#loid headcanons

“oh, i’m sorry sir, do you know what you’d like—”

“actually we’re here together,” loid gestures between you and him, “the two of us.” there’s a little extra emphasis on the last part, and there’s a little twinkle in anya’s eyes that makes him wonder if she can see right through him (though he always finds himself wondering that.)

he hates to admit there’s a slight satisfaction at the way the man’s shoulders tense and his jaw tightens, and out of a purely bold and in-the-moment decision, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your figure flush against his side.

“well, thank you for the free cake. my daughter loves sweets,” he smiles tightly, “have a good day now.”

and before you can even get a word out, you’re pulled out of the bakery with a tug to your wrist, and a very quiet and very tense loid for the rest of the trip home.

——————————————————————————————

“loid, you’ve been a bit—oh,” you’re cut off by your back hitting the mattress, loid hovering over your with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

“you’re pretty,” he says simply, and you almost think he’s staring into your soul waiting for your response.

“oh, th-thank you,” you squeak, unsure of what else to say. you hope he doesn’t hover any closer, otherwise he might just hear the faint thumping of your heartbeat as it increases in rate.

“i think you’re quite lovely,” he adds, just for safe measure, “really, i do.” and then you register the small hint of desperation in his voice, almost like he’s begging you to understand what he’s trying to say, and you think back to the way he practically shoved you out of the bakery—and suddenly it makes sense. your hand cups his cheek, eyes softening in that precious little way that makes his cheeks dust over with a rosy hue.

“thank you, loid,” you hum, tracing over his cheekbone with your thumb.

you stare at each other for a moment—and then you will yourself to fight your nerves and lean in to close the gap, your lips planting themselves onto his.

it’s instantaneous, his response, the way he grunts against your lips, leaning in and pressing his own firmer against yours, hands gripping your waist tightly as his tongue explores your mouth. you gasp against his lips, and he feels an ache build between his legs, cock twitching as a tent forms in his pants.

“nobody should ever call you a pretty lady but me,” he growls against the shell of your ear, hand traveling to pull your pants and your underwear down until they pool at your ankles. you gasp as his digits just barely slide up and down against your folds, and he smirks at the way you’re already wet. “nobody gets to see all the pretty parts of you, do they?”

you whimper as he sinks his fingers past your folds, curling them to hit your sweet spot just right—and almost instantly, your lips part as a pretty little whine rips from your throat.

“do they?” he growls, stilling his fingers as he stares at you with a raised brow, waiting for your answer. shaking your head vigorously, you stare up at him with those same doe eyes—except they’re for him now, and he feels a wave of satisfaction hit him.

“n-no, only you,” you whine, “only you, loid.” rolling your hips, you try desperately to chase the friction from earlier. he chuckles lowly, and he’s almost surprised with himself as he plants a sweet, gentle little kiss to your forehead.

“that’s right,” he hums, fingers picking back up their movements, thrusting in and out of you as his palm glides over your clit. you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly as your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. “only me, isn’t that right? only ever look this adorable for me. bet that baker wishes he could see you like this,” he whispers against your ear, smiling smugly to himself as you shiver slightly, “already a mess on my fingers. how cute.”

“l-loid, please—”

“please what? want me to go faster?” you can only nod, wanton moans spilling past your lips as his fingers sink deeper into your walls, making him groan lowly at the way you squeeze around him. “no fun in that,” he chuckles, “look so perfect when i take my time with you. so perfect,” he presses one more kiss to the shell of your ear before leaving a trail of them down your neck.

“fuck—loid,” you whine, “f-feels good.”

“yeah? you look good too,” he murmurs. a small, petty (and quite frankly, still jealous) part of him almost wants to take you back to the bakery, wants to press your against the door of the bathroom and see how loud he can make you scream his name with his fingers alone, just so that baker knows who you’ve got eyes for.

but then again, he doesn’t think he wants anyone’s ears but his own the hear the sweet melody of your moans.

his fingers sink in and out of you, angling to hit the parts he’s learned in a matter of moments that make your thighs quake and your eyes roll back, and then his thumb rubs circles over your clit and you whine louder, voice cracking as you cry out his name.

