#i mean you can still send me asks on the main blog of course but

[karmasmoon]

okays hi hay hi frens

side blog created!! it’s still me, karma <3 (@itskarmaart)

i’ll rebloob my art and other stuff here and the main one is just gonna be for art now!!! ily!

[mirchloe]

#psychonautssecretsanta2024

ho ho ho! it's the middle of november! that means, once again, it's time for the secret santa! last year went off without a hitch (if you just ignore how my main was shadowbanned for sending out the giftee assignments, which caused me to finally make a side blog lol), so i'm back once again with this event i've happily hosted since 2016.

hate to beat a dead horse because this is the same shtick as last year and the year prior, but i'll be tremendously busy in december. i will be more hands off and ask that all participants follow the timeline. without further ado, here's the timeline along with the rules!

TIMELINE

the application will be open from 11/15/24 starting at 4:00 P.M. PST and close on 11/25/24 at 11:59 P.M. PST. if you miss the sign up period, please message me immediately because i will begin pairing people up promptly.

between 11/27/24 through 11/29/24, i will send out giftee information to the account/username (twitter or tumblr only) that was provided, so please keep your eye on your dms. if i can’t reach you on tumblr, i’ll send an ask asking you to open your messages to everyone. that way, i can pass along your giftee to you.

as always, 12/15/24 is the check-in day. i will be going around messaging people asking for progress updates. this doesn’t have any specification as people work differently, so if you haven’t started, that’s also fine. it just helps me know where people are in their progress, or if they might need an extension. if you want to reach out first, that helps me mark you down faster!

speaking of extensions, please let me know before 12/22/24 if you will need an extension. life happens, and i know that from experience, so don’t hesitate to reach out. also, if you believe you’ll need to drop out, please let me know before 12/22/24 as well, so that i can find another santa for your giftee. you will still receive your gift!

gifts are due between 12/24/24 through 12/28/24. please tag your giftee, and use the hashtag psychonautssecretsanta2024, so that i can keep track of who posted. (of course, in addition, you can always use the relevant game, character, and pairing tags!) i’m very excited to see what everyone will create!

for those who asked for extensions, and for the santas who took on an extra gift if someone dropped, those gifts are due between 1/4/25 through 1/8/25.

RULES

adult/minor pairings and incestuous pairings are not allowed. requesting them in your application will result in you being removed from the event entirely.

keep your content PG-13/keep the t rating of psychonauts in mind. nsfw material is not allowed in order to be inclusive to everyone. to clarify, please do not request nsfw material that is graphically sexual or violent in nature.

be respectful of your giftee’s wish list, and do not share them. over the years, i have mostly partnered people based on similar interests in characters, pairings, etc., but there will always be different interpretations of aforementioned characters, pairings, etc.

i mentioned it in the above form, but please don’t give me any usernames that are for ao3 or discord to prevent any confusion. this event is also NOT associated with any personal secret santa events on any discord. this is strictly for tumblr (and maybe twitter).

not really a rule, but any received questions about the event will be answered and added to the reply section.

[askdiscordwhooves]

Ask Discord Whooves has come to its conclusion, and that means the posts below this point contain major spoilers for the story! This post will also have the author's final comments below a 'read more' to avoid spoilers. In this commentary, I will talk about new details about the story, such as what the future looks like in this universe and clearing up some lore.

If you wish to read from the beginning, you can start from the first page here!

Or, if you were in the middle of reading and wish to start where you left off, go to the table of contents here!

Also for consideration, you can read the prequel blog @lovestruck-derpy and the side blog @askthetimemaster to get more insight on the story. It is recommended you read Lovestruck Derpy first, then Ask The Time Master after you've read Discord Whooves.

Other side blogs involved in the story that can be read after everything else for a little more insight are as follows:

@tantamount-time-turner @torchwoodv @valtavia

Thank you for being interested in the story, I hope you enjoy your read!

!!AUTHOR FINAL COMMENTS BELOW!!

It would be appreciated if people who have read the blog to its end read this post and give their input on the overall story via comment or reblog, or sending the author @jitterbugjive a comment via ask or submission.

Surprise, everyone! Coach is The Doctor's next life!

This was the original plan from the very start of when I made Coach. Look, here's some proof, the plush I had commissioned of him has a cutie mark!

For those who don't know who (Pony) Coach is, you can read a bunch of asks sent to him here and get to know him, and for those who do know him you can re-read with context:

[Coach at The-Character-Lounge]

Now, I know I've moved on and made Coach a human and his own character for my current main project, My Magic Grandpa, but that was because I loved him as a character so much that I couldn't just end him after Discord Whooves.

He and his Granddaughter Suzie have paranormal fantasy adventures in the 90s starting in Oregon. You can read the comic which has been updating for 4 years here: http://www.mymagicgrandpa.com OR http://www.mymagicgrandpa.net for better phone viewing.

If you want more Doctor Whooves content from me, consider following the youtube series "Doctor Whooves and Assistant", where I am the head writer and voice actor for Derpy. It is still active and hopefully will be for quite some time.

I also want people to know about three more of my original projects,”Bedeviled Dotty” ( @bedeviled-dotty), “Once Upon a Calamity” ( @nightmaretales) and “WTF? I’m a Magical Girl’s Familiar?!” (@magicalgirlsfamiliar) Two of which I want to start updating in 2024 and one that's been updating for a few years now.

OUAC has been around for a very long time, it’s a collection of familiar but twisted fairy tales and it has been on hiatus for years because of my other projects taking priority. I'm excited to be bringing it back.

WTF?MGF meanwhile is an adult dark comedy magical girl comic combined with an apocalyptic outbreak scenario. Its pilot will launch in January of 2024 and the comic will begin properly in 2025.

“Bedeviled Dotty” has been going for a few years now, and is a story about a magical anthro rabbit who makes a deal with a kitsune in order to obtain the love of her professor.

I highly encourage people to check them out!

Now about The Doctor version of Coach! When he first regenerated, he was ecstatic to have a small nose!

Not only that but he had a new appreciation for life and took on a life to the fullest attitude. He also cast away the identity of 'The Doctor', letting himself become his own as 'Coach' because he considers himself a referee to the universe and a sort of life coach to whoever he encounters. (Those that can stand him of course) He loves interacting with others, but he can be impatient and snippy at times and quite pushy without meaning to. He also has a hard time reading others' emotions, and can only think in context of how he would feel. This is because in this life he has something akin to ASD that he's unaware of, and it's a huge challenge for him because of how much he wants to help and entertain others.

He likes to use sports words and phrases in his vocabulary, which would be his quirk. He also collects sports equipment and uses them for experiments and inventions, though he doesn't really like sports themselves.

One of the last things Derpy said to him before she died was that she had no regrets, and neither should he. So in his next life, as Coach, he took this very seriously and is always moving forward with no regrets. This can make him seem heartless at times because of how easily he leaves things behind, but he always needs to be on the move and needs to change things up because he's teaming with chaos magic.

That's right, the chaos energy stayed with him, but it manifested in a more controllable form because he became a unicorn. He can't use normal unicorn spells, a lot of his magic has a mind of its own. It will often do as asked, but it will do it in random ways. 'Open a locked door' for example could mean unlocking the door, or turning the door into popcorn. One of his first magic mishaps was transmogrifying his sonic screwdriver into a golf club. It still functions the same, just has a different shape now.

Coach spent about 60 years exploring on his own and taking on temporary companions that he'd keep a distance from so chances of anything bad happening to them would be less. But he eventually longs to see his Grandaughter, Tootsie Flute, and wants to take her on adventures with him, feeling like it would be a good do-over from the old Doctor's life. He fondly calls her Suzie because of reminiscing about the memories of Susan from the 1st Doctor days. While Suzie is often exasperated with him, she is also fascinated with him and the things he shows her. She has to keep their adventures a secret though, because Coach is scared to face his old family again and disappoint them. He doesn't want to see them without being able to understand them any more, it would break his hearts.

In order to take Suzie on adventures with him, they find a rogue changeling to replace her at home.

Speaking of changelings, he keeps in contact with [Tantamount Doctor], who has since started his own hive and is now a Royal. He gets much adored offerings of cheese from Coach.

The Doctor also never really felt like there was a right time to approach The Master’s daughter, Eighth Note. He kept feeling like it would ruin her otherwise good life to introduce her to time and space like that. She grew up to be a nurse in a maternity ward, her beautiful voice soothing babies as she would sing to them. Perhaps she has a little hypnotic influence from her father?

But Coach meanwhile with his no regrets attitude charged right in to take her on as a temporary companion to show her the ropes of being a Time Lord and having a TARDIS of her own. Needless to say, she’s trouble for Coach, as she can be a huge tease and she enjoys flustering the poor guy who just doesn’t want the Master to come back from the grave to kill him. It’s all in good fun for her and never serious, though, so nothing of an intimate nature really happens between them.

