#david loki fic

[charliehoennam]

just need you.

a/n : I blame @joshlmbrt for this. u asked for it and it got me horny so here you go 🧡

prompt: men who knead your thighs and hip as you sit on their lap with their big hands as you slick their hair back and tell them about your day. who get so hard when you kiss their forehead and tell them you have to go shower. who don’t let you go and fuck you on the couch — deep, thoroughly, filled with love

pairing: david loki x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, no minors please. language, smut, creampie, cockwarming, david gets horny from feeling loved.

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

Parking your car in the driveway just behind David’s Crown Vic, you switch the alarm on as you make your way over the grassy pathway paved from David’s walking over time.

Despite the dull day you had, you smile at the butterflies that still flutter every time you’re about to see him. Using the spare key he had gifted you, you unlock the front door and step inside.

You take the liberty of making yourself at home by kicking your shoes off and walking further inside towards the kitchen, you set your bag on a chair and drape your coat over its’ back.

“Baby, that you?” he asks from the living room.

“Yeah, it’s me, honey” you reply walking over with a smile.

He leans back and manspreads against the couch after crouching over the files and documents all fanned out over his coffee table along with his gun holster and badge. You take in the sight of him, hair slicked back from his shower, dressed in a tight white tank that accentuates his muscles. He usually wears them under his button-ups, but you love it when he wears them in the house, paired with a pair of gray sweatpants.

“You look so tired, baby.”

“I am tired” he smiles reaching for your thighs to guide you closer and unspokenly invites you to sit on his welcoming lap.

You accept and lean against his broad solid figure, lazily draping one arm around his neck while your other hand rests against his chest.

“Too tired for me?” You smirk watching his eyes trail down your body to your crossed thighs.

“Never too tired for you, honey” he replies taking your knee and pulling it towards him to let you drape your leg over his as his other hands sits at your waist.

“I hope not” you chuckle and press your lips against his to properly say hello. “I missed you” you whisper.

“I missed you too, honey… Didn’t get to see you this morning.”

His eyes close as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, taking in the lingering scent of your sweet perfume as his palm glides up and down your thigh.

“I know. You spent the whole night on duty, so I figured we wouldn’t anyways. But we’re together now hm?”

“Yeah, honey. You’re right. How was your day, hm?” he questions lifting his head to admire the gentle details of your face.

He listens to you vent about your day, kneading your thigh as his other hand slowly rubs your back up and down. He listens thoroughly, making a comment here and there, asking questions as you go on, but the glimpses he takes down your shirt and at your thighs don’t go unnoticed by you.

They make you feel loved and desired although you decide not to call them out because you’re drinking him in just the same; eye roaming up and down his chest, fingers gently twirling the hairs that peek out from the top of his tank or delicately squeezing at his biceps as you mindlessly rub his strong arm.

“How about your day, baby?”

“I don’t wanna talk about my day, honey. Just…” he sighs closing his eyes.

You know how his job takes a toll on him. Being a detective means having to see and witness things that are generally hard to stomach, let alone forget. And, although he can never forget certain things he wishes he could, he’d rather treasure the moments you get to spend together because, not only are they too few, they help him shut the rest of the world out. These moments with you melt away all worries he carries as a detective and allows him to just be David, a loving and caring boyfriend.

“It’s ok, babe. You don’t have to,” you answer with a tender kiss to his forehead.

You let your kiss linger there for a moment as he groans contently, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you closer. You’re almost certain you could feel his dick hardening as your fingers comb through his damp hair.

You chuckle imagining how good and relaxed he must when you take care of him.

“Why don’t you put this stuff away then and order us a pizza? Or whatever you’re in the mood for? I’m gonna go shower.”

You move to try to stand up, but he shakes his head. His arms tighten around you and hold you in place.

“No, baby. Stay here with me. Wanna be with you” he pleads wrinkling his forehead as his brows pinch together. His hand rises from your waist and his palm rests against your cheek when his lips meet yours. “Missed you so much, honey. Feel so good when you’re with me.”

You smirk noting how his breathing hitches and his cock twitches when you kiss his forehead again.

Gently peppering his forehead with kisses, he exhales sharply clenching his jaw as he pulls your legs to fully straddle his lap. His hands greedily grope at your thighs, at your hips and at your ass, enjoying your body’s fullness through your stretchy leggings.

You pull your head back a bit, letting your fingers meet at the back of his head to continue their therapeutic scratching on his scalp.

“I haven’t even showered yet, babe” you whisper shyly concerned, fearing your natural scent might be slightly more noticeable.

“No, honey, no. You smell so good for me” he frowns with eyes closed and shakes his head. “Just wanna be with you right now.”

“Yeah?” you whisper letting him kiss on your neck as he grinds his hardened dick against your sex.

“Yeah, baby. Feel so good on me like this. Can you feel it?”

“Y-yeah” you answer breathlessly as you give in and grind your dampening pussy against his crotch. “I feel your cock, baby. Feels so nice and hard.”

“Yeah? You like how it feels like this?”

You nod licking your dry lips as you continue dry humping his clothed cock, whispering how you love his dick so much as it throbs in his sweatpants when his hands pull your leggings up to make your ass and mound more noticeable.

He groans gently biting at your collarbone as he relishes the friction your body provides. Panting softly, you move your hips faster as his hard dick rubs against your sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Dave. Right there… That feels so good.”

“Ride me, baby. Just like that. It’s ok, I got you.”

Lost in the intoxicating pleasure that is washing over you, he rests his forehead against yours watching your face contort as you chase your orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby girl. You can do it. Feels so good, right? You like it, don’t you?”

“Fucking love it” you whimper feeling it build in your core. “So close, Dave. F-Fuck!” you pant as his hands grip your hips to pull them closer. “Gonna-gonna cum!”

“That’s my baby girl. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The pleasure snaps in your core as you moan and slowly still your hip to soothe yourself with slow thrusts against his dick.

Running his fingers up and down your obvious camel toe, he clenches his jaw realizing how wet your leggings are from the dry humping and your orgasm.

“Honey, can I rip these? Please? Please? I need to feel you.”

“But they’re new, babe. I just got them.”

“I’ll get you new ones, I promise. Promise you” he quietly begs with the softest voice. “I’ll get you a hundred if you let me rip these right now. I’m so fucking hard, it’s hurting.”

He might as well; you’re almost sure they’re ruined now from the slick that’s gushing out. 

