AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

CASUAL

or, Aaron Hotchner's size kink. minors dni.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who lines his cock up against your stomach just to see how far it'll go and moans shamelessly. His thumb works mindless circles on the place where he was as you bury your head is his neck while he murmurs "I know you can take it, sweetheart."

➼ Aaron Hotchner whose hands are so big when he cups your pussy and it only makes you leak all over it. You can grind against his palm while his thumb rubs your clit and he's everywhere. He licks your slick off his palm and his eyes roll back in his head.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who wears grey sweatpants around your house and isn't surprised when he's grinding against your hand in the kitchen thirty minutes later. Watching your hand disappear under his sweatpants and boxers is erotic enough, but when you pull him out and your hand covers so little of his cock? He has to grab the cabinet behind him so hard his knuckles turn white.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who hates how turned on he is when the first time you have sex, you whine "Aaron, it's not gonna fit." He soothes you, propping your hips up on a pillow and spreading your legs. You take him inch by inch, scratching up his back and he fucking loves it. When he bottoms out, he can barely breathe: you're so tight around him and your walls are pulsing and he moans drunkly as he realizes.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who watches with heavy-lidded eyes as you cum all over his cock before he can even get to fucking you. He can't tare his eyes away from the place where your bodies meet. His thighs start shaking as he tucks a strand of hair behind your head, a soft murmur of "you all right, angel?" leaving his lips.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who makes you cum again after just ten strokes. He's pretty sure you've scratched his back to bloody ribbons and he realizes with a shiver that he likes the sting. He can't stop himself this time: he cums, pulling you close to his chest, reveling in the warmth. He watches his own cum leak out of you, your body unable to take both his cock and cum at the same time. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls out, whole body singing in overstimulation.

➼ Aaron Hotchner who wraps his arms around you in the shower, his hands swallowing your thighs as he washes them and he wouldn't have it any other way.

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

(✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾Demon Slayer Headcannons: Will you hold this for me? (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

In which (Y/n) asks them to hold something and then proceeds to place their hand into their S/O ^^. I read this prompt yeeears ago for ffxv and I just thought it was the cutest thing and I’ve never seen it again after that. So heres what I think the demon slayers characters reactions would be. Can be read and friendly or platonic.

With: Rengoku, Giyuu Tengen+Makio,Suma,And Hina, Shinobu,Sanemi and Gyomei

No warnings, full fluff. We’re goanna ignore cannon for the sake of the imagine. Except for Obanai and Mitsuri, I very much love their relationship and have chosen to not write about them. Kay? Kay!

I’ll do a part 2 with the demon moons + Muzan because this took waaaay to long to do wah-

Ask box open 💙

Playlist I listened to while I wrote this: https://youtu.be/bPzqW_dU2Gk?si=jLI9L0vgH0Q3VYT7

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Rengoku: Rengoku and (Y/N) were out and about in the nearest village. Visiting several different shops during their free time while they could enjoy it. Currently, Rengoku eyes were glued to a menu displayed outside a newly built restaurant. Completely enraptured by the tasteful dishes displayed on the board. (Y/N) approached behind him, a small shopping back in one of their hands. Maybe if Rengoku hadn’t been so distracted, they might have seen the playfulness pulling on their lips.

“Rengoku, will you hold something for me?”

Oblivious to the gleeful child-like smile on their face, he offered them their hand without even so much as blinking or moving his eyes away from the menu. His mind a preoccupied about the different variations of food that made his stomach grumble. Though those thoughts were briefly pushed to the back of his mind when he felt something warm slot between his fingers.

“Hmm?” Rengoku hummed, blinking a few times as he shifted his gaze over to his hand. We’re he found (Y/n) hand comfortably placed into his. “Haha!” He boasted loudly, smile growing twice as large as it already was. “A delightful one you are! Say it’s about lunch time. Shall we try this new restaurant, everything sounds so wonderful!” He exclaimed. Raising his hands while still clasping (Y/N) hand snug with his. If Rengoku had a tail it would most certainly be wagging right.

Overall: Rengoku’s find your antic amusing and most welcomed. He happily pulls (Y/N) into the restaurant hand in hand. Only letting go once they’ve settled down for a meal.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Giyuu: A similar situation to Rengoku, with the two wondering around a village mostly just for fun. However, its hard to tell exactly what Giyuu had his gaze fixated upon. His frozen solid in the middle of the crowd with a ten mile stare between two booths. His ocean eyes were somewhere lost in a unforeseen storm. People moved around the silent man, pardoning themselves if they ran into him on accident.