Finally, whenever Coach regenerated which wouldn't be for a long time, it would be because the chaos magic would become too unstable and the only way he can stay alive is to regenerate into a draconequus. Which gives us -drumroll-

Pandemonium!

Pandemonium is on the chaotic good alignment and he finds a way to bring back Gallopfrey and allow the true pony Doctor and Master to exist. He playfully antagonizes them and tries to keep them on a good path as best he can.

And that's pretty much how the whole thing ends!

When I started Discord Whooves, I was in a pretty dark place. I was bitter, angry, feeling like I had to fill peoples' expectations without really having anything special of my own. Discord Whooves started as a vent blog because A. The Brony fandom's constant pressure on me as a well known voice actor for Derpy, which made me bitter about her, B. Because I was upset I was getting known more for my voice than my main talent, drawing, on top of feeling dysphoric about my feminine voice, and C. The expectations that were on me reflected on how I acted, and I wanted to do something dark without my old name attached to it to prove I could do something interesting besides PG rated radio plays. I gained a lot more popularity than I thought I ever would, and had so much support, and as JitterbugJive I got to be myself without any expectations. It helped me come out eventually not only as BaldDumboRat, but as a transgender male.

Popularity sadly got to my head, it caused a lot of stress and a lot of outbursts and when I started my mod blog I was a very calm person who brushed things off. But more and more people started to pick fights with me and I felt the need to defend myself. This was also during a time I made another vent blog that was for dealing with the abuse I'd been through in the past, so I was facing a lot of demons at the time and could be triggered easily.

And then I had my bi-polar manic episode that made me literally insane for months, which threw me in to a year long depression that destroyed my art for a good while (It looked really really awful during that time, a lot of people noticed it) but the good thing about it was that it got me in touch with a therapist and got me diagnosed not only bi-polar 1 but PTSD, which was a shock to me but it made a lot of sense. I got a PTSD service dog, anxiety medication, bi-polar medication, and while the year of depression sucked I slowly got to pull myself back together and reflect on who I'd been. With anxiety meds I wasn't getting as angry any more, and therapy was helping me properly cope with the past and with the popularity issues. I wanted to be a better person, and I became one.

I even decided to take on a career path where I could help other people like me and like Discord Doctor, becoming a peer wellness specialist to help those experiencing mental illness and addiction. I use my own experiences to connect with them, give them hope, and show them they are not alone and there are people who do understand what they're going through who will help them. The training I went through ended up changing a lot of aspects of how Discord Whooves was treated moving forward, giving him a more realistic journey and showing people a very true message of hope and recovery. And the only reason I'm where I am now is because of experiencing that first psychotic episode that made me reach out for help.

I had two psychotic episodes in the span of Discord Whooves’ run, and they gave me a first hand experience of what it’s like to completely lose control of your own actions. I hurt people, I caused a lot of damage, and I had to face the consequences of those actions. And because of this, I had personal knowledge of what it’s like to come out of such a horrible state, and all the guilt and fear that comes with it. The Doctor’s journey suddenly became so much more personal to me, because I’d been there. And his journey of recovery is to show that despite everything, there’s still hope. Recovery is possible.

Something else my mania did was lead me to the idea of My Magic Grandpa, because my head came up with so many crazy ideas that I wanted to use and I was looking for a lot of inspiration during my depression that it all started coming together. And thus Coach and Suzie evolved into humans in their own story, because I didn't entirely want Discord Whooves to end where Coach and Suzie only just begins. And now they can continue on in their own way, in my own way, and I can let go of a blog about depression and anger and instead make a story about growth and inspiration.

In a way, it's like I regenerated with The Doctor, and I hope people can appreciate that and continue to support me.

I want to thank all the people who have worked with me on this project, be it for crossover, to contribute guest art, to Warden and Lauren and a handful of other people who helped me write the story and brought fantastic characters into it. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, and the story would be in a much worse place now if it weren’t for everyone’s help.

Thank you all for staying with me on this 12 year journey. Looking back, I've made some dumb mistakes, but I learned a lot from them and your dedication helped me stick to my guns and end my first large scale project! It hit some bumps but dammit I made it happen and I am so happy I did! Now I hope people will check out my other projects that were linked above. I will still produce pony content on @the-character-lounge on occasion when I have the time and motivation.

I want to continue to bring everyone compelling stories that will tug at their emotions, and I don't plan on disappearing. So if you want to continue this journey with me, to see what Coach and Suzie have evolved into, please give my other works a follow!

Thank you, everyone! Your comments on this post in particular would be greatly appreciated! What did you think of the story as a whole? What do you think of Coach being the Doctor’s new life? Are there things you were expecting or wished would be different? How would you have ended the story? Did you enjoy the finale? Did you have a theory that Coach was The Doctor? Who was your favorite character? Favorite moment? Least favorite moment? I want to know! Please talk about it!

[ingravinoveritas]

Babe not wanting to put more attention on this pathetic person but there’s someone here on tumblr who made a mock account of you

Hi there! I've been debating whether to address this publicly, but I received numerous DMs about this last night and have been made well aware of the blog in question.

For context: Over the last few days, the person behind the mock blog has used their main account to make their presence known on my blog, having reblogged one of my posts just to add a nasty comment to it, replying to another one of my posts and attacking my followers, and sending me a hateful Ask, all in escalating succession. This culminated in the creation of the new account last night, which had a name that was an almost identical dupe of my blog name.

To be clear, I have no intention of linking to this blog publicly, as this person's goal and aim seems to be for me to engage with them--someone I do not know, and to whom I have never spoken or responded in any capacity. It also seems that the URL of the blog has changed from being a copy of my blog name to something else, and given that I had a lot of people DMing me indicating that they reported the blog to Tumblr, my guess is that the name change is the result of that.

The only other thing that I will say regarding this is that I'm obviously not thrilled that someone created a blog for the purpose of harassing me (while ironically accusing me of harassing Georgia and AL, despite me repeatedly stating that I do not follow either of them on social media and am strongly against anyone leaving harassing comments on any of their accounts). At the same time, however, I have been subject to far worse in my previous fandom--most notably, one vile incident where someone falsely accused me of distributing pornographic material to a minor, and another incident where the same person contacted my employer in an attempt to get me fired in the middle of lockdown in 2020. So all things considered, this blog is relatively mild in comparison.

And while I'm enormously grateful for the support that I have received from so many kind folks, I would urge you to not engage with this blog on any level, and please especially do not send this person threats of any kind on my behalf. I've said many times on my blog that people are welcome to disagree with me, and that I'm happy to hear the opinions of others who do not share my views as long as they are civil and respectful. What this person is doing is neither of those things, and they've made it clear that engaging with them would be a fruitless endeavor, but that still does not make it okay to send anyone hate. And if the desired outcome here is attention, then the best course of action would be to not provide it.

Again, my deepest thanks to you @phantomstars24 and to everyone else who has let me know about the situation and offered their support, as it means more than I can describe. I'm hopeful that we can continue sharing the joy so many of us have felt over Michael and David these past few years, and leave the rest where it belongs...

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Four (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Ooh I really hope you enjoy this one! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. I so love to hear your feedback and chat more about this story! ILY :-*

Word count: 5.3k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

The rest of the evening passes in much the same way as the rest. You rejoin the group out front, Benny injecting some much needed fresh energy into the pack. He regales you all with tales of his most recent fights, delivers excruciating detail about his latest training regimen, and proudly shows off pictures of his new puppy. 

“Why am I looking at a picture of you, Miller,” Frankie jests as he holds up the screen to reveal an adorable golden retriever. 

If anyone notices that Santiago seems quieter than he had earlier in the night, they don’t say it. If they realise that you are engaging in very purposeful, overblown interest in Benny’s chat, it doesn’t get called out. There are a few exchanges between the two of you and Santiago that simulate old patterns. Lend weight to the pretence that things could even return to normal between you and him, given a little more time. 

Still, every time your eyes glance off of one another there is this intolerable heat, and you find you still can’t meet it head on. At times, your gaze is dropped hastily into the sand. At times, your eyes needle Frankie pointedly so that he might come to your aid, even if he does simply shrug and clasp the neck of his bottle a little more tightly. 

You know Santiago. And in a sense, contradictory as it may be, the hardest thing is how easy it would be to fall into your old patterns. Eventually, you begin to wonder if this tension and this awkwardness -this disconnect – is simply manufactured, in a way. Your heart’s tactic to keep him at arm’s length. A defence mechanism, because you ran away from a whole continent and yet you still fear ending up right back where you started if you can’t extricate yourself from him. 

At some stage, you tire of the beer-addled chat, and especially of Tom. Even more so of the effort of trying to make everything feel normal, whilst at the same time fearing what might happen if you could actually achieve that. What it would mean. You announce to the group that you’re going to take a long soak in the tub, and you head upstairs to the main bathroom, languishing in the sweet-scented bubbles, and attempting to wash the burdens of the day from your body, along with the gathered sweat and sand and smoke. Of course, you seem entirely unable to scrub this urge humming beneath your skin. 