The second you nod and approve, all eyes go straight to your crotch. You hold onto his knees as you angle your hips forward for him. David quickly gropes at the fabric, pulling it carefully away from your skin. Digging his finger into a small tear, he rips a hole into the middle of your leggings to expose your wet panties. 

"Hold them for me, honey" he asks, fumbling with his sweatpants to push them down enough to free his dick. 

You eagerly obey and pull your panties to the side to reveal your soaking cunt. With one hand on your hip, he pscoots you close as his other hand holds his cock to guide it against your folds. 

"Fucking..." he sighs closing his eyes as his head lulls back at the pleasure of your warmth against his cock. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you dip your head to kiss his neck but David's quick to capture your lips with his. He stills his kiss for a moment as he stares hungrily at you, letting his hands do the work of guiding his dick into your entrance. 

You smirk as you ease down slowly on his cock, watching how his mouth slowly opens into an O. The pained expression is purely based on the pleasure and self control he's got over himself to not cum right away. 

"Easy, baby. Easy." You remind him by pressing kisses to his forehead as you start to slowly move your hips. 

His hands squeeze at your hips and ass, so desperate to sink his fingers into your soft flesh. 

"Fuck, you're wet on my cock, honey. Can't hold back too long" he begs. 

"I got you, baby. It's ok" you pant riding his cock. 

You gently grip at his hair while his mouth mauls at your neck. The moans he elicits out of you are aphrodisiacal music that weave through his veins and make straight for his dick. 

He replaces your hand  with his, holding your panties to the side from behind with his hand resting against your ass. 

"Tell me you love me" he pleads, shutting his eyes hard as he feels his orgasm building. 

"I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much. Love every single bit of you" you pant heavily rocking your hips roughly against his. 

"God, don't stop, honey. Don't stop!"

I love you's spill from your mouth as you chase his release until you feel his broad  body tense under your arms that hug him, filling you with hot white cum. Noting the way he stills your hip from the sensitivity, you pause long enough to let him calm down and slowly regain your movements to help soothe him. 

Lifting his head, he kisses you, letting his tongue invade your mouth hungrily as his arms lock around your waist like a belt to hold your pussy on his bottoming out dick. 

"God, I fucking love you too."

[xoshize]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓

"Just one step closer to the place my heart already lives."

☆ Listening to "Kiss me" by Sixpence None the Richer while writing this. ☆

Pairing: David Loki x fem reader (18+).

Warnings: none.

Synopsis: he invites you out to dinner with him.

Author's note: oh my god, you can't understand the crush I have for Jake Gyllenhaal in general, but with this movie he really outdid himself. I even have a collection just for him on Tik Tok hahah, anyway I hope you like it!

The reader is of legal age (I will never write for underage readers, only 18 and up).

Minors must not interact (MDNI).

If you want to make any requests, feel free to do so!

English is not my native language so I ask you to have a little tolerance :)

ෆ°ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

You find him waiting for you outside the police station, under a streetlight that emits a pale, intermittent light. His hands are in his jacket pockets and his gaze turned toward the road.

"I thought you weren’t coming," he says, without immediately turning around. You remain a step away from him. "I thought I wasn’t coming either."

Then he looks at you, finally. His eyes rest on you with that strange intensity that disarms you. It’s as if he sees things that you don’t even know you have inside, and yet you don’t feel exposed.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, and his voice is lower, slower than usual. As if he’s been thinking about this question for a long time, without finding another way to ask you. You stare at him for a moment, and you understand that it’s not a question of food, it’s an invitation. Unstated, unclear but sincere.

"Yes," you reply. "But only if it’s not a disguised interrogation." A corner of his mouth lifts, just a little. It’s not a real smile, but it’s something like it. "Not yet," he says.

The place is small, with red tables and an old song playing on a radio hanging on a nail. No one is looking at you and you sit across from him. He orders just a coffee and you get something simple.

He looks at your hands, your fingers around the glass of water. His eyes linger there, then come back up, slowly. When he meets your gaze, he doesn’t look away.

"You have a particular vibe…" he says, almost under his breath. "And I can’t tell if that’s something that attracts me or scares me." The sentence takes you by surprise. Loki isn’t one to say things like that, casually... not unintentionally.

"What if it’s both?" you reply. He lowers his gaze for a moment but then returns it to you. There’s something in his eyes that seems akin to desire. Contained, restrained but real.

"I didn’t ask you to come to dinner to distract you," he confesses. "I asked you to come because… I’ve been thinking about you… for days. More than I should."

Your heart races. Not because he caught you off guard but because he’s there, vulnerable. Naker than he thought he could allow himself to be. You reach out and place your hand on his, on the table, and he doesn’t pull it away.

"Me too," you say. "I was thinking about you." No more words are needed. The plate in front of you has gone cold, you stopped eating a while ago but you didn’t even notice. Loki plays with the knife, slowly turning it between his fingers as if he’s thinking about a question he can’t solve.

"Is it always like this?" you ask. "When you’re with someone... Do you just think about chance?" He looks up, slowly. His eyes are shiny, but not tired… rather, deep. Like a lake at dusk, holding all the cold of the night beneath the surface.

"I’m never with anyone," he says simply. The answer gets under your skin. You look down for a moment, then take a sip of water. You try to hide the fact that his words have affected you, but he sees it. He sees everything.

"Now what?" you ask. "Are you with anyone now?" A second passes, two, maybe three, and then he nods… small but firm "Yes." And he looks at you, silence.

"It’s a problem, you know?" you say, almost laughing. He raises an eyebrow. "For me or for now?" "Both." He smiles, but it’s more of a swipe of his lips... an expression that’s not his own, as if smiling was something he’s forgotten how to do, but is now trying to remember.

"You're right," he admits, then he takes a chip from your plate, dips it in ketchup with disarming slowness and eats it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You let out a laugh, it comes out spontaneously, almost shyly.

He looks at you immediately. "What’s wrong?" "I didn’t imagine you like this…" "Like what?" "calm." Another pause with the awareness that your barriers are starting to give way and that neither of you has the desire to defend them anymore. "I didn’t imagine you like this either," he replies. "I thought you were one of those girls who really want to communicate…" "I was."

You look at each other and neither of you look away anymore. Then he takes the cup, takes a sip of the coffee they brought you, and puts it gently on the table. His fingers brush yours, it’s almost imperceptible, but you feel it. God, you feel it.

You feel like talking, asking a thousand things - about the case, about his childhood, about the tattoo under his ear - but you don’t want to ruin this small and fragile space that has been created between you, made of simple gestures.

