#electrifyingly

[angelmush]

cried on the bus and then on a bench the mall before going into work bc life is so beautiful and so painful why is it LIKE THAT!!!!!

[ventique18]

You don't remember when it started, but for some reason Malleus has grown tired of calling you 'Child of Man'. And when you were just getting used to and appreciating him calling you by your first name, he suddenly switched to calling you... something else.

"As you wish, Sinta," "Sinta, would you like to go on a stroll with me?"

You asked him what it meant. He just laughed. One of his twinkling, mischievous laughs-- the kind that revealed he was hiding something. "It is you, but in Faerie. Sinta."

"So it's my name? Are you sure?"

"If you ever prove that I lie, then I shall grant you a wish, no matter how light or heavy it may be, for as long as it is within moral reason."

"If you're pranking me and it actually means 'Stinky Pants' or something and you and Lilia and Sebek are laughing behind my back, Hornton I swear--"

He laughed again, but his earnest smile at the trail end of it as the word rolled off his tongue again so affectionately, so smoothly, like a cat's purr... convinced you to believe him against all doubts.

But when you came to glimpse upon Lilia's memories, when you saw a dream of Malleus' mother and father and how they called out to each other so fondly...

Sinta.

And your heart skipped a dozen beats in a single moment. It couldn't be, it couldn't be. Right? Because who were you to assume? Princess Maleanor was a pretty intense woman; what if she was calling her husband "Mr. Piss His Pants" on the daily? It wouldn't be unbelievable.

"Hey," You approached him the evening after he started calling you that word in public and earned a scandalous reaction from Sebek, "I know that Faerie word isn't my name. So give me that wish now: tell me what it means, exactly."

A sly smirk played on his lips, "How dare you ask a boon of me," He stooped down, peering at you teasingly through his thick lashes. He was close. So close. "When I did not breathe a single lie?"

Within a slow, agonizing heartbeat, he leaned even closer to you; cheek electrifyingly close to cheek, warm breath caressing your ear, "I didn't say it was your name. It is you,

"Sinta."

And he needn't utter more. Because your own treacherous tongue did it for you.

"Love."

He was calling you love, for a long time now.

[obsidian-pages777]

PAC: What makes You Hot and Why people FEAR You... ♥╣[-_-]╠♥ [Chappell Roan Themed]

Right to Left - 1->2 .. Bottom Row-3->4

Introduction

Pick a Pile and see what makes you a SUPER GRAPHIC ULTRA MODERN , HYPER S'XY TOP TO BOTTOM GURL

================================================================================================

Group 1

Why People Fear You: Your ability to create and thrive in chaos is awe-inspiring. You exude effortless confidence and a natural command over your environment, but when something (or someone) crosses a line, you know how to shake things up unexpectedly. This unpredictability makes people tread carefully.

Why You’re Hot: Your beauty is magnetic, not just physically but in how you carry yourself. There’s an earthy sensuality about you—nurturing yet commanding. People admire how you can be both comforting and electrifyingly intense.

================================================================================================

Group 2

Why People Fear You: You have an uncanny ability to see through facades. People are unnerved by your sharp intuition and how you always seem to know their secrets. Your mystique leaves others both curious and uneasy because they can’t figure you out.

Why You’re Hot: Your enigmatic aura makes you irresistible. You have a dark, sultry charm that draws people in like moths to a flame. You’re the embodiment of temptation and wisdom combined—a dangerous yet thrilling combination.

================================================================================================

Group 3

Why People Fear You: Your determination and willpower are unmatched. Once you set your sights on a goal, nothing and no one can stop you. People fear your relentless drive and commanding presence, as it makes you a formidable force.

Why You’re Hot: You’re fiery, charismatic, and fiercely independent. Your confidence and leadership light up any room you enter. People can’t help but admire your boldness and the way you inspire those around you to level up.

================================================================================================

Group 4

Why People Fear You: You embody transformation. You’re not afraid to let go of what no longer serves you, and this terrifies people who cling to comfort zones. Your ability to rise from endings stronger than before is intimidating.

Why You’re Hot: You have a rare, ethereal beauty that feels almost otherworldly. There’s a vulnerability paired with strength in you that captivates hearts. People are drawn to your authenticity and the hope you inspire, even amidst dramatic changes.

[eelnoise]

a view of you

sanjixfem!reader (nsfw!)

week 3 of small kinktober!

>it's your anniversary! sanji wants to try something new with you this evening - if you're willing.

cw: shibari/rope play, endless praise, mirror sex, f on top, piv sex, softdom!sanji, FRENCH used an: i just think he's so cute. ik he'd treat us all so right 😭 wc: 2.21

“Do you trust me, mon amour?” Sanji whispers, pulling you further onto his lap. His cadence is smooth—a soft rumble that vibrates reassurance into your ear. He thumbs at the length of a silken rope in one slender hand while the other trails its fingers along the inside of your thigh. 

Nestled snugly into his arms, you’re seated atop a few pillows with a floor-length mirror angled with you at center stage. Your clothes have been far discarded, leaving the sleeves of his unbuttoned dress shirt to run up and down your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake and making you shiver against his warm chest in anticipation.

Of course you trust him. You trust him far more than you think he knows.

Sanji’s soft smile catches in the mirror, and despite your compromising position, you reflect it with a soft nod. 

“With my life.”

Sanji's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in the sight of you in the mirror - your hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and body trembling with anticipation in his arms. He leans in, kissing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, "That's my brave girl. I've got you, always."

"Watch," he murmurs and gestures toward the mirror. One hand slides down to grasp your hip, thumb stroking circles into the sensitive skin there. The other reaches for the silken rope, unraveling it with deft fingers. “I want you to see how much I adore you.”

He ties you up gently, creating intricate cross patterns that weave down your chest and around your waist, binding your wrists securely behind your back. With each loop and knot, Sanji's touch is reverent, almost worshipful. 

He takes his time, caressing and admiring every inch of exposed skin from your waist up before securing it with the ropes. The bindings accentuate your curves, painting and framing your body like an erotic work of art that could bring a tear to the eye of any master.

"Magnifique," he breathes, leaning back to admire his handiwork. "You are a vision, ma chérie. A goddess made flesh. How could I be so lucky?”

You feel your cheeks flush—even now, with you bound and vulnerable in his arms, he still manages to effortlessly conjure up a warmth in your chest. His actions prepare to ooze their love—as true and loving and tender as they can be—into you as he leans his head down, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck with a satisfied hum of approval. 

Sanji sighs blissfully as he inhales, your sweet aroma alone is enough to make his head spin with want, adding the perfectly wrapped gift that is you waiting so patiently on his lap and on any other night his insatiable love for you would have ended this far too early.

Tonight though—tonight he wants to celebrate your love by taking his time. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck to pepper your skin in kisses. “You taste so sweet, ma chérie,” he murmurs, allowing his fingers to roam down the valley between your breasts in a sinfully slow tease, “Délicieuse.”

A sigh finds its way from your throat when his tongue darts out to lick directly up the center at nape of your neck, followed by another burst of shivers electrifyingly shaking it’s way right to the apex of your thighs when his course diverts to ghost over the sensitive peak of one of your nipples. You watch Sanji's touch in the mirror's reflection. His thumb and index finger roll the hardened bud just enough to make you gasp sharply, your body arching into his touch.  “Sanji…” you whine as you try to instinctively raise your hand to his cheek—the urge to kiss him overwhelming you. Tilting your head toward him, you attempt to garner his attention away from his mouth’s assault on your neck.

Deft fingers continue their ministrations between your thighs as he speaks. "I love watching you like this—getting to see all the cute little faces you make for me.” His thumb presses harder against your clit, rubbing tight circles that send jolts of pleasure through your body. "And now you get to see them too. So please, mon amour, tell me—does it feel good, having me touch you like this?"

"Please, Sanji," you whimper, your body trembling with desire as your hips buck against his hand. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your chest heaving with each ragged inhale. "It feels so good. I need more."

His fingers slide down, gathering your slick arousal before pushing two digits inside your tight heat. He pumps slowly, curling them within you and against your sopping walls. "That's it, relax for me," he encourages, his other hand moving to squeeze and knead your breast as his thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit.

The hand now free from holding you open finds its way back up your chest, tracing each labyrinthine knot and dip into your flesh that the rope accentuates. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the sensations. His fingers move in and out at a steady pace, curling just right to make your toes curl and your thighs tremble. You can feel the pressure building, your body tensing as you near the edge.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your neck. "I can feel you tightening around my fingers. Cum for me, mon amour. Let's see you fall apart."

You repeat his name like a mantra, a holy word that falls from your lips as you let go completely. Trembling, you arch into him, and the coil that had been building inside you snaps. Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, crashing through you with such intensity that leaves your legs twitching, your fists clenching, and your vision hazy.

As you come undone in his arms, Sanji holds you close, murmuring words of praise and adoration into your ear. He continues to stroke you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and pliant against his chest.

Sanji pulls you gently into his embrace, showering your forehead and cheeks with soft, lingering kisses. "You’re so breathtaking when you let yourself get lost in the moment for me," he whispers, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. "I could watch you shine like this all day long."

He gently eases you back onto the pillows, his hands roaming over your body in a tender caress. "How do you feel?" he asks, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Amazing," you breathe, tilting your gaze to his in the mirror, your eyes sparkling. "It felt so good... I didn’t want it to end." You giggle softly, searching his gaze, hoping he understands just how much he means to you.

Sanji's smile is warm and tender, his eyes sparkling with love and adoration as he gazes down at you. "I'm truly glad, mon amour. You deserve nothing less than to feel extraordinary." He leans in, enveloping your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that leaves you utterly breathless.

"Now," he says, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. "Could you do me a favor and raise your hips a bit for me?"

You oblige him, and with his help, you raise upward just enough for Sanji to wriggle his aching cock free from the barrier that is his boxers. Sanji's cock springs free, hard and throbbing, already glistening with precum at the tip. He wraps a hand around the base, giving himself a few slow strokes as he takes in the sight of you above him, bound and wanton and just begging to be filled. 

"Mon chou, I want you to watch." Sanji coos, pointing a long finger toward the mirror. "Watch how you take me."

