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crystallinestars · 2 months

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If They Were Your Pet Cat (Part 2)

Headcanons for what Aventurine, Argenti, and Jing Yuan would be like as your pet cat.

This is a part 2 because I have a part 1 with Genshin characters here.

Part 3 (Gepard, Ratio, Dan Heng, Sampo)

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Aventurine:

🃏 Is a domestic shorthair.

🃏 You picked him up as a stray off the streets. Aventurine looked so pitiful in his dirty and starved state, that you didn’t have the heart to leave him like that, so you brought him home. Initially, he appeared nervous and quiet during the first few weeks. Once he became accustomed to living with you, you discovered that the little, scrawny feline has a big personality.

🃏 Aventurine loves to be pampered. He always purrs whenever you brush or pet him, give him belly rubs, or chin skritches. He simply adores your attention. When you coo that he’s such a pretty kitty? Aventurine looks as smug as a cat can possibly look and follows you around the house while affectionately rubbing against your legs.

🃏 He’s very loyal to you. Anyone that comes to your house and tries to coax him to come play or get pats, is promptly ignored by the feline. The ability to cuddle and pet him are luxuries he reserves only for you.

🃏 You’d think starving out on the streets would have made Aventurine eager to eat almost anything, but no. The little rascal only eats the most expensive cat food brands and turns his nose up at anything else. Either that, or he will steal your food off your plate when you’re not looking. He’s a spoiled cat.

🃏 Aventurine likes to sleep next to you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing—he will saunter up and lay down somewhere close to take a nap. It’s also a given that he sleeps cuddled up beside you in bed during bedtime. He simply likes feeling your presence since it makes him feel safe.

🃏 As such, Aventurine hates when you leave him home alone for extended periods. He’s surprisingly clingy and gets lonely easily. If you’re gone for most of the day, he’ll be very upset by the time you get home and might tear up a pillow or the curtains out of spite. If this this pattern continues for a long while, one day you’ll notice that your keys are gone. Aventurine is a smart cat and quickly figures out that when you leave the house, you always bring your keys with you. To make you stay, he’ll hide them in a spot that only he can reach with ease. Good luck getting your keys back…

🃏 That said, getting another cat or pet won’t cure his loneliness. If anything, Aventurine will become possessive and jealous because he hates having to share your attention with another cat. He’s a bit territorial of you. Similarly, he dislikes you coming home smelling like another animal, so expect him to rub against you to overwrite the scent of that other animal.

🃏 Most of all, Aventurine hates it when you get mad at him. He always looks guilty whenever you scold or yell at him, and immediately flops over onto his back to expose his furry belly to you. It’s his attempt to placate you and ask for your forgiveness. He anxiously follows you around the house and rubs his body against your legs until he’s sure you’re not mad at him anymore.

Argenti:

🌹 An Ocicat breed.

🌹 Argenti is the most photogenic cat you’ve ever encountered. He always looks graceful and dignified no matter what he’s doing or what angle you take photos of him from. Every picture comes out looking lovely. Anyone who sees your cat always says that he looks beautiful.

🌹 To keep such a gorgeous appearance, Argenti often grooms himself. He does a very good job of it, too, which is why you barely have to groom him yourself. The most you have to do is give him the occasional bath, brush out shedding fur during shedding season, and clip his claws.

🌹 As gorgeous as he is for a house cat, Argenti is a free spirit who doesn’t like to be cooped up at home for long periods of time. Whenever he wants to go out, he’ll paw at the door or windows to signal for you to open them. You were nervous about letting him out at first but soon learned that his desire for the great outdoors was unstoppable. He would venture outside one way or another, much to your befuddlement. He enjoys exploring the neighborhood but always makes sure to come home before dark. As much as he loves adventuring, he loves being in your loving arms more.

🌹 Argenti has the temperament of an angel. You could do whatever you wanted to him, and he would gracefully take it without complaining or struggling. It makes doing things like taking him to the vet, bathing, and grooming extremely easy. You could even make him wear different outfits, and he won’t mind at all. He might even like wearing some of them.

🌹 Is very friendly. Whenever you have guests over, Argenti greets them at the door and purrs while rubbing against their legs. He also readily engages in play and comes if they call him. He does this with everyone who comes through your door, so he’s pretty well-liked among your social circle. However, he doesn’t sit on your guests’ laps or cuddle with them since he’s too active to be a lap cat. Such privileges are available only to you.