"So," Loki says, lowering his voice, "what’s happening now?" "What’s happening is that you’re looking at me as if you want to kiss me," you answer. He doesn’t step back but he doesn’t move forward either. He stays there, balanced on the edge.

"Maybe so," he says. "But not here, not with this crappy music." And you laugh again, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and warmth. "So you know how to laugh," he murmurs. "That’s rare of you, you should do it more often."

You look down, but only for a moment. "Maybe you should stay closer to me, so maybe it happens more often." When you leave the diner, the air is warmer than expected, and the sky is full of clouds that don’t promise rain but seem to be holding something back, like you.

Loki holds the door open for you, in his own way - almost absentminded. You walk slowly toward the car and neither of you are in a hurry, and the night seems designed to prolong that moment, to give it space.

"So," you say, trying to break the silence full of everything, "This was your idea of ​​a romantic dinner?" He turns to you, looks at you, then does it. That sly little smile, so genuine it makes your stomach slip and for a second you understand why that man doesn’t have to say much to make you lose your balance.

"If it was romantic," he says, his voice low, "I wouldn’t have let you finish the fries alone…" You laugh unexpectedly. "So you’re possessive about food, too?" He takes a half step closer and his gaze drops to your mouth for a moment, then comes back up, more daring.

"It depends," he says, almost in a whisper. "On who’s on the other side of the table." Your heart pounds, but you don’t pull away, you meet his gaze, still. "And now that you’ve finished your coffee and your tough jokes… what’s going on?"

He looks at you for a moment, then raises an eyebrow. "What’s happening is that I’ve been thinking about you too much for a few nights," he says, directly. "And this dinner didn’t help." The silence after is short, but dense.

You step closer and the space between you is barely a breath. "And what do you usually do when you think about someone too much?" He tilts his head, that smile, again. More pronounced this time, almost amused.

"I usually walk away." You take another half step, teasing him. "And this time?" He doesn’t answer, he just looks at you. Then he puts a light hand on your side, as if he’s checking to see if he can and you’re letting him.

"This time," he says softly, his voice hoarse, "I don’t feel like it at all." And then he kisses you. It’s not a violent kiss, but a slow one, full of all the things he hasn’t said and doesn’t know how to say yet, and you answer him with the same intensity because you both know you’re not trying to fill a void, but to build something - even if only for tonight.

When he pulls away from you, he stays close to you. "Shall I walk you home?" he asks, but he does it in a tone that leaves every possibility open. You smile, and for once you tell the truth without hiding: "Yeah, thank you." And he simply nods.

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: smut. Synopsis: through the streets of the suburbs before going to your house.)

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

From the same series:

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: heavy smut. Synopsis: a very romantic night with him.)

© Xoshize 2026

𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

[bucky-the-lover]

Hi, I'm looking for an rp partner. I'm looking to do a dark themed plot together. Here are a few of the characters im interested in playing.

Arvin Russell

Detective David Loki

Curtis Everett

[spideyrights]

PARTNERS MASTERLIST

Detective Loki is assigned a new partner who’s only slightly short of a human incarnation of sunshine. He finds himself having to learn how to deal with having a partner, let alone one he may like more than colleagues should.

✗ Chapter One: Pleased To Meet You

✗ Chapter Two: Acquaintances

✗ Chapter Three: Tag-team

✗ Chapter Four: Mutual Fondness

✗ Chapter Five: Friends

✗ Chapter Six: Dinner Date

✗ Chapter Seven: Someone You Care About

✗ Chapter Eight: Anchor

✗ Chapter Nine: What Are We?

✗ Chapter Ten: Lover

[xoshize]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 - 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰

"Just one step closer to the place my heart already lives."

☆ Listening to "All mine" by Brent Faiyaz while writing this. ☆

Pairing: David Loki x fem reader (18+).

Warnings: heavy smut.

Synopsis: a very romantic night with him.

Author's note: argh! why does he have to be a fictional character? what a drag, but I hope you like it!

The reader is of legal age (I will never write for underage readers, only 18 and up).

Minors must not interact (MDNI).

If you want to make any requests, feel free to do so!

English is not my native language so I ask you to have a little tolerance :)

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"Come here," he murmurs, It's not a demand - it's an invitation, a request. You go willingly, closing the small distance between you. He steps closer, guiding you backward until the back of your legs bump against the edge of the couch.

His hands slide up your arms to your shoulders, then down to your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he says, his voice rough. His thumbs trace circles over your lower back as he searches your face.

You can feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the solid strength of him. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as you meet his gaze. "I think I do," you murmur. "Because I've wanted it too."

His breath catches, and for a moment, he just looks at you - really looks at you - like he's memorizing this moment, this confession. Then his hands frame your face, tilting your head up as he kisses you.

His mouth moves against yours with practiced ease, his tongue sliding against yours in warm, teasing strokes. One hand slides from your face to your hair, tangling gently in the strands as he deepens the kiss.

His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel every line of his body, the hard planes of his chest pressing against yours, the solid muscle of his thighs against yours.

When he finally breaks the kiss, it's only to trail his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His teeth graze lightly over the sensitive skin where your pulse flutters beneath the surface.

You gasp, your fingers tightening in his shirt as he nips gently at the base of your neck. He hums against your skin, pleased with your reaction. "You taste so good," he murmurs, his lips moving against your skin as he speaks.

His hands slide down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly as he puts you on the couch. He follows, spreading your thighs as he settles between them. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing lightly against your stomach as he waits for permission.

You arch into the touch, silently encouraging him. He tugs your shirt over your head, his gaze darkening as he takes you in. His hands follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before cupping them through the thin fabric of your bra.

"I want to see you," he murmurs, looking up at you through his lashes. His fingers find the clasp of your bra with practiced ease, undoing it in a single movement. He pulls the straps down your arms slowly, revealing you inch by inch.

When the fabric falls away, his breath catches, his hands hovering just above your skin for a moment before covering you. His thumbs brush over your nipples, circling them gently until they pebble under his touch.

"Beautiful," he breathes. He dips his head, taking one peaked nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the sensitive bud before drawing it deeper into his mouth, sucking gently.

You arch into his mouth, a soft moan escaping as he lavishes attention on your breast. His hand moves to your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers while his mouth works on the first.

The dual stimulation sends sharp pleasure straight to your core, making you squirm against him. He notices, pulling back just enough to smirk at you before switching to the other breast.