When you eventually emerge there is a hush over the house, a cocooning darkness in the hallways – and you realise that at least some of the group must have retired to bed already. You’re tired, sure; but you’re still a little buzzed and not sure that you could sleep yet. You certainly don’t like the thought of staring at the ceiling, thinking about who might be lying awake too on the other side of your wall. 

“Hey. Cat. Everyone gone to bed?” you ask Frankie softly as you see him round the stairs to the landing in his socked feet, his footsteps purposefully softened. 

“Yeah, chiquita.”

“Already? Such old men,” you snicker gently. “What the hell happened?” 

Frankie’s subdued throaty chuckle cuts pleasantly through the dark. “It was a long drive,” he defends playfully; then, his tone shifts, an injection of caution evident. It puts you on edge. “Pope’s still out there though, if that helps.” Frankie must feel you bristle, as he raises his palms in the air in surrender. Or, more than likely, absolving himself of any responsibility. “Do with that what you want.” 

“Mmm-kay,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, and, from the sidelong glance Frankie throws at you, you know he isn’t buying it for a second. 

“You two okay? Something happen in the kitchen?” 

A flare ignites under your skin. You remember a different kitchen entirely. Not the one downstairs. Instead, you recall the hot, close air of the Colombian night. The flash of cool metal against your flushed skin as Santiago pressed you back and-

“-It was fine,” you lie tersely, and before Frankie can wheedle anything further out of you, you quickly hook your arm around his neck for a distracting, albeit halfhearted, goodnight hug. “’Night, Cat. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” With a grunt, he offers a quick, friendly kiss to your cheek, his scruff tickling up against you. 

“Yeah. G’night,” he returns, looking as tired as he probably feels. And, as you part ways in the hallway, Frankie watches with resigned interest at the fact you don’t similarly retreat to your room. That instead, you shuffle onward towards the mouth of the stairs. “Don’t let the Pope’s bite.” 

And then, with Frankie’s nonsensical and yet somehow apt warning ringing in your ears you head downstairs, meandering through the quiet house until you reach the exterior. 

You are arrested in the doorway at the thought of experiencing Santiago alone all over again, but at the same time, that is exactly the thought which propels your feet over the threshold and out into the balmy night air. 

You find him there, stretched out on his back in front of the dying embers of the fire, knees folded and pointed up to the sky. An orange glow is cast over the contours of his chest where his button-down shirt now falls completely open, the wire of his headphones snaking down and around his torso. He looks peaceful like this at first. Relaxed and loose, his chest rising and falling soporifically with his breath. His eyes are closed and he has his headphones in his ears, his fingers gently drumming and tapping where they rest against the softness of his bare stomach. Your eyes follow his happy trail, until the thatch of hair disappears beneath his shorts, now tugged tight over his thick thighs. 

You note the appealing cushioning around his middle forming rolls as he shifts marginally - to better prop his head up on a second cushion. He looks beautiful. Tranquil, at first glance. 

That is, until you see him tug in a huge breath, his ribs flaring with it. Until you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow, sad exhale. 

You know in that moment that you should without a doubt turn around. That you should go right to bed, even if that does result in staring at the ceiling for hours with the image of his gorgeous body seared into your mind. But, you can’t do that. 

Instead, you already know exactly what you’re going to do. You’ve known since before you came downstairs. 

Truth be told, you’ve known since before you came to the beach house at all. You’ve known since your new fella asked you to be exclusive and you said “no”. You know, because you don’t know what’s good for you. 

“Santiago,” you say to announce yourself.  “Mind if I join you?” 

He pops a bud from his ear and opens his eyes. Somehow, he doesn’t even look surprised to see you standing there. 

He blinks at you wordlessly for a moment. He could say no, of course, but you know that he won’t. 

Because he doesn’t know what’s good for him either. 

He doesn’t respond to you at all in words. Instead, he rises, shifting to the corner of his tartan blanket, arranging himself cross-legged with a groan. He pats the opposite side invitingly, gesturing for you to join him. 

You hesitate. The setting, down on the sand on that measly square of wool, seems already far more intimate than the looming camp chairs had.

“Warmer down here,” Santiago encourages, as though reading your mind through how well he can read your body, evident tension snaking through your limbs. “Come and get comfy.” 

Okay. 

You hunker down, both legs folded to one side and your weight propped on the opposite arm. You take in the setting for a moment. The beach, shrouded in a blanket of dark. The sound of the waves shushing, and the gentle crackle of the fire. 

It would be calming, if the silence between the two of you wasn’t so taut. Still, you know Santiago will shortly reach to fill the silence. He always does. You don’t even have to wait all that long. 

“Good to see that Benny’s still… as Benny as ever.” 

“Yeah. Good to see some things never change.” You look at his lips. 

“His latest training regimen sounds pretty brutal, huh?“ 

“Uh huh.” Your eyes trail wantonly down his torso, and it’s not lost on you that he sucks his stomach in a little when your gaze drops to the soft rolls of him there. You’ve never seen a whiff of insecurity on the man before now. He’s confident as a rule - or so you thought. It’s appealing though, the softness of him. Sexy. You want to tell him that, but you don’t. Instead, you simply allow the soft smile to radiate over your face unfettered, your eyes warm and fond. 

“What are you listening to?” you nod down to his phone, headphones still strung from it and one bud remaining in his ear. Wordlessly, he passes you the spare bud and you slot it in, allowing the droning sounds to wash over you. Voices talking, and smatterings of financial and investment jargon. You quickly get the gist of it, and just as quickly relinquish the bud back to him. 

Your nose wrinkles. It’s not what you were expecting, honestly. “Financial podcasts?” 

He tilts his head to the side. Looks suddenly as old and mature and serious as you’ve ever seen him. “Gotta think about the future sometime, right?” He says it lightly, but even so, you are somewhat hurt by it. Hurt that he’s never managed to envisage any kind of future with you. 

“Right.” You nod, as neutrally as possible. 

He looks at your mouth. 

You note the brief fleet of pink tongue along the swell of his pillowy lower lip. 

You both let the silence hang there for a moment, full of possibility, and again, you know he will fill it. After all, you made it clear, right? You told him: don’t. Even if you want precisely what you asked him to deny you. “Did you see that documentary about the octopus on-”

“-I can’t get off anymore without thinking about you, Santi.” 

You interrupt him, and his jaw hangs slack for a moment, his eyes bugging out of his head as he fully registers your statement. Apparently, you don’t want to talk about Benny. Or podcasts. Or fucking octopi. You don’t want to fill the silence with meaningless chat. 

With Santiago, it had always meant something. You don’t want to stop that now. 

You let the words fall into his lap, and you aren’t even sure what reaction you were expecting. Therefore, you don’t even feel any particular type of way as you watch the multitude of emotions and stunted responses play out one by one across Santiago’s features. “Jesus, honey,” he eventually croaks. 

Then, his second-hand embarrassment finally jars you too. In a delayed flush of self-pity, you bury your face in your hands. “Fuck. How pathetic is that?” 

Santiago’s agape mouth finally closes then, a hard swallow bobbing down his corded neck. Your own self-deprecating laugh finally causes his face to split into a bemused and tentative grin. It is short-lived, however, his thick brows quickly drawing down. “You know. You’re giving me fucking whiplash over here, cariño.” 

“Shit. I know. I’m sorry. I just…” You tug your knees up to your chest for whatever comfort it can offer. “Honestly? I don’t want to talk about Benny, or whatever else. I love the guy but I… I missed you. I missed you and I just want us back. I want us to be okay, you know?” Santiago’s face twists in a mirror of your own, as if he doesn’t even know how possible that is anymore. “And, I don’t know how else to do that anymore – to make us okay - without… without that. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.” As you keep talking, your voice seems to break into a thousand pieces, as if sand in your throat is grinding it down, eroding the body and timbre of it away. “I try. I try, Santi, and it… I never…” 

Your name rises from his throat, and the sound is tired in his mouth. He knows what you’re asking him; and he doesn’t even seem surprised. “It’s a bad fucking idea.” 

“I know.” He’s not even wrong. “I know it is, but I… I don’t care anymore.” Emotion weighs down your tone. Makes it heavy. “It’s like a wound in me - the way we left it - and I just need…” Your eyes flicker and flit everywhere as you reach for the word, dancing around the scene, around his face, like the licking, greedy flames. 

You can’t find the word, the concept, the sentiment, but, as you search, Santiago’s voice filters through to you, certain and resigned. As though he understands perfectly what you crave after the wound that he left that night. “You need healing.” 

Your head whips towards him and you nod slowly, with conviction, searching his face for any sign that he might give it to you. For any sign that he might be able to repair you. He had hurt you, yes. But his fire was so hot that you think he is the only thing capable of cauterising the wound he left in his wake. The only one who can ignite you enough to heal you, as selfish and misguided as your desire may be. 