A soft blush colors your cheeks as you watch, transfixed, as Sanji positions himself at your entrance. He teases you with the head of his cock, rubbing it up and down your slit and coating himself in your arousal.

"Ready for me, ma chérie?" he asks, his voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger. Before you can even form a response, he begins to push into you—easing you back down onto down onto his needy, twitching length.

You gasp as he fills you inch by inch, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He goes slow, savoring every inch as he sinks into you. Once he bottoms out, he pauses to let you adjust. Sanji groans at your tightness. "You feel incredible," he breathes, gripping your hips. "So perfect around me."

He starts to move then, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. His thrusts are deep and steady, each one easily hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He picks up the pace gradually, his hips snapping forward faster and harder with each passing second.

Sanji's hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts up into you. His hips snap forward faster and harder, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "You take me so well," he groans, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. "So perfect and tight."

He adores listening to you sing, each sweet note from your lips harmonizing with the tempo of his cock plunging against you. Sanji grunts, the sound raw and animalistic as he continues to drive into you. His fingers bite into your plush hips, a primal claim on your body. "Sing for me, mon amour," he growls, his thrusts growing increasingly frenzied. "I need to hear you

Sanji's thrusts become more erratic as he loses himself in the exquisite sensation of your tight, velvety walls engulfing him. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing, passionate kiss as his hips piston into you with wild abandon. 

Large hands squeeze your inner thighs, holding you open for even deeper strokes. "You're mine," he growls possessively against your lips, his grip on your hips tightening. "Please, my love. Tell me who you belong to."

"You, Sanji," you gasp out between ragged breaths, your body quivering with ecstasy. "I'm yours. Only yours!"

Your declaration ignites a fire within him, and he redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with all the fervor and adoration he feels. "Yes," he growls, his voice rough with barely restrained need. "You're mine, and I'm yours. My heart, my soul, my everything."

Sanji’s pants grow increasingly frantic as he nears his peak, his hips snapping upward with wild, unrestrained passion . His gaze is locked onto your reflection in the mirror, eyes brimming with pure, unbridled love as he takes in the sight of your body bouncing on his cock ."I love you," he breathes, his voice trembling with fervor. "I cherish every inch of you, my darling."

With a final, powerful thrust, Sanji spills himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his seed. He holds you close, his body trembling with the force of his release. "So good…," he hisses, his words are soft and filled with tender affection.

Sanji holds you close as he comes down from his high, his body still trembling with the force of his release. He presses soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring words of love and adoration into your ear.

"You are incredible," he murmurs, a warm intensity in his tone. "You truly shine."

"No, thats you," you reply, meeting his gaze with a soft, tender smile. "I love you more than words can say, mon minou."

Sanji's heart swells, nearly bursting, as you speak in his mother tongue. "I adore you too, my sweet," he murmurs, his voice laced with playful affection. He leans down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before capturing your lips in a soft kiss that leaves you breathless, enveloping you in a moment that feels both sweet and electric.

With a promise of a warm bath to be freshly drawn for the two of you and two final glasses of wine to toast, Sanji gently unbinds the rope from your body. You notice the concern when his gaze falls over the indents of the wrappings that remain etched upon your skin. “They don’t hurt, Sanji.” You quickly reassure him.

One step into a luxurious, steaming bath made for two later, you breathe in the warm, vanilla-scented steam that fills the air with the soothing scents of lavender and vanilla. As you sink into the soothing, fragrant water, he pours two glasses of rich, full-bodied red wine, handing one to you with a tender smile.

"To us," he toasts, clinking his glass against yours. "May our love continue to grow stronger with each passing day."

You lean back against his chest, feeling utterly content and cherished in his embrace. "To us," you echo softly, taking a sip of the deep, velvety wine. The warm water envelops you both, and you can't help but sigh with happiness. Sanji's strong arms wrap around you, holding you close as you relax into his touch. 

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," he speaks softly, a warm smile on his lips. "I love you more than anything in this world."

[bluebot01]

Enter the electrifyingly teasing Toril with her new look!

Leaning even more into the gyaru theme and now with oversized robo-sleeves with retractable, type-K plug-inspired fingers! 💜⚡

[kamisama1kiss]

I got another one for you, how would the ninja react if an enemy insulted their S/O and like calling their partner weak and stuff? To make it more interesting I added a list of villains, you don’t have to do this one with the list but you can if you want to

Lloyd it could be Harumi, for Kai, aspheera, Cole- Vangelis, Jay-nadakah, Zane-Nindroids? (You can change this one) and for Nya, kalmaar

I added the list to like make it their worse enemy so they can get more angry and such, idk if you wanna do this or not but I wanna hear your thoughts on this