🌹 His overly friendly and affectionate personality extends to more than just people. He can purr for other animals he finds during his little excursions outdoors, or even inanimate objects. You once caught him rubbing up against one of your potted plants…

🌹 If you’re scared of insects, then Argenti is the cat for you. Whenever he hears you shriek because you saw a bug, he runs over to your side and promptly fends off the heinous critter. He easily catches and kills any insects so that you, his owner, don’t have to be scared anymore. You can sic him on anything, and he’ll get rid of it for you.

🌹 Argenti is sensitive to your emotional state. Whenever you’re upset, Argenti brings a toy over to you to try and get you to play with him and take your mind off whatever is bothering you. If that doesn’t cheer you up, then he lays down on your chest and licks at your face with his rough tongue. It’s his way of soothing you. He’ll purr on your chest until you feel better.

Jing Yuan:

🦁 A Maine Coon.

🦁 Is a big and lazy cat. Jing Yuan will chase a toy around the house if you play with him, but he generally prefers to snooze by a window while catching some rays of warm sun. He can more often than not be found napping in some cozy and warm corner of the house. When you’re not home, he’ll also sleep in your bed under the blankets.

🦁 Jing Yuan has a calm temperament. He’s very well-behaved during grooming and handles bathing, drying, and brushing like a champ. He’s chill as a cucumber and doesn’t put up a fight while you do your thing in maintaining his long coat. In fact, he’s so laidback, that you could squeeze and rub him all over and he won’t lash out at you, instead tolerating everything with what you can only describe as a smile.

🦁 As accepting as he is of all your affections, he has boundaries. Jing Yuan is generally not fond of being squeezed and terrorized, especially by people who invade his personal space (like rambunctious children or people who bury their faces in his fur). If one such person is in your home, Jing Yuan will vanish without a trace as soon as he hears their footsteps. He only tolerates such treatment from you because you’re his beloved owner.

🦁 Jing Yuan likes being petted and praised but prefers it if these affections come from you. He especially enjoys being brushed by you, and purrs when you comb through his fur. He can even fall asleep on our lap during brushing since the process relaxes him so much.

🦁 He’s a very intelligent cat. Sometimes you talk to him as if you were talking to a friend or family member, and Jing Yuan would meow back in response at appropriate times during the conversation, as if he were replying to your comments. He also has this intelligent look in his golden eyes, as if he understands everything you’re saying. It can be a bit uncanny at times.

🦁 On top of his ability to respond appropriately to your speech, Jing Yuan also easily senses whenever you’re upset. If you feel down, he will stick to your side or lay on your chest and purr until you feel better. If you cry, he’ll lick your tears away. He remains by your side until you’re all better, and won’t leave you alone for anything.

🦁 Is very curious about everything that you do. When you cook, Jing Yuan sits somewhere in the kitchen and watches you busy yourself with whipping up a meal for yourself. He likes to sniff the ingredients you’re working with, either to identify them or discover a food he hasn’t encountered before. Rest assured that he won’t eat anything without you explicitly offering it to him. However, if you have something yummy like fish or chicken cooking, he expects you to share some of it with him once it comes time to eat. He wants to eat delicious things too, not only cat food.

🦁 Frequently sees you off when you leave the house. Likewise, he patiently waits for you at the door when it’s time for you to come home. He’s a bit like a dog in that way.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #argenti x reader #hsr argenti x reader #jing yuan x reader #I debated on making Jing Yuan a ragdoll but Maine Coon is the first breed I think of when I look at him

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diejager · 9 months

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BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy.

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog.

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard.

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making.

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you.

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities.

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet.

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves.

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent.

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier.

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect.

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you.

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier.

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family.

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did?

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls.

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries.

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him.

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation.

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König.

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp.

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close.

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them.

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it.

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials.

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no?

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world.

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you.

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature.

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words.

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness.

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin.

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch.

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise.

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess.

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics.

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies.

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores.

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you.

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety.

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions.

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

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luveline · 2 months

Note

I adore your 'kisses before dinner' au. Bethie has my entire heart <3!!!

