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#other sworn brothers have no permission no sir they sit in the corner
munchkinlatte · 1 year
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supernaturaldesires · 3 years
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A Wild Night
Having the opportunity for a night of fun with Dean and Sam Winchester, you would be a fool to say no. But do you really know what you’re in for?
Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader x Soulless!Sam (no wincest)
Warnings: dub-con/drunken rough sex, threesome, penetration, oral (male and female receiving), deepthroating, bondage/use of ropes, anal
Word Count: 2,594
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The club music pounded through your head as you swayed towards the bar, giddy from the several cocktails you had enjoyed with your friend. Her boyfriend had swung by to pick her up, but you were enjoying yourself too much to leave and assured her you would be fine as she left. Clutching onto the edge of the bar-top, you steadied yourself as you wobbled a little on your high heels. You peered around the corner of the bar, hoping to catch the eye of a bartender.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself there, doll,” came a smooth voice from beside you. Even sitting down, you could tell the blonde-haired stranger was tall, and his emerald eyes bore into you as though they were looking directly into your soul. And God damn, he was hot.
“No one is enjoying life unless they go a little wild every now and then,” you giggled in return. Your attention was diverted by one of the bartenders coming over to take your order. “I’ll have another long island iced tea please, my good man,” you sang drunkenly. 
The handsome stranger beside you smirked. “Put it on my tab, mate,” he said. Before you could argue, he added: “And we’ll have three shots of tequila alongside it.” The bartender disappeared before you could say a word.
“Three shots?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t appear to be sitting with anyone. 
“One is for my brother,” the man said, his intense eyes back on you. “He’ll be back in a moment. The other one, my dear, is for you.”
“Excuse me, sir,” you said in mock-offense. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
A coy smile appeared on his face. “I thought you wanted to go wild,” he teased. Then he leaned forward until you could feel his breath on your ear. “And if you call me ‘Sir’ again, I’ll show you a night more wild than your dreams.”
A delicious chill ran down your spine at his words. Before you could respond, the bartender returned with your cocktail and three shots. You picked up your cocktail and turned to the man who had bought it for you. “Thanks for the drink, um?”
“Dean,” he said, a wicked glint dancing in his eye. Another even taller man sat in the empty seat to your other side. “That’s Sam.”
You nodded to the new arrival, also very attractive in his own right, though there was something deliciously dangerous about the steeliness of his eyes. Whereas Dean had been more flirtatious, Sam appeared to be completely unashamed of dragging his eyes slowly over your body as if he was mentally undressing you. And honestly, it lit a fire within your belly.
Dean handed two of the shots to you and his brother before picking up the third one for himself. “So, Y/N,” he began coolly. “Just how wild do you want to get tonight?” 
You smirked at him with a cheeky look in your eye. “I thought I’d see where the night takes me, handsome.” The three of you clinked your shot glasses together before knocking them back. You winced a little at the delightful burning sensation, and as you re-opened your eyes you could have sworn that for a split second, Dean’s eyes had flicked to black. But when you looked again, they were the same dazzling green they originally were. Maybe you were starting to reach your peak a little, but you never left a drink unfinished. 
As you sipped your long island iced tea, Dean held the conversation with you, while Sam appeared to be the quieter one. He just sat there watching you, occasionally his eyes flickering to your drink, checking how much you had left. As you sucked the last drop down, you certainly felt a little woozy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.
“I think that’s me done,” you slurred, a hiccup emphasising the end of your sentence.
Dean rose from his seat, placing his hand firmly on the small of your back. “What do you say we get out of here, then? I’ve got a motel room a couple of blocks down.”
“Mhmm,” was all you could manage as he guided you out of the busy club.
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When Dean led you inside the motel room, you were a little surprised to see the still-silent Sam follow you both into the room. You’d assumed he was bored from the lack of any contribution to yours and Dean’s conversations, but figured he was just the quiet, broody type. “Mm, two handsome men all to myself?” You giggled, losing your balance and falling onto your butt on the bed. “Lucky me.”
