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cleo-fox · 4 months

Text

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was.

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why.

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist.

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.”

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.”

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him.

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly.

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it.

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway.

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching.

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer.

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other.

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him.

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #conquer

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acepumpkinpatrick · 1 month

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"People might understand something you didn’t mean, never mind the worst of their understanding. Say what you want for you have no control over their minds." Blagha

More than 3200 km apart, siblings Mohammad and Malak are trying to sustain their family for the best of their abilities.

Mohammad Al-Najjar is a Palestinian from Deir Al-Balah. He had to leave the Strip & his family to go to Belgium merely 5 days before the war started but his family, consisting of 7 members among them his parents & siblings are still there!

Now he's trying to help his family the best he can but tumblr keeps restricting his account. This is the 3rd one he had to make!! @ilnjjar @ilnajjar @ilnjjar2

It has been 4 months and the goal is still on less than 1000€ !!! And no donations in 22 days!!

The family relayed on their supermarket (Supermarket El-Nakhil 🌴) for income but it has been destroyed due to Israel's constant bombing of civilian infrastructure.

Mohammad has already lost 4 of his friends and many other close relatives and acquaintances. Malak and her siblings are still students and they're struggling to continue their education because of the destruction of schools and low internet connection.

The funds will help the family repair/buy solar cells so they may sustain themselves, since their solar cells have been destroyed and their cost has shot through the roof!!

I know times are hard and we are struggling but please if you have any small means do not hesitate to help a family in need.

Verifications:

Al-Najjar family has been vetted to me by @ilmughrabii , who has been friends with them for 15 years. Mr. Mahmoud himself had been vetted and had reached his goal a few weeks ago thanks to all of you ♡ and now he's trying to help his dear friend and his family. I have also had a conversation with Mr. Mohammad Al-Najjar and checked his social media. Of course it would be even better if a Palestinian blog would like to double check and support them!

Sorry for the tags ♡

@el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @feluka @commissions4aid-international @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @terroristiraqis @homokommari @schoolhater @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @ot3 @toiletpotato @from-jannah @omegaversereloaded @watermotif @papasmoke @heritageposts @aristotels @sayruq @sunfortune @arguablysomaya @evilponds @flouryhedgehog @gothhabiba @ghostingarden @plomegranate @tamarrud @zionistsinfilm @kahin @sar-soor

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purplepickles · 11 months

Text

“Under The Covers”

Pairings: Central cee x black fem reader

Genre: fluff

Authors Note: it’s my first time writing on tumblr so bare with me I also haven’t haven’t written anything in like years I used to a Wattpad author in like 2017-2019😭 so imagine what I used to be writing. It’s not my best peice of work but it’s progress kinda messy icl in terms of storyline but it’s something anyways I hope everyone enjoys it 💗

You had just signed a contract with vogue for a new segment they were trying out for they’re YouTube channel called “Under the Covers”. It was in a podcast style in a bedroom setting hence the name and basically talking about the latest fashion trends tips or anything black girl related.

You were so grateful for this opportunity never in your life would you have imagine a little black girl from London was able to sign a massive deal with vogue. The topic of todays video was maintenance. How you maintain standards for yourself if that means relationship, mental or physical health. So instead of it being in their studio you wanted your video being a bit more homely so why not in your home. The producers had set everything up in your room making sure everything was ready for filming but this video was going to have a little extra twist. You were going to have your very first guest and they how they managed to maintain their life and overall humbleness with the fame he had gained over the years.

You kept your relationship on the down low on the respect of each other careers and not wanting to surround your relationship over it. You were actually calm with that but he wasn’t liking seeing people he fucked with in your dms with heart eyes.

Little did Yn know he was going to announce it in their video together.

“Okay I’m going to count down from 5 and we’ll start filming” said the producer

“Hi Vogue it’s me Yn/ln and welcome to our new segment called Under the covers where uncover beauty secrets fashion and every black girl related. But today’s video things are little different we’re in my actual bedroom and I have a special guest with us he’s one of my favourites rappers right now a current world wide sensation Central Cee”

“I didn’t know I was your favourite artist”

“Yes you did you’re also my most listened to artist on Spotify we’ve defo talked about this”

“Mhmmm”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the video

“Anyways let’s get straight into todays topic: maintenance. How to do maintain eye yourself to keep your life somewhat stable”

“I guess keeping my mum,my brothers, my fans and my girl happy innit. If they’re happy I’m happy” said central cee never straying away from eye contact from the love of his life

“And what you say is the hardest one to keep happy and why” Yn was very curious about this who knew where this could go

“My girl defo she’s says I’m annoying I think she hates me”

The way your head slowly snapped

“Did you not say at Amelia Dinner Date you like girls you hate you”

“Yh I did I turns me on but she’s just something Yk I’m just infatuated by her but maybe I’m a bit delusional when it comes to her yk idk if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Kinda new to this love thing and not messing up yk I don’t wanna get it wrong again I really like her”

That was probably the most beautiful thing he’s said in a while she didn’t know he felt like this she sometimes she can be a bit rude and her sarcasm can be taken the wrong way but she thought he knew between the lines that she didn’t hate him she lived more than anything.

“I think you should talk to her about your feeling more Yk. Don’t be shy on opening up more Yk. When you feel ready ask her what she thinks it’s possibly lacking” she smiled at him with reassurance hoping that he could through her eyes that’s it okay and she was listening

“Yh your right imma tell her right now!”

Yn chocked on her drink. He could not be serious. She should’ve known this boy was up to something

“As in right now!? I’m sure she’s busy” you said trying to get to him to change his mind

“Nah she’s not im calling her rn”

For someone who didn’t like interviews this but sure had a lot to say

Ring

Your phone was on the other side of the room Ringing none stop.

Everyone was looking at you. You knew the producers were loving this but you were not this was too much.

Ring

“Yn are you gonna pick up you phone”

you usually loved his smile but this was just devious.

“Do I have to” you were just dreading this

Everyone shouted yes. You rolled out bed and a grabbed the phone

“Hi baby”

“Hi cench, now can we get back to the video please”

“Yes Cench we can. You wanna cuddle too?”

The video was going well there was laughter within the whole room. You asked him the question that you were assigned to ask him everything was going great. You loved being under your lovers arms. Maybe letting people in wasn’t so bad.

“Thank you vogue for this absolutely-

A knock on the door you both looked at door and someone opened to little boy running in crying and jumping to Oakley’s arm. How many surprises could one video take you said to yourself in your head.

“What’s up little man” Oakley now went into full father mode his whole rapper persona was switched and all he cared about was understanding why his little boy was upset

“Had a bad dream” said the little one

“How about we say goodbye to vogue and make some hot chocolate” you said while trying to tickle him

“Right I think me and vogue has had enough surprises don’t forget to like subscribe and hit that notification and stay tuned for next weeks video about Motherhood and Careers with a icon mother and billionaire. Bye guys”

#central cee #central cee x reader #centralcee inagines #central cee x you #central cee x Yn

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pinievsev · 9 months

Note

hii can you write a seokchan (sweet home) fanfic where reader/oc is being harmed by other survivors in the stadium and seokchan happened to be there so he teaches them a lesson. kinda touch her or I'll kill you vibe, knowing seokchan is a gentleman and doesn't resort to violence i think it'd be hot to see him being protective of his girl

mine to protect

Pairing: Kang seokchan x reader (can be viewed as any gender)

Warnings: blood and violence, not proofread (in desperate need of a proofreader)

Genre: angst + fluff

Story under the cut

It's been happening for a few weeks now, you thought you had it under control, you thought you could deal with it, but it's been getting bad lately.

You see, near the begining of the apocalypse you'd gotten with your boyfriend, kang seokchan, who just so happens to be a member of the platoon.

You'd kept it a secret for a while, no one had a clue, yet somehow another survivor in the "base" had saw you two together and word spread quickly.

People accused you of being with him so you could get extra food or things after the platoon's expeditions, or have extra protection and be a priority.

Of course it wasn't true, you genuinely love seokchan with all your heart, he was there for you and you were there for him since the start. Since the world started going to shit he's all you've had and you're all he's had.

You rested your head on the wall you were sitting against, not bothering to stop your nose from bleeding any further. You licked your lips, a strong metallic taste left on your tongue due to the red liquid that stained your face.

A few minutes ago, you were simply minding your business, making your way back to your makeshift bed after helping an elderly lady get back to hers, when a group of about 5 other survivors attacked you, screaming profanities your way and landing hit after hit on you with all the strength they had left in them.

You tried to fight back, but 5 against 1 wasn't exactly a fair fight. So you let them. 'it'll be over soon' you told yourself.

What you had failed to notice was a young kid hiding behind a corner, watching the brutal scene unfold Infront of him. What you also failed to notice was the way he scrambled to his feet, sprinting towards the room the platoon members usually gathered in, dodging people on his way and even bumping on to a few, focus on his goal. Finding your boyfriend.

Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice booming down the hall, getting closer and closer accompanied by the sound of quick heavy steps.

You looked over, turning your head causing pain to shoot up the back of your neck. Seokchan messily halted to a stop Infront of you, kneeling down to your level, worry and concern visible on the man's features.

"What happened?!" He questioned as he helped you sit up properly and checked your injuries. You hissed in pain but kept your lips sealed. He already had alot to worry about, you didn't want him to worry about you either.

His eyes found yours and he placed a hand on the back of your head gently. "Tell me. Please." You shook your head the action barely visible as moving at all made the pain was unbearable.

He sigh at your stubbornness and shook his head. Just as he was about to speak again a quiet voice interrupted him "they were attacked sir." The same boy that had barged inside the room cutting off the Sargent's speech said.

Seokchan looked at the boy, urging him to explain further. You also averted your gaze to him, pleading for him not to say anymore, but to your dismay he did. He explained everything, from how people have been treating you to what they thought of you and what they say about you.

Seokchan's breath hitched, getting cough in his throat he simply nodded towards the kid who took that as a sign to leave.

Once his small frame disappeared out of sight he turned back to you. "How long?" You sighed and closed your eyes before speaking "a couple weeks".

You heard him groan and mumble something "come on" he helped you to your feet and slung your arm over his shoulder, supporting you as you walked back to his room where he had you sit down as he patched you up wordlessly.

You watched him as he worked, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the way he licked his lips every few seconds.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked suddenly catching the man of guard. He didn't respond until he finished his work.

"Why would I be mad at you?" He asked placing everything back in place. "For, you know, not telling you." He shook his head and looked at your, smoothing out the plaster on your right cheek

"I'm not. I would never be mad at you honey. Maybe, I am a little sad but not mad, never mad" you breathed out in relief, a breath you were unaware you'd been holding.

"I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to worry, you already have so much on your plate and you risk your life every day-"

"Don't worry about that. No matter what you'll always be my top priority, like you've always been my love." He assured you.

Moving to sit by you on his bed he snakes his arms around your waist, bringing you close to him and laying back with you in his arms.

"For now, you just get some rest and when you wake up, I'll need names." You chuckled at the man's words "seokchan-"

"I'm serious." You shook your head but agreed nonetheless. You closed your eyes, quickly drifting off. From now on, you won't care what anyone thinks of you, you'll Stan up for yourself and won't depend on anyone to fight on your behalf. Not as long as you had Kang seokchan by your side.

#fanfiction #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home #kang seok chan x reader #kang seok chan #sweet home fanfic

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mimsynims · 10 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #no longer a wip because it’s finisheeeeed

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Ivy - Part 13

gif by @themoontaxi <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Warnings: this chapter is nsfw - 18+

Minors DNI

Chapter summary: the last one 🥹

okay not to get too deep about it but i started writing this fic during an awful time of my life and it genuinely distracted me in a good way. you all showed me so much love about ivy and it means the world to me 🥺🩷 i finally finished it and i hope you like the ending <3 i love you!!!

also i’m sorry if the tags didn’t work tumblr was acting weird about it :|

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The sight of your bite marks on Aaron’s shoulder made you smile as you used your hand on his chest to push yourself off his body, just enough to look at his face. You were met with a smile as big as yours, his fingers squeezing your thighs that were straddling his.