Is it possible to request a fic where Bethie is in a stage of wanting to dress similarly and wear makeup like mom!reader? And Steve catches the lovely moment of them getting together for their mommy/daughter date and marvels at his pretty girls? 🥹<3

thank you for requesting!! mom!reader

“I want to wear blue.”

“Yes,” you say, dragging out the soft ‘s’. “Your favourite colour out of all of the colours, mommy remembers.”

Bethie smiles and looks down at your feet. “Yeah, mommy.”

You reach for her face, cupping it in two loving hands to encourage her to look up again. Your fingers cover the side of her heads, your thumb rubbing sweet, gentle circles into her cheeks. “You know how you told dad you wanted to dress like me?”

“Yeah,” she says, holding your wrist. She has very little hands, even for her age.

“Well, I’ve got us dresses that are nearly the same one, and they’re blue. Should we have a look at them?”

You and Bethie kneel by the dresser to unearth the paper bag you’ve tucked away in the bottom drawer under Steve’s socks and underwear. Bethie waits patiently, quiet and still, her hand tucked under her legs to stop from snatching. You admire her dedication to being well-behaved. “Baby, you can touch them! They’re for us!”

Steve gets really worried about Bethie being shy, and he can’t understand it. “You aren’t shy!” he’d said to you before, “And I’m not shy, I don’t get it, I really don’t. All her favourite people are loud.”

“We aren’t shy now, Steve. But you were a quiet kid, right? That’s what your mom said.”

“My mom would tell you the sun is blue to spite me.” But he’d conceded. Steve doesn’t mind if Bethie’s shy, he just wants what’s best for her, and being shy can be awful.

Building her confidence was a big reason behind these mommy-daughter dates. Building her confidence, tackling Avery’s want for affection (which she deserves to have), and getting Dove out of the house —you love getting to have them one on one. You and Steve are gonna switch out after this set. He had big plans for his dates.

You’re trying to keep it simple. You and Bethie pull on your matching dresses and dark tights while your shoes wait for you downstairs. You'd tackled her hair that morning, leaving makeup as your last port of call. “Alright,” you command, patting your lap where you sit cross-legged on the floor, “come here, sweetpea.”

She lets out one of those happy-excited gasps that only kids seem to be able to make and hurries into your lap. You hear Steve’s footsteps on the stairs as she sits, your pretty husband edging open the door with his foot to peek inside. You smile at him, hoping it says to come inside.

“Can I have, um, lip gloss? The pink one? That you always say gives sticky kisses?” Bethie asks.

“Yeah, for sure. I thought we’d powder your face first, how’s that?”

She nods and closes her eyes. You pout at Steve, summoning him to sneak to the bed so he can see her tightly squeezed eyelids and her lips puckered for gloss. He puts his hand on his heart.

He melts more and more as you go. Bethie relaxes her eyes the longer her makeup takes, though you only add little tiny dabs of everything. A dusting of powder, a short patting of crème blush on her cheeks.

“Last but not least,” you say, gliding the pad of the lip gloss applicator over her bottom lip. “Rub your lips together.”

“Like this?” She rubs her lips, gloss spreading up into her cupid’s bow and under her nose.

You wipe the smudge away with your pinky nail. “Perfect.”

“You can say that again.”

Steve doesn’t sound like he’s joking. He clutches the fabric of his t-shirt just below his heart, totally in love as Beth opens her eyes to smile at him shyly. “You look amazing,” he says, fingers tapping his chest in emphasis. “Beth, you look so pretty.”

“You think so?”

Steve sits on the end of the bed to hold her hand. He’s soft with his touches, caressing her arm with his other hand as he says, “Of course I do. How about you blow mommy off and go on a date with me tonight instead?”

She giggles. “No, daddy!”

“You don’t wanna go out with me instead?” He ruffles his hair. “Is it the way I look?”

“No, me and mom are gonna go to the pizza party at the bowling alley,” she says.

“I like bowling.”

“For time together,” she says, flopping into Steve’s arms to hug his front. “It’s okay, dad, I’m coming back.”

“You are?” He kisses her forehead, meeting your eyes over her head, fondness in their slight squint and furrow of his brow. “That’s good. Miss you too much if you didn’t.”