Hehe, I love requests, so never stop coming with them 😚🙏

~~~

How would they react to their partner being insulted by the enemy in the middle of a battle? {Ninjago Addition}

~ Lloyd Garmadon ~ {Harumi}

"Your so-called lover happens to be weak and... not much of help, can't we say?" Harumi says with a snarky grin, Lloyd stood grinding his teeth.

He tried to stay calm for the longest as he could, taking a deep breath as the facade cracked, and he lounged at her. Showing the little mercy he had left in him as the ninja he so proudly called himself.

Ways of simply saying it, he could never allow his anyone to talk down the once he cares about, no matter who said it.

~ Kai Smith ~ {Aspheera}

"You've both sssshowned sssuch little ssstrength, even the one without powersss won't reach anywhere in life" She laughed at Kai, finding the both of them weak. His eyes paired red with rage, raging into an aggressive battle of almost death and living.

When someone Nya any words, he gets overprotective but knows she can handle herself, but since his partner does not have this power, his overprotectiveness reaching a new limit none of them knew he had.

~ Jay Walker ~ {Nadakhan}

"They can not do anything right." He told Jay when his partner had been knocked out from Nadakhan himself. His hands became more electrifyingly warm before his attacks became unhumanly fast, as lightning some might say.

Never in his Jay's life would he let someone just simply get away with being negative, his hair even standing up at some point as if he was struck by lightning. It showed how he felt upset without saying so.

~ Cole Brookstone ~ {Vangelis}

We know all know how Cole got his like extra cool power upgrade in his season, yeah? Well, this extra salt in the wound by Vangelis's words made him only crack faster to uphold his potential. "Pathetic being of a human, absolutely astonishing how weak." was screeched by the butcher version of a King to the ninjas lover.

Having already lost someone important to whom he had no control over, feeling so absolutely lost and vulnerable. Clenched hands with a scowl resting on his features, this would definitely not slide by his side.

~ Zane Julian ~ {Nindroids}

"Haha! That was just sad to watch. Even a toddler is more capable of a simple task." The nindroids hollared to themselves. Never once had he felt truly upset for the first time when it had been with you.

Not because of you but rather what someone had told you, yet he lost his cabels and wiring over his own limit. With the collected nindroid, he is. Freezing every last one of them.

~ Nya Smith ~ {Kalamaar}

Gosh, she adored you as a lover she is. Rather, not surprised when seeing her rather aggressive movements with the sushi look alike strutting around on his tentacles as he talked as if his words meant anything. "Such awful attempts of helping go back to helping the other fishes. At least then you could maybe do something right." He spat.

She stood fiurius, uneasy breathing as she stood up against him. Similarly to Kai, she lost her senses and went to attacking him until someone held her back.

[the-sweet-madame]

ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇꜱ.(𝘔𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯!𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

(Lowkey half assed whoops but it was funny 😔)

Warnings: Light cussing.

Summary: He does your eyeliner before going out on a date with you.

Female reader!

"Holy shit, can you stay still for one goddamned second?" He scowled at her.

Two roommates bickering with each other. How romantic. It was night, the stars twinkling from outside of the window. The light above spilling upon the two, the blankets and sheets tossed to the side as they temporarily shared the bed.

"Well, it's not my fault your touch is so surprisingly delicate! It tickles." She says, adjusting her position on his lap.

Her legs twisted around his waist while he held her chin, tilting it upwards as he held an eyeliner pen in his other hand.

"Move one more time and you can do your own eyeliner."

Though his threat was meaningless because they both knew he'd still do it away with another scowl.

"Sure, love."

Shockingly enough, it seemed like he bit back to throw a retort concerning her teasing gone and pressed the eyeliner pen to her skin. It was unusual for such a man that spoke so ruthlessly to have such tender touches. It was lighter than a feather, the faint strokes on her skin as his hand moved with calculated precision. It was pretty. His face. His amethyst-like eyes dipped into pure concentration to get the wings identical to each other. His lips pulled into a straight line, almost pressing them together as his eyebrows ever so slightly sunk in his focus.

It was only until he pulled away that she said. "You're pretty."

He blinked at her words before giving her a small scoff. Though, the light pink tinting the tip of his ears spoke enough.

"Does it look good?" She asked, looking at him.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Of course, it looks good, I did it."

"You know, a simple 'yes' could have sufficed? Or 'yeah, you look good.'"

If she had a penny for every time he rolled his eyes at her, she'd be rich. That's precisely what he did with a little devilish grin.

He cupped the side of her face, capturing her lips into a deep kiss before she could even think. His lips against hers muffled the little surprised noise she made. When he moved to pull away, she placed her hand on the back of his neck to pull him back in. It felt rough yet gentle, quick yet slow as their lips locked together.

They finally broke apart, panting slightly. His gaze was intense, teasing and tender all at once. He dragged his thumb down her bottom lip as he spoke lowly with a near-wicked smirk.

"You look hot as fuck.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her flustered reaction. She shoved him lightly with the blood rushing to her cheeks.

“You see, I would fight you right now, but I don’t want to risk my eyeliner getting ruined.” She huffed. “But thanks.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He mocked lightly. “So, are we going on that date or are you enjoying yourself here?” He gestures to her straddling him.

“I don’t know, it seems that you are the one enjoying yourself the most here.” She matches his tone with an enticing grin, circling her arms around his neck.

He rolls his eyes for nth time; she thinks he must’ve beat the world record of eye rolling at this point. But he leans down until their noses are touching once again with a teasing smile. Their breaths mingling with each other as their eyes were locked into a never-ending trance. The light-heartedness fading into something else. Something more genuine. She couldn’t look away, not when his violet eyes were so electrifyingly intense, crackling with sincerity. They didn’t feel it, but they were inching closer and closer. Their lips almost meeting, the air suffocating as it embraced them.

“Though, I do wanna go on that date.” She speaks just as their lips barely brush against each other.

He pushed her off his lap, sending her into the hurdle of blankets and sheets on the side.

[droolingffa]

I always beg him to send me pictures from the office. I love the opportunity to see him as the world does, and imagine what it would be like to lust after him from afar.

What if we were strangers working in the same department? I would be constantly, electrifyingly aware of his body. I can see myself mentally undressing him during a meeting and growing flustered. Daydreaming in front of the computer about his broad gut, shirtless and swaying over me. Watching him return from lunch stuffed and sleepy or noticing he traded older shirts for larger sizes. And good lord, if he ever bumped that massive tank into me by accident I would soak my boy shorts.

I am such lucky duck to get to touch this perfect little delight in the flesh. l'm eternally grateful for my delicious little chubby pear with his deliciously juicy rolls and curves.

[scary-friend]

⚙️Happy Birthday Robecca Steam⚙️

🛠️Electrifyingly Talented Screampunk Ghoul🛠️

🎩 - 🔩💼🔩 - 🔩💼🔩 - 🔩💼🔩 - 🎩

[fanaura]

eye-opening part 3 ≋ ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫▫·(nsfw)

part 1

part 2

neteyam x omaticayan!reader - in neteyam's POV

synopsis: neteyam and y/n's tension finally come to a head

content warnings: explicit sexual content, loving neteyam putting her pleasure over himself, characters are aged up ofc, roughly 1.2k words

The kiss roused something in me. My mind rushed and my stomach was bouncing around inside me, making me feel sick with excitement The feeling of her bottom teeth slightly grazing my lip. It was desperate, yearning. Slow. So painfully slow and so electrifyingly good. It was waves crashing down in a storm, a blazing fire burning through my viens, warming my body and gnawing at my conciousness. I was more awake than I had ever been.

Her fingers were in my hair, her lips on mine. My tongue pressed at her sealed lips, asking for permission like someone knocking on a door, asking to be let in. The moan she let out when she opened for me made my arms around her waist tighten in response. I groaned. I was afraid to let go. Afraid that if I let up even marginally, she would slip away in an instant, leaving my soul empty like a home destroyed.

We ended up kneeling on the soft ground, both of us trembling in restraint. We were chained by ourselves, by each other, not wanting to rush it. I put both my hands on the hollow of her neck and pulled back. Her eyes were glazed with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I gulped, mouth so dry, wanting her lips back on mine.

“Are you… sure?” I asked, chest heaving. My arms and shoulders were tense, trying to distract myself from the hardness that was forming below. I wanted to - no, had to - know she wanted it as much I did. And god- I wanted it so bad it hurt. She gave me a soft smile that I was everything I needed to know, confirming it with a breathless “yes. I’m sure.” I dipped my head, placing tentative kisses along her neck and collarbone, not really knowing what I was doing, but from the purrs and hums coming from y/n’s beautiful mouth, I guessed I wasn’t doing too bad a job.

With my hand on the small of her back, I guided her down so she was lying on the ground, making sure she was comfortable as I planted my arms on either side of her, trailing kisses down her body. I rose up a little bit, slowly untying the cloth covering her breasts, chucking it away lightly. She slightly arched her back off the ground, she was so breathtaking I was dizzy. I kissed her again, this time leaving kisses all the way down her body until I reached her loincloth. I looked up at her from my position, a silent question in my eyes. She nodded, and the small piece of fabric was gone in a second.

I needed to take a second. Just to look at her. I couldn’t believe she was real. I am convinced Eywa has sculpted every aspect about her to be perfect. Not just to me, but to anyone and everyone that is blessed to be near her. Her slender naked body shone in the vibrant light of the flora and fauna, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was letting me in on a secret, a piece of information she kept that only I was now allowed to know. It is new to both of us, this moment we share, the things we feel. It feels right. It feels like… home.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All week, you were all that filled my mind,” I said, my mouth to her dripping pussy. My first instinct is to lick all of her juices up, to lick her clean. It seems right, so I do exactly that.

“Is this okay?” I asked, continuing my work while grabbing her thighs and putting them over my shoulders, settling down into a comfortable position.

“ohmy- Neteyam,” she moans, her hands diving into my hair and gripping the braids.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then” I chuckled, continuing to work my tongue on the outer of her sex, dragging long swipes down her centre, then smaller ones.

I experiment. I decide that the way my girl jerks and trembles when I play with the small bud at the apex of her thighs is a good thing, so I continue to work with that, sucking it into my mouth and swirling circles around it, watching for her reaction. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she cried out. I smirked in growing confidence.

Her moans are like music to my ears, I can’t get enough. I palm one of her breasts in my right hand, her nipple peaked and hard against it. I move the same hand to where my tongue is, except I use my index finger to enter the wet hole at my face. Her gasp is loud, and becomes a moan directly after. Good, I was worried I was I was hurting her. Her hips undulate, rocking back and forth as I move my fingers inside of her and used my tongue on her clit, begging - demanding - more.

I speed up. More and more by the second, causing my girl to yelp and bite her own hand, to which I grab and pull away. “Don’t hold back, let me hear it,” her face was knotted together pleasure taking over her features as I kept going. She bit her bottom lip, hard, before crying out her satisfaction, choking and gasping on her own gratification.

“That’s it, you’re so wet. Only for me.”

“Shut up,” she huffed in gasping breaths, her whole body tense, grip locked in my hair. The small hurt sent pleasure to the already rock hard bulge under my loincloth, throbbing. The muscles in her neck strained as she scratched her nails down my back.

“F-faster,” she stuttered, her stomach convulsing. I went as fast as I could, pumping in and out of her with my fingers, tongue working in tandem.

“Neteyam!!” she yelped, shaking as she reached the pinnacle of pleasure, reaching her high. I slowed down, lapping up every bit of liquid she gave me, desperate for her, for anything she was willing to give me.

