to ask.

A lot of them averted eye contact. Asmo simply smirked and took you by the shoulders to make sit in the chair. "Put your wrists together for me, could you MC?"

You did as he asked and the next moment you had hand cuffs on your hands and they were tied snugly behind your back.

"Asmo this doesn't even feel like a game..." You struggled to move. And the boys struggled not to groan and look away. Your skin tingled with excitement.

"Sorry MC, as the person with the lowest points, you must serve as the penalty in this game." Asmo cooed and pointed to several buckets of paints kept nearby.

"The game is for everyone to paint you in their own colors. The one who gets the most paint on you wins..." Asmo said, picking up his own pink paint. "...also you can color over someone else's paint."

"Where are the brushes..." Barbatos asked. "...or are we supposed to use our bare hands?" To which Asmo nodded delightfully. Your heart jumped in your chest. What the hell is this game even?!

Everyone had already rushed to pick their colors and now gathered around you, hands dripping with paint. You shook your head. "Wait wait! Not all at once please! It's...it's too much for me to handle!"

"Hmm alright no more than three at a time then! Now let's have draws on who goes first and-" Asmo started.

"This is wasting too much time. I'm the eldest I'm going in first." Lucifer huffed and moved forward.

"Oh don't you dare go deciding everything by yourself." Satan joined in. "Your impatience will be the death of you and I will win this." Satan smirked bumping Lucifer on the way.

"Well I better make sure they don't go too rough on MC." Simeon joined in this round too.

"You have two minutes. 3, 2, 1...go!"

Cold and hurried touches of lavender, blue and green splashed across your body. Satan spread green on your shoulders and down your arms and Lucifer was kneeled at your feet, coating everything blue. Simeon was softly lathering paint on your stomach but was more hesitant on your chest.

"Tilt your head for me a little, MC." Satan whispered as he massaged your neck.

Lucifer gripped your thighs in response. You gave a little jump and he smirked. He slid under your hips and colored there too.

Simeon bit his lip. "I apologise for my indency." He said before slipping his hands beneath your top and underwear.

"Ah Simeon!" You moaned almost involuntarily as he kneeled, massaging up and down your waist. He was leaving lavender stains on the blue and green.

Ding! The timer went off.

Simeon had won. You pressed a kiss on his cheek to congratulate him while Satan and Lucifer gave him death stares.

"Round 2! Im volunteering this time! I can't resist MC anymore!" Asmo chimed in.

"Out of the way! The round hasn't started yet, Asmo. Get your hands off, MC!" Mammon growled spilling yellow as he sprinted.

"Hey if Mammon's going, I'm next! Don't start without me!" Levi almost spilled all his paint on himself.

"3,2,1...start!"

"Oi MC, could you stand up for me?" Mammon's breath was low and guttural near your ear. Your body obeyed him on its own accord.

You felt paint splash down your entire back before Mammon's hands aggressively grabbed you from behind and moved around your body.

"Mammon wait-" You almost toppled over. His hands were groping at you too hard.

"Amateur." Asmo shook his head and promptly dripped some paint on his tongue. "Oh did I not tell you? Its edible! Completely harmless to put inside your body."

"Open your mouth for me, won't you darling?" Asmo said, holding your chin. He kissed you and pried your lips open with his tongue. It tasted like fruit syrup.

Levi had to tilt his head back and stop his nosebleed first. He shouldn't be turned on by any of this. But his boner has been raging since the strip game and now seeing you like this-

"Ahhhh fuck this! I won't lose!" Levi turned into his demon form, tail swishing back and forth and knocking his paint all over it.

Levi surged forward and sat on the ground putting his hands on your thighs. "How ...how are you so soft...MC..." His tail wrapped around you leaving orange stripes all over your skin and clothes.

Ding! "Times up, boys. Mammon wins this round."

Lucifer grabbed Mammon and Asmo by the collar while Satan pulled Asmo off you. Beel and Belphie were next. You sat back down.

And Beel's strategy was to keep cleaning Belphie's colors off you. The more paint Belphie paint Belphie dripped, the more Beel licked.

"Beel wait...that tickles..." It more than just tickled when he kept licking the inner side of your thighs.

And meanwhile Belphie was busy smearing his paint all his fingers and easing them inside your mouth. He even pressed kisses of his colors onto your back.

Beel won that round and earned a kiss on the cheek from you too when he said "You're not hurt are you?" You smiled and shook your head.

The last three. Solomon, Barbatos and Diavolo. You held your breath. This was the most intense trio by far.