His smile looked pretty innocent considering his dick was buried inside you as deep as it could go. And even though you loved staring at that smile, you still leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The need to feel him closer never seemed to be satisfied even when you were as close as two people could be.

You rocked your hips against his slowly, savoring every move and every feeling. Aaron’s arms hugged your body too, making sure that your chests were pressed against each other without an inch of space in between.

“Does my baby feel good?” he asked, breathless.

“Mhm…”

It was incredible how Aaron truly became your whole world when you were having sex. He was all you could think of, all you could feel, and all you cared about. The feeling of him inside you, his hands reaching every part of you, his scent – a mix of his cologne and pure pheromones -, his lips on you and yours on him; how could anything else possibly matter at that moment?

You rolled your hips forward, clinging onto him even tighter and biting your bottom lip so you wouldn’t moan too loud.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Keep moving like that,” he moaned.

There was no need of him to ask you, it felt so good you would keep moving like that for the rest of your life if you could.

Still, the praise that came with your obedience gave you butterflies. “Good,” he said.

Completely surrendering to the feeling you closed your eyes, until Aaron’s voice made you open them again.

“Touch your pussy,” he ordered. “Let me watch.”

With that you pulled your body back once again, brining your hand down to your clit, rubbing yourself as you rode his cock. His hand went to your breasts, his thumb brushing against your right nipple.

“My gorgeous girl,” he said.

You kept moving, both your hand and his on your body driving you to the edge, as you let go and finally came around his cock.

“Fuck…” you breathed against his chest.

Aaron could tell by the way you were breathing that you were on the verge of falling asleep. The ghost of a sweet smile was still on your lips, and it made his heart flutter, as his hand started playing with your ear, touching your hair, tracing patterns on your soft cheek…doing all the things he knew you loved and made you sleepy.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, his hand still cupping the side of your face gently.

An angel that had fallen from the sky right into his arms, that was what you were. Who would have thought that there was a person absolutely perfect for him? It was all new to him: how he could love someone this deeply, how he wanted to get to know every single corner of someone else’s soul.

“I love you,” he whispered, not expecting an answer back – but getting it anyway.

“I love you too,” you murmured.

“You’re not asleep?”

“Almost,” you said, but your words were muffled because of a big yawn that just made you even more adorable.

“You’re so cute,” he laughed.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him raising an eyebrow, before closing them again. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Opening the kitchen counter you spotted Jack’s favorite mug; it was green with a funny looking dinosaur on it. He liked it so much that Aaron had gone to that store again to buy a purple one and a blue one so all three of you would match.

As you were pouring some milk into the mug, you felt Aaron’s arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your right shoulder.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you grinned, and he kissed your neck.

He stood there watching you mixing the milk with a couple of spoons of cocoa powder for his son.

“You know, I forgot to tell you last night,” he broke the silence. “Derek wants the whole team to go out tonight to this new bar after work. He’s been talking about it all week.”

He sounded almost nervous and it made you giggle. “Baby, I’ll be fine, you can go. I’ll have a movie marathon with Jack until our stomach hurts from eating too much popcorn.”

“No,” he said. “Um…I mean I want you to come with me…as my date.”

“Oh…”

“Y/N, I know that look,” he sighed. “But it’s time to make it official to other people too, don’t you think? Yes our relationship didn’t start ethically, but we’re together now and hopefully for the rest of our lives. I’m done hiding. You’re my partner.”

His team meant a lot to Aaron. And Aaron meant a lot to you. You didn’t want to say no to something that was clearly important to him. But you were scared; scared that they would gossip about you, scared of being slutshamed, scared of being judged.

But if it made Aaron happy, you would endure it.

“Okay,” you said sweetly. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

He left a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you pulled away just enough to call Jack. “Jack! Breakfast’s ready.”

“I’m coming!”

In no other event had you overthought your outfit as much as you had for that team outing. It was silly, but you didn’t want to wear anything too revealing. Maybe that would make them think you seduced your boyfriend’s brother with the way that you dressed. But then again you didn’t want to dress very modesty, it would seem like you were trying too hard. It was a headache.

Once you had finally made your decision, you put your outfit on fast before you had the chance to change your mind again.

Arriving at the bar, Aaron’s hand in yours was the only thing calming your heart down. Your only wish was that the night would not be awkward.

Derek raised his hand when he spotted you, following with a loud “Hey!” so he could be heard over the music. He was the one whose face you could recognize along with Emily’s and Penelope’s. The other two left were David and Spencer who you hadn’t seen before, but you knew everything about from Aaron.

“Hey,” Aaron greeted them back, and introduced you officially to them.

“Hi!” you waved at them shyly, and you were hit by a wave of ‘nice to meet you’s’ and ‘hello’s’.

“Well, Morgan and I have seen you before, but it wasn’t under ideal conditions,” Emily said, as you sat down.

“So have I,” Penelope added. “Also under less than ideal conditions.”

You winced at the memory of your Aaron in the hospital and you quickly pushed the thought away.

“Yeah, we’re not really good at this, are we?” you joked.

“That’s why tonight is a nice chance for a fresh start, hm?” Aaron said and placed his hand over yours.

You nodded, understanding the meaning behind of his words.

Penelope had noticed for a while now that her boss had started smiling much more than he ever did, but what her eyes were witnessing that night was something else. The way he took any chance he could to touch you, the way he kept leaning into your ear to whisper something and making you laugh, the way he stared at you with pure adoration in his eyes…that was something entirely new. He was enchanted by you.

She remembered a night like that one, a few years ago where Haley was the one in your place. She could still recall his dance with her, his bright smile; the other side of her boss, the happy one. Penelope hadn’t seen that in a while…well until you came along. And maybe, his smile was just a bit brighter with you.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she announced. “Who’s coming with me?”

Before anyone had the chance to reply, she reached out for your hand. “Y/N?”

The look of your surprised face that you were the one she chose almost broke her heart.

“Of course,” you answered with a kind smile.

You walked towards the bathroom hand in hand, and when you were finally alone she didn’t drop yours.

“You don’t have to be nervous around us,” she told you. “No one’s judging you here.”

She could tell that she had stunned you into silence so she spoke again. “I might not be a profiler like them, but I can feel how uncomfortable you are.”

Her words made you lower your gaze and stare at your shoes. You were sweet, she thought.

“Listen. I’ve heard Sean’s side of the story, and he has every right to be angry at you,” she said. “But I’ve also seen your side. That day Hotch was in the hospital…I remember how your life had drained out of you until you saw him again. I can tell you didn’t just give in to physical attraction, but to something bigger than you. I think that you just found love in the wrong place and time.”

The emotions were clear in your eyes, and only confirmed that her thoughts were correct.

“You’re so sweet,” you told her with a smile.

“Hotch is like a father to us,” she answered, squeezing your hand. “He’s important to us. And believe me I’ve seen him at his worse. I’ve seen him lose everything in one day. I’ve seen him broken. You glued all these pieces back together. How could any of us hate you when you make someone we so love this happy?”

“Thank you. I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m just happy you’re here. Ever since Hotch had gotten his divorce he would always show up to these things alone. Seeing him tonight with his girl by his side, flirting and laughing…it makes my heart happy.”

“You’re an angel, I hope you know that,” you said.

“Oh I do,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s go back. I didn’t actually wanna pee.”

This made you laugh, and you followed her back to the table just a second before calling her name and making her stop.

“Penny?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you and Sean…?”

She placed her index finger over her lips. “Shh…I don’t kiss and tell.”

Honestly, she wasn’t mad at you for another reason too. You had contributed into Sean being single again.

“Tonight was fun!” you giggled, dragging Aaron to his car even though you were the one in heels.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, honey.”

“And Spencer is a genius. Like an actual genius. You don’t really believe it unless you see it live,” you joked.

“Told you,” he smirked.

“And Emily and Derek are so funny. I want them to be my friends.”

You were a bit lightheaded from the wine, but mostly from the relief that you and Aaron’s friends got along just fine.

The text you had been waiting for from Sean came almost a month after that team outing. If you were honest with yourself, that was the final puzzle piece into finally getting some closure and walking into the new chapter of your life with Aaron.

You were glad Sean had suggested you met in a café instead of his home.

He was already there when you arrived, sipping on his iced coffee. As soon as you caught his eye, he stood up to greet you by extending his arm. It was a gesture that made you feel as if you were in a business meeting but you would in no way complain about it. You were grateful simply for him wanting to see you.

Sitting down, you ordered a cup of coffee too, and tried to gather in your head all the things you wanted to say to him.

“You’ve been good?” he asked, probably referring to your incident.

“Yes.”

“That’s good to hear.”

There was an awkward pause, but you needed the closure. That conversation was waiting to happen and you would not avoid it.

“Can I start?” you asked.

“Sure.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking. “The day you found us out, I didn’t give you an apology. I thought it wouldn’t mean anything to you. And I still realize that it won’t fix anything, but I also get that you deserve to hear it. I’m sorry.”

Sean nodded, with an unreadable expression. So you continued.

“I want you to know that what I did to you will never be something that I forget. Aaron and I will always live with this weight on our shoulders; of how we based our relationship on betraying someone so dear to us. And you were right when you said that we won’t know what to say when people ask us how we met. We will always be reminded of what we did to you. You never did anything wrong, and when you move on with your life you’ll be free, but for us, this will always be a thorn in our hearts. And I hope you believe that this is punishment enough.”

Sean stayed silent so you added quietly, “That’s all I had to say.”

He nodded his head again, bringing his hand to his face to rub his beard. “I’m not angry at you anymore. When you were kidnapped and I didn’t know if you were going to be okay or not, it made me realize that no matter what you’ve done to me I would never want you to suffer. A part of me will always care for you. And that doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you did, but what I mean is…I don’t want you to live the rest of your life punishing yourself for what you did.”

“That means the world to me, Sean.”

“When Aaron called me to tell me you were okay, we had a talk. He told me he’ll always be here when I need him even if we don’t have any type of relationship anymore. So I want you to know it’s the same for me and you. I’m obviously not going to tell you we should stay friends, but…if you – you or my brother – ever come to me for help I won’t close my door in your face.”

“Thank you. Really, Sean. You have a wonderful heart.”

And to those words, he smiled.

~ 1 year later ~

“Mom?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to understand where that voice was coming from, unable to open your eyes yet and nuzzling your face in the crook of Aaron’s neck.

“Mom?” the voice persisted, this time with a little tap on your shoulder.

Jack.

“Angel?” you said, with a raspy voice, feeling Aaron next to you shifting awake.

“I had a bad dream,” he whined.

“Oh sweetie…”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course. Come here,” you whispered, making room between you and Aaron.

“Buddy?” it was his turn to ask what was happening now, finally awake.

“Nightmare,” you told him.

“Oh.”

Jack nodded with a pout, and you smiled at how adorable he was.

“Well, you’re all safe now, between mom and dad, yeah?” Aaron told him, making sure that the blanket covered all three of you.

“Of course he is,” you added. “No monster can reach him here.”

You tickled his tummy, and once you heard him giggle, you realized that the bad dream was already forgotten.

Your head hit the pillow again, and you closed your eyes, feeling Aaron wrapping his arm around both of you protectively.

“Good night, my loves,” you said.

“Good night,” they answered in unison.

It is his and Penelope’s anniversary tomorrow and he wants to make it special. A new dress and a pair of cute lingerie for their date night, sounds perfect to him.

As far as the dinner is concerned, he is more than confident in his skill as a chef.

Walking towards the lingerie store though, he suddenly stops and takes a few steps back recognizing the pair of people that are sitting outside and staring at the same window that caught his eye.

Aaron’s arm is around your waist and your head is resting on his shoulder. He says something that apparently makes you laugh and he kisses the top of your head with affection.

Your own hand is placed on his lower back and Sean doesn’t miss the ring around your finger. You’re marrying him.

“I’m gonna make her Mrs. Hotchner one day,” he had joked to his best friend after your first date.

Future Mrs. Hotchner indeed.