However, Santiago’s demeanour remains calm and cool even in the face of your desperation. You see only a vestige of desire dancing in his eyes now, as though all you had might truly be in the past. “You wanted out, remember?” he says thinly. With regret. He smiles even thinner than that. “No need to repeat your old mistakes, huh?” 

“I wanted out of that life, man. You were never a mistake.” 

“Heh. Don’t be so sure. If you know what’s good for you-“ 

Unconsciously, and with ill-timing, you shift on the mat in discomfort, rolling your spine to try and release some of the niggling, tight muscles – another old injury which continues to plague you long after the fact. 

“Still got that damn tweak?” Santiago asks, seemingly grateful for the diversion.  

You nod. “Mmm.” 

“Want my fingers?” 

You look into his eyes, mellow in the dancing light. How could you say no to that? “Please.”

“Come here then,” he encourages, shifting position to the edge of the porch step, his thighs spread wide apart and leaving space for you to settle on the sand before him. “Let me help you,” he insists, tipping up his chin, and his eyes softer and brighter again. 

You hesitate, but you can’t find it in you to decline the invitation. Can’t possibly find the strength to say no to his hands on you. To some relief, even in this form. “Turn around. Back to me, hermosa.” His voice is soft, so soft. Rough and undone around the edges like this frayed edge of land you perch on. 

You settle before him, and, just as he had promised, his fingers and his hands begin to inch over your body, on top of your clothes, seeking to unravel the knots. To bring you some relief. He used to do this for you all the time – always took care of you like this, and it’s bittersweet to recall a different, more innocent way his hands used to touch you. He would do this for you after training. After a mission. In the field. At the mouth of your tent when camped out in some desert or field or jungle. In the back of a Humvee on the way to the F.O.B.. At Benny’s fight nights when you’d had to sit in those shitty plastic chairs for too long. Whenever and wherever you needed it. 

His hands always knew how to fix you, long before you learned all the ways they could take you apart like a weapon in his palm. “Santiago,” you keen, as the pad of his thumb works into all your sweet spots. You don’t know what his name is in your mouth. A plea; a promise; a prayer; a poem. Perhaps all of these at once. 

“I know,” he soothes. “I know, cariño.” 

You close your eyes against the sudden tears you find threatening at the corners of your eyes. Knowing his touch again is everything you wanted, and, despite yourself, you are eminently glad it is happening like this. That he is giving, instead of devouring you, for if he did the latter, you don’t know that there would be anything left for him to take. 

His touch like this though, deft and tender, reveals that perhaps, there’s another way. That maybe, instead of burning you, Santiago could merely warm you. Maybe his flames only hurt because you had dared to get too close. Maybe you could simply learn to stay at arm’s length, where he had always attempted to keep you anyway. 

Still, that’s all very well, but… his touch - as it skims down your body - is enough to subsume you. It is a tide swallowing hot shores. It is a relief. A balm. Healing. 

“You’re so tight,” he complains gruffly, and you wonder if he is simply being careless, or whether his words were chosen ever so deliberately to remind you. To remind you of him praising you for that very same thing, under other circumstances. 

Regardless, Santiago shifts then, shuffling his hips closer towards you. His thighs -either side of your torso - boxing you in a little more tightly. Then, he braces one hand carefully against your shoulder, the other digging and kneading into your knotted muscles at the spot he always knew how to help you with. 

You moan for him, willingly, as he takes all your tension and melts it like butter. 

“Santiago,” you keen, and there it is again. A promise; a prayer; a poem. 

A plea. 

You hear him swallow thickly. Hear him exhale a sound like sea trapped in a seashell, his face dipped closer towards the shell of your ear in this new position. His breath continues to quicken as he manipulates your body, pliable under his sure hands, his warmth practically coiled around you like the fire around its fuel. 

“Do you want my fingers?” he repeats, voice now flecked with grit, even as he remains slow and languid, not whipped into any frenzy. “Tell me.” 

A stone plummets through your belly, sinking heat through your core at the mere suggestion he might touch you there too. 

“Mmmph,” you plead – a strangled affirmative wrung from your chest, and Santiago’s hand reaches around, calm and slow and tantalising. He winds his arms between your legs and his index finger trials along the seam of your shorts, up towards your clit like he’s following a carefully laid fuse line. Like he knows precisely how to detonate you, and all he needs is a spark. “You want my fingers here?” he purrs, and you moan his name, throwing your head back into the crook of his shoulder. “Want me to help you like this too?” 

You submit an unintelligible string of sounds to the air, which you hope he recognises as an affirmative. 

“Sssshhh,” he soothes, as his fingers deftly flick open the button of your shorts and you squirm in search of his friction. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you, cariño.” 

You sigh out a broken, guttural noise now, rolling your mound against his palm as his girthy fingers travel eagerly below the waistband of your clothing. Barrelling towards your want without dwelling on the implications even for a moment. On what this might mean. On what this may fix or further fracture. 

It is too much to think about that, and it is enough to know that you need some relief. 

Specifically, the kind of relief you have not been able to give yourself. The kind of relief you have not been able to find from elsewhere. The kind only Santiago knows how to give you. The only kind Santiago knows how to give you. 

“Fuck. You’re soaked,” he praises, all rusty-voice and practiced fingers, and with the ease that the thick pads of him glide through your folds you know it is true. “Holy shit, come here.” 

You would oblige if you were not so loose-limbed already; and so, in the next moment, Santiago is dragging you up towards him, settling your ass in the space before him on the porch step, so you sit a little higher. He is shucking your shorts and panties down and hooking your thighs over his parted, sturdy legs to spread you wide open. To give him better access to you so he can give you what you need. 

Your hands clamp down on his thighs like claws, your back flush against his chest and your head still languishing in the apex of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm in his shoulder as his arm reaches between your legs. With his other arm he simply gathers you up and holds you close to him, until the warmth of his skin seeps right through to yours. 

“Fuck! Santi,” you keen, voice ragged with need already as his fingers tease and circle where you need him. “More. Please, I need more.” 

He does not disappoint. He plunges a girthy finger into your heat, and the lack of resistance is telling, your cunt opened up and eager for him as the heel of his hand rocks a steady rhythm against your clit. He goes slower than you would like, but it turns out to be the exact pace you need -two fingers now- dragging molten heat through your core with each curl and pump and scissor he applies to your giving walls. 

“Ohhhh. Fuck!” 

“I know, baby. This is what you need, isn’t it? I know.” 

He does. He does know. He knows every damn inch of you and how to make you sing. 

“That’s it. I’ve got you. Don’t come, Princesa. Not yet.”

That’s easier said than done. Especially as his rough voice - all honey and grit - filters into the shell of your ear. As the fleck of his stubble rasps against your neck as he sucks an angry mark into your skin. Your core flutters in straight-out defiance of his orders then, and he feels you clamp down on him, tightening around his fingers. “Ah ah,” he scolds. “Hold on to it for me. Gonna get you there. Don’t worry. I got you.” 

Christ, you slosh around him as he makes you molten, and you feel his thighs begin to shake beneath yours. You feel his insistent hardness pressing at your back. “Fuck, princesa. I missed this pussy. Holy shit.” 

“Santi. I- I can’t hold on.” 

His thumb massages circles into your swollen, needy clit. 

“No, baby. Hold on for me. I know you can, huh? Don’t even think. Let me give you what you need.”

“Mmmphhh,” you moan out like a woman possessed as Santiago builds you up. 

He chuckles darkly into your neck, and smothers his spare palm over your mouth. “Shhhh. Quiet, hermosa. No-one else can take care of you like this, huh? I got you now.” 

The way he’s touching you, fingers speared inside your wet heat, is everything you’ve needed for so long. God, you’ve so needed him to help you like this. And now, he’s finally giving you relief. It’s welcome, and it’s good; but you still have enough about you, even in this state of becoming putty in his lap, to realise that he’s not giving you everything. You turn your head, tipping your lips wantonly up to him, but he won’t kiss you. His arousal presses insistently at your lower back but he isn’t making any move to get himself off. It seems obvious, even in this state of coming undone, that even as you lose yourself he won’t allow himself to get lost in you; not entirely. 

He’s navigated some extreme terrain in his time, but perhaps his feelings for you really are a jungle far too dense for him to navigate. 

Still, you certainly do not feel any lack, even if you get the sense he is holding back. It would be hard to feel any lack at all with his thick, warm fingers buried in you up to the knuckle, stroking and curling with precision against your swollen arousal, coaxing hoarse moans from your lips which he buries in the meat of his cupped palm. The pad of his thumb rubs haphazardly -almost roughly- in circles over your clit, puffy with need. Your thatch of hair is soaked, and your plumped folds are slick with your pearly, moonlit juices. 

“Holy fuck,” you rasp as Santiago’s  fingers draw a broad circle deep inside your walls, stretching you open and sending a delicious spiral of bliss through your core. He curls his fingers against your g spot, rocks his palm roughly against the mound of you, and God, it’s so good. You’re on the edge, but you still find you can’t quite let go. 