“that’s it,” he encourages, “go ahead and let go, cum on my fingers, pretty girl.” the words are enough to send you over the edge, your voice lilting to a high pitched whine as you gush on his fingers, and loid feels his hardened cock strain against the material of his boxers as he feels you squeeze around his digits. he can’t help but wonder how you’d feel around him, how you’d look so much prettier when youre fucked out as you take his length instead—and suddenly, he wonders why he was ever jealous in the first place.

he doesn’t need sweet and charming words to make you fall apart, doesn’t even need to try before you’re dripping for him.

“‘m cumming—fuck, loid,” you gasp, and he presses tender kisses along your jaw, meeting your lips before he drinks in your whimpers.

“i know,” he grins against your lips, pecking them gently as you finish, panting to catch your breath, “you’ll cum again for me, right? look even prettier this time when you cum around my cock?”

and when you nod, hands desperately making their way to unbuckle his pants, he thinks maybe he has his own little charm—and he thinks he has you wrapped rather tightly around his finger.

god he makes me SO ILL. i want him SO BAD

LOID sighs as he trudges past the small stores, feeling exhausted with a sleeping Anya in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. It's been a.. very interesting first day for a mission.

Suddenly, the comforting scent of a bakery enters his nose and he melts. "I need to go home.. but a snack won't hurt, no?" He mumbles to himself, already at the front as he pushes the glass doors with his back.

"Uncle! Someones coming in!"

His head turns to what seems to be a worker approaching him, helping him with the door as he mumbles a thanks. "Would you like some help with your paperbags?" You asked him with a smile, seeing his busy hands.

As you spoke, Loid's tired and clouded mind had now felt.. clear. Your warm smile and welcoming manner was kind of what he needed at the moment and so he immediately fixes himself with a forced cough. "It's alright, thank you." He answers, thanking you quietly while placing them on a nearby table and Anya onto the seat.

You nod your head at his answer and walk back to the counter, judging by the surroundings alone Loid could tell it was one of those in and out bakeries that you get a quick snack in and leave.

The spy watched as you rushed back to the counter, is such an establishment only run by two people hence you calling for your uncle when he walked in? "What would you like, sir?"

After a few minutes of small chat, he settles on a garlic bagel to take home. You happily jot that down on a paper, "Give us a minute!" You tell him, calling for your uncle all the while rushing to the back and waving the paper in the air. "The new guy wants a bagel! Let's get this finished so we can watch the new movie later!"

Loid doesn't know why he watches you and your Uncle make something as simple as a bagel. It's not anything interesting, it won't take long and it's certainly not gonna help with his mission.. but it's your laughter that keeps him in a trance. The way you knead the dough with care, your giggles as your uncle playfully nudged you during the process and the surprise when you looked back at him all of a sudden.

You smile a little awkwardly before turning away in what seems to be fluster, the laughter of your uncle didn't make it any better.

It wasn't long till the bagel was finished while you walk back up to the counter, as bright as ever as you slide it over to him. "It's uh.. it's on the house."

"Oh, no please let me pay." He chuckles, pulling out his wallet as you profusely shook your head. "Nono. Take it." You insist further, pushing his money away.

Loid blinked a few times before smiling warmly, not even realizing it wasn't one he forged or faked it was just.. him. "Thank you."

As he grabbed the small snack; "Wait!" You suddenly make a little gasp and rush to the back before running back with some tissue in hand. "For you."

"What a kind person. Clearly cares for their customers."

Loid said his thanks, and it was getting late. He smiles at you one last time before he turns to an already awake Anya, kicking her legs under the table as he sighs. "Did I keep you waiting?" And the little girl shook her head.

You watch as he leaves, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "What a handsome man.." A dreamy sigh escapes your lips, looking down at the open pen in your hand before back at the door.