The End 🤍

ivy tag list: @preciousbabypeter @buckysmainhxe @galaxyofmyown @ssamorganhotchner @romanogersendgame @elhotchner @louderfortheback @northschild @iammirrorball @rousethemouse @kishie8 @save-the-sky @ssacharcoalgrey @realdirectionx @itsmytimetoodream @art-and-thoughts @red-red-rogue @dellalyra @feetgypsy @stella95827 @katieslotherford @jazzymariexoxoc @quietlyignoringyou @justarandommom @sebastiansstanswhore @lelifesaver @aaron-hotchners-girlfriend @whyamihere96 @sylvieofasgard @redbleedingrose @222brooke @xoprincessmel @girlintheredscarf @radical-gecko @yeehawbitchs @jazzerbelle14 @jayxox @adrienette715 @fudosl @sardonic-courtney @emlynblack @kizzywh @formulapierre @crocodilefeet2707 @mojo366 @spicysimpura @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998 @mrs-ssa-hotch @clairedragonessbaker @n0t-yours-you-w1sh @tipsyteenstoday @potatoesonacouch @the-fantasy-loving-angel @my-beel @lex13cm @chibsytelford @crimsonincursive @yourdryadwife @peachysnips

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #sean hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #hotch 🪐#ivy #nsfw.

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pubbamoon · 3 months

Text

Top 5 placements from my natal chart I like

Hello, it's me! Before I get into a topic, I would like to thank to everyone who has supported me for a couple of days. It really means the world to me. My second astrology observation about the planet Venus in houses really blew up and it got over 100 likes/notes in its first 24 hours, which I did not expect at all. I'm glad you like my posts and that you can resonate with the words I write. So, I was thinking for hours about what could I do next and decided I'm going to make an observation on my favorite placements from my own natal chart, which is a very 1st house Mercury thing, hahaha, lol. Hope you wouldn't mind this kind of observation.

Moon Trine Venus - This is my tightest aspect in my natal chart (0° 12' orb) and I'm glad it is. I think this is a beautiful placement which gives natural beauty. These planets are placed in the earth signs in my chart, which gives very grounding energy. People always tell me how I'm so grounded and stable when they see me. I love this placement, you can be loved by everyone basically. Trine is a harmonious aspect which can tell about our talents, so this aspect can make someone talented in arts. Love that!

Sun in the 1st house - This placement can be truly a blessing when you use it the right way. Of course, it depends on the position of the Sun too. For example, I do have Sun in Aquarius, which is a detriment position for the Sun. But regardless, having Sun in the 1st house can make you confident and to have a strong personality, which I think it's so important. This placement answered my question why have I always been by myself and independent for my whole life, haha.

Pluto Sextile Ascendant - Pluto represents power, obsessions and even sexiness, while Ascendant represents ourself, our body and our overall life. Those natives could have very powerful presence and persona. It can make someone being beautiful and having a sex appeal too. When I'm interested in something, I can become obsessed with that and I think this could be the manifestation of this aspect.

MC ruler in Leo - Midheaven/Medium Coeli/MC is all about career, reputation and how you seem to be like to other people. Leo, on the other hand, is associated with creativity, entertainment and being the center of attention, which is great for careers in creative pursuits. My MC ruler is also at 11 degrees, which represents internet and technology. I basically make an astrology content here on Tumblr and I think that's creative. My MC ruler is also retrograde, so it could be a little bit harder for me to get successful in career.

North Node in the 5th house - North Node represents our life mission and something that could be hard for us to establish. It tells us what should be work on to maintain our life purpose. The 5th house is all about having fun, creativity, children, entertainment, hobbies and doing something what we like to do. While it's hard sometimes to work on that placement, I always feel guided to be in present moment and have fun a little bit more. It's lovely to me when your life purpose is needing to have to be comfortable with yourself and doing something creative.

That would be all for today. Thank you again for supporting my astrology journey. Hope that this resonates if you have this placement in your natal chart. Wish you all love and luck.

Best regards,

Paky McGee

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr #astrology #western astrology #astrology community #astrology tumblr #north node #midheaven #venus #moon #astrology aspects #the sun #pluto #ascendant

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tournament-announcer · 7 months

Note

Hey ik this is not tournament related, but in case you didn't know and want to spread the word, Tumblr is selling everybody's data to AI companies.

Here is the staff post about it https://www.tumblr.com/loki-valeska/743539907313778688

And a post with more information and how to opt out https://www.tumblr.com/khaleesi/743504350780014592/

Hi thanks for the information and sorry for my late reply. I was a bit low on spoons this week and I wanted to form thoughts about this.

Because the thing is, I am doing a PhD at an AI department in real-life. Not in generative AI, in fact I’m partly doing this because I distrust how organisations are currently using AI. But so this is my field of expertise and I wanted to share some insights.

First of all yes do try to opt out. We have no guarantee how useful that’s going to be, but they don’t need to be given your data that easily.

Secondly, I am just so confused as to why? Why would you want to use tumblr posts to train your model? Everyone in the field surely knows about the garbage in, garbage out rule? AI models that need to be trained on data are doing nothing more than making statistical predictions based on the data they’ve seen. Garbage in, garbage out therefore refers to the fact that if your data is shit, your results will also be shit. And like not to be mean but a LOT of tumblr posts are not something I would want to see from a large language model.

Thirdly I’ve seen multiple posts encouraging people to use nightshade and glaze on their art but also posts wondering what exactly it is these programs do to your art. The thing is, generative ai models are kinda stupid, they just learn to associate certain patterns in pictures with certain words. However these patterns are typically not patterns we’d want them to pick up on. An example would be a model that you want to differentiate between pictures of birds and dogs, but instead of learning to look for say wings, it learns that pictures of birds usually have a blue sky as background and so a picture of a bird in the grass will be labelled as ‘dog’.

So what glaze and nightshade are more or less doing is exploiting this stupidness by changing a few pixels in your art that will give it a very different label when an AI looks at it. I can look up papers for people who want to know the details, but this is the essence of it.

To see how much influence this might have on your art, see this meme I made a few years ago based on the paper ”Intriguing properties of neural networks”, Figure 5 by Szegedy et al. (2013)

Finally, staff said in that post that they gave us the option to opt out because of the maybe upcoming AI act in Europe. I was under the impression that they should give us this opportunity because of the GDPR and that the AI act is supposed to be more about the use of AI and less about the creation and data aspect but nevertheless this shows that the EU has a real ability to influence these kinds of things and the European Parliament elections are coming up this year, so please go vote and also read up on what the parties are saying about AI and other technologies beforehand (next to everything else you care about) (also relevant for other elections of course but the EU has a good track record on this topic).

Anyway sorry for the long talk, but as I said this is my area and so I felt the need to clarify some things. Feel free to send me more asks if you want to know something specific!

#misc #ai #tumblr #oh yeah nigthwish and glaze are very heavy on your computer so do take that into account #nightshade*

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cleo-fox · 7 months

Text

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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onceuponapuffin · 5 months

Text

Fanatic Intervention Part 5!!

Hiya! Sorry about the delay! Life got in the way there for a bit ^_^" But I am here! With Part 5!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

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Crowley had liked Hozier (although Take Me To Church, predictably, wasn’t his favourite), and after whining at Aziraphale that it’s nooooooot ‘bebop,’ you finally managed to get an admission that all right, it wasn’t all that terrible. You took the win.

But the dance party couldn’t last forever. There’s still a world to save, after all.

And so, all of you sat, thumbing through Revelations. Well, Aziraphale and Muriel were. You and Crowley had given up on the fancy Bible-ness of it and googled the Cliff Notes version.

“Ugh,” You say, “John really hated the Romans.”

“Well, yes,” says Aziraphale, “He had decent enough reason, though, as far as humans go.”

“What, he hated indoor plumbing and heated floors?”

“Actually, he hated people of the Christian faith being arrested, tortured, and killed for their beliefs.”

“Oh….yeah that makes sense,” You say, and after a moment you add “...Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright,” Aziraphale replies kindly, “He wrote Revelation as a way to reassure Christians that all of their suffering would mean something in the end. That it must be part of the Great Plan.”

“The Ineffable Plan, you mean,” chimes in Crowley with a smirk. Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

“Yes, that one,” he replies. You notice the microscopic-Michael-Sheen-ian smile on his face as he says it. Honestly, the resemblance is uncanny. Aziraphale continues. “He wanted Christians to feel heard, and to encourage them to hold fast to their faith.”

You pause for a minute before saying anything. Then you remember a tumblr post or something from forever ago.

“Santa Claus,” You finally say. Crowley spurts wine from his nose, and begins to laugh. Aziraphale is confused.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” You say again, “Like ‘be good, and you’ll get presents! it’s almost Christmas Eve! Santa’s watching!’ You know?” You look at Aziraphale imploringly. Crowley is still laughing. Aziraphale doesn’t look impressed.

“I think that’s rather an over-simplification.”

“Am I wrong?”

“…..It’s...it’s not...That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, okay, so I’m wrong then.”

“Sounds about right to me!” Crowley calls with glee from the other side of the room. Aziraphale looks all flustered, his face beginning to go red. Crowley hands him a glass of wine and Aziraphale downs it in one go.

Okay, winding him up is a great deal of fun, and so easy, but I’m guessing, dear Reader, that you love Aziraphale just as much as I do. You don’t actually want to hurt his feelings. Thus you decide to concede the point.

“So,” You say, “He said he had a dream about things getting really bad and then Jesus coming back and saving everyone.”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Aziraphale sighs, clearly relieved to be back on topic. You think back to old interviews with Neil and Terry about their back-then-hypothetical sequel would look like.

“Okay, well the only thing I know about it was something about it taking place in America. I read in an old interview somewhere that Jesus was meant to descend from the heavens in a private jet with a bunch of like...bodyguard angels or something.”

“America? Again? I mean really.”

You shrug. “Neil Gaiman really likes America.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” says Muriel now, flipping back through their notes, “You said that the sequel was never written, and the third...season?was still being written too when you left. And you said that book isn’t the same as what happened in the tv show, or the radio show, or the musical. So how do we know it would be the same here?”

They make a good point.

“Maybe ask that author of yours,” says Crowley, looking over from his drink, “You said he answers questions sometimes. Who would he be to deny,” he swishes his glass around with what you suppose is meant to be grandeur, “The Famous Crowley and Aziraphale?” He empties his glass.

“Anathema might be able to find him,” You say after a while, “Jesus, I mean. She did a good job finding everything in Armageddon Part 1. Or Adam. I mean, Jesus is supposed to be all about love, right? Maybe we can convince him not to, you know, end the world.”

Aziraphale hums to himself. “Revelations states that Armageddon is meant to be started by the seven angels of the church, bringing together seven keys. I mean, John could be wrong of course, but I wonder...Could one of you find me a map and search these names? I might have an idea why Mr. Gaiman wanted to set The Second Coming in America.”

Good Reader, guess which country contains cities named after 5 of these 7 angels. I’ll give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one.

And so now we have three directions we can take this story in.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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Chapter 13: At Last

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: GUYS! Sorry for the SUPER long delay! I went out of the country for a while and had some other things come up, but here we are...the long-awaited chapter!! enjoy!

For some reason, tumblr won't let me tag more than 5 people, so I'll tag people in the comments instead!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 9.4k

Wednesday, October 27, 1943: Stalag Luft III: Sagan, Germany: 1000 HRS

The dull scrapes of pencils, the ticking of the clock, and the sniffles of Jimmy Lambert in the far corner of the room were the only things keeping Ruth Morgan sane. She sat at her desk fidgeting with her ink pen as she stared down at the paper before her. Her eyes drifted over the page numerous times, but her mind was in no state to absorb information, even information as mundane as an analysis of characters in Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

5 Days Earlier

“We thought you were dead,” Murphy muttered from where he sat at the center table in the girls’ room. “They, uh, they said there were no chutes, ma’am.”

Frank’s brows furrowed slightly, his fingers brushing over his mustache. “No chutes? Someone saw us go down?”

“Apparently. No one would tell us anything,” Crank added matter-of-factly, but his voice softened as he continued.” Especially not Buck or Bucky. We had to find out what happened through the grapevine.”