You don’t need him to give you everything, but you do need him to give you just a little more of what you’ve been craving. Just a little more healing. 

“Santiago,” you plead, tears of emotion and bliss and disbelief and sadness balling in your eyes. Relief at the fact you get to feel his touch again, and despair at how long you may next endure the lack of it. 

However, as though he senses what your body is telling him, that you are getting far too in your head by now to let go, you realise Santiago knows exactly what you need to get out of it. He always does. Always knows how to help you. “Mmpph,” you moan as he wraps his hand more tightly around your mouth and nose, playing with your air supply - just enough to provide a gentle thrill. To offer this simulation of a loss of control just long enough that you feel a secondary surge of adrenalin and arousal building within you. You gasp as he releases his palm and you suck his fingers easily into your mouth, wanting to feel full of him wherever you can. He obliges by shoving them deeper, over your tongue. 

“That’s it,” he praises, soothes, encourages, feeling it coming before you do, reading the signs in your body. Almost immediately, pleasure blooms out from your middle, completely engulfing you. 

You screw your eyes shut tight and you can barely even focus on his fingers pulsing in and out of your wet, suckering heat, or on this string in the middle of you being drawn so tight it’s about to snap. Instead you focus on him. On the warmth and sturdy form of him at your back. On the way he knows just how to touch you – where, and when, and how. The way he soothes you and relieves you. The familiar scratch of his stubble against your cheek. The soft, sweat-tacky rolls of his bare stomach cushioning your back, skin-on-skin where your t-shirt has ridden up your back. His meaty thighs. The familiar press of that hard promise up against you. But most of all his warm, sandy voice, slipping into the shell of your ear like the sounds and shushing of the sea. 

Hermosa. Cariño. Princesa. 

His words melting out of you like liquid pearls and making you shine. 

He praises you, and the sounds of him slip inside you just like his fingers, a smooth glide like the surge of the tide devouring an aching shore. His touch relieves the ache, the burn, the fire, the hurt, as you find your release. You gush over his hand, your mouth open with a hoarse, hollow moan, silently echoing the roar of the sea as your whole body becomes liquid on top of his. 

He holds you, and he works you through it, tears squeezed from your eyes with each wave of bursting, engulfing pleasure which radiates through your core – not blistering like the heat of your fire, but gentle and soothing. 

Your breath is ragged now. You have the feel of a tide between your legs.

You are sated, and yet you want more of him. You may feel healed in some ways, but your whole body still sings for him like a wound. 

He stays inside of you. Feels you for a moment, with a shuddered, satisfied moan you feel vibrate against your back before he draws his fingers out, painfully slow. You shudder too, your core still fluttering for him, and you would reach for him if you weren’t still boneless. Would seek to satisfy him too. 

“Fuck. I missed your fingers,” you purr. 

“Uh huh,” Santiago says, a little too morosely for your liking, and he unslots himself far too quickly from around your form. Far too quickly he comes to standing, leaving you feeling cold and alone on the porch stairs, shorts shunted down past your knees, exposing you to the night air. 

“Don’t you want… something for you?” you ask in confusion, in hope, eyeing the bulge tenting at his crotch and the way his hand is hung curled at his side, his fingers still shined from you. You enjoy all of that, but you certainly don’t enjoy the heaviness bedding down on his brow, and you reach to pull up your shorts as quickly as you can, the moment of relief fast-retreating, like the deceptive tide. 

“No,” he says firmly. “That was just for you.” 

You bristle at the implication in his words, your momentary bliss falling quickly away. 

He did you a favour. 

You were the one undone by your desire – your want. Not him. You were the needy one who couldn’t be without him. Couldn’t even get off without him. And damn. Here he is, slow and controlled and, for the better part, seemingly unaffected.

You know that’s not wholly true – that he does still want you, but your eyes still swim when you wonder if his desire is subdued compared to what it used to be. If it has lessened. 

Don’t you cause this frenzy in him anymore? This quickening, like he does with you? Is the flame burning in your chest -or your loins- not catching, any longer? Like the dying embers of this fire, is it almost out? 

Could there truly be an end to this? 

Soldiers. Friends. Lovers. 

What next? 

You had, at least, assumed something would be next. 

And so, as you regard him, stoic and impassive, you can barely even look at him. “You’re right, Pope. This was probably a bad fucking idea.” 

Of course it was. 

You should know better than to think you can take a piece of him without wanting to devour the whole. After all, you could never see him in fragments – only all at once. 

Had that always been your mistake, thinking that he could ever give himself over to you completely? He’s far too afraid of getting lost, even if he does hold the map to your heart in the palm of his hand. Strange then, because the palm of his hand is also where he has become so accustomed to yielding a weapon. Maybe for him, love and pain were always destined to feel the same.

You push past him, and you feel a pit open up in your middle. 

“Goodnight, buddy,” you say, your tone surprisingly sour so soon after that. “Thanks a bunch for the fingerfuck.” 

You guess the mindfuck came along for free.

You don’t want to hurt him. Don’t want to be bitter and to deepen this gulf between you all over again. But, apparently, you just can’t help yourself. 

You don’t know what’s good for you. 

[velvetvexations]

wasg going to send a more coherent ask but it became. this. thanks for listening if you do and have a nice day :)

i really really dont want to assume anything but sincerely a lot of the gender discourse sounds really really fuckin american. like im not trying to say that everyone dismissing t-androphobia is american but it is sincerely kind of breathtaking how many people think bigotry is this kind of inherent brainworm that transcends culture, context, and all physical boundaries

when sometimes it is literally necessary to understand that a lot of this Is just a distribution issue. the world and people's lives are massively narrow and patchy. posts like "you never see x happening" drive me bonkers because literally doesn't mean anything? it's the black swan paradox all again. i feel like it's done me a world of good to realize that i could run around at a speed of 10 mph for the rest of my life and still not be able to see 90% of what people experience and know to be real

also a huge part of this debate leaves me scratching my head because there's this assumption that someone who does not experience some sort of oppression is forever unable to understand such oppression...and then as this idea evolves we get all sorts of fun varieties like "trying to relate to some sort of oppression with your own experiences is presumptuous appropriation" (odd to me because at least as i've been taught sometimes this can be helpful to comfort and connect to people) "doing so means you're jealous of the perceived attention oppressed people get" (this one is silly to me) "everyone different from you can never actually ever be your friend because your oppression is central to your identity and if they don't understand it they will tear you down" (just downright not true, in my experience, though of course, it's also entirely possible that for someone else's experience, it HAS been true.)

i don’t necessarily think that anyone who buys into the tma/tme divide is just someone who has never experienced oppression before, though. honestly, some of the blogs vilest towards transmascs are, from what ive seen, run by people who are struggling or isolated currently. i can’t help but feel like this rhetoric is preying on people who feel alone and perceived as an animal by everyone around them by telling them that this is true, but that this time their isolation can be self-imposed to keep all those enemies out. it all leaves a really fuckin bad taste in my mouth that it especially targets vulnerable people.

(failed coherent ask anon) more rambling idk if this would have fit into one asks’ wordcount. people are bringing up past ace discourse and i agree. almost all of the posts are also phrased in a similar way, just kinda funny to me. anyways, it’s actually a really cowardly maneuver every time. it goes like this: we have determined group A is mathematically less oppressed than the umbrella group we have determined that us, group B, are mathematically oppressed more for a multitude of reasons, we bully and belittle group A bonus steps: find discussions that are naturally happening around the oppression of group A and convince people that these discussions are silencing, proof of jealousy of oppression, proof of some uniting whinyness/cringyness/personality defect of the whole group, or proof of oppression towards group B people react to us bullying and belittling group A no matter how vile the bullying, no matter how harmful the bullying proves to be, no matter how much proof of real oppression group A may provide, you can brush it off because of the main mantra, “group A is not oppressed but group B is.” we can structure every conflict between the two as inherently oppressive because A are always the oppressors, and B are always the oppressed. final step: if anyone from group A calls out the bullying, we can again go to bonus step 4 and use this as proof that A are trying to make themselves out to be oppressed, which is ridiculous, because A are and always have been oppressors it’s such a lazy, automatic argument. ace attorney would eat those chucklefucks up. (i know nothing about ace attorney)

My Ace Attourney fan friend probably agrees lol. Such circular fucking logic.

[thebigoblin]

Hello everyone! I'm S, and I'm currently a UG student (BBA Finance) in her final year. While I don't use this account much (I'm much more comfortably settled over at @ghostieblr these days), this is my main and oldest blog, thus making it the blog with most reach in my fingertips.

Now, why am I posting here, you ask? Well, as I said, I'm a final year student, and I need to write a dissertation before I graduate. I have chosen a topic, but I need to collect primary data — for those unaware, that means collecting data by myself rather than relying on other sources — for it to be completed.

I'm only just beginning my dissertation, and I'll keep posting about it till the viva/presentation/defending of my dissertation comes up, which is in the second half of March 2025.