She lay there, panting, and I forced myself to move away from her swollen pussy, coming up so I was eye-level with her face. I kissed her, long and deep, while she still shivered underneath me. She watched me, her eyes still hazy with lingering desire.

“Neteyam. I want you,” She whispered in my ear, kissing my jaw, the crook of my neck, my damp chest.

I grinned, “slow down, my girl. I am yours and you are mine. We have all the time in the world,” I lightly brushed my lips against hers, feeling her cool breath, her face glowing like our moons in eclipse.

“I see you,” she said quiety. My heart ached with all the love in her voice, at how much she cared.

“I see you,” I replied. I was a full troph of water, overflowing with the affection I had felt for so long, that was always there, in the background, persisting around me and my soul like a promise.

We were made for each other. My home, my solace, my release in amongst the madness. Nothing and no one could get in between us. Not now, not ever.

taglist: @fluloa @slxttedjakesullyenthusiast @s1enn409

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Marlon Brando

Featuring actor, Marlon Brando

When I was in my twenties, I was a delivery boy for a restaurant near Hollywood Hills. I was bisexual and in possession of a voracious libido. There were plenty of sexual experiences to report. My work takes me all over the city and I get to meet a large variety of people; among them are a few celebrities which brings me to this story.

That day, I had a delivery to Marlon Brando, who was widely considered one of the greatest and most influential actors of all time. In his youth Brando was an electrifyingly handsome and talented star. Exuding a sense of brooding power and bottled-up anger, he changed the way stars, both male and female, acted and even the way young men dressed. By the time I took notice of him, he weighed well over 300 pounds but still a handsome and talented star with some men and women still wanting to tap that.

When I was at the neo-Gothic Hollywood Hills mansion, I walked through the open gate and rang the doorbell. I was surprised to see the legend himself, Marlon Brando opening the door in a nice dark blue robe. He was a hulk, a wreck of obesity and self-indulgence, but he still had that look that altered our idea of maleness.

Wanting to check his order, he led me through the house to the kitchen, stopping briefly to talk about keepsakes adorning his walls and shelves. He had led a very interesting life and loved recalling the twists and turns. I was mesmerized as he told me tales of golden-age Hollywood. As he sat at the kitchen table, checking his order; I could tell Brando only had that robe on and nothing else underneath. His balls were clearly visible from his robe. I looked down at them; they were just plopped on the chair. He looked at me; he put his glasses on, smiling at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stood up, putting his hand on my shoulder. He massaged my shoulder with a powerful grip, and I felt a pleasurable sensation in the pit of my stomach.

"Feel good?" He asked.

"Yes, it feels better, thanks."

His arm was sort of around my shoulders as he continued to rub, I realized that I was getting hard. Suddenly it flashed to me that he was touching me as I would have touched a shy girl, and I became so aroused by that idea. Maybe Mr. Brando sensed that I had similar feelings toward him. Marlon drew me closer and started to hug me, quite gently which startled me like an electric shock. The pressure in my groin became enormous and he must have noticed because he whispered, "Don't be scared."

Then he kissed my cheek, at the same time slipping his hand into my groin and discovering how hard I was. Now wanting this as much as him, I helped him undo my belt and fly and then pulled at my pants. Next thing I knew I was completely naked, my long fat dick sprung up and stood straight out from my body. It was so hard it was throbbing. The old man's eyes got big as he looked at my thick dick.

"Damn! What a cock!" Marlon said as I walked back up to him until my dick was touching him.

Then he reached down and grabbed hold of my dick. He started jacking my dick hard and fast. I took hold of the old man's dick and started jacking his as he pumped his hand back and forth over the head of my dick. I liked the feel of his hand on my dick. Just seeing his hair arm moving back and forth as he jacked me turned me on.

Then the next thing I knew Marlon had my dick in his mouth and was sucking on it with such skill that I realized that mine wasn’t the first dick that Marlon had sucked. I have a solid 8.5" and it is seldom that anyone can swallow even half the length of my cock. But damn if Marlon didn’t keep swallowing inch after inch until his lips were pressed against my bush. The feeling was indescribably erotic and when his mouth nuzzled my genitals, I thought I was going to explode then and there.

I grabbed his head and started fucking Marlon's mouth. No matter how hard I shoved my cock down his throat, the old cock sucker took it and pushed his face against my crotch for more. I was getting close to cuming when Marlon suddenly pulled away.

“You near cuming?” He asked. When I nodded, he said, “I want you to fuck me.”

Damn if that wasn't exactly what I wanted. As good as him sucking me had felt, the thoughts of fucking his big, hairy ass had been in the back of my mind all the time. Marlon led the way as we all went into the bedroom where I tore off his robe in the process of becoming a tangled heap of writhing, twisting, flesh and boners, jockeying for position and maximum physical contact. Finally getting him on his back, I saw his cock for the first time. It was about 6.5" inches and not very thick, but it was the perfect size to get in my mouth. I sucked on his cock for less than a minute before he shot his load in my mouth.

Letting his cock slip out of my mouth, kiss my way up his stomach, kissing through the forest of silver hair on his chest until my lips found his nipples. I sucked and pinched both nipples, giving him as much pleasure as I could. Our lips met again as I continued to feed my desire. Looking into his beautiful brown eyes I could see the lust that he shared for me.

"I want you to fuck me." Marlon told me as he rolled over onto his stomach, allowing me to have full access to his big, beautiful ass.

I kissed him on each of his ass cheeks before spreading and slowly licked the outer rim of his asshole. I could feel his body quiver as my tongue slid over his hole.

"That feels wonderful, don't stop." He repeatedly said as my tongue plunged deeper into his ass hole.

I could feel his asshole relaxing; I moved my tongue away from him so that I could finger his ass. The ease at which three of my fingers went in was sure sign Marlon was ready to be fucked. I mounted myself on top of him, aiming my stiff, precum drooling cock at his saliva-soaked asshole. Slowly I pressed my cock into the soft silky warmth of his ass. I could hear him moan with pleasure as my cock easily slipped in his hole. I knew then and there that Marlon had been doing more than just sucking cocks. And talking about hot! I almost passed out from pleasure as I slowly thrust my hips in and out of his ass.

I wanted to last, so I continued to fuck him slowly while I kissed him on his neck and sucked on his ear lobes. Smelling the sweet scent of Aramis cologne that he wore mixed with his sweat was intoxicating to me.

After a few minutes of this, I pulled out his ass, rolled him over on his back and lifted his legs in the air. Moments later, I was back to fuck him. I was so horny that I started to pound my stiff prick harder and harder. I could hear my shaved balls slapping against his hairy balls with every thrust of my hips.

“Yes, give me that big cock.” The old actor called out, “Make me yours!”

Marlon was moaning like crazy by the time I buried my dick completely inside him. I was lost in a sexual act like I had never before been lost. It was as though Marlon, and I became one. Then I just lay on top of him as started kissing him as I fucked his ass as hard and fast as I possibly could. My thrusts were becoming faster, his body tensing up, I knew it was close. And damn if Marlon didn’t shoot off on my stomach without me even touching his dick. Feeling his hot load of sperm against my belly caused me to shoot my own load deep inside his old hot asshole.

That was nearly 24 years ago. Marlon and I fuck around a few more time when he was in town and not working on a film; unfortunately, I wasn't his only fuck buddy. But I did enjoy the time we had together.

[mydaddywiki]

Marlon Brando

Physique: Heavyset Build Height: 5′ 8¾″ (1.75 m)

Marlon Brando Jr. (April 3, 1924 – July 1, 2004; aged 80) was an American actor and activist. Widely considered one of the greatest and most influential actors of all time, he received numerous accolades throughout his career, which spanned six decades, including two Academy Awards, two Golden Globe Awards, one Cannes Film Festival Award, and three British Academy Film Awards. Brando is credited with being one of the first actors to bring the Stanislavski system of acting and method acting to mainstream audiences.

In his youth Brando was an electrifyingly handsome and talented star. By the time I took notice of him, he weighed well over 300 pounds but still a handsome and talented star with some men and women still wanting to tap that. Brando's notoriety, his troubled family life, and his obesity attracted more attention than his late acting career.

Married three times, Brando was bisexual and possessed of a voracious libido and there were plenty experiences to report. He was the father to at least 11 children, three of whom were adopted. Among his partners were Burt Lancaster, Laurence Olivier, Tyrone Power, Montgomery Clift, James Dean and Rock Hudson. Hell. He even tapped Paul Newman. With all that, I wonder if he was pitching or catching. Who am I kidding. Brando was a top all the way. Having a balanced diet, his conquests also included Marilyn Monroe, Marlene Dietrich, Grace Kelly, Shelley Winters, Ava Gardner, Hedy Lamarr, Ingrid Bergman, Edith Piaf and Doris Duke (the world’s richest woman at the time). And he had a bizarre, intimate relationship with actor Wally Cox that would last a lifetime.

The last two decades of Brando's life were marked with controversy, and his troubled private life received significant attention. He struggled with mood disorders and legal issues. Brando continues to be respected and held in high regard. On July 1, 2004, Brando died of respiratory failure from pulmonary fibrosis with congestive heart failure at the UCLA Medical Center. Brando was cremated and his ashes were put in with those of Wally Cox. They were then scattered partly in Tahiti and partly in Death Valley.

RECOMMENDATIONS: Don Juan DeMarco (1994) Apocalypse Now (1979) Superman (1978) Last Tango in Paris (1972) The Godfather (1972) Mutiny on the Bounty (1962) One-Eyed Jacks (1961) On the Waterfront (1954) A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

oh FUCK this album is so insanely, ridiculously, electrifyingly good i could literally *feel* my brain chemistry changing as i was listening to it for the first time. i can’t remember the last time i was as excited for a record as romance, and it’s still somehow managed to soar so wildly beyond my expectations. i can’t be remotely articulate about it yet, but just - fuck. (fittingly, given its title) this album speaks to the darkest corners of my heart and articulates so much i’ve felt and never known how to express. i’ve literally only listened to it twice so far, but i already have a strong suspicion it’s going to end up on my favourite albums of all time list.

[loki-cees-all]

Chapter 7 - All the Tiring Time Between {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Sometimes the sharpest boundaries require the gentlest touch.

Chapter W/c : 8.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst (as always), brief mentions of blood and injuries. Also there's a bunch of Tesseract lore and Loki's history with Thanos that I really got carried away with while writing this.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

The silence in the cell was electrifyingly tense, and Loki wished he had something else to focus his attention on. 

His jaw ached as he took another bite of the flavorless, perplexing bread that was both stale and damp at the same time. He should have been grateful for it and its distraction, despite the woman having offered it without even so much as looking at him. But it just reminded him of the year he’d spent with the Mad Titan: Wretched. Forsaken. Totally and completely hopeless. 

Loki tried desperately not to think about it, but it was getting harder to fight as his exhaustion grew. 

The woman sat across from him in the cell, her knees pulled to her chest and her expression blank. She’d said absolutely nothing after dismissing his question about Anathema the night prior, not even when the peculiar guards brought in their cruel attempt at a meal. She didn’t even flinch when they set the tray down in front of her, nor when the duo stared, cold and unmoving, presumably waiting for her to beg for her life like all the others…but she did wait until they were finally gone to pull the tray closer. 

She had grabbed the chunk of bread first, and extended it towards him in the shadows like it was second-nature to her. As if it wasn’t ever an option that she wouldn’t share it, and despite the fact that they were in stark disagreement about their respective situations in this place. 

He felt guilty for accepting the offering, but unfortunately, he felt like he had no other choice; his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, his muscles were becoming weaker with each new day of disuse, and his nerves were perpetually fried with wary energy. He was constantly stifling another yawn, and was dangerously close to falling asleep, to having another nightmare again. 