It took some time for (Y/N) to locate him after they’d gone to retrieve an item of interest. A shopping bag swinging with the rhythm of their legs while they waved a cheerful greeting. One that went ignored, though it wasn’t on purpose. They were about to call to Giyuu again when the words died in their throat. A mischievous glaze running over their eyes.

“Giyyyuuu, will you hold something for me?” This time, the question stuck to Giyuu. He turned their head slowly upon them. His eyes immediately pointing to the bag in their hand. He exhaled a gentle breath, extending his hand out for what he thought would be the bag in his hand. He jolted a bit when he instead sensed the familiar warmth of (Y/N) palm along his. He became at a lost of words, unsure what to make of this situation.

(Y/n) let out a light chuckle at his reaction. ‘Typical Giyuu’, they thought. Eventually they’ll tug them forward in the direction they want to go next. Though Giyuu still hasn’t said anything, nor had he pulled away. If (Y/n) attempts to let go of his hand, unsure if the action was welcomed. Giyuu will simply tighten his hold on them. “It’s fine.” He speaks blatantly, though if (Y/n) looks close enough… theres a light dust of pink on his cheeks.

Overall: A little embarrassed at first, but accepts his fate and will continue to hold (Y/n) unless something requires for him to let go permanently.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Tengen: Well first off you need a step ladder- Kidding, short of, anyway! (Y/N), Tengen and his three wives are out enjoying a late night festival. Theres good food, drinks, and fireworks to occupy them for the night. (Y/n) sits with Makio, Suma, and Hina snacking on some sort of festival foods. They’ve shared this little ‘idea’ with the girls and the three of them found the idea delightful. Gossiping among themselves if Tengen would become flustered by the idea and mostly by who.

“I think (Y/N) should do it! Master Tengen has had a soft spot for them lately!” Makio pokes a little fun at them, the other two girls chiming in with eager smiles and some harmless laughter. It does take some convincing, but eventually (Y/N) does surrender to the girls persuasion. And just in time for Tengen to rejoin the group. (Y/n) nearly leaps to their feet, running over to him exicdently. The three girls watch gleefully at the show they’re about to recieve.

“Tengen! I need you to hold something for me!” He quirks a brow, eyeing them up and down suspiciously. “You aren’t holding anything.” He replied with a playful smirk on his lips. “Just trust me! Pleeease?” They flash their puppy dog eyes at him and Tengen finds himself in a bind. How was he supposed to fight against puppy dog eyes?

Cautiously he holds out his hand. Jewelry catching the warm light bouncing off the cities lanterns. Nervously, (Y/) places their hand into Tengen massive palm. His fingers wrap around theirs and nearly swallows them up whole. Looking back at him, he smiled smuggly. “Is that all you wanted? You could have just asked!”

Que the girls squealing lovingly in the back ground and them ambushing everyone into a hug and wanting to take turns holding Tengen and (Y/N) hands~

Overall: Well, its seems Tengen made (Y/N) blush instead of the other way around. But its was still worth the shot and the girls thought it was absolutely adorable ^^

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Shinobu: It’s a busy day at the butterfly estate. A particular mission had sent back several members of the demon slayer members back to her abode with blooded limbs. Once taking care of the injured slayers, she sat neck deep in paperwork inside her office. Going over several discharge papers and other things she’d fallen behind on. The scratching of her pen was the only sound in the room aside from the occasional curse escaping her lips.

(Y/N) walked in with a cup of warm tea in hand. Knowing very well Shinobu needed a little break from the chaos that had been their shared morning. They knew it would be impossible to pull her away from her work, not when so many still needed attending too. Still… they had a small shroud of an idea that may pull Shinobu from her thoughts for even just a few minutes. The poor girl deserved that much.

“Shinobu.” They called out kindly. Setting the cup of tea on the table next to her. Her movement faltered for second, her keen eyes shifting to the cup of tea, then directly back to her paper work. “Yes (Y/N)?” She responded nearly all too sweetly for what she really felt on the inside. “I- I made you some tea.”

“I see that.” She cut through them quickly, though they knew she didn’t mean malice by it. Now or never-

“Will you hold something for me, Shinobu?” Her pen movements halted all together, a long breath escaping through her nostrils. In a swift motion she set her pen on the desk calmly. Turning her attention toward them and extending her hand out toward them. ‘Tread carefully (Y/N)!’ They told themselves to try and gain some confidence back from her cry reaction.