With Hope asleep on her bunk, the room’s eyes shifted to Ruth at the mention of the majors. She sat silently at the table, her eyes glistening in the room’s low light as she stared at the roughened wood before her. If everyone thought they were dead, she could only imagine how John must have reacted. How would she have reacted?

“John,” she shakily breathed, raising her teary gaze to the men. “How-How is he? ”

As soon as the words left her lips, Glenn shifted awkwardly in his seat and glanced at Crank and Murph, who acted much the same. Ruth’s brow creased in concern, her eyes searching their faces for answers when Frank draped his arm over the back of her chair. After a few moments, Glen sighed.

“He took it hard, ma’am. Both him, Buck, and Sparky. Bucky, he, uh…” Glen’s eyes flicked to his friend’s desperately for help, and Murph straightened in his chair, coming to the co-pilot's aid.

“Harding made him take a pass to London, but Buck went down over Bremen the day he got there, so he came back early to lead the next mission.”

“Münster was a frickin’ turkey shoot,” Crank grumbled. ”The Zig went down before us…We saw what? 9 chutes?”

Ruth’s breath hitched, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her fingers digging into her palms. “Nine chutes,” she repeated softly, her voice trembling. “But Johnny? Have y’all seen him since?”

The room fell silent, the weight of Ruth’s question hanging heavily in the air. The men exchanged uneasy glances, the shadows in their eyes deepening.

Cruikshank cleared his throat, his voice low. “No. We haven’t seen him. None of us have.”

Ruth’s heart sank and a wave of fear crashed over her. Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she tried to process the news. “So, you don’t know if he’s...”

“It’s Bucky,” Crank nodded. “He’ll make it.”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. John was either evading, captured, or dead in a German field somewhere. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they’d been through. Not after she’d told herself he was safe back at Thorpe Abbotts, convinced herself that he’d be waiting for her.

“Lieutenant Morgan?” A voice called out, but it barely registered in her mind.

“Lieutenant?” the voice repeated, more insistent this time.

Ruth continued to stare blankly at the paper, her mind caught in the memory, but when a shadow fell across her desk, she finally blinked. Her gaze slowly lifted to see one of her students standing there with concern etching his face. “Ruth, are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Oh,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly to clear the memory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. Need some help?”

George, a 20 year old, baby-faced lieutenant with sandy hair and a kind expression, looked at her with a mixture of worry and sympathy. “You seem a bit…distant,” he said carefully. “Are you alright? Did something happen? Did the goons-”

Ruth forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and interrupted his endearing rambling. “I’m fine, George. Just got a lot on my mind. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded, although not entirely convinced. “This class…it helps all of us so much. So if there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know.”

“I appreciate that, really. How’s your work going?”

George glanced back at the table where his papers were spread out. “It’s going well. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her heart warmed at his concern. These young men relied on her, and she couldn’t let them down. “Thank you, George. I’ll be alright. If you need any help with your work, let me know.”

He gave her a small smile and returned to his table, leaving Ruth to gather her scattered thoughts. She took a deep breath and refocused on the task at hand, pushing her worries about John to the back of her mind for the moment. She had to stay strong. For herself, for her friends, and for the young men in her classes that clung to their lessons for a sense of normalcy.

1600 HRS: 4 PM

Ruth sat at room four’s table, attempting to organize her lesson plans, the soft scratch of a pencil the only sound in the room. No one had seen Hope since she left toward the infirmary following the 6am roll call, but it was almost time for her to come back. Murphy and Charlie Cruikshank lay in their beds staring up at the wooden slats above their heads. Glenn was off with Frank Martin checking out the garden and harvesting the last of the vegetables before winter came. The chill in the morning and evening air were sure signs it was coming, and fast.

“How was class today?” Murphy asked, sending her a half-smile from his bunk. Since their arrival, the three newcomers kept a close eye on the women.

“It was okay,” she groaned, placing a paper in her ‘graded’ stack. “I’ve got a lot of papers to grade.”

A few moments later, the echo of the siren at the entrance gate cut through the silence of the room. The men sprang to their feet and ran out the door, but Ruth remained in her seat, shaking her head with a grin.

“Ruth, you comin’?” Murphy asked, poking his head around the doorframe.

She shook her head, glancing up from her work. “No, but y’all go ahead. I’ll be fine in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Ruth insisted, “Go on!”

With a final nod, Frank followed Crank out of the block, their boots echoing down the hallway. The room fell silent again, and Ruth took a deep breath. She picked up Macbeth, hoping to distract herself from the gnawing anxiety that settled in her chest. The words on the page blurred together as her mind wandered back to John. Between Hope pulling away and his unknown fate on top of the uncertainty of captivity, it was all she could do to keep functioning.

The silence of the room was comforting yet heavy as the minutes ticked by, her mind drifting to the events of the past month. With a sigh, she closed her book and began to tidy up the room. Humming softly to herself, cleared and wiped down the table. With mud, dirt and everything else caked onto the surface, getting it off was a chore.

Knock. Knock.

“Come on in.” She called, her back to the door that slowly creaked open. “Anyone interesting come in today?”

No response. The silence felt odd.

Sighing, Ruth turned toward the entrance. “If y’all don’t start cleaning up, too-”

When Ruth’s gaze landed on the figure in the doorway, she didn’t feel her grip on the rag loosening, didn’t hear it hit the ground. All she could focus on was the man standing before her. He was battered and bruised, his uniform torn and dirty, but his eyes…his glossy blues were the same that filled her dreams, her cherished memories.

“John,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper as tears welled in her eyes.

He slowly took a step into the room. “Hey, Ruthie.”

They simply stood there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. But then, a wide smile grew on his face and he crossed the room, throwing his arms around her small figure. Beneath his hold, John felt the sharpness of her features, the way she seemed impossibly smaller…but his mind quickly pushed away the thought because this was the moment he’d dreamed of.

Ruth instantly returned the embrace with a choked sob, holding him as tightly as she could while John buried his face in her neck. His arms were warm and sturdy, familiar in a way that made her feel whole again.

Pulling back, he tearily grinned at her and gently cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered quickly. “I should’ve told you, but I just-”

“Thank God. I love you, too,” Ruth interrupted with her own teary laugh. “I love you, John Egan.”

“I thought you were gone.”

She sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. “I know, I know. But I’m right here. I’m right here.”

Unable to hold off any longer, John kissed her gently, cradling her jaw as he connected their lips. The world melted away and they got lost in each other’s presence for a few moments until Ruth pulled away, her eyes taking in the damage done to his face. It was a mess of cuts and bruises, his right eye swollen and bloodshot. As a nurse, she was used to seeing people in pain, but seeing John in such a state caused that barrier to crumble.

“Oh honey,” she said softly as her thumb brushed lightly over a bruise on his cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nodded and allowed her to lead him over to the table where he perched atop it. As he sat down, Ruth hurriedly grabbed their first aid kit from under Hope’s bunk before returning to his side. He seemed to notice her sling for the first time and concern flashed across his face.

“Your arm, doll.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she dismissed him, unwrapping some gauze and dabbing it with alcohol. “This happened when I, uh, bailed. Broke it when I went through some trees on the way down.”

John’s saw clenched as the next question filtered through his mind before leaving his lips. His voice was quiet with a barely contained rage at the thought of her suffering at the hands of their captors. “The Krauts. They haven’t...They haven’t touched you, have they?”

“No. Thank God.”

He visibly deflated. “Good.”

Silence again filled the room as she worked carefully to clean the cuts marring his face. When she inspected his it further, she noted the swelling and his bloodshot right eye. “Johnny, this is bad,” she whispered, her fingers trembling as she brushed over the injury. “Can you see okay? Any double vision?”

“Sometimes, but I’m fine, doll. Really. Strong as an ox.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ruth, I’m alright…”

“Take off your shirt, John,” she demanded quietly.

Ruth expected a half-baked joke to fall from his lips, but when it didn’t, her heart sank. He sighed, gritting his teeth as he attempted to take off his jacket. Even the smallest movement felt like murder, and all he wanted to do was lie down, but she was there. Their reunion had pushed down the pain but it came rushing back in that moment.

“Here. Let me help.”

She carefully helped him remove his A2 jacket and unzip his flight suit down to his waist, revealing a dirty, once-white tank top underneath. As she slowly lifted the tank top, John’s jaw clenched and a few pained grunts escaped his lips when he raised his arms. The sight that greeted her was worse than she had feared. His torso was a canvas of bruises, the worst of which spread diagonally across his back. The center was an angry mix of red and purple, while the edges were turning a sickly brownish green.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, her voice cracking as she stared at the damage. Ruth’s eyes filled with tears and she raised a hand to cover her mouth. John set his jaw and stared at the floor silently, unable to meet her gaze. Her hands hesitantly touched the largest bruise across his back with feather-light pressure.

“What happened?” she asked shakily as a tear streaked down her cheek.

Should he tell her? Subject her to the horrors he’d experienced in the month they’d been apart? He’d want to know. He wanted to know what happened to her, but the thought of watching his sweet, gentle, and caring Ruth crumble as he explained that night’s events and the days that followed was enough of a deterrent.

“I think it was a club,” he replied before glancing up at her with a exhausted smirk. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but he gave it anyways. “Chump had a terrible swing, though. Could’ve batted cleanup for the Braves with the season they're having.”

Deflection. His favorite game, favorite defense. Strong John Egan, the 418th’s CO, Major in the Army Air Force, didn’t want to think about the most helpless moment in his life. Didn’t want to think about how terrified he’d been. Bucky thought he was going to die as he sputtered for air on the ground that night, warm blood running down his face. Through the ringing in his ears and the pain in his head, he heard gunshot after gunshot echo off the brick buildings. Each sent a comrade to their grave, and he knew the next was for him…

“Hey. Please don’t do that,” said Ruth quietly.

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

With a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the dusty paneled floor. “Me and a group of guys from the 381st were taken through a town, and the people…they just went crazy. I got knocked in the head a few times.”

Ruth swallowed thickly and took his face gently in her hands, tilting it up from the floor to meet her gaze. “What else?”

“Doll,” he sighed, his voice rising slightly as he reached out and gently grasped her waist, pulling her to stand between his legs. “I don’t think you should-”

“I want to know.”

“Well, I’d rather talk about you.”

Ruth blinked, momentarily taken back. “Me?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “Johnny, look at you. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“I know, but right now I just want to forget about it,” John said with the purse of his lips. “Tell me what happened…how you’ve been holding up.

Her eyes searched his face for any sign of his usual bravado, but she saw none and relented, taking a deep breath as she tried to shift her focus to herself.

“We went through a flak field and fighters…they came out of nowhere. Killed our copilot,” she admitted quietly, still slotted between his legs. Ruth reached up, her fingers gently running through his dark curls, soothing his worried mind with each stroke. “Bailing was terrifying, and then we were captured and separated…it’s been a nightmare.” she sniffled quietly. “Definitely not what I expected when I joined up. But you’re here, now, and that makes things much better. Not that I want you to be here, but-”

John cut off her stressed ramble with a kiss. It was filled with more urgency as if to assure himself that she was really there, not just a figment of his imagination, not just a dream. She pulled back gently and placed a hand on his chest, a smooth metal chain beneath her touch.

Her cross.

“You kept it?”

“It was all I had left of you. I never took it off.”

Tears once again burned in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. “Enough about me. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” she said softly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He nodded reluctantly and Ruth went back to carefully tending to his face. As she worked, she continued talking in a feeble attempt to distract him from the pain. “Frank’s been looking out for us the whole time, and since your guys got here last week, they’ve done the same.”

John flinched as she cleaned a deep gash on his temple. “Good,” he managed through gritted teeth. “They’re. How’s Hope? I know Buck’s in another compound.”

“She’s not good. Hasn’t been sleeping because of nightmares, so Frank and I have tried to stay up with her… but she just shuts us out. We don’t know what to do.”

Johnny frowned, concern deepening the lines on his bruised face. “Hope’s tough but it sounds like you’ve both been through hell. It just looks like it’s taking her more time, doll.”