Dean approached you, a dark chuckle grumbling in his throat. “Lucky you indeed. And lucky us for finding our plaything for the night.” His fingers wrapped around your jaw as he leaned down for a bruising kiss, pushing you backwards to lay you flat on the bed. “Are you going to be a good little slut for me and my brother?”
You’d had your drunken hook-ups before, but nothing like this. Never a threesome. But you’d be lying if you’d said it hadn’t been a fantasy for some time now. And to have the opportunity with two drop-dead gorgeous men? 
“Yes, Sir,” you purred, accentuating the title. The corner of Dean’s lips tugged into a coy grin. His free hand slid down to your thighs, groping them before yanking your dress up and exposing your lacy black thong.
“Well, look what we have here, Sammy,” Dean boasted, licking his lips as his fingers shoved the fabric aside and rubbed your wet folds. “She’s already so wet for us.” You mewled in response to his touch, slowly grinding your hips to create some movement.
You heard Sam grumble from the other side of the room, out of view. “Hurry up, Dean, you know foreplay bores me.” 
Dean gripped your thighs and pushed you up the bed until your head was hanging off the other side. “Well there’s a perfectly good mouth there to keep you entertained while I have my fun.”
You squealed as you felt Dean’s fingers return to your cunt, this time pushing past your entrance. You heard Sam’s footsteps first as he rounded the bed, coming into view. He still maintained that cold, dark look in his eyes as he stared down at you. Shoving his jeans and boxers down, you felt a shiver of fear and excitement at the length that sprung free from its confinement. He was longer than anyone you’d been with and you were anxious as to whether you could take him.
Your internal debate was cut short as Dean rammed three fingers knuckle-deep inside you. The scream that escaped you gave Sam the perfect opportunity to thrust his length into your mouth and down your throat.
“You’ll want to focus for this, sweetheart,” Dean hummed as he twisted his fingers inside you, making you squirm. “My brother has a tendency to break the toys that bore him.” As if to prove his point, Sam began thrusting down your throat, as Dean’s hand tightened around your neck, holding you in place.
“Thankfully this bitch’s mouth has a better use than drunken babbling,” Sam sneered, watching you through calculating eyes. The way he looked at you ignited a masochistic pleasure inside you. You knew you had a degradation kink, you had even convinced an ex to try to dominate you in the bedroom, but he wasn’t a natural dominant so it just didn’t give you what you needed. This, however. You could see in Sam’s eyes that he didn’t give a shit about you. And you loved it. Your mind swimming with the alcohol, you let Sam continue to abuse your throat. 
Dean seemed to notice you weren’t attempting to struggle so eventually released your neck, focusing on pummelling his digits into you, making you moan crudely on his brother’s cock. It was when he wrapped his lips around your clit that you really lost it, your body bucking and writhing like you were possessed. Your screams muffled around Sam’s large member as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. But as soon as you began to cum, Dean’s fingers left you, grinding your orgasm to a cold and abrupt halt.
“Oh dear, sweetheart,” Dean tutted, grabbing your throat as Sam ripped his cock out of your mouth. The green-eyed man pulled you up by the neck until you were face-to-face with him, his nose with millimetres from yours. “Did you ask for permission to cum, you little slut?” You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to make your eyes focus on Dean, but right now you were seeing duplicates of him as your vision blurred. A shake of the head was the best you could manage. Dean gripped your waist with one hand and flipped you over so that you were laying on your belly on the bed. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them together behind your back. “Perhaps I need to explain your role here, little one,” he whispered into your ear with a dangerous edge. “You are here for our pleasure alone. We will use you as we please and you will be grateful for it. If you behave yourself, and if we don’t grow tired of you, we’ll consider rewarding you.” 