Loki didn’t know if he ever talked in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk revealing any compromising information about himself or his past; the less anyone knew about him here, the better off they all were. 

But other than the food she’d shared with him, there wasn’t much else for him to distract himself with. The woman wasn’t talking anymore, and her questions had faded away alongside the hope she may have once had about escaping. That left Loki to alone deal with his questions about her, and their inscrutable answers. 

The problem with that, however, was that his mind was nothing but a tangled mess; a rat’s nest, made up of lies and false memories, the betrayals of the life he’d left behind, and all the lives that never were. Before him lay a scattering of dots, all seemingly unrelated and centered around a woman who claimed she didn’t know what they wanted with her, and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of any of it.

Loki used to pride himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, especially on a galactic scale. But he had come here to hide and to wallow, to purposely let his mind atrophy into a cobweb of nothingness, because that was easier than continue trying, and failing, to be happy. He felt comfortable doing that, and letting this become his legacy, because he hadn’t ever expected a riddle to fall into his lap again. He hadn’t ever expected her. 

As Loki swallowed the last of the bread, he forced himself to look at her again. She was still huddled against the wall, illuminated by the dim lantern light from the hallway and shivering in the cold dungeon like a scared little child. He was flabbergasted that she was still here, that they’d bothered bringing her back after being caught during an escape attempt. And he couldn’t help but hate himself, because the old Loki could have figured out why that was a very long time ago. 

Next to her, the bowl of porridge sat on the floor, mostly untouched and definitely not enjoyed. Her expression was sullen as she stared off into the distance, and her limbs were folded around herself as she retreated deeper inward. It almost made him feel…something. 

Of what exactly, Loki wasn’t quite sure; the feeling was old and familiar, something that was long lost while never really being understood in the first place. He told himself that the feeling was irrelevant, because it was just the mystery he found equal parts infuriating and intriguing. He just needed a bit more time than usual to settle the question marks, and then he could finally return to the blissful void of apathy. 

And maybe she wasn’t lying when she claimed to not know who Anathema was, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had no idea why the guards were so interested in her. Either she had something of theirs, or she knew some mysterious piece of information they didn’t yet - but they were obviously willing to play the long game in order to acquire it, and that couldn’t have been for nothing. 

Perhaps it had something to do with the gem dangling from her necklace. Loki had seen her touching it, frequently and absentmindedly, running her slender fingers over the deep blue stone during stressed and quiet moments like now. Clearly it meant a lot to her; someone who loved her had given it to her. Someone she loved back, someone she probably missed dearly…

As he started to wonder if anyone was out there looking for her, Loki realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. They landed once again upon the bowl of uneaten porridge next to her, and a new form of discomfort wove itself between the muscles of his shoulders and neck. It wrapped around his nerve-endings, stinging the open and frayed tendrils that had been worn bare from the pain of still being alive. 

He was quite vulnerable existing like this, even though he knew she couldn’t see him hiding in the shadows. That she didn’t know what he was thinking, or where he was looking. That she was unaware of the fleeting relief that poured into his veins when she was brought back to the cell alive, or his shame at feeling anything that had immediately replaced it. 

Loki had been flippant when she was initially brought in here. He was angry the first time she tried to share a meal with him. And then he was conflicted, at best, when she was dragged back in the second time. This paltry range of emotions was far more than he was previously used to; he felt like he was drowning in it, like it was slowly collapsing his airways and squeezing out every last ounce of oxygen from his lungs. 

Because there was only one person on this planet who knew his name. A single individual, throughout all of space and time, knew where he was. She was the sole witness to his current existence, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable or on display than here and now. She had met him at his worst, in his ultimate moment of triumph when he’d finally been able to remove himself from any and all equations, from every problem that ever needed solving, and he absolutely hated that. 

Loki thought he’d finally accounted for everything when he had stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon. He thought he’d finally fixed the issue, himself, for literally everyone - and then this tiny little variable had shown up so unexpectedly to completely ruin it for him. 

He should have been angrier about it. He should have been furious and seething and shaking with rage over this egregious betrayal of the universe. Being alone had been the whole point, keeping everyone safe from him had been his only intention, seeking protection from the pain of both betrayal and being betrayed was all that Loki had left. Why wasn’t he allowed that meager peace of mind? 

Damnation clung to Loki like a frightened child clung to his mother’s skirts, trembling in the dark and begging for acknowledgement of its traumatized state. It lurked around every corner and it haunted every shadow, constantly weeping and whimpering and howling out its anguish to cruel and uncaring souls. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his eye, reminding him of just how helpless and useless he was. That he should just give up. That he should just end it already. 

But sometimes, the damnation would transform into something far more sinister, into the tall, skulking form of a cerulean demon. Hanging over his shoulder and digging its claws into his neck, the demon would spit cruel maledictions into his ear. Didn’t Loki know that everyone around him was already doomed? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill them now, rather than waiting for him to ruin their life and then cruelly and inevitably take it from them?  

Hiding in the dungeon was the only reasonable compromise between the frightened child and the viscous demon warring in his mind. If only he had stuck with that plan, if only he hadn’t revealed that someone else was alive in the cell with her, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now. 

Regret, his oldest and only friend, wouldn’t be blaring its horn and sounding the alarm bells and crying out for solace. So why did it bother him so much now that she wasn’t eating? 

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, weighing the options in his mind. The regret of initially engaging with this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t change tactics; and if she wasn’t eating, then it wouldn’t be too much longer until he was on his own again. That had been his initial plan, and there was no reason he couldn’t return to that now. Wasn’t being alone all he ever wanted? 

“You should finish your meal. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before they bring another…” The words felt like acid on Loki’s tongue, dripping down his throat to eat away at his insides. He hoped they had come out as bluntly as he’d intended, but in reality, it just sounded like something his mother would have said. 

This time, the woman didn’t shudder when he finally broke the tense silence. She didn’t even react at all, other than to sigh heavily and respond in a low and flattened tone. “What’s the point…?” 

“Well, clearly they’d prefer you to be alive, for whatever reason…” Loki’s jaw tensed as he paused, struggling to understand why he was even bothering. “Even if they bring food on an irregular basis, it’s still more than anyone else gets…”

“Maybe the only reason they want me alive is so they can continue mocking and hurting me.”

That was a more difficult point to contend with; perhaps the guards had just grown weary of the simple and mundane murders, and they’d decided to go with something more entertaining this time. What if there wasn’t a more complicated explanation for the guards' motivations? What if he was searching for logic that didn’t even exist?

Loki stifled another yawn as he leaned back against the stone wall, raking his fingers through tangled curls that were just as chaotic as his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing while attempting to put this puzzle together. “So what did the guards say when they caught you escaping?”  

The woman let out a heavy exhale, and her tone shifted into a more sarcastic tone. “Oh, normal things like what are you doing out of your cell?, and no one’s coming to rescue you. Typical kidnapper things, you know…” 

Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nonchalant answers, but what else was he expecting? He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth putting this much effort into avoiding sleep. Nothing else in his life prior to meeting her had been easy, so why was he expecting this to go smoothly? 

“Actually, the guard did say something strange before knocking me out…” The woman trailed off, pausing as she furrowed her brow. 

Loki cleared his throat as he looked towards her again. “Strange how?” 

“Maxine - or Nulan, whichever one it was…They caught me upstairs in their private quarters. Just before attacking me, they said what is gone…may never return.” The woman pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she recalled the memory. “I’ve never heard it before, and I have no idea what it means…”

What is gone…may never return. Loki turned the phrase backward and forward in his mind, trying to find its place in this absolutely confounding puzzle. But he’d never heard anyone say anything even remotely close to it, so there was nowhere for it to go. The phrase’s sentiment, however, he understood perfectly well.

“It was probably just a threat, or a taunt…” she continued with a dismissive shake of her head. “They were just mocking me, for losing everything…”

“Or it’s a prayer. A desperate request, for some kind of reprieve…” Loki murmured in reply. He didn’t want to think about whether anyone had ever hoped for the same thing after he’d finally walked away, but he was positive that they had. And he hadn’t meant for his interpretation to sound so melancholy, but as his gaze caught the woman’s matching expression, he could feel her understanding of his meaning. Loki hated that. 

She must have sensed that as well, because she quickly forced a false smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No…surely they must have been talking about me losing my boots.”

Her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, shifting into a grimace as a violent shiver shuddered over the limbs she struggled to pull close enough. She breathed out a heavy sigh and lowered her forehead to her knees with another tremble, and for once, Loki was grateful for the Jotun physiology keeping him relatively comfortable. But the woman didn’t share the same luxury of such a curse, and she was clearly suffering in these dank and grim conditions. 

Loki turned his attention towards his fingers, twitching and fidgeting restlessly in his lap. This particular guilt was both new and unwelcome, like the haunting of fresh ghosts he thought he’d finally manage to not brutally murder for once. It wasn’t directly his fault she was here, that she was suffering. She was a complete stranger, after all, and this couldn’t have been his problem, or his responsibility. 

But as Loki lifted his gaze again, carefully moving his eyes to avoid looking upon her once more, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s forgotten boots in the shadows, the ones carelessly stripped away while the guards were searching her the night before. 

He recalled one of the first lessons Odin had explained about ruling a kingdom, that sometimes tact and finesse were far more effective than blades or might. Perhaps if Loki was kind instead of harsh, and if he returned the boots to the frozen woman, then she might help alleviate the nagging questions he still had and allow him to fight off sleep for just a little bit longer. 

His brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard as he realized this was the least he could do for the both of them. It wasn’t much, but it felt like chopping off a limb when he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak again. “Your, um…boots are in here. They might help you with the…cold.”

The woman’s head popped back up, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned for them in the darkness. “Where are they? I don’t - ” she replied, clumsily attempting to push herself upright, obviously eager to get them back on as soon as possible. 

Loki felt an odd sense of duty, one that had been buried deep underneath the many eons of pain, and it compelled him to act before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He moved slowly, shifting his weight onto his hip, and extended his arm out. His fingers were just long enough to barely grasp the black leather pull loops, to drag them closer and then place them within her reach while maintaining a safe distance, and without the need for him to stand.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she stretched to pull them closer. “Thank you so much, Loki.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact anymore; it was hard enough to listen to the bewildered gratitude in her voice. His every movement had stayed within the safe confines of the shadows, and he imagined that she saw her boots reappearing as if from the loving aid of a benevolent god, of someone else who was capable of caring. 