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hunny-beann · 4 months

Text

Worship; Devastation

Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

Synopsis: Prince Loki gets some ideas regarding worship upon witnessing his lover in the particularly ethereal lighting of his bathing quarters...

And honestly, what is worship if not laying your utterly devastating touch upon your lover just to watch them unfurl before you?

Or, alternatively:

Devotion, reverence, and veneration at the hands of a god in 3,800 words or less

Note: Welcome back to the smut fest! Similarly to my last Loki smut fic, I also wrote a great deal of this one very early in the morning, so my apologies for any errors that I didn't manage to spot and edit out. I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: Semi graphic NSFW, vulgarity, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

She sat, naked as the day she she had been born, upon the edge of the royal bathing pool reserved solely for her beloved, the warm water lapping gently at her ankle as she leaned back on her forearms, right knee bent so one foot rested on the rune etched lip of the younger prince's extravagant bath.

It felt very Loki indeed, to have bathing quarters that seemed far more like a swimming pool than a tub, and she relished in the energy of the space, each detail reminding her of the man who floated gracefully in the waters just beneath her.

If her eyes were not closed at that very moment, she was certain that she would be unable to help but stare at him, not with the distracting way that his hair splayed out upon the surface of the water, or that his skin all but shone in the morning sun that doused the two of them from the skylight above.

This was not her first morning bath with him, far from it in fact, but as she basked in the sunlight, she still felt herself jump when a familiar hand wrapped around the ankle that dangled within the water, her eyes flying open to find his stunning blues already awaiting her gaze.

And oh, what a sight he made.

There he was, Prince Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, entirely bare within the warm waters of his bath, and submerged to his upper arms, revealing his strong shoulders, angular jaw, and sharp collar bones, all of which dripped almost tantalizingly with slow moving droplets of water, which clung to his skin in a manner that nearly made her jealous of them.

He looked up at her with an earnest curiosity and something that almost bordered on vulnerability, his grip loosening but not quite fading from her ankle as his thumb began to stroke the flesh just above where the water ceased to lap at her.

Eager to find out what had caught the attention of her lover, she leaned forward, placing her hand atop his own as she tilted her head in a silent question that she soon vocalized in spite of her subtle gestures.

"Is there something wrong, dear prince?"

She asked, her voice quiet and with an almost breathless quality that only seemed fitting for such a peaceful morning.

In reply, Loki simply placed his free hand on the lip of the bath and used that as leverage to pull himself ever closer to her, his other detaching from its wrapped position around her ankle so he could move it upward, fingertips craving the feeling of more of her soft skin beneath them.

Meanwhile, she watched him with a curiosity of her own, taking in with a vast gratitude unknown to the man just beneath her the details of his person, from the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose, to those that rested upon his shoulders, all the way up to the curve of his brow and the way that his black locks looked when slicked back from both the water and the way he had inevitably run his hands through them.

"Not quite."

Loki answered, his voice low and still slightly thickened by his semi-recently halted slumber, though those eyes of his swam with a subtle amusement that betrayed how much he and his lover's conjoined time in the bathing quarters had energized him.

"I simply desired to ensure that I wasn't still dreaming."

He continued, expression remaining slightly awe-filled as he looked up at her from the waters not far below, his once less occupied hand coming to rest upon her previously bent leg, which was now lowered alongside the other into the water as she continued to sit upon the bath's edge, his fingers kissing her damp flesh with a well known gentleness that had her sighing out softly, a small smile finding her lips.

He watched her with such fondness, such peace that not so long ago, she would have thought was entirely unknown to him, and he had believed he would never find nor understand.

How wrong they had been.

And how grateful they were for that fact now that they each knew the touch of the other, the love of them.

And as she looked into her darling prince's eyes she was reminded of that love, even as she could not help but smile at his familiar dramatics, her hand reaching down to curl some of his hair behind his ear, allowing her touch to linger briefly upon his jaw before she moved back once more.

"And why would you think yourself still slumbering, my dear?"

She wondered aloud, half anticipating a peaceful silence to follow, only to find herself pleased when Loki's all consuming voice filled the room shortly afterward.

"Have you ever seen your love illuminated by a halo of morning sunlight?"