You saw yourself in the pink-haired young girl playing in front of you. Black sunglasses on, with frames too large for her face, you chuckled at the way she rolled around the cosy apartment, hiding behind Bond one moment, hiding behind Pengi the Penguin another. Her hands were raised in front of her face, mimicking a tiny hand gun. 

She was obsessed with spies. 

She wanted to become one when she grew up, “to protect world peace”.  

I guess you two weren’t that different. 

Like mother, like daughter. Although it often haunted you that you were only her second mother. Yes, you were Anya’s ‘Haha’, yes, she told you she loved you. But you still hesitated to accept your role between Anya and her ‘Chichi’, Loid. You felt as though… it wasn’t your place to intervene between the daughter-father combination, often feeling as though your use ended on the day of Eden College’s interview. 

Although you had no right to feel upset over being so… disposable. You couldn’t even perform the basic tasks of a mother and a wife sometimes. 

Cooking? Loid made dinner everyday. 

“It’s not that she doesn’t like your cooking, Y/N. She’s just a picky eater. It’s a terrible habit I failed to acknowledge when she was younger and now, I believe Anya’s just stuck with it”.

Laundry? Loid kindly asked you to stop doing the laundry for his and Anya’s clothing after you mixed up the colours and temperatures. Loid had to wear a pink shirt to work for three days. And poor Anya. She was in tears when she saw her favourite wool-knit sweater, four sizes too small, lying limply amongst the sea of baby pink.

You saw Loid’s face go blank, when you opened the machine, your eyes shut in an internal sigh as your cheeks matched the hue of his shirts. And Anya was just crying as she held onto her sweater. 

From then on, you were gently reminded that Loid had no trouble washing his clothes and Anya’s. 

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ve been doing this for a while now, it’s honestly second nature to me”, he said with a smile. 

Eventually, Anya repurposed her ruined favourite sweater for her little plushies. 

Everyone was happy, yet the colour pink and wool scribed disappointment on your features, a symbol of your failure as the Forger wife and mother. 

Cooking failed, laundry failed. You had basic mathematic skills, you could maybe tackle the taxes? But don't even start about taxes. It was the one thing he never allowed you to touch. Documents were brought in and out of his locked room, swiftly and silently. 

You never felt like the proper wife for Loid Forger. And you never felt like the proper mother for Anya Forger. 

Yet there were times like this, where you could see your reflection in Anya’s innocent game play, where you felt as though you did belong in the Forger household. 

Clad in a black pencil skirt and a white button down Anya ‘borrowed’ from Loid, you revealed your hiding spot from behind the corridor wall, exposing Anya with a loud, “you’ve been caught, Agent Anya!”

Anya turned around slowly, an unexpected smirk on her face. 

“Well well, Agent Haha might have caught anyone else off-gaard. But Haha forgets…” she snickered, pulling out two small plushies from behind her back, “Anya is Agent Anya, the best detetiv in the world!” 

To your surprise, she launched the plushies in your direction, laughing in victory. 

As one plushie hit your arm, you feigned injury, crying out as you slid down the wall. “Oh no! I’ve been struck by the greatest detective in the world! What was my boss thinking of setting me on this mission against the one and only, Agent Anya?” 

Anya laughed and smiled at your declaration of loss, gathering her fellow ‘agents’ to finish the mission. 

“Don’t wovvy Agent Haha, you did well for your forst time! You can onwy get better from now”. 

It had been nearly a year with this bundle of joy and she never failed to make you smile. 

You took Anya’s hand and saluted her. 

“I hope to learn from the best onwards. Please accept my defeat”, you bowed, your lowered eyes stuck in nostalgia. 

Anya was obsessed with spies. You were too. It was a long phase that lasted until your late teens. But one could argue that it still tumbled around your heart, catching you by surprise here and there. 

You wanted to marry a spy when you were younger. It was your only dream. 

Although you were glad that your childhood dream never became true. 

Because spies could never stay. And it was much easier to be the one who left, than to be the one who was left. That was a universal belief, it seemed. 