“It was nothing,” he told them both. 

He had fully intended to return his attention back inward, but he found himself distracted by the woman as she shifted on the floor. Curling and stretching her limbs, gracelessly attempting to pull a boot back on with a single hand, and then reluctantly, with both hands. She let out a gasping whimper as she tried to extend out her left arm, and Loki noticed her fingers trembling as she tried to push through the pain. 

Obligation flared along his spine again, but this time, Loki questioned it. A childhood memory surfaced, of when his father would return home from war, bruised and exhausted and weary, and Loki would rush to his side, eager to help with removing his armor and assist in any way he could. He thought maybe if he proved himself useful, eager and determined, like his older brother was, then Odin might finally give him a chance to fight alongside him. 

But even though his seidr had been well-advanced for his age, his father had always refused to bring Loki along, despite never leaving home without Thor. Odin had said that Loki wasn’t ready yet, that he wasn’t strong enough, that it was too dangerous for a little boy to be out on the field and surrounded by their mortal enemies. 

“Such a young prince falling into the hands of Asgard’s opponents could prove disastrous to the realms,” his father had said, even though that fear had never stopped him from bringing Thor into battle. It wasn’t until much later that Loki realized the truth, that the only real use he had wasn’t needed back then - not until the direst of circumstances forced his father’s ultimate and final hand. 

The woman let out a sharp groan, bringing Loki back to the present. She had collapsed back against the wall, sniffling and brushing the messy strands of crimson hair away from her face. “Loki, I’m so sorry…but can you please…?” 

His eyes widened, and hers were full of tears. Her cheeks reddened, and her lower lip trembled as she spoke with a cracked voice. “Please help me? I’m so cold, and I can’t…I can’t get these back on…” 

It wasn’t like the cold, calculating demands he was previously used to, and Loki realized that it pained her to ask like this. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, she wasn’t manipulating her way into something more than she deserved, or trying to get him to commit atrocities in her name. 

It wasn’t a game or a trick designed to be laughed at later with her friends; she genuinely just needed his help. But the problem was that this kind of assistance not only required him to vacate the shadows, to come closer and share the same air as her - it necessitated physical touch. Loki was sure he couldn’t handle that. 

The muscles in his fingers articulated of their own accord, separating and curling into just the right place to summon and concentrate his seidr, intent on disassembling the atoms that made up the woman’s boots and reassembling them back where they belonged. 

A suitable compromise, Loki believed, except that absolutely nothing happened. The warmth that normally accompanied his magic was nowhere to be found, that familiar connection to the past and the present, to his mother, wasn’t opening its loving arms to welcome him back home - and that was when he finally remembered. 

Loki’s seidr was dead, because he was supposed to be dead. 

He’d forsaken his magic as soon as he’d arrived here. Once he willingly stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon, once he’d realized that the first thing this newly-freed universe had done was trap him yet again, he decided that this time it was really meant to be. 

So he didn’t bother fighting it, and he willingly let go of the tendrils of seidr he had once clung so tightly to. He didn’t deserve the honor of wielding it, not after what he’d done in New York. And what use would that magic have been to the hollowed-out shell of a person he was now? What good could he have possibly done with it anyway?

“Loki?”

Once again, the woman’s quiet voice refocused his attention. Her expression had fallen even further during his silent brooding, and she was staring woefully into the dark, desperately hoping to see him finally coming to her aid. A deep sense of dread rose up within his chest, thick and impenetrable, oozing between his ribs to singe and suffocate his lungs like molten lava. 

Loki didn’t know what to do, and yet, he moved anyway. Pressing his palms flat against the stone floor, he bent his knees and carefully pushed himself upright. His joints cracked and popped, his muscles were stiff and sluggish as he slid one foot forward, and the belt around his waist was far looser than when he’d initially put it on. 

Taking another step closer, his mind suddenly dizzied, and his body began to sway dangerously from the juxtaposition of pushing himself forward while he’d been wasting away. He quickly grabbed onto the wall with a sharp gasp, trying to steady himself as his legs tingled themselves awake. 

“Loki…are you alright?” the woman murmured, her brow furrowing with concern. 

“I’m fine, it’s just - ” Loki sighed heavily, his heart pounding and muscles trembling. “I’m just not used to…standing.” 

Loki closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment, willing his body back into operating under his own control. But despite his best efforts, weariness and exhaustion were still permanently at the helm, relentlessly steering him back towards collapsing and passing out again. 

“It’s alright. Take your time…”

Loki’s eyes snapped back open, painfully aware that she was still watching him closely, and he did everything he could to both avoid her gaze and her reassurance. Nothing about this was alright, and he could hear his father’s chastising voice from beyond the stars, criticizing him for allowing enervation to consume him - even though that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble. 

His eyes flitted across the dungeon cell, feverishly taking in the stone walls and steel bars of the door, then out to the flickering lantern light of the hallway. Loki had never even bothered to take a good look at his coffin before committing to staying in it for all eternity, but from this elevation, he could clearly examine the cuts that made up the large slabs of the walls and floor. Meticulous, flawless, precise - too perfect to have been sliced by hand. 

His gaze moved to the cream-colored candlestick suspended within the single lantern in the hallway, evenly melted away and without a single speck of soot upon the glass encasing it. From there, he could make out the grooves carved by the steel bars into the doorway’s arch as it swung open and closed, and the streaked and dark stains, smudged against the grayed and leadened floor, leading from the hallway back into their cell. 

The woman’s blood, he assumed, and Loki’s hands clenched into fists. His throat tightened, and the slightest hint of outrage began to reluctantly wake from its slumber. 

Forcing the feeling away, Loki finally closed the distance and carefully crouched in front of the woman; only then did he let her be the focus of his attention. Loose and uneven strands of crimson had been pulled free from the long, disheveled braid nestled untidily over her shoulder;her skin was wan and pallid, and her lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue. 

Dried blood had smeared on her ear, her neck, the lengths of her hair and along her cheek. It was everywhere, mixed with the dirt and muck from the floor, coating the corners of her cracked lips and the freckles that dotted her cheekbone. The fact that the blood was dried, meaning the original wound was at the very least no longer actively bleeding, did nothing to make him feel better. 

Loki lowered one knee down to the floor, precariously settling his weight onto one ankle, and the woman’s attention was now entirely fixed on her boots. She swallowed nervously, and Loki silently agreed with the sentiment. How long had it been since he’d touched another person? Did he even remember how to be gentle? How to not contaminate? 

Moving cautiously, he took a boot into his grasp, threading his fingers between the loops and slowly pulling to loosen its laces. While he worked, he focused on the soft leather: its scent was herbal, earthy, and with just the barest suggestion of sweetness. Intricate designs, swirls and constellations and rays of light emanating from an overly-stylized sun were stitched into the leather, extending from the collar and flowing down way past the ankle. 

Soft, pliable and shiny, the leather still showed signs of its latest polish, applied with a healthy dose of high-quality wax, from underneath the layers of grim. The boots had been methodically cared for, regularly and recently, and probably not too long before the woman found herself in custody of the mysterious guards. Loki found himself curious about the circumstances of her capture. 

Stained in the same shade of night as the leathers covering her legs, they blended seamlessly together with the rest of her clothing, from the thin stockings on her feet to the chipped lacquer on her fingernails. Everything was the exact same color, save for the thin, flowing emerald tunic that had long since come untucked, and the gem that hung from her neck. 

And everything she wore was undoubtedly expensive, most likely customized for this particular owner, and she had obviously not dressed for being locked inside a damp and grimy dungeon. At best, she was prepared for a pleasant walk through the woods on a mildly chilly evening; Loki tried not to think about it too much. 

Out of his peripheral vision, Loki could see the woman stealing glances up at him. She watched him carefully, her sea green eyes shifting cautiously between his face, his hands, and the boot he was unlacing - obviously examining and judging the hideous monster whose help she had no choice but to accept. 

Loki began to feel self-conscious. There was no doubt that his own appearance wasn’t any better than her own at the moment; in fact, he was sure it was much, much worse. Dark and unkempt curls hung way past his shoulders like sinister snakes. The skin on his hands was sullen and pallor, shifting dangerously close to bluish gray, and he had no idea if his eyes had begun to drift back into their original shade of ruby-red or not. He promised himself that this would be the only time she ever saw his face up close. 

When he could no longer justify stalling with the laces, he cleared his throat, and forced his fingers to tap the underside of her leg; a featherlight touch that could have been easily missed if one hadn’t been expecting it. But the woman again mercifully sensed his meaning, and she positioned the appropriate foot for him to slide the boot on. 

Too well, Loki noticed, as he pulled the collar up to settle around her calf; she was exceptionally practiced at having others put footwear on her - at tensing the right muscles at just the right moment, and extending the leg with just enough force to seat the foot comfortably against the insole. 

“Sorry about this…” she mumbled as Loki pulled the laces tight and began looping them back and forth around the hooks. “Although, this is probably the most exciting thing you’ve done in a while, huh?” 

She was trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the previous awkwardness of such close quarters. Loki’s response was flat and measured, his attention focused on tying instead of talking. “Like I said - it’s nothing.” 

A nervous silence followed, one that was far more uncomfortable than the awkwardness. Loki hadn’t meant to be so dismissive, and perhaps he’d been far too frigid for someone who was supposed to be helping her. When he finished the final loop, he cleared his throat again and forced himself to look up again. 

“Is that…too tight for you?” he murmured softly. 

The woman managed a weak smile as she flexed her ankle. “No. It feels fine.” 

Loki noted that her pupils dilated ever so slightly when she met his gaze, and he took that as a good sign that her head injury wasn’t a completely serious one. He wasn’t sure why he was noting that, but nonetheless, he had, and he didn’t have the energy to start questioning it. Instead, he busied himself with picking up the other boot and threading his fingers underneath its laces like he’d done with the first. 

“Is this all I have left? Just waiting in this cell to die?” 

Her voice had taken on a somber, more sorrowful tone now; apparently open anguish was much easier for her than polite small-talk, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, Loki would have guessed there would have been more than a tear or two accompanying her questions. He wasn’t sure how to answer her; bringing up the fact that the other prisoners before her had never lasted more than a day or two, or the fact that they were never returned once removed from their cells, probably wasn’t going to help her mood very much. 

“At least they’re leaving you alone for the most part,” Loki answered, lightly tapping his fingers underneath her other leg for the placement of its boot. “Be thankful for relative peace.” 

The woman sighed heavily as she cooperated. “Relative peace. That’s all I have to look forward to?” 

“For some, that’s all they’ve ever wanted,” Loki said absentmindedly. “They’d kill for it, and others willingly die in its pursuit…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in troubled concern, and Loki tried to ignore it. He couldn’t understand why he was like this, either speaking too familiarly with the woman, or far too flippantly. He was out of practice when it came to any sort of normal conversation, but he didn’t want to be accustomed to it again. In the end, she was just a temporary distraction, and he wasn’t supposed to even exist at all. 