He questioned gently, his hands still creeping ever upward, now resting upon her knees as he awaited her response with a patience that felt foreign to her when acted out by him, though she certainly did not complain.

As her reply to her prince's immensely endearing question, she hummed, watching the way that the sun cast its light upon him in an almost ethereal manner, reminding her once more of his nature.

She smiled,

"I believe that I have. Quite often, in fact."

Loki's expression of adoration continued as he watched her fondly, a slight smile finding his perfect lips, curving them upward in that manner his love adored so ceaselessly.

"I see."

He drawled slowly, fingers massaging slow circles into her lower thighs all the while,

"Then surely you can understand why I've been enraptured so."

He reasoned, placing a gentle kiss to the side of her knee as he watched for her reaction, noting the way that she shivered slightly beneath his touch, still not quite used to him, even after years of his hands lovingly caressing her skin at each and every opportunity.

He selfishly hoped, in that moment, that she might not ever come to be, just so he could continue to bear witness to the way that her body, mind, and soul reacted to his affections forevermore.

In response to Loki's gentle words and teasing ministrations, his love sighed contentedly, her flesh reacting as if chilled in spite of the warm water still lapping at her ankles.

She allowed herself a moment to bask in the closeness of him before reaching to cup his jaw again with a smile, tracing the now abandoned path of a droplet of water that had made its way from his hair down to the bridge of his nose, where it had spilled over the side and ran along his cheekbone before ultimately losing momentum and fading to nothingness in the warmth of sunlight, leaving only a faint shimmer of dampness in its wake.

She watched him for a few moments, eyes looking fearlessly and familiarly into those ever softening blues until finally, she spoke up once more, seemingly having gotten her fill of the peaceful silence.

"I suppose that I can, yes."

She replied to his previous statement, fingers moving from his cheek down to his jaw where they traced the sharpness of it gently, as if afraid it might truly cut, or perhaps as a woman in love might do to the object of her affections.

Perhaps so, indeed.

The younger prince hummed happily in response to her touch, something akin to a purr rumbling deep in his chest as he pushed as close as to her as he could manage, both hands moving to her knees in order to place the backs of them upon his muscular shoulders, thus allowing him to them wrap his arms around them from below, his long and lithe fingers finding firm purchase upon her thighs as he did so, pulling her ever closer to the edge of the bathing pool,

closer to him.

And though he was certain that she had noticed, his darling did not complain, simply watching Loki with an amused gleam in her eye as he leaned his head against her thigh, expression almost dreamy as he watched her, taking in the vision of beauty that she was, now doused fully in the morning sunlight.

"Perfection."

He murmured gently, fingers dancing upon her skin as he pressed kiss after kiss to the thigh on which his head rested. And though she felt his smile as he did so, growing almost imperceptibly with each individual graze of his lips, she did not know why until he pulled away from her ever so slightly.

"Although,"

He began to say upon doing just that, eyes finding hers once more, allowing her to see the familiar sparkle of mischief that shone there,

"I do believe this means we have a problem, darling."

His voice was all but a purr now, low and rumbling with a certain level of mock concern to it that made his dearest love flounder slightly, gaze locked with his own as if the two of them were in contest with one another for who could see into the other's soul first.

Not that she could ever stand a chance, not against him.

"You see,"

Loki continued, both sets of his fingers pressing into the supple skin of her thighs as he massaged his way upward, eyes never leaving hers all the while, her body having long since been memorized by his hands.

"Perfection is meant to be worshiped."

He murmured, moving his head slightly to press a kiss to her opposite thigh before he pinched at the former deftly, causing his lover to gasp and jump slightly beneath him, a blush growing evident upon her cheeks.

He chuckled at her reaction, humming low in his throat as he continued to press his soft lips to her flesh, allowing them to linger long enough that there was no question of what his touch was meant to convey.

Gentleness, affection, love, desire, and a constant and heady hunger, one that all but drove him to madness each time he laid eyes upon his beloved.

Her breaths shuddered in response to his persistent touch, and she allowed their locked gazes to break as she leaned her head back upon her shoulders, fingers gripping tightly to the lip of the pool as she did her best to find her voice once more, having lost it upon the very moment his lips had pressed against her, as she always did.

"Are you saying that you wish to worship me, Prince Loki?"