So you were also glad that Anya had no intentions to marry a spy either. She just wanted to become one, that’s where you two differed. 

You heard the faint jingle of keys as the rapid clock hand approached six. And there he was, your husband, walking through the door with his hands preoccupied with two big, brown paper bags. 

“Chichi!” Anya exclaimed, tearing her hand away from yours to clasp the grey fabric of her Chichi’s trousers. 

“You’re back!” 

Loid was taken aback, weight shifting off-balance. You stood up to free his hands, his eyes silently thanking you. 

He gently shut the door behind him before ruffling his daughter’s hair. 

“Of course I would come back, Anya. A person can’t just disappear out of thin air”. 

“Spies can!” Anya retaliated. 

Loid stared at her. Silent. No apparent emotion in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at Loid’s blank face. He never understood spies. Whenever Anya would bring them up, he zoned out: with a nod here and there and a simple response, he always found a way to turn the conversation elsewhere. 

It was how you felt with politics. You never quite understood it, but if someone was passionate about it, you would listen in with a few polite ‘mhms’, and an “interesting!”. But most importantly, you would do whatever you could to direct the conversation elsewhere – it was a trait you shared with your husband. Now who learned from who, that was up for debate. 

“It was in the wast episode of Bondman!” she explained, tugging him towards the living room, where she sat in front of the TV and elaborated on the newest episode. 

Listening to Anya’s adorable voice, you walked into the kitchen, placing the bags on the kitchen aisle. Your body followed the daily routine you had grown to love so much: your hands worked on autopilot, sorting the filter system, pouring the water, adding the coffee beans that were always placed on the bottom shelf of the far-right cupboard. And of course, you could never forget the packets of cocoa powder on the shelf just above, with Anya’s little mug– stained slightly on the inside but white nonetheless, with a band of yellow on the top. And of course, the mandatory bags of tiny marshmallows just beside it, because Anya always wanted a handful of marshmallows on top of her cocoa. It was your normal. A normal you grew to crave so much. 

To love so much.  

“He disappead just wike that, in thin air! Never to be found again by anyone!” 

Loid sighed. 

“If only you could focus on your studies as much as you focus on this show, Anya”. 

You giggled from the kitchen, swiftly sorting the items Loid had bought, cross checking it with the grocery list stuck on the fridge door. The coffee was nearly finished, although you hoped it would filter faster.

“I wonder what Anya will do now that Bondman is finished”, you added as you placed a pitcher of milk, a bowl of a few sugar cubes, and Anya’s mug of hot cocoa on your plain white tray. 

“Will she finally study?” you asked, walking over with your simple white tray, as you did everyday. 

Anya’s eyes widened as she grabbed the tiny mug with her tiny hands, the stars in her eyes still shining as the tiny marshmallows reflected in them. Just like always. 

Loid reached for his mug, a simple white cup with a black band around the top. He reached for the pitcher, the tension in his shoulder dissipating as his wife sat next to him, with her own simple white cup with a coloured band around the top. 

He poured the right amount of milk in your cup and dropped an extra sugar cube in yours, passing a tiny tea spoon to stir. 

This was your normal. But perhaps, it was also his. 

Perhaps, your body also inched closer to his, and perhaps, his hand lingered for a second longer when he passed your coffee. 

“Chichi and Haha are flirting”. 

“No we are not!” you both defended, although her observation was far too frequent to deny internally.

Loid took another sip of his coffee, losing himself in the comfort of the sofa cushions. 

“Your Haha asked you a question, Anya”. 

Anya pouted at her Chichi, unhappy that he redirected the conversation again. 

This was the Forger’s normal. 

So in a year or two, when Anya began to willingly study without Loid’s constant presence, it seemed… different. 

But one could suppose that ‘different’ wasn’t always terrible. 

It was different to hear the deafening silence coat the walls of the Forgers. It was different to see Bond without your pink-haired daughter chasing him around with her ‘spy-gear’ and ‘Silencer gun’. Instead, you saw Bond in front of your daughter’s locked door, where she was silently studying, or silently napping. 