"Let's start on a clean slate, shall we?" Solomon clicked his fingers at you. All the paint dripped away and off you onto the white sheets below. "I'd prefer you to be only painted in my colors."

"You are really optimistic, aren't you Solomon?" Barbatos smiled, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. "I must say, MC would look much better in my colors."

Diavolo said nothing. There was a dark layer of lust on his eyes. You watched him take his container of paint and dump it on his chest. Golden paint, colored like his eyes, dripped from his ample chest down to his crotch and thighs. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"3, 2, 1...go!"

"Here MC, sit on me instead." Diavolo promptly made you stand up and sat down in your seat instead. And then pulled you down to his lap, right on top of his erection. Your back pressed tightly against his chest as he held your hips and grinded himself on you. "You feel amazing..."

"Mmmh-" You whimpered at the contact. Intense really was the right word. Meanwhile you watched Barbatos' painted tail slither towards you. Wrapping around your thighs and holding them open. The tip poked at your crotch. "Hope you don't mind, MC."

"Ah~" You almost moaned before you felt someone grab your face. Solomon pried your lips open with his own, his tongue darting around at every corner of your mouth. The other hand slipped inside your shorts. "There's another way to get paint inside you, you know?" And with that he thrust his painted fingers inside you. You yelped into his ear and held his shoulders for support.

You heard a collective gasp. This was by far the most erotic group. And the ones who were already done now constantly adjusted their pants and stared at them, pissed. They definitely wanted a redo.

Ding!

From first glance it looked like a tie between Diavolo and Barbatos, but your mouth dripped with Solomon and when you stood up, endless paint seemed to drip through your shorts, down your legs. He won.

"I'm going to take a shower." You said abruptly. They all turned apologetic immediately, asking if you're hurt or exhausted.

"In case you didn't notice, you all riled me up pretty bad." You groaned. "So I'm going to go relieve myself. Oh wait ...here's a final game for you."

You smirked as they looked on curiously. Oh they were going to go wild after this. "I'd rather not do it alone so the first one to the bathroom can help relieve me. I'll go up first and then you can start, okay?"

The instant turned-on faces and the pushing and shoving made you chuckle as you walked down the hallway. Game nights weren't so bad after all.

#obey me smut #obey me #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me asmo #obey me barbatos #obey me beelzebub #obey me smut imagine #obey me lemon

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hotvinimon · 4 months

Text

The Meet

Yandere gym bro x reader

Plot : First encounter with the yandere gym bro

Author’s note : The images are not mine. I don not support this kind of behaviour and highly condemn these activities. This kind of behaviour is not tolerated in actual life.

Warnings : MDNI. The images are not mine.

Join my taglist - Here

As the new year began, you were all set to tackle your resolutions head-on. You had achieved "Glass Skin" and landed a "Good Job." The final item on your list: attain that classic "thin and built figure."

You've embraced your curves your entire life – the envy of many! Your figure boasted a petite waist, a cherubic face, bouncy tits and hips that danced with every step. But, much like everyone else, you also longed for something you lacked: muscles.

And so, here you are, signing up for an annual gym membership. "This is a fabulous health leap you're making, ma'am," chirped the receptionist, selling the benefits of the gym like hotcakes. "When do we expect you?" she asked eagerly. "I'm thinking 6 AM," you gleefully replied. "Oh, splendid! Few souls at that hour," she exclaimed. "You can start tomorrow. Cheers to your fitness journey!" she concluded, flashing that professional smile and tone.

Next day rolled by, and here you were starting your fitness journey with a set new gym clothes. A sports bra and sports shorts, that sat just below your ass.

True to the receptionist's assurance, the gym was deserted at that early hour, save for a single individual, a strapping lad, bulging with muscles as if they were molded from solid granite was working out. With each sinewy movement, his muscles rippled and flexed beneath his skin, showcasing an impressive display of power and strength.

He strides through the gym, his broad shoulders squared, exuding an air of confidence that commands attention. The veins in his arms pop with every curl of the weight, his biceps swelling and contracting with controlled precision. His chest, a wall of carved steel, expands with each deep breath as he conquers the bench press effortlessly.

The sweat glistens on his chiseled physique, accentuating the definition of every muscle group - from the sculpted abs that resemble a washboard, to the powerful thighs that propel him through each exercise. His dedication to fitness is evident in the way he attacks every set, pushing his limits with an unwavering determination.