“I know, but it’s so hard to see her like this. She won’t talk to me, John. She won’t open up. I-I don’t know how to help her,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she carefully dabbed a cut on his eyebrow.

He reached up and gently cupped her cheek. “Hey, listen to me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that escaped down her cheek. “You’re doing everything you can. Some people just need to deal with things their own way, in their own time.”

“But what if she never does?” Ruth whispered, her voice breaking. “What if I can’t help her?”

The major’s heart ached at the pain in her big blue eyes, and he pulled her closer, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. “She’ll come around. I know it.”

Just then, a series of rapid knocks on the door interrupted them, followed by the sound of familiar voices. “Ruth, Bucky, you two decent in there?”

She quickly wiped away her tears. John looked up, wincing slightly as he tried to sit up straight. “Come on in, you dodos,” he called out.

The door swung open, and Murph, Crank, and Glenn hurried into the room. Their eyes widened when they took in the sight of John’s bruised body.

“Shit,” Crank muttered. “Bucky, what did they do to you?”

Murphy’s face twisted in concern. “You look like you went ten rounds with a freight train and lost,” he said with the shake of his head. “You alright?”

John gave them a weak grin. “Just fine, boys. You should see the other guy.”

“If you say so, sir,” Graham grimaced.

Ruth helped John back into his shirt and into a seat, and the men sat around the table, asking John about the Münster mission, what happened to his plane, and if he knew about any of the other guys from his crew. While they spoke, her mind wandered to Frank and Hope. It was almost 5:30, almost time for supper…if you could call half a potato and a tiny sausage-looking meat stick supper.

Noticing her far-off stare, John placed a gentle hand on her thigh beneath the table and remained in the conversation, his touch offering little comfort against her worry. It wasn’t until the door creaked open a few minutes later that she could finally breathe. Frank and Hope appeared in the doorway, freezing as their eyes fell upon the group. The group’s hushed voices ceased and a few chairs scraped back as they turned to see who had entered. She felt John move beside her, turning to face the pair.

“Hope! Frank! You’re back. Ruth’s been telling me all about you both since the crash.” John cracked a wide smile and Ruth noticed the way his eyes softened as they fell on Hope.

Frank stood behind Hope in the doorway, his eyes widening when his gaze fell on Bucky. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Major, sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

John shrugged, his arm coming back around to rest on Ruth’s shoulders, “We’re at war Captain, worse things could have happened. To think that of all the camps I could have gone to I ended up back with my girl. It could have been worse, I could have been stuck in a different compound like Buck and…”

The room fell silent and all eyes fell to Hope. Ruth held in the small gasp that threatened to fall from her lips. She saw Hope’s eyes trail to the floor, her brown eyes fighting against her emotions.

“Ahh, Hope, I didn’t mean…” John began, his face etched with concern as he realized the weight of his words.

“It’s fine, John. Really, it’s good to have you back. It’s nice to see Ruth so happy again.”

Hope sent her friend a sincere smile and the blonde returned it, her shoulders relaxing a little. Ruth wasn’t convinced that was the truth, but to know Hope wasn’t about to run out on her again brought her a small amount of comfort. Everyone walked on eggshells around Hope. It was like she was an unexploded bomb that needed to be handled with such delicacy in fear of her going off at any moment.

Hope sat herself down on her bunk, her dark eyes trailing over the group. Frank joined in the conversation and Ruth took that as her moment to slip out of John’s grasp and make her way over to her friend.

Hope didn’t notice Ruth approaching her until the bed dipped beside her.

“How are you doing?” Ruth asked, slipping her hand into Hope’s and squeezing it gently. “You’ve been really quiet since Gale arrived.”

Ruth wanted to approach the subject but also didn’t want to drive her friend away further. She knew she’d have to be careful with her probing questions…one false move and Hope could close in on herself again.

“I’m fine, Rue, really. Work’s just been busy and I’ve not been sleeping well, but I promise I’m fine,” she forced a smile that stretched across her pale cheeks. Ruth could see the dark, purple skin beneath her friends eyes and the way her skin pulled tightly across her cheekbones. She had always considered her friend to be beautiful, so striking with her dark hair and red lipstick, but now she look like a ghost of her former self.

Ruth wasn’t convinced. Her once bright eyes looked tiredly at Hope, breaking her heart even more.

What had become of them?

2200 HRS: 10 PM

The afternoon passed with introductions to fellow prisoners and supper, along with John’s first evening roll call. By lights out, the major was half-asleep in his chair around the table, pure exhaustion wafting off him after the journey he had from Dulag Luft. Everyone else was lying quietly in their bunks, leaving John, Ruth, and Crank alone at the table. She watched with a softened gaze as Bucky’s eyes drooped again and again. It was adorable, the way he continued to fight it, but Ruth knew he was beyond tired. She shared a glance with Crank across the table before returning her eyes to John’s half-lidded ones.

“Come on,” Ruth patted his shoulder gently, his eyes opening wider. “Let’s get you into bed.”

John blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, pushing himself up from the table with a barely concealed wince.

That afternoon, they decided he would get the bunk above Ruth’s. If their roommates were being honest, they guessed one of the beds would be empty more often than not. It wasn’t an easy task getting all six-foot-something of John up onto the second-row bunk, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed the pain as he climbed into the bed.

Charlie stood to help, but Johnny waved him off. “I’m good,” he insisted, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

“Sure you don’t,” Crank replied with a knowing eye-roll but stayed close just in case.

John gritted his teeth and tried to climb onto the second-row bunk on his own. He managed to get one leg up before a sharp pain shot through his side, making him grunt and pause.

“Let us help,” Ruth whispered.

He nodded reluctantly, the fight leaving him as he sighed. “Alright, alright. Just this once.”

Crank and Ruth each took an arm, Charlie doing more than the blonde, and they carefully helped him up onto the bunk. Only a small wince left his lips despite the ever-present ache throughout his whole body. Once he settled on the narrow mattress, he took a long breath.

“See? Easy,” he joked weakly, slightly out of breath from the movement.

Charlie clapped him gently on the shoulder before heading to his own bunk. “Sure, Bucky.”

Standing beside his bunk, Ruth’s face was slightly taller than eye level. She looked down at him with worry swirling in her mind. The cuts, the bruising, his eye, the avoidance…it all worried her. She wanted to know what happened. Needed to know. How could she be there for him if she didn’t know what he went through?

“You alright?” he asked sleepily, his face only visible from the moonlight streaming through the room’s small window. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

Ruth sighed and raised her hand to play with the messy curls hanging over his forehead. “I missed you. So much. Being here…it gives you a lot of time to think. Makes you realize what’s important. Who’s important. A part of me thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I promise I’m not gonna leave you again, alright? I meant what I said earlier, doll. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied softly, kissing his cheek. “Get some rest, okay? You need it.”

Groaning, john tiredly raised his eyebrows. “Come on. That’s all I get?”

“So needy,” Ruth smirked with the roll of her eyes before kissing him properly. “Now really go to sleep, hotshot.”

A pleased smile curved John’s lips as his eyes slipped closed. “Night, Ruthie.

She gave him one last tender look before stepping back and moving to her own bunk below his. For the first night in a month, the overwhelming sense of doom, of panic, seemed to lessen, and she drifted off to sleep easily. Bucky, however, was subjected to the same nightmare that visited him nightly.

Smoke and flames burned his eyes as he frantically looked around him. The twisted metal of the Angel lay scattered around the field, its normal green paint charred in the blaze. John stumbled over the debris, his heart pounding as he searched for any sign of life. The plane was nearly unrecognizable, the once proud C-47 reduced to a smoldering heap of metal and fire. John’s eyes darted frantically across the field, the smoke filling his lungs. He coughed violently and his hands trembled as he clawed his way through the debris. Then, in the fire’s dim light, he saw her…but the vibrance of her eyes was gone as she blankly stared up at the sky.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, his heart skipping as he rushed to her side, but his hands passed through her as if she was a ghost.

John jolted awake with a gasp, and his heart pounded in his chest. His heaving chest was drenched with sweat as he tried to get his bearings. For a moment, he was disoriented, and the line between dream and reality blurred. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he remembered where he was. The stalag. Ruth was alive. He’d seen her, held her. But the lingering fear from the nightmare gnawed at him.

Ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every movement, Johnny carefully climbed down from his bunk and lowered himself slowly to the floor, wincing as his bruised ribs protested.

He felt uneasy. An unnerving feeling spread through him as he turned and met a dark pair of eyes watching him from the window. His breath caught in his throat as his heart continued to pound. Hope watched him sympathetically. Her own eyes were rimmed red and her small frame looked childlike in her oversized coveralls bunched up against the window. The pair exchanged no words as John shuffled closer to Ruth’s cot. Leaning against the post of Ruth’s bunk, he fixed his eyes on her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. He reached out hesitantly and lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face. Bucky had watched her for what felt like hours when she finally stirred.

Ruth’s eyelids fluttered open as if finally sensing his presence, and she blinked sleepily, her eyes focusing on the figure sitting beside her bed.

“Johnny?” she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

He pursed his lips. “No reason. It reminded me of my lovely cell back at Dulag Luft.”

A small sigh left Ruth’s lips as she watched him in the dim light. Through the bruises and the bravado, she saw a wounded man…one wounded physically, emotionally, and mentally.

“John.”

The silence that followed was filled with Murph’s quiet snores.

“I, uh, just wanted to check on you,” the major murmured after a moment, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, his eyes stuck on them. “To make sure you’re okay…That this isn’t some messed-up dream.”

It was then that Ruth remembered what the others said…He took it hard. But what all did that entail? Did he go out and drink himself away every night or did he pick up his old habits with women? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that he was there, they were finally together.

“Hey,” she whispered, sitting up and reaching out to him. She gently ran her hand through his greasy curls. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

John’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, she saw raw vulnerability in them, but the strong facade quickly returned. He thought back to the long nights in the Officer’s Club, sitting around the bar with a drink in his hand, just trying to drown out the memories that followed him everywhere. John couldn’t go to Dickleburgh, couldn’t bear Tommy asking about Ruth, asking when he’d see her again. The first and only time it happened, Buck and Kidd looked at him warily, unsure whether he’d crumble or explode as Tommy stared up at him with his signature toothy grin. John simply took a big gulp of his pint and clenched his jaw, telling Tommy she’d be gone for a while. He didn’t remember much after that moment, but he remembered waking up the next morning with one of the worst hangovers of his life. He awoke knowing he couldn’t face Tommy or the memories that mercilessly replayed in his mind.

He nodded and softly took her hand, running his thumb over the top of it as he spoke. “Yeah. I know. It’s just…They told us the Angel went down. Said there were no survivors. We - uh - spent the past month thinking both you and Hope were dead. I-”

Bucky trailed off and looked away from Ruth, his gaze focusing on the dusty floor beside him. He couldn’t stop the burn in his eyes at the thought of the past month. He was no stranger to pain, to loss. Losing his father was heartbreaking, as was losing man after man as the war went on. But Ruth? Losing Ruth was the worst pain he’d ever felt. And to think, Haussmann was the reason he knew she was alive after all that time.

“Johnny, look at me,” Ruth murmured as she softly turned his face toward her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish more than anything I could’ve made it back to you.”

He blinked away the tears glistening in his eyes and took a deep breath with a nod. “Me, too, doll. Me, too.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, both soaking in the loving gaze of the other. Ruth noted the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The grey reminded her of the clouds that almost always hung in the sky around The Grove and Thorpe Abbotts. A dog’s bark in the distance broke their trance, and Ruth lightly tugged on his hand.

“Come here.”

He hesitated but then slowly climbed onto the bunk, wincing quietly as he did so. Ruth made space for him, which wasn’t much, but they managed to fit. He lay on his back and she nestled herself on top of him, her body conforming to the limited space they had.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

John nodded, his mind finally able to rest with her in his arms. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, Ruthie, you’re not hurting me. I promise.”