Sometimes she would silently cry, her suppressed sniffles and weeps echoing through the hollow of your mind. 

Your ear would be pressed against her wooden door, with Bond’s empty eyes watching, attempting to decipher her whispers:

“Chichi won’t … if Anya isn’t an Imperial …”. 

“Anya will never … Chichi again if Anya doesn’t …”. 

“Anya can’t … Haha’s coco if Anya doesn’t study”. 

You would look back to Bond, his eyes reflecting the Forger household. It was rumoured that animals knew more than humans sometimes. And how you wished you could know what Bond knew. 

And when the evening shrouded its last ray of light into your shared apartment, the clock ticking to eight, Loid and you still sat together. Although it was different because it only lasted a minute. Because Loid would politely thank you for his coffee and walk away into his room, the milk pitcher left untouched. 

But it became painful when it became normal for your evening snacks to be placed back inside the plastic containers, and stowed away on the top shelf of the far-right cupboard. And every time you opened that cupboard, on the far-right, your chest constricted as three packets of untouched marshmallows stared back at you, lying against the bored packet of cocoa powder. And up in front, you could see that hollow white teacup, collecting dust as the yellow band on top turned sickly. 

Sometimes, you would turn the television on, as you battled the hunger in your heart. Two years ago, you would have to flick through multiple cartoon channels to browse the adult selection. Now, the first channel was always the news, reporting on the decreasing Cold War tensions between Westalis and Ostania. 

“Peace in Unity”–  it flooded the screens and streets of your small little world. 

The message spreaded as the war contained. 

However, the message troubled you heavily. The Westalian and Ostanian governments claimed that there was peace in unity, yet your familial unity starved your peace and fed your tension. 

But the weight finally crushed your troubles when the Forger household was filled with noise once again. 

Your eight-year-old daughter finally left her room to point towards the fridge door. 

It was different, because the noise wasn't the bustling laughter of your daughter’s beautiful giggles. They were gut-wrenching wails that suffocated her throat. Eyes all red and swollen as her running nose dripped down her lips, mixing with her prickles of sorrow, which burnt against her tiny face. 

There was a note with neat cursive printing the sheet in blocks. 

Your dream was to marry a spy when you were younger. But as you grew up, when fiction became an unachievable utopia and horror became the justifiable present, it seemed as though your dream was already fulfilled, three years ago. But this was different. 

Because this dream made your smile too heavy to remain on your gentle face. And the blood that thumped violently behind your eyes, rose your heart just to drop it again. So as your stomach raced, with Loid’s omurice clashing with the constrictions in your abdomen, and chest, this dream was different because you didn’t seem to wake up from it.  

It was much easier to be the spy who left, than to be the wife who was left. Or so you thought, until your blurry eyes stained the last sentence, the ink blending into mush as your hands gave away and dropped the freshly written note from your grasp.

Because in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you,

Aside the roleplay fun, he's into either cuffing your hands on each side of the bed or above the bed before hitting you in the missionary position.

' Fuck !' whimpers in your ear on purpose. As a man, he just doesn't hesitate to moan.

And it sounds extra hot for some personal reason.

He has a praise kink. He just LOVES being praised by you when you're riding him. And that's why he prefers being bottom most of the time.

Hates the term 'Daddy' and 'Mommy' cause parents issue. It's either honey or baby for him.

Has a habit of spanking your ass with his lengthy and veiny hand before slipping inside. Only when the position is doggy.

Actually hates the 'doggy-position' but you cum real quick in that stance, so whenever he's in for a quickie, he'll go for the doggy style.

The speed and durality is INSANE. Lasts for 4 whole rounds.

"Beg." oh the panty vibrator- He carries the controller with him everyday and whenever he's in for some mischief, he'll cutely convince you to wear them only for you to suffer in the end.

Actually knows how to turn you on with his knee; the way he's so tall, the way he presses it in between your thighs and makes circles, the way it rubs on your heat back and forth--- lord have mercy.