I need your help. My topic is: "Generational Gap in Investment Strategies: A Comparative Study on Gen-Z and Millenials."

If I post a google form here later with some pretty personal investment-related questions, will you be willing to fill it out? I'll keep it completely anonymous, no email records or even your name, just the basics: age range (are you a millenial or genz?), country (because different countries have different rates on securities, and of course people have different views on building their wealth because of those differences, amongst other differing factors), etc.?

I'll put up a poll. If there's a positive response, it'll be great! If not, I understand! But I'll be super-pretty-extra pleased if you could help me out :D

(i'll also sweeten the deal and write you fics? short ones? if you're into it? just send me an ask on @ghostieblr please. I'm in quite a few fandoms, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, BBC Merlin, MCU, and a newly-minted DC fan. I'm also in others, but I'm not sure I can write about them? Still, shoot me an ask! Plus, check out my ao3 (or my pinned post on the aforementioned other blog) to check out my writing and other things? thanks!)

Alright, now for the poll!!! I'll keep it open for a week. Please reblog to increase the sample size!

[starfall-dream]

reupload from my main blog

Here's my original post on the main three, but this post will be expanding on it more. Feel free to send in any ideas you have surrounding the au.

Also, I've gotten some asks regarding Tav in the au, and while I'm not interested in including tav, I want to know your thoughts on Durge and how the interact with reader, so please send those in.

Kethric (platonic yandere):

Kethric is really fascinating to me because, unlike the other two who I think are driven by the idea power in relation to you, Kethric is driven by the past. He regrets not protecting Isobel, he regrets a lot of his past.

I think when he meets you in moonrise it's not a immediate "omg you're a image of my daughter who died and now hates me", it's more of a "wow this human is very clearly out of their depth, why are they leading this group of idiots?" It's more of a strange facination rather than an immediate connection. I don't even think he gets people to watch you and your group of ruffians, he just kinda keeps watch of you through word of mouth.

How, as mentioned here, his obsession does grow the more he views you asa a surrogate child. He sees how weak you are, how hopeless, but despite that all you still put on a brave face. It's almost commendable in a way, you're smart and courageous but also a mess. It reminds him of Isobel when she was a child, so full of wonder and awe, but weak and dependent on him. He craves that, someone depending on him, and he starts to want that from you.

As time goes on, your companions recognize Kethrics less than normal behavior, and plan on using you as bait to infiltrate moonrise. You're apprehensive at first, but you come to realize that Kethric poses no harm to you, and by extension neither does anyone in moonrise. Kethric revels in the attention you provide him, of course, not really knowing that you're playing into these feelings for your own gain. He places you in Isobel's old room, attempting to be as gentle as possible with you, trying to mimic the his past with his daughter.

He doesn't see you as Isobel, he sees you as another child, a redo. You're a chance to right his wrongs, and maybe at some point you warm up to him, you smile to him as he recounts you stories of his past, you laugh with him, giving him a rare moment of peace.

But of course, all good things come to an end, and eventually you're rescued by your companions, your wrapped away from him, and all the warmth and welcome he felt is gone, and he's forced to acknowledge the fact of the matter. You don't belong here, in Moonrise with him and Faerun as a whole. You're lost, and maybe, his death will serve as a way of you finding your way home.

Gortash (Platonic or Romantic, you decide):

I view Gortash as a mixture of Kethric and Orin. He's sadistic and mean, but also understanding and protective. He doesn't care for you and your companions circumstances, he has a goal and he will do everything in his power to achieve that goal. And I think, at least in the beginning, he views you as a way of achieving that goal.

You make a deal with Gortash, though in reality he doesn't plan on keeping strong on that deal, he views it more as a test of strength, a test of will. Are you as strong and powerful and your companions claim, or are you ultimately just a fable. It's fascinating really, watching you through his Steel Watchers, struggling and tired. He sees that you are drained, and he's willing to abuse that. He'll twist every little last drop of determination out of you until you can no longer fight.

The moment when Gortash's feelings change is when he realizes your position. You're from another world, whatever that means, but it makes sense. You did not exist before this very moment, there was not a trace of you before now. You seem clueless about this world, bumbling about like a child. So you're either insane or you're telling the truth, and a part of him wants to consider it.

A part of him, small but present, recognizes a piece of himself in you. You're terrified, fighting to survive, working with anyone who will help you. You're alone in this world, just like he him, and a part of him sympathizes with you. However, a large part of him sees your potential.

If you just had more drive, more strive, you could be something powerful, achieve something great, and you could do that with him. You and him together could achieve great things, and maybe if you just had the motivation, his ideas could become a reality.

Gortash hates the more sympathetic side of himself, because it's weakness, and to an extension you are a weakness. You represent a part of himself before he became strong and great and powerful, and he's constantly teetering on the edge of wanting to foster those peaceful ideals within you, and fill you with a power that rivals his own.

Orin (Platonic or Romantic, you decide):

Orin is the definition of sadistic, and most, if not all her thoughts about you are defined by that. She hates any sort of peaceful feeling she has about you, like Gortash she views it as weakness.

I think a lot of the way she feels about you would depend on Durge and how they view you, but since you're taking on the role of Tav, it's most likely that Durge is dead, but I'm just putting the idea on the table.

I like the idea of Orin idealizing her relationship with you. If she's romantic, she views all her crazy and violent actions towards you as the ultimate sign of love. She kills in your name, not understanding why you hate her declarations. Orin is insane, so in a romantic and platonic relationship, she'll switch between loving you and hating every aspect of you.

In a platonic relationship, she'll view you as an extension of her, a protege as sorts. It doesn't matter really what you want, if you agree to this or not, she can sense the strength within you, and that she has the ability to foster it. She'll try and get you to see the strength Bhaal, even if your a brick wall when it comes to it.

I think Orin wants companionship, despite what you might believe. She wants to relate to somebody, she wants someone to relate to her. It's pathetic, she knows, but you're a blank slate, so it's easy to plant ideas into your head in hopes that they sprout.

---

A/n: Please talk about bg3 with me, also sorry for the spelling errors.

[ponett]

Hello, wanted to say thank you, I'm really glad I found your work and I find your insights very helpful.

I wanted to ask something strange, as someone who has gone out of their way to dedicate a very detailed blog to the works of an outspoken artist, can you give me advice how to maintain healthy distance with ideas and individuals I might outright oppose, but have morbid sense of curiosity about them? Or it it just better to not indulge at all?

It's a difficult balance to achieve, and I won't pretend I've always been perfect about it on TKP

The thing is that you have to not obsess over the person too much. You have to focus on their work, not detailing every single thing they've ever done or said to keep receipts on them. You do not, under any circumstances, want to turn into the freaks who make and watch hundred hour long "documentaries" on CWC and Sonichu, or the people who run the Bad Webcomics Wiki

The point is to do media criticism, not to make a callout blog. Details the artist has shared about their life may sometimes help inform your reading of the work - art isn't made in a vacuum, and artists' life experiences and worldviews often shape their art. But you don't need to pry too much and piece together their full life story and psychoanalyze them if that information isn't already available in an autobiography or whatever

On TKP, one of the most important things I do to try and keep that distance is simple: I don't follow Penders on Twitter. I don't need to know every single thing he says, nor do I need to report on it. I'll check in when I hear he's made some kind of announcement regarding his work, and when looking for behind the scenes info I'll sometimes term search on his Twitter because he's far more vocal about what happened behind the scenes than the rest of that creative team, but that's it. I'm not thinking about him every day. I also haven't gone in-depth on his non-Sonic work to help drive home the idea that TKP is a blog about the American Sonic comics with a quippy url, not a blog about shitting on Penders

(On that note: I don't interact with him directly, either. I do not need to dunk on him in his Twitter replies. I do not need to lure him into an interview where I totally own him. I am not sending him my criticism like he owes it to me to read it and improve his work. I leave the guy alone)

As the blog has gone on I've also tried much harder to be objective about him and his work. I'll admit that early on, before the blog blew up, I was eager to see what all the drama was about and why everybody hated the guy. But my goal isn't just to find excuses to hate on him, or to spread baseless gossip, and that shouldn't be the mindset you go in with. I've offered praise for some of his work where I thought it was deserved, and I frequently correct people on misunderstandings about him and the lawsuits, even defending him on certain points

This is an extremely basic and hopefully obvious element of good media criticism, but it should also be said that just because an artist depicts something doesn't necessarily mean they endorse it, and that your goal isn't to piece together the artist's beliefs based on their work and then call them out over it. It can go the other way around - you can analyze how an artist's stated beliefs and values are reflected in their work - but, like, Penders writing a story where Knuckles decides to forgive his shitty fascist uncle for no reason does not mean that Penders is a Nazi apologist. It's just a story.