She carefully laid her head on his chest, her ear over his heart. The steady rhythm was comforting, a reminder that he was alive and here with her. That she was alive. Tears welled up in her eyes again as she clung to him.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, sitting up on his chest and peering down at him. “I was worried sick about you. I couldn’t focus in class…”

“Class?”

Ruth’s lips formed a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I-uh,” she sniffled quietly, “teach English to some of the other kriegies.”

With a huff of air and a shake of his head, he relaxed against the straw pillow, staring at the wooden slats above him as a faint smile grew on his face. Since his capture, John had thought about how much his life was changing. The freedom he cherished would be gone, and no one knew how long he’d be stuck in the camp under German rule. But then there was Ruth, already stepping up and helping out where she could, not wallowing in self-pity like he had already begun to.

“What?” she asked, sitting back up on his chest.

“Just you. You’re just amazing. Even here.”

Ruth blushed and her eyes dropped to his chest as she absent-mindedly traced patterns on his shirt. “It helps me feel like I’m doing something, you know? Like I’m not just sitting around, waiting for the war to end. It gives me purpose.”

“At least you’re able to do what you love. Those kids back home were lucky to have ya, and now these guys are, too.”

“It’s not the same, but it helps. And they seem to appreciate it,” she said, looking up at him.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I bet they do. Doesn’t hurt that you’re gorgeous, either. You never stop amazing me, doll.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t know about that. It gets my mind off of everything, though…Got my mind off you.”

He stared at her for a moment, really looking at the woman before him. She’d been through hell and was more worried about him than herself…him, who up two weeks prior had been sleeping in a warm bed in England while she was being forced across Germany.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Johnny murmured, tightening his hold on Ruth as his arms wrapped protectively around her. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

His question brought back a memory, and Ruth found herself being transported back to Thorpe Abbotts, to the night of Dye’s party when he’d asked the same thing. Everything was so different then. In that small hall bathroom in the Officer’s Club, John had also asked her to come to London with him.

Oh, the things that would never be…or at least wouldn’t happen in the foreseeable future.

Her hand found its way to his cheek as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do anything, remember? I love you. Don’t let anything tell you different.”

A few seconds passed before John sighed and looked up at the bunk above him. “You know, when I thought you were gone, I-I didn’t handle it too well. I drank…A lot. Went to London on my own, hoping to get some closure, but it…it didn’t help.”

Ruth just watched him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. To her dismay, almost everything she’d guessed had been true. The strong man she knew was reduced to someone who needed alcohol to get through the day, to go to sleep at night. He went on to tell her about London, the mission, and his interrogation, but he kept the most brutal parts to himself. She was already worried and didn’t need anything else to stress over.

“But I do owe that Nazi chump one thing. He let me know you were alive, even if he didn’t realize it.”

“What?” she asked with furrowed brows. “How?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. But as I was leaving, he said something I wrote in my last letter to you. Told me the ‘Yankees always end on top…’ probably to try and rile me up, I guess. I knew that meant you went through there if he knew that.”

Chuckling, Ruth shook her head. “Wow. Who’d’ve thought?”

“Speaking of the Yankees,” John began with a twinkle in his eye. “They won the World Series.”

She playfully groaned and turned away from him with a poorly hidden smirk. “I did not miss hearing crap from you about the Yankees, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, come on, doll. You know you missed it,” he teased as he turned onto his side and pulled her against him wincing slightly as pain shot through his ribs. “Don’t even deny it.”

A loud giggle involuntarily escaped her lips when he wrapped his arms around her again. The sound lifted a weight off of Johnny’s shoulder’s. It was a sound he’d heard night after night, memory after memory, and hearing it after believing he never would again eased his mind in a way he couldn’t describe. Ruth could’ve sworn she heard Frank gag from a nearby bunk, but he made no other complaints.

They stayed like that for a while, both caught up in their thoughts. Ruth thanked God for keeping John safe, for sparing him and bringing him back to her, even if he was bloody and bruised and they were both prisoners of war. Bucky burrowed his face in her neck and breathed her scent, felt the warmth of her skin, the way she fit perfectly in his arms. She was alive. They were together. And in that moment, he promised to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“I love you,” he whispered after kissing her neck gently. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Goodnight, hotshot. I love you.”

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her presence wash over him. “Goodnight, slugger.”

This time, sleep welcomed the major quickly, and for the first time in over a month, it was peaceful.

Two Days Later: October 29th: 0530 HRS: 5:30 AM

Bang. Bang.

“Aufstehen! Get up!”

The clacking of boots furthered down the hall as the occupants of room 4 slowly awoke. Ruth sat up with a yawn, running a tired hand down her face as John gingerly hopped from the bunk above her and kissed her cheek.

“Mornin, doll.”

“Morning,” she groaned, sliding on her boots and getting bundled up for the morning appell. Ruth layered her sweaters and flight jacket then wrapped her scarf around her neck. She glanced over at Hope on the bunk beside her and noticed the way her friend pulled her own scarf tightly around her neck. Taking a closer look, Ruth also noticed the redness around Hope’s eyes. Everyone knew Hope was struggling, and each time she shut down any conversations about it, Ruth became increasingly worried. In the almost month they’d been at the camp, Hope went from a little closed off to completely isolated…or maybe she just wanted to be away from Ruth? The blonde didn’t know, but she did know that it hurt her heart to see her best friend in such a state.

Everyone quickly got ready and filed out the door for the morning roll call. It was almost always the same every morning and afternoon. The goons went down the line checking everyone was accounted for until they were satisfied. On special occasions when they felt extra cruel, the kreigies were forced to stand in their lines for hours. Luckily, that had only happened once since the girls arrived. As the chilly air turned colder with the passing days, Ruth wondered how long anyone would be able to stand exposed to the elements. It would snow soon, no doubt.

After roll call, everyone headed to the mess hall for breakfast. John threw his arm over Ruth’s shoulder, tucking her into his side. “I could eat a horse right now. I know you’re hungry, and you know I’m always hungry.”

He paused, waiting for her response, but Ruth didn’t hear a word he said. Her attention was too caught on Hope’s lonesome figure behind the group to notice he was speaking. Hope stood still, almost in a trance-like state as she stared at the mud in front of her. Bucky followed Ruth’s line of sight and sighed quietly, an understanding smile on his lips.

“Go on,” he said, squeezing her good shoulder gently.

Finally breaking from her stare, Ruth peered up at him, her brows drawn in concern. “I’ll just be a second.”

“You’re fine, doll.”

He nodded and kissed her temple. Everyone else seemed to notice the few stragglers and stood beside Bucky. Taking a deep breath, Ruth approached her friend, praying this would be the time she’d finally open up. But even as she stood three feet in front of her, Hope didn’t move.

“Hope?”

Hope’s tear-filled eyes snapped up to meet Ruth’s and quickly scanned the group beside John. A sudden redness crept up to her cheeks as Hope realized all the eyes that were on her. Frank appeared next to Ruth and reached out for Hope.

“You okay, Hope?” Frank asked, brushing his hand against hers. But before he could grasp it, she withdrew her hand and turned to avoid the other’s watchful eyes. Hurt flashed on his face for a moment until he reined in his expression, concern painting his face once again.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “I’m just tired. Lots of patients to see today, so I’ll head over to the infirmary.” She pushed past Ruth, moving through the group toward the infirmary. Ruth shared a helpless glance with Frank before following.

“Hope! Hope, wait!” Ruth called after her, clutching onto her friend’s arm when she reached her. “Hey, you have to talk to me. Please don’t shut me out,” the blonde pleaded.

“I’m not shutting you out, Rue. I’m busy, alright? I have things I need to do.”

Ruth’s grip remained firm on her forearm but Hope pushed her arm away. “Just go back to John, why don’t you? He’s waiting for you, so you should just go.”

Ruth felt a sharp pang in her chest at the words. The accusation, the resentment, it cut deep. After all they’d been through, this is how they were treating each other? She had been doing everything she could to be there for her friend, but it seemed like no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. Ruth’s voice trembled as she responded, trying to keep the hurt from showing too much.

“Please, Hope. Please just talk to me.” Ruth bit her lip to stop it from wobbling as tears slowly filled her eyes.

All Hope did was step further away from the blonde. “I can’t talk to you about it. You won’t understand,” she replied plainly, pushing her dark hair away from her eyes. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she took a breath. “I should check on the men in the infirmary.”

Without another word, she continued down the muddy path to the infirmary block. Ruth’s watched her friend’s retreating figure until she disappeared from view. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable.

You wouldn’t understand.

What wouldn’t she understand? They’d been through the worst experience of their life together, ended up as prisoners of war together. What wouldn’t she understand? Ruth didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. She’d tried everything she knew to do.

John stepped beside her and placed a hand on her back. “I’m sorry if I’ve-”

“No, it’s not you,” Ruth interrupted, her voice breaking as she leaned into him. “You haven’t done anything. I-I just don’t know what to do. She refuses to talk to me. It’s like she’s shut me out completely.”

His hand moved to wrap around her waist, his warmth a small comfort in the cold. “Seems like you’ll have to wait for her to come to you, Ruthie.”

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” she nodded, resting her head on his shoulder.

The rest of the day passed the same as the past 35 they’d spent in the dreaded Stalag Luft III. That night, however, Hope never came back to their room. As the hours ticked by and Ruth, along with the other men, arrived from their jobs around the camp, everyone became increasingly worried.

“Has anyone seen her?” Ruth asked frantically, running a hand quickly through her hair. “She’s usually back by now.”

Just as John opened his mouth to speak, the door opened and in walked Frank, soaked to the bone with a barely concealed frown. Glancing out the window, Ruth realized it was pouring.

When had it started raining?

Room 4’s occupants looked at the man expectantly. “Hope? You seen ‘er?” echoed Cruikshank.

Frank nodded slowly and closed the door behind him. “Yeah,” he breathed, “She, uh…She collapsed from exhaustion. Dr. Edmund is looking after her.”

“What?” Ruth blurted as her eyes widened in disbelief. Her whole body was on edge, the news sending shockwaves of panic through her. She could only imagine Hope laying in a scratchy bed surrounded by sick and injured men, forced to stay there for who knows how long.

Collapsed? Exhaustion? Had something happened?

Before anyone could ask Frank further questions, she grabbed her jacket from her bed and pushed toward the door. “I need to see her.”

“Wait, Ruth.” Frank stepped in front of the door, a guilty look in his eyes as he blocked her path. “She doesn’t want visitors.”

Undeterred, she side-stepped him while pulling her jacket over her good arm. She needed to be there, had to be there for Hope. This wasn’t a time to let her handle things herself. “I’m not just a visitor, Frank. It’s me.”

But just as her hand reached the door handle, he put a hand on her shoulder, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. It was almost like the words pained him…like every syllable was a shot straight to the heart. “I know it’s you. She doesn’t want you to see her.”

Ruth froze, turning to stare at Frank as his words sunk in. “She doesn’t want me to see her?” Her voice wavered, and a mix of disbelief and hurt flashed over her face. “Why? Why doesn’t she want to see me?”

“Ruthie-” John started, taking a step toward her, but was interrupted.

She stepped out from under Frank’s hand on her shoulder and threw her arm up in the air. “No,” Ruth said, her voice raising as her frustration boiled over. She’d played this game the past few weeks, and enough was enough. “Why? Why doesn’t she want me there, Frank? Can you please tell me?”

The outburst caught everyone off guard, the sharpness of her tone a stark contrast to her usual demeanor. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched the scene before him. His heart ached for her, knowing how much she was hurting, and he felt a pang of helplessness. He always admired her quiet strength, her resilience, but seeing her like this…so vulnerable and desperate…it broke his heart.

Frank looked pained as he tried to explain. “She thinks she’s protecting you. She doesn’t want you to see her like this.”

Ruth’s shoulders slumped as the fight drained from her. “I’m sorry, Frank,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Thanks for, uh, telling me.”

All eyes followed her figure as she walked to her bunk and laid down, turning her back to all of them. She didn’t know how much more of it she could take. Things were so much easier when they had each other, and in isolating herself, Hope had accidentally isolated Ruth as well. Without the other, they were the only woman in the camp.