“That’s very enlightened, coming from someone who has nightmares every time he closes his eyes…” the woman replied as he finished tying the laces on the other boot. She flexed that ankle, and then nodded her approval while pulling her knees back against her chest. 

Loki’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and open, appearing to be without a single shred of judgment, only empathy. Loki couldn’t help but scrutinize her for that. If she only knew how little he deserved kindness, and he was irritated that she’d noticed how bad his nightmares were at all. He’d rather have not known that his weakness was on complete display, and thus, beyond his complete control. 

Slowly pushing himself back up to standing, grateful that the task and its requisite close proximity were finally over, Loki’s fingertips trailed along the cold stone as he backed into the shadows again. But lethargy was creeping back in, along with the ever-present unsettled and restless energy, and when Loki returned to sitting, he wasn’t quite as far into the dark as he had been before. 

“You know, it may help your nightmares to talk about them,” the woman suggested cautiously. “Perhaps unburdening yourself a little would be a good thing…” 

Loki grimaced. Of all the ways she could have worded it, he wished it hadn’t been in that specific way. As it were, various burdens of all sorts were already going to haunt him until the end of time, it seemed, and he preferred not to be reminded of the purposes initially set upon him by Thanos. And even if he wanted to, where should he begin? 

He still didn’t quite understand what exactly had happened to him on Knowhere; that entire year was just a chaotic haze of torture and manipulation, through both physical and psychological means, and it was impossible for him to decipher what was real and what was a lie. Even now, he couldn’t even recall the exact circumstances that led to his descent from the Bifrost and into Thanos’ control. 

Sometimes, he could clearly remember the decision to let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss; other times, he was absolutely convinced that his brother had pushed him in a jealous rage, furious that Loki’s short tenure as King had proved far more successful than any longer one Thor could have ever managed. 

Either way, the fall had resulted in him becoming Thanos’ prisoner, and then later, as a member of the Black Order - but only after they’d finally conceded that physical torture was never going to work on the body of a Frost Giant, on an Asgardian prince raised as a warrior, or on a powerful sorcerer who already had extremely complicated feelings about being alive in the first place. 

But once they realized that he just wanted somewhere to belong, they finally started to see real progress, and the emotional manipulation that followed was probably more effective than they could have ever hoped for. It was so very easy to muddy the rough waters of Loki’s psyche thanks to the Chitauri Scepter and his tremendous heartbreak - a kind word here, a clever lie there, and nothing but speeches about revenge and betrayals, destinies and purposes, salvation and redemption, and scorned Kings and their disgraced sons. 

After Loki had been welcomed into the fold, Thanos explained his need for the Tesseract; if Loki acquired it, then he would be granted an army to help take Midgard by as excessive and violent force as he deemed necessary. The God of Mischief already knew that he wanted to be as destructive as possible - to both completely cripple his brother’s fondness for the pathetic humans, and to show Odin that he would settle for being a terrifying leader if he wasn’t permitted to be a good one. 

His idea for retrieving the Tesseract had been a clever one; so clever that Loki wasn’t surprised that Thanos or the Black Order hadn’t ever considered it before. But getting to suggest it meant that his new Master was immediately pleased with his usefulness, something that had rarely happened with his previous keeper, and Loki was so grateful for the opportunity to satisfy. 

Out of the six Infinity Stones, the Space Stone was unique in that it could generate massive amounts of self-sustaining energy. Its power signature was incredibly easy to track, and it didn’t take long for Loki to determine the Tesseract’s location inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Under Fury’s careful and watchful eye, the mortals were studying its capabilities for power production, no doubt to be used in some kind of advanced weapons manufacture instead of something that could actually be used to help mankind. 

A stereotypically short-sighted action, one that would soon be their downfall, because none of those weapons would ever be able to stop him from completing his task. Had they realized the stone’s true potential, as Loki had, then perhaps the humans might have fared better during his invasion.

Because he knew something that apparently no one else did, something he now prayed that no one else would ever be able to figure out. Loki was in the unusual position of understanding exactly how the Bifrost had operated, of how it could easily send and receive anything from across the galaxies with frightening and pinpoint accuracy. As a child, he was fascinated by the Bifrost, and more than once Heimdall had to stop him from attempting to disassemble it while searching for the details of its inner workings. 

Once informed of her son’s unyielding curiosities, his mother had patiently redirected that energy towards Asgard’s massive libraries. There, he spent many late nights pouring over the texts and histories of the magnificent Bifrost. Once he’d devoured all he could from words, he then spent his time exploring the Realm and looking for means of travel that didn’t involve going to the Bifrost at all. 

And thanks to the Mad Titan’s relentless and universal conquest in search of the stones, Loki had access to incalculable amounts of lore, research and history that had been stolen from countless cultures and societies. He spent months buried in books and manuscripts, performing calculations and practicing his seidr, searching desperately for the perfect combination of science and magic to get him what he needed. 

All of that, when combined with his extensive knowledge of the Bifrost, allowed Loki to realize that all he needed was a power-source. It must have been fate and its impeccable sense of humor, because the Space Stone could be the engine, and the Tesseract was going to be the gateway - a terrible, incredible bridge between where you were, and where you desperately wanted to be. 

For Loki, the Tesseract was going to deliver him to vengeance, respect, authority and glory - in a way that no one would be able to undo once he finally got it. His brother, his father, the entire Nine Realms and beyond, all of them would be powerless to stop him once he figured out how to open the Tesseract’s portal from the other side. 

Returning to his research with a new sense of delirium, he gave up on sleep, and food, and his sanity while he searched for the answer. His cheeks became hollow, his eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin grew weak and frail. His nerves were on the verge of total disintegration, his heart ached and his mind was hazy. 

His every waking thought was consumed by the Tesseract, and on the rare occasion that he actually passed out, so were his nightmares. He became too lost to even carry on a conversation; all he could manage were grunts and groans and strange approximations of the word “Tesseract”. Every part of himself, anything that had once been Loki, had all but slipped away. 

But occasionally, Loki would come back to himself. He would look down at his hands in horror, and he wouldn’t understand where he was or how he got there. While screaming and lashing out, the one called Ebony Maw would preach about balance, about salvation and judgment and how Loki was destined to assist the Great Titan in saving all of life, by ending half of it. He was instructed to be grateful for being allowed to take part in it.

But it didn’t make any sense, and Loki tried so hard to resist, to fight them off, to scramble to the exit and free himself, to warn someone of the terrible thing that was coming. Then, something would happen, something would touch him, and his mind would cloud back over with rage and madness. The dangerous craving for the Tesseract would return tenfold, and then he would be back on task, more eager than ever to please. 

After a quick journey through the minds of the men known as Selvig and Barton, Loki finally had everything he needed to complete his sacred mission. The astrophysicist filled in the last remaining gaps about the Tesseract’s functionalities, and the archer revealed information about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security protocols - how many personnel were on site, what types of weapons they had, where they’d been trained. The details of every file stored on their secret servers, every individual’s personal histories - including that of the beings once considered to join the so-called Avengers, the ones that might be called upon to stop him. 

On his first attempt, Loki succeeded in opening the Tesseract’s portal. One moment, he was standing on Thanos’ ship, and the next, he was inside the research facility, shrouded within a haze of smoke and mania. By the third second, he was ferociously attacking, moving and acting without consideration for the stealth or secrecy he’d been trained with as a child. He didn’t even bother dodging the humans’ pathetic projectiles; instead, he focused on murdering the ones he had already deemed useless to his cause, and using the Sceptre to convert the ones that were worthy of it

Nor did he bother mincing words with Fury as the Director stalled for time, not even the ones ripped directly from Ebony Maw’s impassioned and self-important speeches. Loki already knew how unstable the gateway was, and that was by design. During his maniacal studies, he had determined how best to sustain the portal’s opening for safe and easy passage - first, in order to allow entry for the Chitauri forces, and then to facilitate easy travel for Thanos to find the rest of the stones later on. 

Loki’s first act of murder had been intentionally not stabilizing the portal as it opened inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; he had wanted the structure to collapse in a stunning display of destruction. Whether it was to be an ominous warning for what he was about to do, or if it was to serve as a call to action for the only ones who could have prevented him from succeeding, he still wasn’t quite sure. 

Either way, he ultimately failed in the only way that had mattered. Loki didn’t achieve vengeance or respect or authority, and there was no victory or glory waiting for him after it was over. The Chitauri Forces were destroyed, the Tesseract was not handed over to Thanos per their agreement, and he’d made a great many vicious and unforgiving enemies that day. 

In the end, the only thing waiting for him was a prison cell on Asgard, and all he’d managed to do was to make everything worse. 

And presumably, after it was over, Thanos still had access to all of Loki’s research. Losing out on the Tesseract would have infuriated him and the Black Order; a minor inconvenience, sure, but it wouldn’t have hindered their quest in the slightest. Thanos still knew how to use the Tesseract because of him - and more importantly, he understood how to use it in the most destructive way possible. That was completely and entirely Loki’s fault, and he just hoped that Thanos was arrogant enough to keep that information to himself, that no one else would try and fail in the same catastrophic way that Loki had. 

Maybe the Tesseract wasn’t meant to be used as a gateway, and in doing so, Loki had ensured that he’d never get what he wanted, and that he’d lose what little he had left. All of that madness and frantic chaos and deliberate carnage had been for absolutely nothing. Maybe the Tesseract was cursed, and maybe, so was he. 

Because every single time Loki had come into contact with it, his life had taken a drastic and even more devastating turn for the worse. Attempting to acquire it for Thanos had broken him - mind, body, and soul; fleeing New York with it had landed him in the clutches of the TVA; and apparently, it had been his ultimate destiny to die while trying to keep it from the Mad Titan. 

The absolute last thing Loki ever wanted was to be reminded of the Tesseract - more than he wanted silence, or solitude, or to rot. And now this woman wanted to know what his nightmares were about? 

Even if he had made it to the prison cell on Asgard, he wasn’t planning to explain himself to anyone. What was he supposed to tell his brother, his mother, his father? That he’d been deceived? Were they going to believe that he’d fallen for someone else’s lies so easily, and without question? That the God of Mischief himself had been tricked, played for a fool and made to be the universe’s largest and most pathetic scapegoat?

No, trying to justify his actions would be a grave disservice to the innocent lives he’d taken, and telling the truth was next to impossible. Even just talking about the betrayal of his family would be too much for him to bear, and that was the only aspect of the entire thing that Loki had never, ever second-guessed. 

The woman continued stealing glances in his direction, from just a few feet away now. Still waiting for him to say something, anything, to help keep her mind distracted from her own plights. For the briefest of moments, he actually considered asking if she’d ever heard of the Tesseract, or the Infinity Stones. If she knew who Thanos was, if he’d ever been to this planet before…but as Loki fidgeted with his tie, running his fingers over the frayed and broken seams in the cloth, he knew the answer didn’t matter. 