His tongue circles your nipple before he nips lightly at the bud, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders as the sensation jolts through you. "That's it," he murmurs against your skin, feeling your reaction.

His hand slides down your stomach, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist before dipping lower, they hook into the waistband of your pants, tugging you closer.

His other hand remains on your breast, kneading gently as he watches your face. "Tell me what you want," he says, the words rough with want. You swallow hard, heat flooding your face even as you push your hips toward his hand. "You," you breathe. "I want you."

His gaze darkens at your words, his fingers tightening momentarily on your breast before sliding down to the button of your pants, he undoes it with swift precision.

The cool air hits your exposed skin as he tugs your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. He makes a low sound in his throat - something between a growl and a groan - as he sees you bare before him.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing them apart gently but firmly. "Look at you," he murmurs. His thumbs trace slow circles on the insides of your thighs, moving closer and closer to where you ache for his touch. "So pretty like this."

Your breath comes faster now, your chest rising and falling rapidly as his thumb finally brush over your slick folds. A shudder runs through you at the contact, your hips twitching instinctively toward his hands.

He watches your reaction with hungry intensity, his fingers spreading you open as he studies your glistening wetness. Without breaking eye contact, he leans in and drags his tongue through your folds in one slow, deliberate stroke.

A choked moan tears from your throat at the sudden, overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck," you gasp, your fingers flying to his hair as he does it again, this time circling your clit with his tongue before sucking it gently into his mouth.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he feasts on you, alternating between firm pressure and teasing flicks of his tongue. He adds a finger inside you, curling it just right as he continues working your clit with his mouth.

You arch your back off the couch, your thighs quivering around his head. His free hand moves to your stomach, pressing you back down as he redoubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his finger pushing deeper.

"Oh god," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please-" He knows exactly what you need without you finishing the sentence. His tongue flicks faster over your clit while his finger crooks against that perfect spot inside you.

Pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly before snapping. You come with a cry, your body tensing as ecstasy crashes through you in waves. He doesn't let up, continuing to stroke you through your orgasm with his tongue and finger until the sensations become almost too much.

Only then does he ease off, dragging his tongue through your folds one last time before pulling back to watch you. You're panting, your skin flushed, your body thrumming with aftershocks. He kisses the inside of your thigh before straightening, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his finger clean with a satisfied hum.

His gaze darkens as he watches your reaction to his show. "You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours with possessive hunger.

One hand cradles your jaw while the other grips your hip, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard length of him through his pants, pressing insistently against your thigh. "I want to be inside you," he growls against your lips.

His hands move to the waistband of his pants, undoing them with swift precision before pushing them down just enough to free his cock. It springs free, thick and already fully hard.

He wraps his hand around himself, giving a few slow strokes as he watches you watch him. The head is glistening with precum. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry as you take in the size of him.

It's been a while since you've been with anyone, and he's... substantial. He notices your reaction and slows his strokes, thumb brushing over the tip to smear the precum. "I'll go slow," he promises, voice rough with need.

His free hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "I'll make sure you're ready." You nod, words failing you as he guides himself to your entrance, the broad head nudging against your still-sensitive folds.

He presses inside just an inch, then pauses, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. You breathe out steadily, adjusting to the stretch as he gives you time to accommodate him.

His thumb continues its gentle motions across your cheekbone, his other hand still resting lightly on your hip. "You okay?" he asks, voice rough but careful. "Yes," you whisper. "Please, more."

He exhales sharply at your words, his grip tightening slightly on your hip as he pushes in another inch. A low groan rumbles in his chest. "Fuck, you're tight." You gasp as he fills you, the stretch bordering on the edge of pain but never quite crossing it.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he pauses again, buried halfway inside you. His breathing is ragged, his entire body tense with restraint. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he fights for control.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, hot and thick. "Look at me," he murmurs. When your eyes meet his, he gives you another slow inch, stretching you wider. A shudder runs through him as your walls flutter around him. "God, you feel good."

You arch your back, urging him deeper. His eyes darken with approval as he complies, sinking the rest of the way in with one steady push. The stretch is intense but exhilarating, your body clenching around him instinctively. "Oh fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours.

"Just - give me a second," he grits out, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You can feel him shaking with the effort of holding still, his cock twitching inside you as your body adjusts around him.

After a moment, he lifts his head, his gaze blazing with need. "You feel incredible," he breathes. His thumb strokes over your cheekbone again, almost tenderly, before sliding down to trace your lower lip. "Kiss me."

You do, parting your mouth as his tongue slides against yours. The kiss is deep and messy, his hips shifting minutely inside you as his tongue mirrors what his cock wants to do.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard. His hands slide under your ass, lifting you slightly as he begins to move. The initial thrust is slow, deliberate, giving you every inch of him as he pulls back just as slowly.

A shudder wracks his body as he bottoms out again, his forehead pressing against yours again. "That's it," he murmurs, more to himself than you. "Just like that." His thrusts pick up speed, not rough but insistent, each one driving you deeper into the cushions.

His hands grip your ass, tilting your hips to change the angle, and you gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Oh god," you moan, your nails raking down his back. He groans at the sting, his hips snapping forward with more force.

"Right there," you gasp, your body tensing as pleasure builds again. "I know," he growls, his breath hot against your neck as he nips at the sensitive skin there. His movements become more erratic, his cock dragging over that sweet spot inside you with every thrust.

One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he drives into you. The dual stimulation has your back arching off the couch, your thighs quivering around his hips.

"Fuck - fuck I'm gonna come," you gasp, your fingers twisting in the fabric of the couch cushions as your body coils tight. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, just drives into you harder, his hips snapping against yours as he chases his own release.

The pressure inside you explodes outward, your orgasm crashing through you in intense waves. Your walls clamp down around him, milking his cock as you cry out, your body convulsing beneath him.

He groans your name, his thrusts becoming erratic as your climax pulls him toward his own. "Fuck, I'm coming," he grits out, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

A strangled moan tears from his throat as he spills, his cock pulsing deep within you as he rides out his orgasm. His body tenses above you, muscles taut with release, his grip on your hips almost painful.

He stays like that for a moment, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against your collarbone as he comes down from the high. Slowly, he pulls back to look at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction and something warmer.

He leans down to kiss you, the touch gentle despite the roughness of his breathing. When he finally lifts his head, he studies your face with an expression that's both hungry and tender.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheek before brushing a damp strand of hair away from your forehead. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice still rough from exertion. His hips give a small, involuntary thrust, and you both groan at the sensation.