You felt the harsh burn of rope wrapping around your wrists, hearing Sam scoff at the same time. “Speak for yourself,” he grunted, fisting your hair and dragging your face towards his cock again. “I’m just here to get my dick wet.” When you didn’t take the cue to open your mouth, Sam pinched your nose until you inhaled in a panic, and at that point drove his member back past your lips.
Dean chuckled. “That’s true. Sammy here isn’t quite as concerned about rewarding good behaviour. That’s just my thing, I guess.” As he spoke, you felt his fingers skim passed your wet flesh again, making you squirm. “But trust me, it’ll be in your favour to make sure you give both of us a good time, sweetheart.” A sharp spank collided with your ass-cheek then, making you moan onto Sam’s cock. Sam fisted your hair tighter, pulling your face flush into his crotch, forcing his cock painfully deep down your throat.
“Hm look at these two pretty holes here,” Dean’s sing-song voice echoed through your brain. Using your pussy juices, Dean lubricated your asshole, teasing your puckered entrance. Still held in place on Sam’s cock, you were starting to lose oxygen. “Where to start, hm?” You felt the nudge of his thick cock at your slit, which he then alternated between your two holes, not quite pushing in. White spots began to appear in your vision. “Eenie, meenie, minie...” Sam released your hair, sending you reeling backwards just as Dean thrusted himself into your asshole, fully seating himself. “Mo.” A cracked scream fell from your lips as your upper body crumbled onto the bed. Dean grabbed the rope binding your wrists together and yanked you up to your knees.
Sam stood back with a cruel smile, fisting his huge erection as he watched his brother rail into you. He leaned forward then, gripping your jaw with his free hand and making you look at him. “Do you whore yourself out to every man that buys you drinks?” Unable to shake your head, you could only grunt in response. “I do love a nice tight pussy to ruin.” Sam rounded the bed, standing beside Dean and gesturing for him to make space. Dean wrapped one arm around your waist, the other around your chest, and with ease lifted you off the bed, pulling you flush against his body and causing his cock to sink deep into your tight ass. You let out a whimper from the sheer force that you were being stretched. Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed in front of you, grabbing your thighs and pulled you towards him until the tip of his cock was nestled into your slit. 
Fear momentarily rose within you in anticipation, but before you had a chance to act upon it, Dean pushed you down. A pained cry escaped you as your walls stretched around Sam’s enormous length, splitting you open as both of your holes were stuffed by the brothers. The pain almost became too much until pleasure edged its way through your body. Sam lay back onto the bed, holding himself up on his elbows, and in delicious synchronisation the two brothers pumped into you at an exhilarating pace.
Your mind was beyond comprehension by this point. Between the alcohol and the adrenaline, you felt yourself going limp between the two men. 
“I think we’re losing her, Dean,” Sam muttered, though his voice lacked any sympathy. He pulled at your nipples, tweaking them painfully and making you cry out. The sudden sensation made your walls contract around the brothers, earning a delighted groan from both of them. “Fuck, just when I thought she couldn’t get any tighter.” Relishing in his new trick, Sam played with your nipples endlessly, and just as he was beginning to lose a reaction from you, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, pinching your supple flesh with his teeth.
You could feel your body raging towards a climax. “Please,” you gasped. “Can I cum?”
Dean’s teeth grazed your earlobe from behind. “Hm, what do you think, Sam?” He mused. “Has our little whore earned it yet?”
Sam grunted as he continued to buck up into you at a relentless pace. Then a cruel smile crept onto his face. “I have an idea,” he said slowly, purposely drawing out his answer. You cried out restlessly, desperately trying to hold back your orgasm. “For every time she cums tonight, that’s how many times she has to make us cum until she can leave this room. Each.”
Dean hummed in your ear. “Creative, Sammy, I like it. What do you think, Y/N? You’ve heard your terms - if you agree to them, you can cum now.”
Whether you agreed or not was irrelevant - you couldn’t keep control any longer. You screamed as your body spasmed between the brothers, bucking and writhing at the pleasure.