The appropriate time to have asked that question would have been when he’d first arrived, back when the TemPad still had the power to take him some place else if need be. But now the TemPad was dead; he was trapped here, and the longer he could go without hearing about the Tesseract, the better. The longer he could go on in the blissful ignorance of relative peace, and without talking about himself, the easier this would be for everyone. 

“How did you wind up here anyway?” He winced as he spoke, hating himself for being more than a little curious about it. “I can’t imagine the guards asking you to come along nicely…”

The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt replaying the events in her mind and wishing she had done something differently. Her fingers grasped the gem that hung from her neck, and she swallowed hard. “I was…taken from Tessaway, my home, in the middle of the night.” 

She paused, her eyes focused on something non-existent in the distance. “I don’t know how they made it past the sentries, but they…managed, somehow. They took me from my bed, while I slept…” 

Loki shook his head, trying to appear sympathetic. “You lived in a heavily guarded city. It must be a very dangerous place…”

“Tessaway isn’t a city,” she corrected, furrowing her brow as she looked over at him. “It’s the castle in Fayrest. You know, the capital city…?” 

He didn’t know any of that, of course, having never left this cell. The woman looked like she wanted to say more but was afraid to, and he couldn’t help but think about why she had seemed to imply before that no one was going to rescue her. “Wouldn’t someone from the castle have noticed your absence? Surely they have to be looking for you by now…” 

“No…” The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, her expression broken and forlorn. “No, I was just a servant. No one important enough to miss…” 

Loki had been studying her carefully ever since he’d realized her captors were going to keep her alive for much longer than they had the others. Her movements were elegant and refined, her clothing and jewelry expensive and customized, her speech graceful and enchanting; the kind of charming that could only come from years of practice. He didn’t believe for a second that she was just a servant working in a castle. 

But she was also clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and for whatever reason, was keeping the origins of her birth a secret. Loki wondered what might have happened to him if he had been given that luxury, if he hadn’t been the only one to not know the truth about himself. 

“Ah, a servant,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. His unpracticed lips curved into a forced and lazy grin. “That certainly explains why you’re so concerned about my well-being…” 

The woman’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and she tilted her head curiously as if taking his comment as a challenge. “What’s the matter? Are you not used to someone worrying about your well-being?” 

Loki’s jaw tensed; perhaps he hadn’t been behaving as opaquely as he hoped, and he hated that she could see through him just as well as he could through her. He glanced over, and decided to provoke her right back. “Well, I’m sure they’ll miss you at the castle eventually. Like when there’s pots that need washing, or linens that need changing?” 

“Yes, yes, that’s very funny…” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I get it, the thing about servants is that no one knows your name until something you normally do suddenly isn’t being done anymore…” 

The woman turned, and she met his gaze with a considering and dissecting one of her own. “Like you - you don’t need anything from me, so why would you ever bother learning my name?” 

From just a few feet away, the woman stared deep into his soul, tugging at the strings that still held him upright and all but questioning if they were even necessary. He waited until she looked away to furrow his brow again, because while she was right about him not needing anything from her, she was surely mistaken about the other half of her point.

Because he did actually know her name; it was the first new name he’d learned in such a very long time, and he thought it suited her quite well, all things considered. But he had been trying to avoid acknowledging it, not wanting it to mean something more than what it was. 

It was just a name, after all; a series of specific vocalizations designed to get her attention. Saying it out loud didn’t mean that they were friends, or that they were even important to each other. It wouldn’t bind them in any way, or obligate him to care. But if that were true, then why did he have such a problem with saying it? 

Loki could feel a nervous energy creeping relentlessly up his spine again. He wished it would stop receding, that it would stay put, because the constant shifting between relaxing and stressing was completely wearing him out. He told himself he just needed to say it out loud and get it over with, before he could start second-guessing and talk himself out of it again - especially now that she had noticed his careful avoidance of her name. 

“What kind of servant knows how to fight with a staff anyway?” Loki asked, affecting an innocent and casual tone. “I guess servants named Oliviette do…” 

After he answered his own question, Loki looked towards her again, and Oliviette was already smiling back at him; it was a bleary and quiet acknowledgement, but the sentiment was definitely noteworthy. For the first time since they’d met, he could see the dimples in her cheeks, and it was impossible to miss the way her eyes lit up with mirth, or how her lips pursed before she finally responded. 

“What? Am I not allowed to have hobbies outside of work?” 

Loki struggled to not return her smile. He almost felt a sense of appreciation for her snark and the much-needed diversion from the constant aching in his chest. It was only then that he remembered that this was supposed to be a temporary distraction; he couldn’t afford to spend needless energy that didn’t directly involve finding out why the guards were keeping Oliviette alive for this long. 

Keeping a safe distance was paramount, his new glorious purpose. Trust was for children and dogs, wasn’t that how he’d put it to Mobius during their first meeting? As long as he stayed here, keeping himself isolated and protected, then he couldn’t ever be tricked into being someone else’s attack dog ever again. He couldn’t ever hurt anyone again. 

Besides, it was highly implausible that her life would end in any way other than tragically. Loki’d already had quite enough of that - and would it be worth getting close to her, even if it didn’t? 

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

[heynhay]

HAVE TO GET BACK TO STUDYING FOR A REALLY BIG EXAM VERY SOON BUT I DO NEED TO ASK YOU THIS. VERY URGENT QUESTION. DO YOU HAVE A SPOTIFY YOUD BE COMFORTABLE WITH SHARING. JUST WENT THROUGH YOUR PROFILE GLEEFULLY CLICKING AND LISTENING TO EVERY LINKED SONG IN THE CAPTION AND DUDE YOUR MUSIC TASTE FUCKS SO BAD... WOULD BE DELIGHTED TO HEAR MORE OF IT (UNDER THE CONDITION THAT U ARE TOTALLY FINE WITH IT OF COURSE!!!!!)

p.s your art is so wonderfully electrifyingly expressive and intimate. its such an absolute wonder to behold ooohhh i adore ADORE IT. THANK U FOR SHARING YOUR WORK WITH THE WORLD!!!!! ITS A BETTER PLACE FOR IT!!!!!

i think u will like the the heynhay curated klance playlist

[jewels-writes]

Surviving the Crash (Part 3)

Fandom: Call of Duty Word count: 1,134 Warnings: suggestive actions, near-smut but not quite smut, not proofread (as always lmfao) Part 1 Part 2 — — — —

It was late when you and Price made your way back to your tent, hand in hand, which he insisted was for comfort only. The rest of the 141 were already asleep, their drunken snores filling the room. Price chuckled lightly to himself, seeing his boys like this. It brought him a sense of peace. 

Price and you made your way to your shared bunk. He held the ladder the same as last time, ensuring you’d be able to safely get up to your bed. As you lifted your leg to begin climbing, it felt oddly weak, and you grunted, stumbling forward when it couldn’t carry your weight. “Easy, soldier.” His hand snaked around your waist, steadying you. His hold was firm, and a very big part of you wanted to stay in it. “Can you get up there? Or do you need to sleep in my bed?” His voice was whispered so as not to wake the rest of the people around him. But it came out a lot more husky than he had intended and far more intimate as well. He realized it as soon as you did and quickly clarified, clearing his throat as he did so. “Not- not with me. Just- we’d switch beds until you’re feeling up to climbing. Christ..” He chuckled to himself softly, the sound of it music to your ears.

“Subtle.” You teased him with a small smile. “That would be nice. I appreciate it, Price.” As you looked up to him, your breath caught. He was much closer than you thought he’d be. And much more handsome than you remembered him being. His crystal blue eyes bore into yours, flickering to somewhere lower on your face before back up again, a silent question.

“Subtility is my specialty, love.” His voice had dropped an octave as he leaned closer, your back pressing against the ladder, his chest pressing against yours. Despite his advances, he held a tone of caution and hesitation. He didn’t want you to feel trapped in his infatuation with you. He stopped when he was an inch or so away from your lips, your breaths mingling with his. 

“Something on your mind?” You whispered, your eyes looking down to his lips, your desire clear in your expression. 

“You, love.” He murmured, staying where he was. His hand trailed down your back, resting on your hip. “Always you.” 

“Price..” You breathed, closing the distance between you two. The kiss was gentle and sweet, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he pressed himself against you. The world around you seems to fade away. The tender kiss ignites a spark that quickly grows into an all-consuming flame. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his hand caressing your cheek with a restrained need for more.

Price deepened the kiss, his lips parting slightly to invite you in. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a soft sigh of pleasure from deep within you. The taste of him was intoxicating, familiar yet electrifyingly new. It was a dance of desire and longing, a connection forged in the depths of the night.

His hand slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. The weight of his body pressed against yours, and the warmth and strength of him enveloped you in a passionate embrace. It's a moment of surrender, of allowing the fire between you both to consume your rational thoughts. You wanted him here and now.

Lost in the intensity of the kiss, you found yourself craving more of him, your body yearning to be closer, to merge with his. But as if sensing this, Price broke the kiss, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of desire and restraint.

“We should... We should slow down,” Price panted, his voice filled with a blend of desire and internal struggle. “I want you, love... God, I want you so much. But I don't want to rush this. I want it to be perfect. I want to give you everything you deserve.”

“Why not now..?” Your voice came between your ragged breaths. Your hands still wandered along his body, craving more. Craving him. 

Price's breath hitched at the desperation in your voice, his desire mirrored in his eyes. He felt the hunger in your touch, the urgency that matched his own. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, that he was your captain, and this was wrong.

“Love, believe me, nothing would make me happier than to give myself to you right now,” Price confessed, his voice filled with a mix of longing and restraint. His hands gently held yours, preventing them from wandering further, knowing he didn’t have much restraint left in him. “But I need to make sure you're safe and healed. I don't want to take advantage of this moment.” 

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his desire, he saw your disappointment.  “I'll give you everything, darling. Just give me the chance to do it right. Let me be sure that you're ready, that this is what you truly want. We'll have our time, I swear it.” He placed a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch a gentle reassurance.

“Can we cuddle at least?” You asked, your voice small as self-doubt ran through your mind. Price's heart softened at the vulnerability in your voice. He gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, offering you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, love,” he replied, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. “Come here.”

Carefully, he guided you away from the ladder and into the cozy confines of his bed. He pulled away the covers, creating a space for both of you. His bed was inviting, the scent of clean sheets mingled with his subtle cologne. As you settled down, Price spooned himself against your back, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

His body radiated warmth and comfort, his embrace enveloped you like a safe cocoon. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn’t deny just how safe you felt with him behind you. Like his presence was armor to the rest of the world.

“You're safe here with me, my darling.” He whispered, his quiet voice soothing you, his lips brushing against your ear in his closeness. “I'll keep you close, protect you with everything I am.”

His presence alone was enough to lull you to a peaceful sleep. Despite everything, you felt yourself melt into his tender hold. You didn’t care what your teammates would say in the morning if they saw. Right now, all you cared about was being with Price. — — — — Note: I was going to make this part entirely smut, but ended up changing my mind. Wasn't sure how everyone would respond to it going in that direction so please give me feedback, let me know if that's alright.