He leans down to kiss you again, slower this time, his tongue sliding against yours with lazy satisfaction. His hands move to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel his cock still twitching inside you, not fully soft yet.

When he finally pulls back, his thumbs trace over your cheekbones, his gaze searching yours. "Let me take care of you." He shifts slightly, his hands sliding down to your waist as he carefully pulls out of you.

You gasp at the sudden emptiness, your body clenching around nothing. He groans softly, watching your reaction before reaching for a nearby box of tissues to clean you both up. His touch is gentle, almost worshipful as he wipes away any remaining evidence of your lovemaking.

You tilt your head back to look at him, meeting his amused gaze. "Exceptional, you?" His smile widens, eyes bright with satisfaction. "Better than good." He shifts slightly, pulling you more securely against him as his hand strokes your arm up and down. "Better than anything I've had in a long time."

The sincerity in his words makes your stomach flutter. You've been with men who made grand declarations after sex before, but there's something different about the way he says it - like he means it, not just because he's riding the high of his orgasm.

You press a soft kiss to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, breathing in the salt and musk of his skin. He hums approvingly, his hand pausing in its strokes to squeeze your arm gently before resuming.

Outside, the city hums with distant traffic and muted conversations from the street below, but here on this couch, wrapped in each other's arms, it feels like you're the only two people in the world.

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: smut. Synopsis: through the streets of the suburbs before going to your house.)

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

From the same series:

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: he invites you out to dinner with him.)

© Xoshize 2026

𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

[xoshize]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 - 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰

"Just one step closer to the place my heart already lives."

☆ Listening to "Call out my name" by The Weeknd while writing this. ☆

Pairing: David Loki x fem reader (18+).

Warnings: smut.

Synopsis: through the streets of the suburbs before going to your house.

Author's note: well, here is part 2 of "Just one step closer"! (I'm already thinking about part 3 hihihi), thanks anon for asking for part two and most of all i'm glad you liked it, hope you like this one too!

The reader is of legal age (I will never write for underage readers, only 18 and up).

Minors must not interact (MDNI).

If you want to make any requests, feel free to do so!

English is not my native language so I ask you to have a little tolerance :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"You've been thinking about me too much," you say, repeating his earlier confession with a teasing lilt. You glance sideways at him, catching the ghost of a smile in the dim light.

He exhales a quiet laugh, almost to himself "Yeah, I have." His thumb traces a slow circle against your palm as he speaks. "I don't usually do that," he adds, his tone carefully neutral. "Thinking about people."

"But here we are." You stop walking, turning to face him fully now. The narrow street feels suddenly intimate, the sounds of the city muffled to a distant hum. He stops too, his hand still clasped around yours.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Here we are." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch light, almost tentative. The streetlamp above casts half his face in shadow, but his eyes are clear in the golden glow.

They search yours for a moment before dropping to your mouth. His fingers tighten slightly against your neck as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours in the narrow space between the streetlights.

The kiss is slow at first - tentative, like he's testing the fit of his mouth to yours. Then he shifts, his other hand sliding around your waist to anchor you to him as the kiss deepens. His mouth is warm and firm, and there's something hungry in the way he moves against you, like he's been waiting for this all night.

You taste coffee and something darker, something uniquely him as his tongue meets yours. His grip tightens at your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your back as he pulls you flush against him.

His body is solid against yours, the heat of him seeping through your clothes as you stand in the dim glow of the streetlamp. His grip is possessive now, one hand firm at your waist while the other cradles the back of your neck, angling your head just so.

The kiss is no longer tentative - it's demanding, his mouth moving against yours with quiet desperation. You can feel the rapid beat of his pulse where his fingers press against your skin.

When he finally breaks away, his breathing is uneven, his eyes dark in the low light. "I should have done this sooner," he murmurs, the words rough. His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, his gaze dropping to your lips again.

You catch your breath, your lips still tingling from his mouth. The street feels impossibly quiet around you, the distant hum of traffic reduced to white noise beneath the pounding of your heart.

His thumb traces the swell of your lower lip, his gaze following the movement. "You're thinking too much again," you murmur, speaking softly. You lean in and brush your mouth against his chin, feeling the faint stubble there.

He lets out a soft sound - not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh - as his hands slide down to your hips. "Old habits," he admits, his words rough. His grip tightens almost imperceptibly as he pulls you closer. "But you're right."

"My place is over the corner..." you say, and he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hands still firm at your waist. There's a question in his gaze - checking, waiting for confirmation. You nod once, deliberately, and his grip tightens for a heartbeat before he releases you.

"Lead the way," he says, voice rough with want. His thumb brushes your hip as he steps back to give you space. The streetlight above throws half his face in shadow, highlighting the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the way his mouth is still slightly parted from your last kiss.

You turn, walking down the quieter street with quick steps, your skin still thrumming from his touch. The night air cools your lips where his mouth was moments before.

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: heavy smut. Synopsis: a very romantic night with him.)

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

From the same series:

⤷ 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: he invites you out to dinner with him.)

© Xoshize 2026

𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

[charliehoennam]

beyond the badge pt. 1

a/n: request made by @harmonity-vibes. had been thinking about this specific plot for a long time and this lovely angel gave me the inspiration i needed. this will divided into three parts because it's simply too big lmao that's what she said. s/o to @strangergraphics-archive for the cute divider <3

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fianceé is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, abuse of power and blood.

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

two | three | four | five

What was once a home filled with love, laughter and passionate moans is now hollow and empty.

The haunting silence of the house only fuels his self-hatred. He can’t stop blaming himself because he knows, deep inside, that he could’ve avoided all this mess if he had only listened to you.

When a dead body showed up in the river by the old mill, David was quickly assigned the case. It might have taken him a couple of months, but he successfully found the man responsible for a such a horrendous crime.

The man was Frankie Donovan, a bus driver and self-made drug dealer. You would’ve never guessed by simply looking at the man, due to his scruffy appearance and uneducated demeanor, but he had successfully made around 500 thousand dollars from producing and selling meth.

It might not have been much to some people, but to a man who grew on the country skirts of Conyers, bouncing around from trailer park to trailer park and addict parents, that money was more precious to him than his own life.

No one would’ve believed that Donovan was capable of making so much money. Most people underestimated him either because of his job, his poor background or, what appeared to seem like, his friendly nature. He might have fooled many, but not David.