She breathed out after several long seconds of silence, chest heaving slightly as she finally allowed her eyes to open once more, finding his almost immediately as he smirked against her upper thigh, his hands having moved to massage the outsides of them soothingly, keeping them poised atop his shoulders so he could control just how spread they remained for him.

He shook his head in response to her words, tutting slightly before nipping where she had expected him to present her with a kiss, causing her to gasp yet again as he chuckled and lapped gently at her soft flesh with that typically oh so sharp tongue of his.

"Oh no, dear heart."

He purred, spreading her thighs even wider in order to gain a proper view of her arousal, knowing all too well the blush that was no doubt ravaging her cheeks just outside of his view in response.

He leaned in further, ignoring the urge to lay his gaze upon her disastrously beautiful face as he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare heat, smirking to himself as he felt her begin to tremble impatiently as he did so.

He had spoiled her throughout the years, after all, never one to make her wait when she made her desire for him so plainly known. And he was truly quite proud of what a mess he had made of her once so vast patience, because what else did that show if not how wonderfully he'd treated her? How high he'd set her standards simply by virtue of ravaging her at nearly every available opportunity?

She was all but ruined for anyone else, that was for certain.

And if the prince had his way (as he so frequently did), that would never even come close to changing.

He laughed softly against her as he continued, his tongue moving up and down the outsides of her folds as he teased her relentlessly, always so eager to see her squirm at least a little before he gave her what she wanted.

He was not, after all, known for being the kindest nor the most merciful god,

And he could never quite resist the urge to remind his lover of that fact, even if just for a moment or two.

And that he did, ignoring her increasing number of quiet pleas as he pressed onward, spreading her wider before him as he separated her glistening folds to find the treasure that lied just within, which he teased without mercy until her legs shook upon his shoulders and her hands started to scramble for purchase atop the marble adorned floors of his bathing quarters.

Then, and only then, as she so plainly became a quivering mess before him, did he finally meet her gaze once more, relishing the look of her glazed over eyes, heaving chest, and slightly parted lips with a truly immense sense of pride.

The vision of her like this all for him was always so very worth the wait, and he thanked the stars that he had been blessed with enough patience to manage it (at least on occasion).

And then finally, as he saw her eyes begin to focus and felt her body relax ever so slightly beneath the coaxing of his still massaging hands, he spoke up again, answering his darling's long since abandoned question with a taunting amount of ease.

"I do not wish to worship you,"

He began, grinning wolfishly up at her as he pinched at those supple thighs once more, dragging his fingers achingly close to where she no doubt desired them without ever even considering the idea of going easy on her just yet.

No, not when he still had so much left to say.

He let a heavy silence fill the bathing quarters for a moment, broken up only by the sounds of his love's breathing and the dripping of water from behind him, always present and typically soothing in the normal circumstances of his morning bath.

Though today, he paid them no mind,

He had no need to be calmed, after all.

And then finally, just as his dearest love started to bite her lip in an effort to keep from pleading with her prince to give her more, he continued, bringing a finger up to circle her entrance as he did so, allowing him to revel in the sight of her arching her back for him, pressing ever closer in spite of the all too real threat of tumbling into the water alongside him.

She'd had very little desire to get wet that morning according to the excuse she had given him earlier on when asked through pouting lips why she would not join her lover in the bath.

Though, Loki supposed, it seemed as if he had ruined any goal she had of staying dry long ago, so perhaps she cared far less for such trivialities now.

He did not bother to ask, and instead chose to continue his now well drawn out statement from before.

"You see, my dear,"

He started, gathering some of her wetness onto his middle finger as he continued, enjoying the sounds of her whimpering beneath him far too much for his own well-being, let along hers.

"It is much more of a need, I'm afraid."

He purred softly, a false pout finding his lips even as he pushed his finger into her slick entrance, fighting back a groan as she all but sucked him in, always so ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give her.

He chuckled as she cried out in response, her head falling back to her shoulders once more as he began to pump a single long and dexterous finger in and out of her ceaselessly, adding in a second just as she started to wiggle her hips in that silent request for more.

"What a good girl you are."

He cooed teasingly, watching while she shivered at the sound of his voice, eyes squeezed shut as she fought to stave off an embarrassingly quick orgasm in response to his ministrations.