Before they lost their nerve, (Y/N) quickly placed their hand into hers. Snuggly wrapping her fingers around Shinobu’s hand. This seemed to take her back a moment, her eyes flickering back at forth between their face and their now intertwined hands. She sighed, her shoulders dropping in surrender. “Alright, alright, only a few minutes. Then I must complete these discharges.” She spoke firmly, but an inkling of a smile danced at the corner of her lips. (Y/N) agreed eagerly, happily keeping a hold of Shinobu’s hand while she sipped on her warm tea.

Overall: A smidge annoyed, but appreciates the effort. Might bring it up later in private conversation. Personally I think she’d have the softest hands of the bunch.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sanemi: I had to really think about this one and his probably a little ooc but I still did my best- Lo and behold, Sanemis is practically stomping through the compound clearly aggravated about something. When isn’t he- (Y/N) catches him out of the corner of their eye and quickly excuses themselves from their current conversation. They’re fully aware Sanemi’s in a sour mood. Even so, it didn’t deter them from their destination. The moment (Y/N) was in Sanemi’s line of sight, a low growl vibrated from him. “What do you want?”He snapped immediately.

(Y/N) gave a shy wave and greeting. Wondering in the back of their mind if this was a really good idea-

“Would you hold something for me?”

“Huh?” He brow raised and his mouth hung open.

“I-I said would you please hold something for me?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. They stood their looking at each other for a few second before he reluctantly stuck out his hand. “I swear if you put something wet in my hand-“

A blush instantly blossoms on the man’s face when they slip their hand into his. He allowed it at first, even as the heat creeps onto his face. However, once he realizes whats happening he retracts his hand and turns away from them. Hiding his crimson cheeks. “Idiot, what was that for!”He screamed and (Y/n) can’t help themselves but go into a giggling fit.

Overall: Highly annoyed and flustered at the same time Xp

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Gyomei: It’s a peaceful morning with Gyomei. Sitting on the mountain side with the river lulling the birds nearby. They sat together along the tree’s, basking in the tranquility. It was often the pair found themselves like this. Seeking the moments where the world seemed to stand still. One craved those moments when a world such as theirs existed with nothing but constant violence.

Which was why (Y/N) had come up with the idea they were about to execute. They redirected their gaze to the man sitting a few feet away from them, admiring the features of his face and how he sat in prayer. Though, the second their eyes landed on him, his head perked up to look at them. “Gyomei, will you hold something for me?”

His expression never moved, yet, he nodded, slowly extending his large muscular hand toward them. The beads on his hand softly clanking against one another in the process. Their hand (Much like Tengen) was completely swallowed by his large hand. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what he was holding. The pad of his thumb running alongside (Y/N) cold knuckles.

“Oh.” The word was barely auditable and seemingly the only comment Gyomei came up with. They were almost worried they’d crossed a boundary… then the tears began to cascade over hid face. “How sweet. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Overall: Now your both crying

hella ass

basking

Tony’s Childhood. Part 2.3. Effects: Bravery

Part 1, Part 2.1. and Part 2.2.

Backstory (read Part 1): Tony was sent to boarding school when he was just 7 years old. All the other students were teenagers from 9th to 12th grade. There he spent another 7 years without contact with peers, away from his parents and Jarvis.

From IM3 we learned that these teenagers bullied him (Read Part 1 - Bullying).

But why was he bullied?

Let's look at Harley. What does Tony see in him? There are no physical signs of mistreatment on Harley, and he doesn’t appear stressed. But. He is an 11-year-old tech genius and nerd. Just like Tony was. And Tony immediately knows what is happening to the boy.

In the deleted scene “Tony, Harley and E.J.” we meet the teenager who bullies Harley - EJ, who is much older than him and has a group of friends the same age. Knowing that Tony had to live in a boarding school with the same contingent, we can conclude that something similar happened to him there.

So, the reasons for bullying in Tony's case would be: he was the youngest and smartest of all the students, was a nerd, probably had a nanny at school, had no friends because there were no children his age, and because he is an introvert (read this for MCU and this for 616).

We don’t know exactly what kind of bullying happened to him, but we can assume that it was physical, since Tony offers Harley a non-lethal, but still a weapon.

So in this case, Tony was always on his own against the bigger and older guys.  And he had to defend himself somehow.

Maybe he could escape them once, but he could not escape the whole boarding school situation, so it was pointless. This is why he doesn't have the "flight" part of "fight or flight" mode. Even if it makes more sense in a specific situation, like facing off against a robot with a fork without any protection in Age of Ultron. In comparison, Bruce has a "flight" mode, so he hid behind the bar even though he could be protected by his big green Alter Ego.