No pills! He had heard that pills has a negative and dangerous side-effect on women somewhere and he doesn't want you to suffer. Although it's barely true for most females.

So he uses condom for protection and tries his best to avoid you from going in for pills.

Gentle in every sex position.

And his aftercare game is strong asf. Makes sure you're warm and cozy, all cleaned up, and if you're in pain, he'll place a hotbag on your belly before cuddling you to sleep.

ㅤ

YURI BRIAR;

ㅤ

"I wannaaaa have sexxxx!" whenever he's drunk, he's crazyyy.

And boy, the head he gives is soo---- damn pleasing to the point where he can actually make you squirt.

Cause he eats you out in a way as if your pussy is the best fucking thing he has ever had.

Has licked tequila off your chest and nipples once. NEVER again cause your nipples ended up burning so bad.

Wall sex is his thing. Can effortlessly bounce you up and down on his dick.

"Fuckin' slut, is that how you suck a dick?" he seems like a 'sweetie' outside but trust me when I say his mouth just automatically degrades you. Cops instincts kicking in.

Doesn't like being degraded by you though. He'll definitely cry.

Also has a breeding kink. Cumming inside a condom isn't enough, he NEEDS to do it inside you.

"How about we give Anya a cousin brother, or even a sister?~" but only if you're ready. Makes sure he actually doesn't impregnate you without consent just because he has a breeding kink.

Is also into risky sex.

Like sex inside his office without the door being locked. Funny how he once made you suck him dry from below his desk when he was dealing with his boss.

"Yor was soo embarrassed when told her! She was acting as if she's a virgin or smth, hahaha!" man loves to brag about his sex life to his sister.

Says he's in a 'competition'. Perhaps a way to indirectly show his jealousy regarding Loid since he's soo handsome. Yuri fears that Loid might charm you too.

"You see these marks on my back? These hickies? I please her in a way no man ever can, you hear me Loid Forger?? Only I can make her moan and squirt. You could neverrr," sometimes, he takes it a little too far but let him romanticize you in his own way.

Sucks at aftercares! Peppers your face with kisses for 7 seconds and instantly lays on your side to sleep. No cuddles, fuck him!

ㅤ

His movements became more rough for a while, as if it was a pleasurable punishment for your teasing. Soft deep grunts matched your little moans as if they were rhythm and blues, and God, how it made your walls clench so hard, he almost came.

“Fuck! Don’t do that…” he whispered, banging you harder than faster, trying to fill you to the brim with him inside, balls deep. But you could not really control your spasms at all, not when he’s doing you so well.

A warm, rough, calloused palm wrapped around your neck like a metal choker. Your eyes rolled up to meet his blue orbs, only to see how dark his face had become. With heavy breaths and aching muscles, you cannot help but to feel all hot and nostalgic at the same time— especially now that he’s fucking you like how he used to before.

“How does it feel, hm?” you teased, pulling his hips into you even more using your legs, he let out a grunt, looking at you intently with burning lust in his irises. “You like your cock buried in me?”

You heard him mutter a curse and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours while he slammed into you from behind. His left hand traveled all the way down your pussy, giving it a light slap then slipping in one of his fingers between the fold, playing with your clit.

“F-fuck… me…” you cried even more as you felt his other hand fondle your breast, giving it a tight squeeze.

His mouth met the skin of your neck, giving hot kisses while he thrusts into you, marking you all over as if you were his.

“Still a bad fucking girl,” he teases, pulling his cock out and rubbing its swollen, pink head against your opening, making you a moaning mess once again.

“Fuck you!”

A small smirk formed on his lips as he grabbed your legs and turned you over, placing your feet against his shoulders while positioning his tip against your hole once again, coating it with your wetness and carefully pushing it in.

“Still the same bad lips, I see,” he slammed, making you curse him once again, especially when his calloused palm gave your thighs a hard slap, its sounded like a thunder across the room. His dark eyes look down to you as he grabbed a handful of your hair.