As he moves from one machine to another, the gym seems to revolve around him. His intense focus, coupled with the raw power he emits, inspires a sense of awe among those around him. He is the epitome of strength and fitness, a living testament to the results of hard work, discipline, and dedication in the gym.

"Enjoying the view, young miss?" a deep voice growled beside you, causing a startled reaction. You turned towards the voice, wide-eyed and flustered. It was the very Greek god-like figure you'd been daydreaming about. He chuckled at your reaction, and you fumbled for words, blurting out a classic “N-No No… uhh.. actually I wasn’t able to open my water bottle.” You blurted out and patted yourself in your dreams for coming up with such a nice excuse. Corporate does benefit sometimes. “And I suppose you want me to open up that for you ?” The man asked. “I would really appreciate that”, you chirped happily.

After the encounter you made sure to not let your gaze wander and do what you were here for.

And oh sweetheart, Little did you know that someone had their keen eyes on you, imagining all the things with your bouncy assets in the slutty gym dress, that wasn’t supposed to be worn in gym which could have been filled with testosterones but luckily you chose the very wrong right time.

After two hours of grinding, you were relaxing on the bench, where your ‘bottle opener’ came. “Are you new here miss ?”, he asked. “It’s y/n and yes. I joined yesterday” you replied with a cheery voice. “I’m Casper, and that’s great tho. How about a coffee down the street ?” He offered.

" Sure Caz~ "

V-Chan’s Dilly Dally

My exams are finally over. And here is the first masterpeice after exams. I really hope you guys like it. Please tell me the next steps. Also comment to join the taglist.

#yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere community #yandere oc #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere gym bro #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere stories #yandere x darling

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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year

Text

a designer dress from heaven and your dirty wedding ring - prologue

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: none Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: it's finally here, the mob boss!price series! before we start, i want to give a special thanks to the fabulous @mvtthewmurdvck for letting me rant and rave about peaky blinders while i work on this series, to the amazing @valkyriesregalia and @bubble-dream-inc for reading and giving me feedback, and of course to @uselsshuman's discord girlies for hyping me up and giving me inspiration, i love you guys 💜!! || next

You’ve never been inside the famous club, The 141.

Your father had mentioned it to you a few times when you were a child; you remember the admiration— and jealousy— that laced his voice as he weaved tales of smoky backroom poker games and men who’d skin you alive for looking at them wrong.

You hadn’t believed him then, assuming it to be like all the other fairytales and war stories he told from that worn leather armchair— exaggerated tales meant to teach you lessons he himself never followed.

Now that you’re here, though…

You’d expected better security.

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to get inside. With no one at the front and the doors left unlocked, you waltz into a vision straight from your father’s imagination— all deep red velvet and hazy air carrying the scent of cigar smoke and danger.

It’s surprisingly modern with a vintage feel to it. You should’ve expected as much, but you still find yourself impressed. You weave through the round tables and plush chairs— elegantly decorated with brilliant red flower centerpieces sitting atop white silk tablecloths— making your way to the center of the spacious room.

You have the perfect view of the stage from here— directly in the center. It’s gorgeous: hardwood polished to perfection and bordered by thick, velvet curtains— even in the bright white of the blaring house lights, it’s a sight to behold.

“Um, you can’t be in here— we’re closed!”

The voice startles you, but you maintain your composure, turning slowly—non-threateningly— on your heels with a wide, unassuming smile. A long, half-circle bar stretches across the wall opposite the stage, just up a small set of stairs and past the various game tables, lined with golden railings. The wall behind it is completely covered in shelves of alcohol— some you’re well-acquainted with, some you recognize from your father’s private collection.

And there, gathered at the far right end of the black-quartz bar, are three men dressed in black, staring back at you.

“No one told me,” you smile, gesturing towards the front of the club, “and the doors were open.” The men groan to themselves, then mumble to each other. They glance back at you occasionally; you keep your polite smile taking in the rest of the club as they speak.

“Well,” one of the men— the American one behind the bar with a colorful sleeve tattoo and impressive facial hair— clears his throat. “We’re still closed regardless. One of the boys can see you out.”

The other two stand, the handsome one with light eyes and a brown mohawk making his way toward you.

“I have an interview-” all three pause, shooting glances at one another in silent conversation. You dig through the pockets of your denim jacket, pulling out the folded paper and holding it out to Mohawk. The room lapses into silence, so you add, “S’posed to meet with the owner about a singing gig?”

That takes the man behind the bar by surprise.