He could try to fight with his fists, but it was also pointless against larger opponents. So he built things. Like that flash thing he gave Harley to “discourage bullying”.

The most important effect of the teenagers’ cruelty on him was probably his bravery. In all the movies, every time there is a fight, it’s Tony who goes against the largest and  most dangerous opponent, be it Leviathans (The Avengers), Killian (IM3), Ultron (AoU), Winter Soldier (CW – Task Force office), Wanda and Clint (CW – airport fight), Scott in his giant form (CW – airport fight), Thanos (IW), or Thanos again (Endgame).

Not captivity and the Ten Rings made him brave. He was brave before that - see this post.

Conclusion: due to the bullying he endured as a child, Tony developed traits that would later make him Iron Man - a brave, fearless, smart fighter who never runs away from the battlefield and always takes on the biggest, most dangerous and powerful enemies, because he has been doing this since childhood.

“literature is dead!!! 😓” and it’s literally just a book with smut.

i <3 my man

Skskskskks YES PLEASE I NEED IT AND WITH DIA AND ASMO TOO PLEASEEEE DAMN I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE FREAKING PRECIOUS

Cuddling headcanons with Lucifer, Asmodeus, Diavolo and Barbatos

I got 'chu😤👌

Gender neutral MC

Warnings: none

Lucifer

Isn't much of the cuddling type

Don't get me wrong it's not like he hates it or anything

He simply doesn't have the time or the person to do it with

So at the beginning it's kinda awkward, because he doesn't know what to do or where to put his hands

Gets better after a while though

Prefers laying on his back with your head on his chest

That way he can just wrap his arms around you or stroke your hair

Of course he takes his gloves off

It's safe to say that this is the fastest way for him to fall asleep and he always feels refreshed after waking up

Basically becomes addicted to your cuddles to the point where he gets grumpy if you don't do it for a while

Asmodeus

Big cuddler right here, guys

Laying on top of you or having you on top of him all tangled up is his favorite part of the day honestly

Could stay like this forever

Lots of giggles

Loves playing with your hair and listening to you talking about stuff you like or simply telling him about your day

Gives you so many pecks

Especially on the nose and on the lips

Wears clothes that are too big for him to fit the vibe

Doesn't really prefer a certain position. As long as he gets to hug you he's happy

Holding your hands while cuddling is also something he absolutely loves to do

Just kissing the back of your hands and intervening his fingers with yours

Diavolo

So extremely touch starved

Hasn't even noticed it himself

Has never really cuddled with anybody, since his father has been asleep for a very long time and no one even daring to look the prince directly in the eyes out of respect for his title

So once you start hugging him and cuddling with him he refuses to let go of you

Always has to touch you in some way

When you're laying in bed or on the couch he wraps his hands and legs around you, using you as his personal bodypillow

Having you on top of him makes him feel kinda safe and super happy, but he also likes it when his head is on your chest or tummy

Please play with his hair or stroke it

He loves being touched like that

Also a big kisser like Asmo!

Diavolo can't decide though which part of you he likes to kiss the most so he just straight up showers you with them

Barbatos

A man as busy as him doesn't have much time for cuddles

But when he does he enjoys them as much as he can

Loves hiding his face in the crook of your neck and just close his eyes

Can be the big and the little spoon

It's as if you're a cat ok

If you don't move he doesn't move either

He's most relaxed in those moments

Takes off his uniform to wear some casual clothes, because even for him it's uncomfortable to cuddle in the uniform and he can't be all formal 24/7 especially not around you

Just imagine his cute disheveled hair after you run your fingers through it

Absolutely loves listening to your stories when you two are cuddling

You can hear a happy sigh escaping his lips from time to time

---

Masterlist

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home. 

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache. Coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl. 

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

A familiar voice cut through the chatter. “I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.  

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot. 

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box. 

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind. 

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway. 

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off. 

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead. 

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though… 

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight. 

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved- 

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you. 

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.” 

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs. 

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning. 

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed. 

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

“you’re so sensitive” i was born with a poet’s soul. bitch

ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪ ᴄᴄ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ: ʙᴇᴅ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴛ 01

ʙᴇᴅ 01 | ʙᴇᴅ 02 | ʙᴇᴅ 03 | ʙᴇᴅ 04 | ʙᴇᴅ 05 | ʙᴇᴅ 06

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴄ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀꜱ xx

@lin-dian @sushi77 @drkwaifu @kirikasims @lalalanayo @xiedollie

- ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪ ᴄᴄ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