Frank and John exchanged a glance, pure helplessness evident in both their eyes at the situation. They couldn’t make Hope talk to Ruth, and the fact they couldn’t do anything hurt more than any punishment either of the men recieved in captivity.

Sighing heavily, Frank ran a hand through his dripping hair. “I wish there was more we could do,” he murmured.

Johnny nodded, glancing back at Ruth’s figure across the room. “Yeah, me too.” His voice was thick, and the usually talkative Major struggled to find the right words. “It’s tearing her apart, Martin. I’ve-I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Hope’ll come around, eventually. She has to.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bucky replied softly as his eyes remained fixed on the woman he loved. “I really hope you’re right.”

Thursday, November 4th: 1500 HRS: 3 PM

The days passed slowly for everyone in room 4, especially Ruth. While Frank was able to check on Hope in the infirmary, no one else was allowed to visit…this didn’t stop Ruth from trying, however. But to her dismay, she was turned away by Dr. Edmunds before she could even make it through the door.

She attended class as normal and went about her days, but a dark cloud of worry loomed over her mind, consuming her every thought. Even as she wrote on the chalkboard behind her, she wasn’t fully present. If her students could tell something was wrong, they didn’t comment on it. They just copied down the notes in the notebooks the Red Cross sent them in their packages.

“So, Lady Macbeth,” Ruth said as she scribbled the character name on the board,” She is an example of character archetype?”

Her eyes flitted across the room, scanning each of the young men’s faces. Some were searching through their notes to find the answer while others stared at the board in thought. A hand flew up in the front corner of the room, and it brought a smile to Ruth’s face when she saw it was George.

��Go ahead, George,” she gestured to him.

“Is she a femme fatale?”

“Great job. Lady Macbeth is a great example of a femme fatale. Now can someone besides George tell me what a femme fatale is?”

Before anyone could raise their hand, a knock sounded through the classroom. “Come in,” she called.

A few of the men gave her a wary look, unsure of who would be stopping by in the middle of a lesson. Since Ruth started teaching a few weeks prior, they hadn’t had any visitors. She thought it could be John who’d said he might pop in sometime to see her. Who stuck their head around the corner, however, was the last person she’d ever expect.

Hope.

Did she finally want to talk? After all that time?

Ruth glanced at her watch and placed down the chalk.

“I think that’ll be all for today. Make sure to read up to Act 3, scene 2, and we’ll go from there in the next lesson.”

The men packed up quickly and exited the room, sensing the unspoken tension between the women. Ruth leaned against her desk, arms crossed over her chest as she waited expectantly. To say she was surprised to see her friend in her class was an understatement. In all the time she’d been teaching in the camp Hope had never once visited.

Relief and frustration bubbled up inside Ruth. Of course, she was happy to see her friend, but Hope treated her poorly and her words cut deep. She didn’t quite look annoyed but Hope knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t exactly pleased that she hadn’t allowed her to visit the infirmary.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about again,” Ruth replied plainly, a faint smile on her lips. This was her best friend, but she felt like a stranger now. “You had me worried, Hope…had me worried for a while now. Since the crash, you’ve not been yourself, and I understand that but…” she cut herself off, pushing herself away from her desk and moving to a table a few feet away from Hope.

Hope kept her eyes trained on the floor, unable to meet Ruth’s, embarrassment clear on her reddening cheeks as the tears building in her eyes threatened to fall.

“I’m sorry, Rue…” she mumbled softly.

Ruth sighed, moving closer and standing before her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know things haven’t been easy for you, but things haven’t been easy for me, either. We need each other, and you pushed me away…pushed us all away.”

Tears welled in Ruth’s eyes, too, and Hope felt a choked sob slipping from her lips, “I failed you, Ruth. I just keep failing and disappointing you.”

Sympathy easily overpowered Ruth’s frustration, and she tugged Hope into an embrace. Hope’s head fell against the blonde's shoulder and she felt Ruth’s arms encasing her as she cried. It was the most relief she’d felt in months: to truly cry…to release all the emotions that had been bottled up for the past month.

“I’m so sorry, Ruth.”

The two women remained still, each clinging to the other as they cried over the events of the last few months. Neither of them had truly faced what had become of them but it was good to finally share in their grief. To face reality together.

Ruth pulled back, rubbing away the stray tears that streaked down her pale cheeks. “Hope please tell me what happened. Frank said you collapsed from exhaustion and didn’t want anyone to visit. I tried to anyways but Dr. Edmund said you weren’t up for visitors.”

She wanted answers…needed answers as to why Hope quite literally shut her out.

Hope bit her lip, seemingly caught in a battle within herself. A few moments passed until she shakily spoke. “Well, I’ve not been sleeping too well for a while now but I’d finally finished the letter to Gale that Edmund promised to pass onto him,” she began, inhaling sharply between each sentence. “I went to the infirmary earlier, I couldn’t sleep and I wanted Edmund to have it as soon as possible. I went to the infirmary to drop it off and there was this man there…”

Hope gulped.

“He was a patient and was as good as dead, but…”

Ruth couldn’t help the emotion that clawed at her throat as Hope spoke. Her friend’s voice sounded so broken and painful as she relived the events that Ruth didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

“He grabbed me and he tried too… Well, he didn’t manage it. Edmund said it was all the shock of that and the sleep deprivation that my body finally just gave up. He put me on bed rest. Frank only found out because I was unconscious when he arrived and Edmund let him in.”

Hope let out a long sigh, reaching to take Ruth’s shaking hands in her own, “I didn’t want you to see me so broken, Rue. I’ve always promised that I’d look after you but all I do is keep failing and letting you down.”

Ruth shook her head, fighting to keep her lip from trembling, “You haven’t failed me, alright? You’re the strongest, most talented, hardest working person I know, and you’re the most incredible nurse. I wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you for taking care of me, but it’s my turn to take care of you. You just have to let me.”

A painful wail slipped from Hope as she sobbed once more, surrendering to her own grief. How had she been so blind to the pain she’d caused her friend?

“I love you, Rue, I love you so much and I can’t lose you.”

Ruth’s hand smoothed down Hope’s back, “I love you too, Hope. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine -> will tag rest in comments!

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 7 months

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02/12/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Parrot Analytics; Cast & Crew; Kristian Nairn; Nathan Foad; Erroll Shand; Trends and Stats; V-Day Video for Prime; In person events and Watch Party reminders; People of Earth; WooAsACrew; Kudoboard for Cast & Crew Update; Love Notes; Daily Darby; Tonight's Taika; Well folks, it was another busy busy day. I apologize, I'm a bit exhausted today so I'll be making this quicker than normal.

== Parrot Analytics ==

Some Q4 data was released by Parrot Analytics for HBO and Max and as you can probably imagine, this made most of the internet explode. Referencing @adoptourcrew here since they did a great bit of research.

SRC: HBO's Most Popular Shows - hidden behind Paywall

== UK How You Can Help==

Below are actions to do every day to capitalise on #OurFlagBBC! More info below on how to use YouGov. Tumblr

=Cast & Crew Sightings=

= Wee John Wondays ==

I think everyone's favorite part of the day was when Nathan Foad appeared on Wee John Wonday's. He is by far one of the best guests ever.

Please go watch the whole damn live, but if you don't have time right now. Here's a clip from our fabulous friend @edscuntyeyeshadow who recorded it for us, I have just left it on repeat so I can continue to laugh.

A few quotes/highlights in case you can't watch anything right now:

Highlights:

Kristian's Garage Fire

Nathan's Writing

Nathan was VERY sick at the beginning of filming S2, Sick AF and had to learn how to roll and smoke cigarettes.

Nathan was not aware he was on camera when the sandwich hit him in the face.

Gypsy made him a jacket to wear IRL that matched his gorgeous one in the show (Gypsy is the best)

Nathan's favorite scene was the one with Matt Maher with the Art on the Wall.

Kristian's favorite scene was the one with Con O'Neill and asking to put on make up

Quotes:

"NOT TO BE A BIG THING RIGHT NOW BUT I AM" - Nathan

"Sniffed the air like a fox in heat" - Kristian

"You little gay bitch" - Nathan

"Mid town special" - Nathan, as Kristian

"Im a horrible un wanted nipple twister" - Kristian

"Needy puffs" - Nathan

== Erroll Shand ==

As usual our dear friend Erroll is out here really pushing the SaveOFMD material/data.

== Trends and Stats ==

== Valentine's Day Video For Prime ==

It’s Monday, which means it’s time to send Prime Video all our love ! Let’s #WooAsACrew 🐙💜 Vocals: ferventrabbit on Twitter Video: Giulianaazr on Twitter

youtube

== Event and Watch Party Reminders! ==

= OFMD Matelotage Processional =

Tues Feb 13: 8-11 am at: Kismet Salon 4111 W Olive Ave. Burbank CA 91505

If you show up-- you get free stickers!

= People of Earth Watch Party =

People of Earth Season 1: Episodes 3 and 4 tomorrow! If you don't have access reachout to @iamadequate1!

10 PM GMT / 5 PM EST / 4 PM CST / 2 PM PST

#PiratesOfEarth

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

= WooAsACrew =

Tue 13: Send @netflix some love!

== Cast & Crew Kudoboard ==

Hey all, I already made a short post about it but the Kudoboard was overrun by some absolute twats today so I had to lock it down with a password. If you'd like to still submit something to the cast and crew that's still doable, you'll just need the pw. Please just DM me here or twitter, or Instagram, or wherever you can find me or the @saveofmdcrewmates folks also have it. We will be sending it off / locking it on Valentine's day early morning so please reach out prior!

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, I am really low on spoons tonight so I'm gonna let some other folks send you love on my behalf. See you tomorrow, all the love. <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's gifs are courtesy of:

Taika: @chrysalis-writes and Rhys: @thunderwingdoomslayer

Happy Murray Monday and Enjoy tomorrow's Taika Tuesday!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #rhys darby #save our flag means death #taika waititi #kristian nairn #nathan foad #erroll shand #wee john wondays #in person events #watch partys

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pienhime · 11 months

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Ten Under-Recognized Jirai Kei Characters!

Ive been meaning to make a post on some jirai kei characters that i think are underappreciated by the overseas landmine community! Mostly i think its bc they don't wear girly kei, cybercore, or other fashions associated with us on SNS, and bc their media came out before 2020. So ive compiled a list and an explanation for why i think they're jirai! I have another list for pien kei characters who arent jirai in my opinion too. If u have any characters u think the western jirai comm sleeps on, comment/reblog and tell me who & why!

1. Celestia Ludenberg

Celestia (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) has screamed landmine to me for like, ever! She's wrapped up in her appearance and at first glance makes the effort to come off as regal and formal. But she frequently lets that disguise slip and shows her sadistic side at the slightest inconvenience, threatening violence and screaming in peoples faces. She's got both a superiority complex AND inferiority complex, and has an unhealthy obsession with gambling, her super high school level talent.

2. Nijimin Anazawa

Nijimin (Mahou Shoujo Site) is super popular in the japanese jirai comm, and its easy to see why. She's easily lovestruck and a borderline yandere (dependent type), murderous and hellbent on revenge, and her magical power literally revolves around manipulating others. She's a beloved idol and a symbol of cuteness, but she's a murderous magical girl? How much more jirai can you get!

3. Mayoi Ayase

Mayoi (Ensemble Stars) is a very interesting character! From his obsession with the occult to his self depreciating behavior to his obsessive and stalkerish tendencies, he's an overall offputting yet charming guy. As an idol, he has fans who have a totally different image of him than the creep (affectionate) he can be at times behind the scenes. Also, not to stereotype, but his favorite sanrio character is kuromi, whos super popular within jirai.

4. Yuri

Yuri (Dokidoki Literature Club) being a landmine seems a little self-explanatory to me. She's a yandere character who's probably the most unassuming of the cast at first. She's shy, smart, kind... and a self-harming yandere with a knife fetish who will literally kill herself if you get involved romantically or reject her.