Mohawk takes the paper from you, unfolding it to read it over. His brows shoot up, eyes scanning the worn words. He turns, holding the page to the third man—the one with short, curly black hair and a scar on his left cheek— who takes it and skims over it. He glances between the paper and you, between you and the paper.

“I’ve got this,” he addresses the other two.

British, huh?

Not what you’d expected.

“This way,” he smiles at you, all charm and politeness as he folds the paper back up and leads you toward a section of booths tucked against the wall off the right side of the bar. You follow, smiling at Mohawk and Bartender as you go.

You slide in across from your interviewer, taking him in as he settles with his hands folded atop the table. He seems young, maybe a few years younger than yourself, with dark skin and kind, brown eyes.

But you can see the sharpness behind those kind eyes.

You know better than to trust a friendly gaze— your left shoulder aching at the reminder.

“Not gonna lie…I thought you’d be older,” you joke. He arches a brow, curiously narrowing his eyes. “You just seem a little young to own a club.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs. “The owner’s my father, but I handle most of the staffing.”

“Oh! Well—” you extend your hand out to him, “—pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Garrick, but you can just call me Kyle.” He shakes your hand, firm but not too strong—clearly practiced. You retract your hand, letting it fall into your lap. Kyle stares at you expectantly, and you give him your best smile.

It’s only a few seconds, but the silence is almost unbearably awkward.

“And you are?”

“Oh, shit. Right.” Heat floods your cheeks; you hope you haven’t fucked this up already.

“Canary.”

“Canary?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe you; you don’t blame him— you wouldn’t either.

“Yeah, like the bird.”

“I’m familiar.”

“It’s…it was an inside joke between my parents that they ended up liking a little too much,” you explain.

“That’s…sweet,” he smiles, a little less taunting now. “Is there a…last name too, Ms. Canary?”

“No,” you reply immediately, “just Canary.”

“Okay then, Ms. Canary-like-the-bird, do you…have a resumé?”

“Yes, I do.” You dig through your bag, pulling out your resumé and handing it to him. Kyle gives a hum of thanks, reading through it with those sharp eyes.

You hope it’ll do; it took you three whole hours to get it done last night.

“No references?” he asks, briefly glancing up at you.

Shit. You knew you forgot something.

“I…mostly worked solo,” you lie, “but I have a couple cards for people I’ve collaborated with.” You reach for your bag like you’re ready to dig through its contents. There are some cards in there; you’re prepared to give him those, but you’re not prepared to explain why a singer would’ve previously collaborated with a real estate agent and a tattoo parlor that’s been closed for years.

“That’s alright,” Kyle says.

Thank god.

“Have you worked in other clubs before?”

“Just one.”

He looks up, waiting for you to elaborate, but you stay silent, smiling back and adding a few bats of your lashes for good measure. He laughs, quiet and to himself, looking back at your resumé.

“I’ll have to run this by my dad—” He sets the paper down, eyes skimming over it once more, “—is there a number we can reach you at?”

“I don’t have a phone…not yet, anyway.”

Kyle looks up at you, surprise evident, but he masks it with impressive speed.

“Alright, Ms. Canary, one more question for you.” He leans back in the booth, arms crossed over his chest as he looks you over— taking in your appearance bit by bit and committing it to memory.

“What are you running from?”

“I— what?” The smile falters slightly, but you see his eyes dip down to your lips, and you know you’ve been caught.

“No last name, no references, no phone…”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“And we haven’t used these—” he holds up the flyer you’d brought with you, “—since I was a child.”

You drop the smile, hands slowly clenching into fists in your lap— your nails drag across the ripped denim of your jeans to dig into the meat of your palms.

“I’m not running, just…” you pause, searching your mind for the right words. ”Starting over.”

Kyle keeps his eyes trained on you, not moving a muscle. You can tell he wants more information.

If you weren’t so desperate…

“My ex was super shitty, and the divorce got real ugly—real fast,” you sigh. “In the end, I let him have whatever he wanted just for the chance to get out, and, as it turns out, he wanted everything. So…here I am.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kyle lets out a low whistle. “My condolences.”

You can’t help but laugh, a small weight easing off your shoulders.

“Well, the bad news is this flyer’s ancient, and we aren’t looking to hire entertainment at the moment. But the good news: we are in need of a cleaner.”

“You pay in cash?” you ask, noticing the twitch of the corner of his mouth as he bites back a smirk.

“We can keep it off the books, no problem. When can you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

#captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price #john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth talks

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