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You woke up in the morning groggy and with a pounding headache. Your wrists stung from rope burns, your nipples felt raw and your holes ached from the abuse of last night.
“Ah, she’s awake!” Dean’s voice came from behind you. You turned over in the bed to face him and saw him slouched in a chair next to you. He clasped his hands together and leaned forwards. “I was worried for a moment we’d need to find a new toy,” he said in mock-sympathy. “That you wouldn’t be able to hold up your end of last night’s bargain.”
It took you a moment to filter through the blurry memories and remember the agreement you’d made. As soon as you did, your eyes widened - you felt so rough, so raw, so completely spent. “H-how many times did I...” Your voice was so hoarse that you couldn’t finish your sentence. 
“Five, sweetheart,” Dean said with a cold smile. “That’s five times you need to return the favour to both me and Sam. You’re not leaving this room until you’ve paid your dues.” His eyes flickered up and suddenly you felt the bed dip behind you and rough hands grab your waist. “And it looks like Sammy is ready to collect.”
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Dean tags: @akshi8278​, @maniacproffesor​
Divider credit: @firefly-graphics
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thearvariblues · 3 years
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The Real Loki Always Chokes Me
Sooo... I might have actually written a fic for @zombieporno​‘s prompt from... last week, I guess. Except that my brain only managed the first part, since I don't have the patience for the asshole avoiding Tony. Bear with me, writing this took me a week. :D I might write an alternate version of this when he does avoid him, though - when I find my patience again, and maybe stop spending my evenings playing Witcher 3 instead of writing. :D
But until then... enjoy this, I guess?
*
Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark didn’t really enjoy being a superhero. Well, yes, he enjoyed some parts of it, but others he kind of hated.
Like being dragged out of his workshop (when he was getting so fucking close to finding the solution for the problem that had been on his mind for two weeks now) by yet another attempt at world domination.
Though, to be fair, their current opponent wasn’t really trying to sit on the ruler-of-the-whole-world’s throne anymore. He was more or less just being an annoying piece of shit, probably just wanting to have some fun while he was stuck here in ‘Midgard’ as he insisted on calling it.
It was Loki, of course.
For the past five months, it had always been Loki. Almost as if he had bribed all the other villains not to attack.
Since his ‘having fun’ mostly consisted of robbing quite a few banks by teleporting in and out of them, he very well might have had. The guy would soon get richer than Tony himself.
“So what’s our drama queen done this time?” Tony asked as they took off in the quinjet. “Please don’t tell me it’s a dildo rain again.”
“I’ve told you a million times, we don’t call it a dildo rain,” Steve growled.
“It was literally raining dildos, Cap, what do you want to call it?” Clint smirked.
“I… I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. It’s not dildo rain today, so could we just stop talking about it?”
“Sounds like someone should have stolen one of those dildos and taken it home,” Natasha chuckled. “Like Tony did.”
“Like Tony what?!” Bruce blinked.
“What?” Tony shrugged. “Purely technically, Loki stole my credit card and used it to pay for all those… toys.”
“It’s worse somehow when you call them toys instead of dildos,” Steve sighed.
“Yeah, well. They were paid for with my money. So they were mine, weren’t they? I could have taken all of them instead of like… five most interesting.”
“My brother would be delighted to hear someone takes pleasure in his mischief,” Thor commented.
“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of pleasure.”
“Guys. Stop,” Bruce said, clearly fighting a chuckle. “I think Cap’s about to start crying…”
*
It really wasn’t a dildo rain this time. It was more of a… Loki rain. Or a Loki avalanche.
It was a few hundreds of perfect clones of Loki annoying the living daylights out of everyone they could find. They disappeared upon being touched, yes, but they were also extremely good at avoiding being touched in the first place.
As the team found out when Hulk ran straight through three of the clones and into the building behind them. This incident made Tony stop trying to assess the damage and give JARVIS an instruction to just pay for everything the idiots manage to destroy while ‘saving the world’.