In the empty house that belongs to both of you, David stands in front of the foggy bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped his hip.

He stares at his stoic reflection and takes in the physical effects your absence has had on him. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Hollowed cheeks from the loss of appetite. The prickly 5 o’clock shadow growing out that he refuses to waste time shaving.

The lingering heat from his hot shower constricts the air around him. He leans down to splash some cold water on his face, hoping that it will provide just a little bit of relief. Although the water soothes him on the surface, it fails to subdue him within.

He runs a trembling hand over his face to try and keep his composure, but he’s losing it. His breath shortens as the room spins around him. What feels like rocks settle in his throat. His chest tightens with rage until he finally explodes and punches the mirror before him repeatedly.

“It’s your fucking fault!” he repeatedly shouts at himself.

Dangerous shards shatter into the sink and onto the counter. David doesn’t feel it just yet, but blood drips from his knuckles over the shards. He takes a look at his hand. His fit of fury let out a bit of the steam that he had pent up inside him, but it’s not enough to make him better.

Nothing will make him feel better until you’re home, safe and sound. He promised he would always keep you safe and he feels like he failed you. There's nothing that can silence that thought in his mind.

Once he’s poorly rinsed and wrapped his knuckles with gauze to stop the bleeding, he drags himself into the bedroom that lingers with the scent of you and haphazardly chooses a few items of clothing. He doesn’t bother with the usual button-up shirt. A simple black thermal, a pair of pants and usual boxers. He tries to get dressed as fast as he can.

David hates being in the house for too long, but he tries to avoid the bedroom as much as he can. Not only does everything there remind him of you, but it’s all still the same as you left it before you went to work that day and he wants to keep it that way.

The uncertainty of the future fucking terrifies him. He doesn’t know if you’re alive, he doesn’t know if you’re hurt. His colleagues are doing their best to find you, but the fear he secretly has of you not coming home is ever present. So, he keeps the bedroom the way you left it to create a false sensation that you’re somehow still there almost like a ghost.  Like you're still coming home, even though he's not sure you will.

It’s been almost two days since you’ve been missing. The captain made it very clear to David that he could not, under any circumstances, take the case due to his close relationship to the victim. Being off your case drives him insane, but it’s not enough to make him stop looking for you.

He might not be able to professionally investigate, but it doesn't stop him from questioning the local thugs in the neighborhood about the recent kidnapping. After coming to a dead-end last night, he spent the rest of the night driving aimlessly, hoping he might find you somewhere.

He came home for a quick shower before resuming his illegal search for you. He’s tired beyond belief, but his mind can’t concentrate on anything else besides his missing fianceé.

Sat on the edge of the bed you used to share, he looks over at the engagement ring still sealed in a plastic baggie on your nightstand and reaches over to hold it in his hands. Letting his head hang low, he lifts his bloodied hand and holds his forehead in it. His head pounds as memories flood his thoughts.

When a call about an abduction came in from a co-worker of yours, David could feel his heart sink down to his stomach. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the thought that you could’ve been the one kidnapped scared him to death.

He is in another town, a more populated, small and neighboring town who’s courthouse Conyers was appointed to. David hadn’t been aware of the newly opened case until he made it back to his car and saw 3 missed calls from his captain.

When he arrives at your workplace’s parking lot, he climbs out of his car so quickly that he doesn’t even remember to close the door to take the keys out of the ignition. It all feels like a dream, like nothing is real, everything around his is far from touch and he’s floating through the air

“Tell me it’s not her,” he begs already fearing the worst as he marches towards the blockade of police officers preserving the scene.

“Loki, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here right now. I can’t let you through.”

O’Malley has to hold him up as David’s knees give in and sits him on the curb. Kneeling in front of him, he instructs David to breathe as the air thickens in his throat.

“I-I gotta find her, captain. I gotta-“

“What you gotta do is let us do our job, Loki. You can’t work on this case and you know why. Tell me what you know.”

The truth, at the time where he can barely remember his own name, is that he doesn’t know who could have taken you. He’d put away so many bad guys already and, just like the Keller-Birch case, kidnapping were becoming more and more often in the small town of Conyers.

David is in no condition to answer most of the questions that his boss needed to ask. At least, not right there.

“David, let’s go back to the station. We can talk better there.”

“No. I’m not fucking leave. I need to be here. I need to find her!” he insists, wide eyes locked on the scene as the forensic investigators search the area.

His watchful eye notices one of the investigators lift something up from the ground after taking pictures of the object. As the woman places the small item into a plastic bad to preserve for DNA or prints, he quickly stands on his feet. Despite the dizziness that strikes him suddenly, he pushes his way through the uniformed cops, but there are too many of them to hold him back from the scene.

“Get the fuck of- Let me go! That’s her ring! That’s my fianceé’s fucking ring!” he shouts at the investigator while being restrained.

She looks at O’Malley who nods and allows her to show David the evidence. Walking towards David, he finally calms down enough and complies in order to make sure it is yours. And, just as he fears, it is indeed yours.

His hands tremble as he looks at the plastic evidence baggie containing your engagement ring. He closes his eyes as dread floods his chest.

The ring is technically evidence and is actually supposed with the forensics team to process, but David stole it from the scene to bring it home with him.

Tears drip against the plastic. He just wants you to come home.

The buzzing cellphone he'd left on your nightstand snaps him back to the present. Quickly wiping his tired blue eyes, he looks over at the phone placed beside his gun and badge. The thought of taking his weapon to his head to end the agonizing pain and guilty flashes in his mind.

Before he finds the courage to reach for the firearm, his gaze drifts and lands on a book you had been reading when you were home and he recalls one specific conversation you had had one night.

“You got a strange call today on the landline.”

You’re sat on the bed with your back against the headboard and a book in hand.

“Yeah? What’d they say?” he asks lying tiredly on the bed beside you.

Lifting your arm to make way for him, he nestles himself into your side with his strong arms locked around your hips while his face nuzzles into your waist with closed tired eyes.

“I dunno. I mean, I do, but it was just strange,” you lower your book, combing the fingers of your free hand into his luscious brown hair. “The guy just said told you to call him back or you’d regret it.”

“Probably just a prank call, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.”

“But they asked for you. They said your full name and they know you’re a detective. Isn’t that a bit too personal?”

“I’m a cop, babe. That information is public. Anyone can find that out if you know where to look.”

You nod and stay silent as you try to continue reading, but it’s unsettling.