He had only just taken her this morning, after all, so how could she ever hope to look him in the eye again if she came so quickly even just after he had taken her upon his mattress?

Still, the prince had every intention of showing her exactly how helpless she was to his every touch, and rather than letting up when seeing her obvious attempts to hold back from letting go for him, he increased the speed of his fingers instead and crooked them upward slightly until he heard her gasp and felt her thighs tighten around his head from where they still resided atop his strong shoulders.

"Oh dear,"

He murmured, feigning surprise as he watched his beloved struggle not to simply give into her pleasures.

"Close already?"

He teased, watching her expression as she whined and writhed for him, his fingers never letting up even as he stretched her further upon adding a third, the feeling of which sent her mind reeling.

He was so good at this, too good, and who was she to deny a prince of what he wanted? Could she truly hope to?

Loki evidently thought not, and remained persistent, pacing his thrusts and ensuring that he was constantly hitting just the right spots inside of her, never one to give a lackluster performance, even so very early in the morning and so soon after his last.

Speaking of which...

"Even after this morning?"

He crooned, continuing his recent thought with even more mock surprise,

"Are you truly so sensitive, my love?"

He asked curiously, just barely holding back a groan as he watched the woman he adored so achingly arch her back even further, pressing ever closer to him, body so very eager to submit, and mind evidently not too far behind.

What a darling sight she made for, laid out and bare before him.

Now all that he had to do, Loki thought with a smirk, was strip her of her pride.

And of course, the best way to do that, was to remind her of exactly who it was that she belonged to, and just how helpless she was to his touch.

"Or, perhaps, is it something else?"

He questioned, leaning down to lick teasingly at her clit as she hissed and whined pitifully in reply, thighs trembling upon his shoulders all the while.

It was a telltale sign that she was close, though he chose not to tease her for that quite yet.

"Could it be your courses?"

Loki teased, knowing all too well exactly where his lover was within her cycle in spite of his questioning,

"Or maybe a preference for my fingers?"

He continued, watching as his darling cried out for him, eyes brimming with tears of pleasure as she grew closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

He chuckled, and, after a moment of thought, decided it was high time that he ended his charade for the time being.

"Or, my dear."

He began, groaning slightly as he felt her clench around his fingers in a way that made his engorged cock envious of their position, his mind suddenly filled with thoughts of her strangling his erection with her tight heat, her body always so eager to pull him in further and keep him there, begging for both of their releases.

Still, even with such rapturous visions flooding his mind, he managed to continue speaking, determined to remind her of why it was that she could cum so very quickly even so soon after their last tryst.

"Could it simply be how weak you are to my every touch?"

He purred, his voice devastatingly low and his eyes trained on hers as he spoke,

"How desperate you are,"

He continued, thrusting his fingers harder just to hear her cry out from beneath him,

"To feel my hands upon your flesh, and to hear my voice as I fuck you with whatever I so please into oblivion. Is that what it is?"

He growled, watching with immense pride as she threw her head back one final time upon hearing his words, her walls clenching around his fingers as she came hard only minutes after he had begun, encouraging a chuckle from her lover soon afterward when he finally pulled away, bringing his hand up to his mouth to fully taste her for the first time that morning as he gazed deep into her eyes, a moan of pleasure falling eagerly off of his lips all the while.

She blushed in response to this, but did not look away, her pride still just intact enough that she refused to let him get the better of her once more.

Loki remained like that for several rather long moments, savoring the taste of her until his fingers were clean, finally prompting him to remove them from his mouth so he could speak to her once more, though his words were no less teasing then than they'd been before.

"So, my darling."

He began, smirking as he rested his hand upon her thigh again,

"Do you have any qualms with me continuing to worship my dearest love upon this fine morning?"

He purred, his eyes lighting up eagerly when she swallowed thickly, shaking her head no in response just as he tightened his grip upon her legs.

"Perfect."

Loki replied casually, a glint of mischief entering his gaze once again just as a smirk fell to his lips.

And then, with a gentle tug, his love was falling into the water alongside him, pressed not long after to the wall of the bathing pool as his aching and engorged cock rubbed against her, all too eager to finally settle the score his fingers had recently turned in their favor.

It was no matter of course, they had all morning after all.

And an eternity after that.

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