Then he proceeded to turn off his comm, fly up to the roof of the nearest high building and just watch the spectacle underneath. Cap would give him hell for that, he was sure, but he kind of didn’t care.
“And what in Hel’s name are you doing here?” asked a growling voice just a few seconds after he had landed.
Tony turned around, let his helmet fold down and cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh, look, a clone Loki. Hey. How you doing?”
The Loki in front of him frowned, tilting his head.
“You’re supposed to be fighting the clones.”
“Nah. Too boring,” Tony shrugged. “You make Loki disappear. Turn around, another Loki. And look, another. Loki, Loki, Loki.”
“That’s the point,” the clone hissed.
“Yeah, I got that much. But hey, look, even though you’re all hot as fuck, the battle isn’t particularly amusing, you know?”
Loki blinked, so puzzled that Tony almost felt sorry for the clone.
“Hot as…” the clone whispered under his breath.
“Yeah, I mean… God, I hope you’re not connected to the real Reindeer Games. Fuck. If you are, can we pretend I never said what I said? I tend to let my mouth talk without my brain controlling it.”
“Connected to the real…” the clone gave an ugly chuckle. “I am the real Loki!”
Now it was Tony’s turn to frown and tilt his head.
“Nah,” he said after a long inspection. “You’re not. Haven’t tried to kill me yet. Not even to choke me. The real Loki always chokes me.”
The clone’s face went completely blank at that.
“Uhm… Hey?” Tony said after a few seconds of silence. “Did I actually manage to break a clone? Error 503: Brain Unavailable?”
The clone shook his head, probably to clear it, and took a step towards Tony.
“You idiot,” he growled. “You impossible mortal. I will crush you underneath my heel, you–”
“See? Now you sound like the real stuff!” Tony grinned. “Just a little angrier… That’s it! Perfect. Now to the crushing, while I’m not exactly into hard BDSM, I do like to get a liiittle kinky… Uhm, back to the question, you really aren’t connected to Loki himself, are you?”
“I am Loki!” the clone snarled.
“Yeah, we’ve been through this. The choking, baby. Except you can’t. Because you can’t touch me. Because if you touch me, poof, you’re gone.”
“Are you asking me to prove to you that I am real?”
“Yup. Indulge me.”
“As you wish.”
A split second later, Tony felt a very real and totally non-disappearing hand close around his throat and he came to a realization that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
But before he could utter the words ‘Don’t kill me, it was just a joke’, or even a mere ‘Oh, fuck’, Loki’s lips crashed against his in a wild and passionate and hungry kiss.
Tony’s brain stopped working for a second. Or two. Maybe even ten. Because when he came back to his senses, Loki was just pulling away, breathing heavily, his face a perfect mask of horror.
“Wow,” Tony gasped, licking his lips. “I know I said indulge me, but I haven’t expected that. If I say I’m not entirely convinced yet, can I have more?”
Loki’s eyes went even wider at that, and then he disappeared in a flash of green light.
“Okay,” Tony nodded. “I take that as a no. Shame, really.”
A look down to the street revealed that all the clones were gone, too.
Right. Time to go home.
*
It had been four days since the whole clones-and-kissing incident and if Tony was to be honest, he kind of couldn’t stop thinking about it. Well, he could – but the thought was always somewhere at the back of his mind, always ready to show up and remind him that hey, Loki, as in Thor’s brother Loki, as in the wannabe-world conqueror, kissed you and you liked it.
And he did. Very much.
That was why he didn’t mind when he walked into his penthouse only to find said god sitting on his couch and reading a book.
A fucking book.
“Uhm,” Tony commented. “JARVIS?”
“I tried to alert you, sir,” the AI said. “Two hours ago. But you told me to, I quote, shut the fuck up, J, or you’re gonna spend the rest of your days in a fucking elevator, calling out the number of the floor. End quote.”