“I’m just saying,” you start as David groans tiredly. “Why would someone call and threaten you? Not to mention you just recently closed the Donovan case.”

Rolling over onto his back, he looks up at you from his side of the bed.

“Babe, Donovan is a small-town meth head. He doesn’t have the balls to come after a cop.”

“It’s just a strong coincidence, David.”

A lightbulb goes in his mind. Finally, a lead he could work on. How the hell didn’t he think about this before?

He shoots up onto his feet to get dressed and, just after he slides his boxer briefs on, his phone buzzes again with another incoming text.

Due to his close relationship with you, O’Malley didn’t allow him to take the lead on the case. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but he knows the close relationship could impair David’s judgment. David’s already known for his temper and the last thing he needs is him risking the case because he didn’t follow procedure.

Instead, Chemelinski’s been assigned as the lead detective on the case. And, influenced by their close friendship, he’s ignored the direct and important order O’Malley had given him of keeping any new information from David.

The way he sees it, David’s a smart detective. If it hadn’t been for the close relationship, the case would’ve been his because he’s the only one that has solved and closed difficult disappearance cases like this.

“Evidence found at Penn Aire Motel, 46th and western. No vics”

“Didn’t hear this from me”

He wastes no time replying to his co-worker’s texts. His heart pounds with hope and adrenaline as his mind races with a thousand thoughts, wondering what kind of evidence they found. Even without a body or blood, assumptions can still be made based on the scene which is why he needs to be there.

Speeding in his car, his stomach churns contemplating what he might find once he’s there. He knows the procedure in case of dead victims. If you were dead, he would’ve already heard about it, so he’s hopeful it’s not the case.

As his car pulls up, O’Malley sighs already feeling the heavy headache setting in of having to deal with a distraught David.

“Who the hell told him?”

Chemelinski shrugs avoiding his accusing eyes, but mutters it wasn’t him as David quickly marches over to the captain, ducking under the yellow ‘do not cross’ tape with curious eyes scanning the scene to understand what’s going on.

“Loki, I told you-“

“I know, I’m off it. I know, I just wanna know what you found.”

David keeps a strong facade with hands up in surrender as O’Malley approaches him.

“You know I can’t share that information with you. You’re involved with the victim and it ca-“

“Yeah, I fucking know it can cloud my judgement! I know!” he shouts back.

O’Malley watches him take a deep breath to compose himself. He understands how stressful this is, especially for a detective.

“Captain, I-I’m losing my fucking mind. Please, j-just tell me something. I-I need something.”

He can’t ignore David’s pleading blue eyes or the crack in his voice. David’s a strong man who’s endured some of the most awful things life could throw at anyone. It takes a lot to scare him to this point.

He informs David that they’d tracked down the car from the location of your kidnapping. After identifying the vehicle with the help of local security surveillance footage, a dispatcher had ID’d it after receiving a call about an abandoned car in a rundown motel parking lot, just off the freeway.

No one saw you at the motel; the clerk working the desk that night said a man checked in alone, but a maid who had been getting off her shift mentioned she saw the man – who was staying in the room in question – putting something in the trunk of a different car before driving away in it alone.

The forensic investigation is still processing the scene, but the unit was able to find a small earring in the truck of the car, which was now in a small plastic bag labeled evidence in O’Malley’s hands.

O’Malley would’ve asked him if the earring was familiar, but the way David froze and stared down at the small accessory with swelling tears in his eyes is enough to confirm his belief.

He’d given you the beautiful jewel on your first anniversary. He remembers how happy you got when you opened the gift and saw the sparking, delicate pair in the small velvet box. His heart broke a little when you mentioned no one had ever given you jewelry before. You loved them so much that you wore them proudly every day to work.

He never thought he’d be the one having to identify a personal item of a victim.

“Y-yeah,” he sniffles blinking away his tears. “That’s hers.”

“We’re gonna find her, Loki. Loki!”

David can’t stand it anymore. The ring found at the site of the kidnapping and the newly discovered earring leads him to believe they weren’t left there on accident. He knows these are items you treasure more than anything and you would never take them off unless you were at home to avoid the risk of losing your precious accessories due to their sentimental value.

They’re breadcrumbs. They’re clues you’re leaving behind, calling out for him to save you. He needs to take matters into his hands.

[charliehoennam]

to the moon.

a/n: thanks to @ilovedavidloki for encouraging this with your support and your amazing work. hope u enjoy it!

pairing: david loki x f!mommy!reader

summary: david missed out on his first father's day and tries to make up for it when he comes home.

warnings: none really, just fluff with a baby and david gets in his fatherhood feels

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

He's made this drive home countless times ever since he had gotten married to you a few years back. 

He knows the route like the back of his hand by now, but specifically today, it feels longer than usual. It might also be because he's been counting down the minutes to finally clock out.

It's after 10 p.m as he prays to get home soon enough to catch you awake still, so he presses his foot against the accelerator just a little more to speed things up. 

Most of the town is tucked away in their homes for the night; the roads are fairly empty at this time despite the hot summer night. 

Usually, he doesn't mind you not waiting up for him. Especially now that you have your 8 month old son Milo to take care for. 

Being new to parenthood is exhausting. Combined with the job, David usually feels more drained than ever.

Tonight is a different story though. He's so anxious to get home, gripping the steering wheel with eyes wide as he whispers for the car in front of him to hurry up. 

Within a few minutes, he finally reaches the familiar road and pulls into the driveway. 

He quickly grabs his travel mug and climbs out of the government issued car, setting the alarm on as he takes long strides toward the porch. 

Holding the mug between his ribs and his arm, he tugs at the silk tie around his neck and pulls it loose.

He wasn't the biggest fan of them until you got him a 3 tie set for the first birthday he celebrated with you. 

David didn't have the heart to tell you that he didn't wear them, although you had figured it out when you caught him struggling to tie it.

You remembered what he told you about being an orphan and assumed that he didnt have anyone to teach him. Until that moment.

Once you taught him how to tie it, he started wearing them more often; every knot tied with a smile at the thought of you.

Letting it hang loosely around his neck, he steps inside and locks the door behind him. 

The TV is off.  The lights - except for the one over the stairs - are out. The house is deadly quiet except for the faint hum of the AC.

His eyes scan over the playpen in the corner of the living room, laden with Milo's favorite toys. 

He smiles at the thought of Milo swinging them around, giggling deliciously at the top of his lungs. 