Again: your main goal should be to criticize the work, not the artist

And, of course, a huge factor is simply how famous the creator in question is (and also if the creator is still alive). You wanna do a deep dive on the works of Steve Ditko and criticize his Randian objectivism? Go nuts, buddy! You wanna shit all over Lovecraft? Have at it! Wanna tear apart the neoliberal politics of Harry Potter? Well, okay, Shrieking Shack already did that one. But if the person you're thinking of doing a sprawling, in-depth teardown on is, like, a smalltime webcomic author? Some hobbyist indie dev? A fanfic writer? That sort of thing? Hell, even someone in the middle like a cartoon storyboarder, or a freelance writer who does articles for Kotaku sometimes? Maybe reconsider. Just because someone's online doesn't mean they're a Public Figure, and there's a line where a deep critical dive on someone's work quickly turns into painting a target on their back

(This ended up being more about Criticism than how to just engage with stuff you hate, but also you can just, like. Look away. And find something else spend your time thinking about.)

[proshippers-against-censorship]

Long ask incoming so i really apologise for that lol.

in my honest opinion yaelokre is going about this incredibly wrong. but the way people have been talking about not only their characters (to be clear im not saying this because of "blah blah they're children" fake morality stuff or whatever lmao im a proshipper myself—but one of the main characters is quite literally meant to represent/be keath themself) but about them themself (sending them rape threats, threatening to draw them having sex with their characters?? I've seen a lot on the internet these past couple days, especially in proship spaces, which is so upsetting to me because I had so much more faith in our community 😭)... All this is incredibly disgusting to watch. and disheartening.

Are they going about this incredibly irresponsibly? Yes! Is it naive for them to expect that no rule 34 is created whatsoever? Yeah, probably! But they did explicitly say they dont want the characters directly representing their own childhood (including one who's basically their own persona) sexualised, much less have it sent directly to them (which it was—that's how we even got to this point, anyway) and going ahead and mocking this boundary directly, and then encouraging people to do it out of spite feels... off to me. dunno. (To be clear i think, once again, their actions are incredibly dumb and irresponsible. They're not justified in doing any of that and im not trying to say they are lol.)

(And, while we're here, there's a difference between gigantic heavily funded capitalist projects like disney, and Some Guy working on one deeply personal thing all by themself for free. Do whatever you want with like. Thousand dollar franchises with no specific human faces behind them, but it feels so weird to tear into someone's passion project theyre making out of love for free. Idk where else in my message this point fits so I'm leaving it here.)

I can't help but be reminded of antis tearing into my own work to "fix" it simply because i was a proshipper. On paper people can do whatever they want with fiction, can't they? Of course—but taking a story i made to cope with my trauma and spitefully twisting it to their own wants for no reason other than because I was a proshipper is still harrassment, still done with malice, and—proship/anti stuff removed—an objectively fucked up and mean fucking thing to do. Artists making shit for free do not owe you anything and that includes not owing you their comfortability with people interacting with their personal projects they are sharing with others (for free!! When they don't have to!!!) in certain ways. The same way they also don't owe you being comfortable with unprompted criticism and whatever else.

The "fiction is fiction" argument doesn't hold up when it starts to hurt real people. They aren't a bad person simply for not wanting their personal project sexualised (which—you could argue "that's not the problem, the problem is how theyre going about handling it it," which i agree with; but there are several posts on this very blog and countless others mocking them entirely for simply wanting their work not sexualised, and several posts encouraging others to make sexual content of their characters out of spite. Im not saying it's sexual harrassment but god it does start to feel like it's somewhere in that realm.) This isn't the first time anything like this has happened in their community, ive been here since the beginning, and in the beginning they were so unbelievably calm and polite about their boundaries and then people started directly dming them nsfw and things spiraled and here we are.

I've used the pottery analogy to explain this before—imagine someone puts a ceramic sculpture down on a table. It belongs to them, and they're very clearly proud of it. You could push it off the table and break it if it makes you happy, you won't even face any real consequences if you do. They'll just be really upset, rightfully so—it's their thing that they physically made. Maybe they even made it as a coping mechanism, only they know for sure. And they ask you to handle it gently if you decide pick it up. There's a billion things you theoretically could do, having now been made aware of this clear boundary, but only two are right—either handling it gently, or simply not picking it up in the first place.

You're a shitty person if you push it off the table. Using excuses like "there are lots of people in this room, someone was going to decide to break it eventually" doesn't suddenly absolve you morally because you are a sentient being, not a mindless robot slaving to statistics. Maybe statistically it was going to get broken eventually, it still doesn't make it right because you chose to break it yourself, directly going against what they asked you to do when handling their property, simply because it made you happy. I know full well you would not purposely damage or otherwise ignore clear boundaries or guidelines when it comes to someone's physical shit in real life. The concept of having boundaries about your own things that you made and own is not new and having to follow others' boundaries is not you being oppressed it's just being a decent human being.

Fictional characters' feelings don't matter more than real peoples'. But your own real person feelings of Mild Disappointment at not being to make porn for something you (evidently) don't even like that much ALSO don't matter more than the creator's massive upset and discomfort at direct representations of them (real person!!!) being sexualised.

TL;DR: yeah it's stupid of them to try to Anne Rice this whole situation. And yes they deserve to be called out for it and face the consequences for their actions. But let's... not treat them like it's so bafflingly unreasonable and evil of them for simply not wanting people to sexualise characters who are meant to be a direct representation of them (real person!!!!) as a child and let's EXTRA not break their boundaries even further. Their actions are stupid, yes. But their desires are like. A perfectly normal thing to want, if a little naive. harrassment is still harrassment. Being spiteful and vicious isn't suddenly okay when you're on the "right side" with the Right Opinions doing it. Being anti-harrassment doesn't only apply to people you like.

This ask isn't meant to come off as hostile or mean or anything so I sincerely apologise if it does. Wishing you the best. I also apologise if anything in this ask reads wrong it's late at night and im recovering from a concussion lol.

Fair enough.

I'm team 'break rules, not boundaries'.

By all means, show their Anne Rice approach is stupid by creating nsfw and properly tagging it and posting it to proper spaces. Fill R34 with that. Create nsfw fanworks on AO3 with proper tags. Go ham. But they clearly don't want to see it, so don't send it to them.

You wouldn't send porn of characters to any other creator without them asking. And you shouldn't be sending rape threats either. That's fucked up.

There's a difference between acting out of spite and acting out of malice, and I won't dispute the fact that some people are taking things quite far and doing the latter.

You can say a rule is dumb without taking steps to directly harm.

[birds--daily]

welcome to birds daily!!

this is my blog where i draw a bird every single day! the idea was completely ripped off from one of my best friends of all time, @fish-daily !! please go check him out :0)

my name is sunny and i'm a wildlife biology major and art minor from michigan. i'm 21 years old and i use they/them pronouns!

i'm here because i love birds so much, and i'm assuming if you're following then you do too!!

IMPORTANT INFO BELOW!!

what to know before you request

please check if i've drawn a bird before you request it! if you don't want to scroll through everything, all my birds are tagged by order. don't know the order of your bird? look it up! the IOC world bird list has a great resource for this.

i tag them by name, but some birds have multiple common names.

i also have a spreadsheet of every bird i've done so far! but i can definitely see myself forgetting to update this, so it's best to double check.

any avian dinosaur archaeopteryx-and-beyond can be requested! many ornithologists consider avialae to be the cutoff for "modern" birds.

i can't guarantee full-accuracy of prehistoric birds as i'm not very well-versed in paleontology.

please keep asks to only one bird! feel free to send multiple asks though. if you include multiple birds in an ask i'll just pick one. when i answer the ask to post it, the other birds will be gone forever...

i will prioritize requests in the order i received them in, but a couple times a week i might draw a personal pick instead.

not accepting duplicate birds doesn't mean you can't request a different version of the same bird, which leads me to…

sexual dimorphism and seasonal plumage!

yes! you can request different plumages and sexes of a bird i've already done! want to see a female ruddy duck? of course! want the breeding plumage of the willow ptarmigan? absolutely!

i have sex, maturity, and plumage recorded on my spreadsheet, but i'm bound to make some mistakes on there. once again, double-checking my blog is your best bet to getting accurate bird info!

if you don't specify anything, i'm going to assume the basic mature male with breeding plumage that you come to expect from a bird.

breeding and non-breeding plumage can also be called summer and winter plumage. some birds also have special names for their plumage forms. just to keep things consistent i'll be referring to it as breeding and non-breeding!

final notes

my main blog is @eggpathy if you're interested in any of my other art! i forget to post there a lot. most of my art is on my twitter under the same name (trying to move here though)

i'm a full-time college student with a job, so some days i won't be able to get a bird out. sometimes i might even have to take a few days to a week off just to keep my sanity. this doesn't mean i'm not having fun and enjoying drawing birds! it just means i'm busy and maybe need time for other things

i'm also still human. this means i WILL MAKE MISTAKES! i have not finished my degree yet and i'm still learning! one of the big reasons i made this account was to help myself learn my birds! i take extra time out of my day to find facts to post with my birds, and sometimes those are wrong. if you see me post misinfo, please kindly correct me with a comment, dm, or tag!

any post that isn't a daily bird will be tagged #not birds. any post that is a daily bird will be tagged #birds.

please feel free to add extra fun facts, info, and generally any other silly comment in the tags. i love reading them and they make my day!

asks don't have to be request-related! feel free to ask me anything :0)

thanks for reading! peent!