“You might have said it was… urgent,” Tony muttered as Loki looked up from his book and smirked.
“I really don’t wish to spend the rest of my days in an elevator, sir.”
“Right,” Tony nodded. “Hey, Lokitty. How you doing? J, I’m gonna need an armor at the ready.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Loki said and the book he was holding promptly disappeared. “I came to apologize, Stark.”
“Uhm… For what? I mean, there’s a long list of things you should be apologizing for, so let’s be specific there. Drink?” he asked, already heading for the kitchen.
“The kiss.”
That actually made Tony stop dead in his tracks. He frowned, turned around and stared at Loki.
“As in I’m sorry I ever kissed you, or…”
Loki sighed, avoiding his gaze. Tony realized the god wasn’t wearing his usual armor – only a pair of simple black jeans and a loose, long-sleeved green T-shirt. He looked… weirdly normal. Almost like a human.
“Oh, dear. No. Never,” Loki said, a corner of his lip twitching. “But I shouldn’t have done it without your permission.”
“Seriously?” Tony laughed, taking a step towards the couch. “You’re apologizing because you didn’t ask for consent first?”
“Well… Yes. It was inappropriate. Improper. Brutish.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Tony said, sitting next to Loki without really thinking about it. “I mean… It’s not perfect, I’ll give you that, but do you see me complaining?”
Loki kept staring anywhere but at Tony.
“I’m not some kind of an animal, unable to control my impulses…”
Tony’s brain kept trying to alert him that this was Loki, who was very much wild and unpredictable and, yeah, sometimes even unable to control his impulses. But Tony didn’t listen. Because this wild and unpredictable deity was just sitting there, biting his lower lip and apologizing for something as simple as a kiss.
“Impulses?” Tony repeated after him. “Sorry, just to be perfectly clear, was the impulse a one-off thing, or something you’d like to, perhaps… happen again?”
Loki’s eyes flicked to Tony’s, then to his lips, then up again, and away.
“I should go,” the god said. “I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid of me–”
“Or…” Tony murmured, his own eyes straying to Loki’s lips. His brain was screaming at him to stop, but Tony wouldn’t listen. He’d always been bad at controlling his impulses. “Or you could try again.”
“Anthony, are you seriously suggesting…”
“Fuck,” Tony whispered, a shiver running down his spine. He could have sworn that he hated his full name, but when he heard it from Loki’s lips like this… “Say that again.”
The god’s green eyes were so close and so full of longing that it took all of Tony’s willpower not to simply crash their lips together.
“May I… May I kiss you, Anthony?” Loki smiled.
“Yes,” Tony hissed. “Please. Yes.”
This kiss wasn’t wild and passionate and hungry. It was calm. Sweet. Loving.
And long.
Very… very long.
*
“Six months!” Steve growled. “Loki hasn’t been seen for six months. No attacks, no robberies, no showing-off, nothing. Thor isn’t even sure his brother is still on Earth!”
“I said I think he is,” Thor specified. “But it’s possible that he isn’t.”
Except that Tony knew perfectly well that Thor knew too damn well where Loki was at the moment, having visited the god only a few hours ago.
“Come on, don’t make a big deal out of it,” Clint sighed. “Maybe he’s just grown bored of us.”
“You? Maybe. Me? Never,” Tony smirked. “Everybody knows I’m amusing as hell and completely irresistible even to Norse gods!”
“And so very modest, too,” Natasha added. “But I’m with Clint – I think Loki’s just had enough. He might be back in the future, but for now, we should enjoy not having to see his fucking magic tricks every other day.”
“Agreed,” Bruce nodded. “I don’t think there’s a bigger plan. Just Loki being Loki.”
“I’d like to point out that even before his disappearance, Loki was mainly just causing mischief. I mean, we were the ones who did the most damage during his last, uhm… attack?” Tony shrugged.
“What if he just wanted to lull us into a false sense of security?” Steve asked. “While he prepares for something big?”