Taking the new travel mug you had gifted him with at breakfast to the kitchen sink, warmth blooms in his heart as he rinses the old coffee out careful to not scratch the Best Detective Daddy in the World adhesive with the sponge. He wants it to stay on there forever. 

He hates that he couldn't spend his very first father's day with his family, so he decides to head upstairs and peaks into Milo's nursery room. 

Milo is half asleep in his crib, wrestling against his own exhaustion etched into his eyes. With a pout, he threatens to cry. 

Judging by the baby monitor placed near the crib, David figures you must have gone to sleep already.

"Hey, buddy. It's alright. Daddy's got ya" David whispers scooping his son up into his arms. 

"Yeah, it's alright. Daddy's home now. Thanks for waiting up though" he smiles down at Milo. 

"I appreciate the effort, but you're tired, little man. I am too, but if it's alright with you, 'kinda wanna just hang out with you." 

The voice on the monitor slowly pulls you away from the dreamless slumber. You frown and listen to the voice, but once you recognize it belongs to David, you smile and close your eyes again listening to his little interaction like it's a lullaby. 

"Sorry I didn't get stay home today. I tried to, but... Well, I guess you're a little young to hear that stuff. It doesn't really matter anyway. I'm just glad to be home with my boy." 

You hug your pillow and open your eyes to listen in further while David cradles his son in his arms. 

"Y'know, I didn't get to have this when I was your age. My old man, he decided being a father wasn't for him. I kinda hated him for that...until you came along."

Your brows narrow at his confession as you stare at the wall.

"I was scared shitless when we found out about you. Thought I wouldn't be a good dad, that I'd fail like he did. I never understood why he bailed, but I do now."

Milo's eyes grow heavier and heavier as he stares up at his father, letting his words lull him slowly back to sleep.

"I guess I kinda forgave him for it the day you were born. It's funny," he pauses to chuckle to himself. "How can someone so small teach so much? Maybe it's not for everyone. I still get scared sometimes, to be honest." 

Tears prick at your eyes as you sit up, reaching for the monitor to hold it closer. 

"Thank you for that, buddy. Thank you for making me a better man. For teaching me to forgive him."

David lets Milo's tiny hand wrap around his fingertip as the baby finally gives in and surrenders himself to sleep.

"I know I work a lot. I hope you'll understand I just want to make this world safer for you and your mom. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you guys." 

You sniffle as you quickly wipe the escaping tears from your cheeks.

"But I do promise you this. I'm gonna be everything my pops wasn't. Teach you to ride a bike. How to kick ass in hockey. How to tie a tie. Your mom taught me that last one. It was kinda embarrassing, but don't tell her that."

You chuckle shaking your head as you stare at the monitor. 

"I'm gonna be the best dad in the world for you." 

His last promise is whispered as he palms the black hair on the top of his son's head. 

"Just be a little patient with me. You got a good ma, but she had role models to learn with. I didn't, you know? Doesn't mean I won't get there though." 

Sealing his promise with a kiss on the forehead, he carefully sets Milo back into the crib with the slowest and most gentle ease to avoid waking him up. 

"G'night, champ. I love you to the moon and back." 

As David walks to the hallway, he pulls the door behind him and leaves it half way open. 

You hear his footsteps coming to the bedroom. You quickly wipe your eyes to hide the evidence of your tears, but it's no use.

"Sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no. You didn't. I just..." 

Watching your head lower at the monitor in your hands, he nods. 

"You heard all that, huh?" He smirks with blushing cheeks as he removes the badge and gun from his belt to set them in the drawer of the night table next to his side of the bed.

"Oh, uh no. Just uh..  something about hockey?" You smile at him, eyes still wet.

"I know, I know. You don't want him playing hockey, but I'm telling you. It's inevitable when the lake freezes over, babe."

"It's violent" you smirk as he sits on the edge of the bed to untie his boots and sets them aside. 

"We'll let him decide then. It's only fair, right?" 

"Not if his decision is biased and heavily influenced by his father." 

You scoot closer to him and wrap an arm around his waist. With your palm rubbing at his chest, you kiss his broad back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Happy first father's day, babe."

He smiles and turns to kiss you properly. 

"Let's make another one" he whispers with a smirk, lips only a few centimeters apart as his nose nudges your cheek, hand squeezing your thigh. 

"Another what?" You chuckle smiling widely as your fingers thread into his gelled hair.

"Another kid. Doesn't have to be now. Doesn't mean we can't start trying though." 

"Oh, you're so slick, Detective" you chuckle caving in to his touch. "You really wanna have another one already?"

"I do, yeah" his body turns to you as his knee slides onto the bed, holding your hands in his. "I never thought I would actually say this, but being a father is one of the greatest things that's ever happened. I know I didn't think it would be, but I'd really like to have another one."

You nod and let his words sink in, gnawing at your cheek. Milo has really changed David.

When you told him you were pregnant, he had a panic attack strong enough to make him throw up. Witnessing the grizzliest crime scenes made David's stomach one of the strongest, but throw a baby in the mix and that changes rather quickly.

"Before I met you, it had been just me, sweetheart."

"What about Peter and Frankie and Paulie? I thought they were your family?"

"They are, yeah" he nods lowering his eyes to your hands in his as flashbacks from his time in the boys' home flutter through his mind.

Peter, Frankie and Paulie grew up with David in the boys' home. Although he still has every close ties to them, there's a longing in his heart that they couldn't ever really quite fill.

"When I was a kid, I saw the other kids with families and homes and siblings. The guys became my brothers, sure, but it wasn't the same. I want Milo to have a little brother or sister to love and cherish just as much as I love and cherish him, y'know?

You nod and your lips curl into a genuine smile. Time will never allow you to understand what David's gone through as an orphan, but it has certainly left marks on him that have been healing since you were both blessed with your son.

It warms your heart to know that David has embraced fatherhood to the point he wants to have another child. But part of you does wonder if it's not just a temporary band-aid on a wound that needs stitches, one much deeper than a simple surface scratch.

However, David's always been the most cautious with his words. He's had much practice with it on the job, always careful to make only promises he can keep.

If he's saying he's ready for another child, it's because it's been on his mind for a long time and he's thought it through very meticulously. He wouldn't take the risk of having a child just for the hell of it.

Children hold a sacred place in his heart. Having not had a family, he would never bring a child into the world to simply abandon and shun them into loneliness.

"Alright" you smirk at him. "Think we might have a girl this time?"

"Honestly? I really don't care what we have. I just wanna love the hell out of them."