5. Yoosung

Wow, when's the last time I thought about Mystic Messanger? No idea, but Yoosung feels pretty jirai kei to me in retrospect. In the beginning of the game, hes the adorkable self-conscious junior with an unhealthy online addiction. But, by the end, he's a self-harming yandere who refuses to let the player character go, and is willing to do whatever it takes to secure a happily ever after.

6. Kusokawa-chan

While I have an immeasurable hatred for her creator, Kusokawa-chan (Menhera-chan spin-off 4komas) is a comfort character of mine... for some reason. With a name that means "kawaii trash", her personality is probably predictable. She's human trash, a sadistic asshole with no respect for others who will insult and berate you at the drop of a hat, and turn on a dime on her fans. She tries to cover it up by putting on an exaggerated innocent act and kawaii-fying herself and her life, but she just cant stop herself from exploding on others with no remorse.

7. Azusa Mukami

Admittedly, everything I know about Diabolik Lovers is through its fandom as I've yet to cave and buy the games. But from what little I know, Azusa seems pretty jirai. He seems innocent, fragile even- but has the typical amount of yandere tendencies for the series. He has a self harm addiction, and if you peruse his route you're in for a toxic time.

8. Satou Matsuzaka

This might be cheating because she's so popular on yandere tumblr, but Satou Matsuzaka (Happy Sugar Life) is ultra jirai kei. It's no wonder she's such a popular choice of pfp on japanese jiraitwt! She's obsessed with living out a fantasy saccarine-sweet life with the object of her desire, and given her full-blown yandere nature and her lolicon status, its no doubt shes a toxic partner. She's beloved at her school and workplace for her seemingly sweet nature and cute looks, but her kindness is only for the purposes of manipulation.

9. Kosame Amagai

Again, I'm no expert on Diabolik Lovers! But based on what my friends on yandereblr tell me, this guy is definately a jirai danshi. He's a lover of all things cute, who uses his cute shota-like appearance and polite manner of speech to lure others in. In reality, hes an abusive partner in his route, and takes his anger out on others verbally. He's willing to cry, scream, and threaten over the smallest of transgressions. Of course, he's also a yandere as per series standard.

10. Momonga

Okay so this is only half-serious, but there's a reason Momonga (Chiikawa) is so beloved by jirai girls and often depicted fitting the visual jirai stereotype in fanart. She's ultra cute! But she uses her appearance and acting vulnerable and innocent to try to get away with shithead behavior. She's loud, erratic, and self-obsessed, and often cries when she doesn't get her way. She's obviously the worlds cutest little manipulator, and she knows it.

I hope you enjoyed this list! There's a list for non-landmine pien kei characters coming soon, so feel free to send me asks with recommendations! And feel free to add on to this list in reblogs and comments!

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0-sparkling-lace-0 · 4 months

Text

The Lab Assistant

Hey! Before I start I'd like to introduce myself. You can call me winky, or wink, or luna. Also, I'd like to say in no way shape or form am I a writer. I dabbled in it when I was younger, it's been well over 5/6 years since I've written anything, though. So that being said, I wrote this years ago on a Tumblr account that I had that is now deactivated, because I personally wasn't happy with my work.

sigh

Always the critic. Anyways, I found this in an OLD ASS Google doc, and decided to read it again. Um, why I thought it was bad is beyond me. I was like 18-19 when I wrote this, and thought it was terrible. It's not the best, but for someone who was literally only just starting to write, I'm not sure it's that bad. Also, I'd like to say that my interests have steered away from Rick & Morty since having written this, so I don't really see myself writing for this fandom again. If you like it, please let me know! Also before I start, here are some warnings and tags.

MDNI. WC:1.8k RickSanchez x LabAssistant!Reader/AFAB!Reader/Age Gap/Use of Y/N/Masturbation/(Maybe slight degradation? If not let me know.)/Oral (Giving&Recieving)/Pet Names(Use of Daddy, baby girl ect-nothing too extreme)/(if I've forgotten anything, let me know!) Also it's been so long that I've been in this fandom or have read any fanfiction with Rick involved. If it's fell out of touch to write him with burping and or his usual stutters, I'm so sorry. That's probably the only thing that made me cringe while re-reading this.

It was a day like any other, as I helped Rick with whatever he needed. "Screwdriver." He said with a gruff voice. Before I walked over to the box that held his tools, I peered over his shoulder to see what exactly it was that he was working on. Mildly interested, I grabbed him the screwdriver and handed it to him. "Final touches..." He announced finally after an entire day of working on whatever it was that he was working on. "Finished!" He shouted. I was excited to see what it was, finally. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously. He smirks at me, giving me wild eyes that I'm easily intimidated by. "It's a de-device that can-burp- read your mind." I step back cautiously. Usually, I'd be the first to offer myself up as a guinea pig-bearing in mind that there's no way he can delve into my mind and discover the parts of me that I wouldn't want him to see. I always sense he knows that I have feelings for him, but he never brings it up because I'm a third his age. Even if that's the case, I can't take the chance. "No, I don't want you in my mind." He laughs. "Why not? Have some d-deep dark secret that you don't want people to know about?" I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a look that says back off. "Maybe I do. But seriously, I don't want to test this one." He sighs an upset sigh. "Alright. Maybe I can bribe-burp- Morty into doing it later. It's been a long day, let's go to-to bed." I give him a sad smile before I apologize and waltz out of the garage door and into the kitchen. "Goodnight, Y/N." I looked at the clock above the sink and realized it's only 8:30. "You're really going to bed? Why don't you hang out with me a little? We can watch Ball Fondlers together." I smile at him with questioning eyes, not wanting him to go to bed yet. I'd spent the whole day with him and I still want to be near him. He gave me a dirty look before lugging himself up the stairs. Maybe I made him mad when I told him I didn't want to test the mind reader. I frowned before grabbing something to eat and heading upstairs. I grabbed my TV remote once settled in my cozy bed and turned on Netflix. I kept the volume on low, not wanting to disturb Rick and make him even more upset towards me. 2 episodes in I started to hear mumbling. Wait, no, was it moaning? Someone must bewatching a movie, or something. I try not to think about it as I pay attention to my show.After a while, it starts to get louder and my thoughts interrupt my concentration. "I can't deal with this." I hop off my bed and walk out into the hallway, following the sound. But as I get closer, I realize the moaning isn't coming from a TV. I look over to Rick's bedroom door and see it cracked a bit. I tiptoe over to it and slightly peek through. Immediately my face flushes red at the sight. Rick, on his bed with his pants and his boxers to his knees, hand furiously tugging at his member. I had to cover my mouth to not moan at the view in front of me. He's a moaning mess. I slowly start to feel myself get wet with every passing second. This is wrong, so wrong. I shouldn't be invading his privacy like this. But I just can't tear my eyes away. "Fuuucck, Y/N..." My eyes got wide and how could I possibly get wetter than I was already? I could feel the wet patch forming in my jeans. My free hand went down to touch my clothed core. I had to bite my hand to keep myself from making any noise, this was too good to be true, I didn't want to lose it. My confidence boosted as I heard my name being called once again. I grabbed the door handle and thought about it one more time before finally making my decision. I swung the door open as I said: "You do realize I'm less than half your age, old man." He jumped and looked startled before he smirked at me; not the reaction I was expecting. "How long have you b-been listening?" I hopped up on the bed and crawled over to him. "Long enough to know that you're lusting after me, your lab assistant-how taboo." He chuckled darkly before saying:

"Not my fault you have killer tits, babe." I looked down to my chest and then back up to him before smiling. "Really? You think I have nice tits?" "Don't flatter yourself. I know you have a -burp- huge crush on me." I sat back on my heels with a frown on my lips before I said: "Well, from the look of it, it seems that you've one on me too." I gestured to his throbbing cock, still on display. "Like I said, killer tits." A thought popped into my head before I grabbed the hem of my spaghetti strap tank top and pulled it over my head, not wearing a bra. I heard his breath hitch in his throat. I raised my eyebrow in a challenge. "Fuck it." He breathed before grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me closer into a kiss. Not a gentle one, but an all consuming, hungry one. I kissed back with fervor. He pulled his hand up to my tit and ran the pad of his thumb over my nipple. I reached down between his legs to grab his aching cock and pumped him. He grunted and bit my bottom lip. I stole a glance into his wild, lust blown pupils. He pulled away from the kiss to shove my head downwards. "Suck it." I let out an angry breath through my nostrils. "You can boss me around in the garage, but not in the bedroom." "Hah! You act li-like I'm paying you-you for hard work." I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed slighty while he hissed in slight pain. "Don't dare treat me like a 2 cent whore, ask nicely and you'll get what you want." He let out an annoyed sigh before saying "Please dear, would you su-suck my dick." Although I'd like it to be less sarcastic and more sincere, I want to get this show on the road. So I take his tip into my mouth and give it kitten licks to tease and get my revenge.

He twines his hand through my hair and pushes my head all the way down. After pausing slightly to gain control of myself, I started to bob my head up and down. His hips started to move on their own. The only thing I could do was relax my jaw in order to not hurt him while he face fucked me. Soon enough he was twitching in my mouth and I could tell that he was close, so I stopped. "What the fuck are you doing?!" "I don't want you to cum yet. Like you said, I have a crush on you too, where's my fun?" "You little bitch." He said before grabbing me and flipping me onto my back. "You like tea-teasing me? Huh?" I giggled before saying, "Yes, I do." He growled before ripping down my jeans and panties all in one go. "You're my assistant. I'm above you. Where's your respect?" All I could do is laugh. "You don't intimidate me, Rick. Now are you gonna keep babbling or are you gonna shove your face where it belongs?" Taking jabs at each other was a normal thing for us, but in a scenario like this? It only made me love him more. He gave me a look that could kill before he finally lowered his head. He started at my knees, giving me soft open mouthed kisses and traveled slowly up to my inner thighs. I was starting to get impatient. I sat up on my elbows and said: "Just get on with it." He shot me a smile. "Oh no, babe. I'm gonna-gonna make you beg." I laid back down with a huff. He laughed softly. I could feel his breath on me now. Finally, he took a long stripe up the center of me. I put my hand over my mouth, hoping he wouldn't see, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He then started to suckle on my sensitive nub and I whimpered somewhat loudly into my hand. He looked up, angry. "None of that, baby. I want to-to hear you." When I didn't listen to him, he stopped. I whined at the loss of contact. "What? You wa-want me to keep going? Like I said, beg -burp- for it, honey." I looked in his eyes a long while before finally saying, "Please." "Nuh-uh. You gotta beg." He grazed his hand over my clit before quickly taking it away, and that was enough to make me want more. I grabbed his neck, pulled him closer to me, and whispered into his ear, "Please, Daddy." "Fuuuck. God, I can't wait-wait any longer." He rubbed his cock against my entrance a few times before finally pushing himself in. My arm flew over my face before I could moan out loud.

He growled once he saw and grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once he was all the way in, he leaned down to my ear. "Is Daddy big enough for ya, baby doll?" I was lost. I couldn't hold back any longer. "Yes, fuck Daddy. You're so big." He laughed before pulling back out and ramming himself back into me. He took his hands to the backs of my thighs, lifting them and pressing them up, my knees close to my chest. "F-Fuck!" I moaned loudly into his shoulder. He started at a slow pace, over time growing impatient and speeding up. I swear I could feel the tip kissing my cervix, he was so deep. Before long I could feel the enticing feeling in my stomach start to pool, my walls around him beginning to clench. "You close, sweet-sweetheart?" All I could do is nod furiously, as words were beyond my comprehension. "Good, cum with Daddy. C'mon baby-baby girl. That's it." That was all I needed to be pushed over the edge. I felt him cumming along with me as I looked up at him to see his face contorted with pleasure, filling me up with his load. Panting, I grabbed his face and pulled it down to me, giving him a loving kiss. After a while of heavy breathing, he rolled away from me. I sat onto my side to look at him. When we caught eye contact he rolled his eyes. "C-C'mere." I smiled wide before nuzzling my face into his chest. He was playing with my hair before I looked up at him and said, "So, Ball Fondlers?"

#rick sanchez smut #rick sanchez

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