Tony sighed and shot a quick look at Thor.
“What do you think, Point Break? Does your baby bro have a great sinister plan to murder us all, or does he just have better things to do than being an annoying little shit?”
“The latter, I’d say,” Thor smiled, because he knew he was right. Loki did have better things to do. Tony, for a start.
And reading.
And watching sci-fi movies and TV shows.
And yelling “That’s not how space works!” at the TV.
Also cooking. Which was something he was surprisingly good at.
And studying all the ancient tomes and spellbooks Thor managed to sneak out of Asgard. There were a lot of those. So many that Tony had to transform a spare room into a study.
And if he was bored, he could always do Tony again. Of course.
Or, well, cause some minor mischief all around the Tower – like hiding Clint’s arrows in weird and random places, replacing Bruce’s herbal tea with mate (and then sulking when Tony spend the whole night in the lab with hyperactive Bruce, working on a project), making the elevator stop working so everyone had to take the stairs…
Or the thing he was doing just now, which was kneeling right in front of Tony, naked from waist up and undoubtedly invisible to everyone but him, stroking the inventor’s thighs not with his hands, but with his magic, slowly getting closer and closer to his crotch...
Tony drummed his fingers on the table and got to his feet.
“Alright, so are we agreed that Loki isn’t dangerous at the moment and his sudden disappearance doesn’t mean he’s got some nefarious secret plan?”
“Agreed,” Natasha said before Cap could even open his mouth.
“Good. If you’ll excuse me now, I gotta go. I also have better things to do.”
Loki, for a start.
The second the elevator door slid closed behind them, Tony felt a pair of hot lips on his neck.
“Let me guess. You got bored?” he chuckled before sighing softly.
“Very much so,” Loki purred. “And don’t even try to pretend that you were having fun, my love.”
“It wasn’t about having fun, sweetie. It was about you being… Oh, god, right there, Loki… It was about you being a threat to all of humanity and…”
“Oh, please. I’ve only been a threat to your fridge and alcohol stash lately.”
“And my poor T-shirts. I’m still waiting for you to find the pocket dimension where you hid the Black Sabbath one, you know.”
“That was one accident, Anthony! And it wasn’t exactly my fault. To think that they call me Silvertongue…”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tony murmured, burying his fingers in Loki’s soft, curly hair. “I still want it back.”
“I’ll look for it, I promise.” Loki’s long fingers found their way underneath Tony’s T-shirt. “When I’m done with you. But I promise to deal with all your clothes the non-magical, old-fashioned way in the meantime.”
“You’d better,” Tony said.
The elevator stopped in the penthouse. Loki took Tony’s hand and dragged him out, grinning.
“You know what, Anthony? I’m really glad I kissed you on that roof.”
Tony smiled back, his heart suddenly so full of affection that it was almost hard to breathe.
“Yeah, Lokes. So am I.”
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dregstrash · 5 years
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also "open your eyes" by snow patrol if you like them 😊💞
Sooo I wrote something for my Zoyalai school au, yesterday, it only feels right to write something from my zoyalai detectives au
And I got this prompt a couple of weeks ago that asked for one of them to be injured and write about it. And the asker made a good point, it is always Nikolai that gets injured. So this prompt is the response to what our dear Head Detective does when Special Agent Nazyalensky is injured
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
It’s been two days since the incident. 
Days with too much coffee. Too much time. And not enough assurances from the nurses and doctors that everything was going to be okay 
Nikolai could have sworn that he had permanently melded in with the cheap cushioned hospital seat, and he was sure that the crick in his neck was a permanent feature of his body. But he remained where he was. He dozed when he needed to, but mostly he waited. If he was a more religious man he would have prayed. Prayed that the knife wound that punctured her lung would heal correctly. Prayed that the concussion she had sustained when she stupidly decided to investigate the last known location of the Darkling alone wouldn’t keep her down for too long. Prayed that she’d wake up, just for his own piece of mind. But he wasn’t a religious man. All he had was the waiting and the annoying little beeps that sounded off in the monitor right by her bed.
The tips of his fingers felt raw as he fiddled with the paperclip in his pocket again. The silver encasement peeling and the weak metal heating in his hand. 
“Sir,” There was the nurse again. Nikolai noticed that the furrow between her eyebrows were getting deeper and deeper with each time she checked up on him, “The doctor isn’t sure when Ms. Nazyalensky will be able to wake up. Maybe it would be best if–”
“I’m fine where I am, thank you.” Nikolai cut her off, and just resolved to staring at Zoya. 
He felt the nurse’s stare from the corner of his eye, and didn’t let his posture drop until she checked up on Zoya and then left the room. 
An hour passed. Two hours. He didn’t care he’d wait another goddamn three hours if–
“Nikolai?” 
Her voice was so weak that he barely caught his name, but he heard it all the same.
“Zoya.” He breathed, feeling the oppressive weight sitting on his chest let up. 
“Why do you look like shit?” She croaked. 
He got up and gave her the cup of water that the nurse had given him.
“You’re the one in the hospital bed.” He managed to say. He had gone home only to shower and change his clothes, but judging from the way her eyes were lingering on his face he assumed that his tiredness was lined in the dark shadows under his eyes.
“That’s my excuse,” She said after taking a tentative sip, “What’s yours?”
A bitter laugh escaped him without his permission and it set something loose in him. 
“What’s my excuse?” He bit back sharply, “My excuse is that my partner in this very dangerous case made a very stupid decision to investigate on her own, and almost got killed in the  process.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. All the waiting and sitting by her hospital bed had blended all the emotions that were pressurizing in his mind. All the worry, anger, frustration, self-loathing, and…caring were toxic chemicals that were primed to explode.
“You know the state me and my junior detective found you in? You were in the floor of that disgusting building, with half your blood spilled around you. Do you know how cold you were when I tried checking for a pulse? Or how about the size of the lump that was on your head? No? You have no idea? Well, I can say that Isaak threw up. It didn’t help that a dark moon wasn’t drawn on your forehead, and not with ashes by the way, it was drawn with your blood. So forgive me for not looking quite my best when my partner almost fucking died.”
Nikolai didn’t realize that his voice had raised from the reverent hospital whisper until a dead silence filled the air. Part of him wanted to feel bad for snapping at her, after all she was the one that was injured and had just woken up. But then Zoya gave him one of her trademark glares and bared her teeth.
“I did my job, Lantsov. I couldn’t wait around for you to be done with your paperwork to investigate a lead. One of my CIs got me a lead and I had to chase it before the Darkling got away again. And don’t bullshit me that you wouldn’t have done the same. We’d both be willing to die out there, don’t treat me any less than that.”
For a long while, neither of them said anything. Both just staring at the other, waiting for another rebuttal or an apology, but none was forthcoming. 
Zoya was right, as she usually was, but that didn’t change the way Nikolai felt. He’s already lost a partner that was more his brother than his biological one, and the very idea he could also lose Zoya had sent him into a panic that was worrisome. He took his time to really look at her, and catalog the weakness that rested in her shoulders from her attack, and despite the same disdainful look on her face, there was also a modicum of fear. A fear that she had gotten caught and barely escaped with her life.
Eventually, Nikolai sighed and moved his chair closer to her.
“Fine, we’re both willing to die in a hailstorm of bullets, but don’t expect me to be happy about it, Nazyalensky. Any good cop knows to bring back up, so try not to make such a rookie mistake next time.”
There was a twitch in her lip, and Nikolai felt some of his worry melt away from his bones. He relaxed in his seat.
“You’re lucky I’m in this hospital bed, Lantsov.” She threatened. 
He laughed, but didn’t respond. He was lucky that she was in this hospital bed. She was luck to be in the hospital bed. Because it was better to be in a hospital bed than the morgue.
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