[genericpuff]

I'm curious - how many unanswered asks do you have in your inbox? Or do you just delete the ones you don't plan on answering?

do you feel good anon

do you feel good about yourself with this question

targeting me like that

geeeeez

ok but more seriously LMAO i have an embarrassingly large amount of unanswered asks but i do read all of them <3 a lot of them honestly are just from folks like, sharing their anonymous opinions about either LO and LR, with the odd one about comic advice, sharing webtoon recommendations, and other things of that nature!

In the case of the LO asks, it's stuff that often has already been spoken about at length before so I don't really have anything to add (but trust me, I'm usually in total agreement, if I heavily disagree with a take I'll usually try to respond to it but it's rare that that's the case because most of the takes are just things like "wow the art in this panel sucks" like yep it sure do LOL) and often it just feels like my inbox is just like, a comment box for people to get their feelings out anonymously and honestly that's fine, I just also can't really respond to every single one unfortunately, but I do read them and I love y'all's takes!

With LR asks, y'all are way too sweet to me and send me just the kindest things about LR, and I hope y'all know that even if I wind up not getting back to your ask about it, I do read everything you send and appreciate so much the amount of support you've all shown for this project since I took it on <3 A lot of those asks are literally my version of "do it for her" where I read them and it reminds me of why it's so worth doing what I do :') <3

Whenever people recommend me other works to read, I add them to a list and I am currently trying to tackle it :) (honestly that list isn't as big as you'd think, a lot of the recommendations are for the same stuff, like other Greek myth retelling comics or otherwise just bad webtoons that people want me to suffer thru LOL) I just recently finally got a physical copy of Song of Achilles and while it's slow going, I'm gonna be sharing my extended thoughts about it, either in a big Tumblr post or maybe a video if I can motivate myself to do it 🤔

And of course, the comic advice asks... these ones admittedly I do tend to actually move into my drafts because I really, REALLY do want to respond to them, but I'm also not someone to half-ass responses to questions like that. That is a bit of a bad habit on my end because it often means I'm spending crazy amounts of time going over topics that can be researched, but I also just really love talking about comics so it doesn't feel good to get a comic advice ask and just leave it at "idk just start" like yeah, do that, but also I want to pass on all the things I WISH I had known when I was first starting out and I'm glad people see me as someone to learn those things from! So when it comes to those asks, don't worry, I'm picking away at them <3 (but also man, I should probably just like... put together some kind of hitchhiker's guide to comic making or something huh LOL)

Anyways! I do have a lot of unanswered asks and honestly, I'm not really one to delete them, even if I don't get back to some of them it is still nice to read them in their own little curated space separate from my main blog, it's kind of like a personal comment section between myself and those of you who took the time to write <3 The only asks I tend to outright delete are ones that are just like, way too bad faith to even want to give any attention to, or bot spam lmao But for the majority of y'all who have sent genuine asks to my inbox and never saw a response and worry that I might have ignored it or deleted it, I hope you can have reassurance in knowing that they are all still there and even if I can't make time every day to respond to them, receiving all your personal takes about LO and your amazing feedback and kind words about LR is something I'm always excited to see whenever that little notification pops up in my Inbox tab. I see you and appreciate you <3

[twompweek]

Hello all and welcome to the twomp week blog! I don’t think this will end up being a big thing, but with a few other people showing interest in participating it will still hopefully be a bit of fun.

I figured I’d put together this introductory post to explain a few things for those unsure, and later include any links to relevant other posts for ease of finding information. Of course, if there’s anything you find unclear or any follow up questions you might have, feel free to drop an ask or dm this blog.

So let’s get into things!

What is twomp week?

Twomp week is a week long, low pressure event for creatives within the twomp fandom. For each day the event runs there will be a list of prompts to help inspire those participating. Don’t feel like using those prompts? No worries! You can create anything you’d like for this event, regardless of the prompts for the day. And, of course, there is no pressure to post one thing for each day. Create as much or as little as you want! This event is only for a bit of fun so do whatever makes you happy :)

Who is running the event?

Me! Hello, I go by Squid. My mainblog is @thatgirlwithasquid but, while I do not enforce an 18+ following because I frankly don’t care enough to investigate who follows me, I do reblog and very rarely post more explicit content within my other fandoms on there. If you are under 18 or that content will bother you, I’d suggest going on my main blog with caution (though the #twomp tags on my blog should be perfectly minor friendly)

I love twomp but don’t create as much for it as I’d like, so I’m putting together this event both as a way to motivate myself and to share in some fun.

Is twomp week minor-friendly?

Hell yeah! I’m aware that there’s plenty of minors within this fandom so I want this event to be open to you to participate too. That means that I won’t be reblogging any nsfw content to this blog and politely ask that participants respect this and help to create an event that is safe and welcoming to all.

What can I make for the event?

Anything! Art, fanfic, music, edits, animation, gifs, character analysis… Anything that you like doing as a way to participate in this fandom is welcome. This isn’t an event tailored towards writers or artists or anyone else in specific. It’s for everyone.

I also intend for this event to be inclusive for all things twomp related. Want to create for a background character? A rare pair? Argos and Mr Plant? The plants? One specific episode? An OC? The voids themself? Our lord and saviour Argos’ Pet Rock? All perfectly acceptable and encouraged. As long as it’s linked to twomp its perfect for twomp week!

When will twomp week be?

Twomp week will take place on the week beginning with the 5th of August and run for 7 days. Prompts will be released ahead of this on July 15th so that anyone who may need/desire time to prepare their work beforehand has the opportunity to do so.

How can I find out more about the event?

I’ll be updating about the plans for twomp week as I work them out and posting about it on this blog, so following the @twompweek blog is the best way to stay updated as I figure things out. You can also just keep an eye on the #twomp and #the world of mr plant tags for anything I post about it, or the #twomp week tag itself which I will also start using.

You can also send an ask to the event blog or send me a dm here and I’ll do my best to get back to you about whatever you want to know!

How do I take part in twomp week?

There’s no sign up process! This is an open event that anyone can join in, no need to ask or feel worried about just jumping on. When the event rolls around, all you need to do is post your work here on tumblr with the #twomp week tag or @ this blog so that I can find and reblog your creations onto the event blog as well.

It would also be nice if you followed the event blog or the #twomp week tag so that you can enjoy and support other participants and all their hard work, but that’s optional and up to your preference.

[bonzeez]

Hey everyone!!

I’ll be Taking a Mental health Break Off of the internet on June 19th.

Why?

My mental health has been bad recently, reeaaally bad. Being on my devices a lot has been a main cause of it. I feel like taking a break for a while will do me good and actually help me get my shit together.

Are you leaving?

No, of course not! This is just a short hiatus. I’m not leaving tumblr anytime soon, I’ll definitely be back soon!

Can I still interact with you?

Of course you can, However if you try to after the date I’ve Specified, I’ll probably not respond until I come back. Anytime before that I’ll probably respond!! Just because I’m taking a break doesn’t mean I won’t see any of your messages eventually. 💥

When will you be back?

As of now, I don’t have a specific date. But most likely a few weeks to about a month. So not long!

You can always continue to view my blog, tag me in things, send me asks, etc. just please don’t expect an instant response !! Thank you all for your support on all my socials, including this one. ❤️

[everettes-requiem]

welcome to everettes-requiem 𓆝

i am always feeding them the ugliest parts of me

an ask blog for lotf oc, everette ainsworth, managed by kuni! inbox? OPEN!

hullo guys, it’s about time i made a new introduction post! and so, here it is! if you don’t know who i am, then hi!! as mentioned earlier i’m kuni, a 16 yr old they/them with an adoration for lotf and most of all, my lotf oc!

but that’s probably not what you’re here for, a boring little introduction of me. this is named everettes-requiem after all, so you must be here for information pertaining the ask blog and everette!

well look no further! under the cut is all the necessary information you need to know, including and most importantly, the rules that you should read over.

CONTENT WARNING!

prefacing this by saying this ask blog will deal with some serious and heavy topics. if any of these trigger you then it's best not to interact with this blog for your safety, or re end of this section if you still do decide to look through my stuff! these topics include:

religious trauma

suicidal thoughts

internalized homophobia

neglect

emotional and mental abuse

violence

death

slight gore / blood

everything will be trigger warned and content warned appropriately! so if you still do want to go through my account, then just watch out for those, they will often be at the top of posts in bold. i want everyone to be safe, so be careful, thank you!

ABOUT THE BLOG + TAGS

everettes-requiem used to only serve as my oc blog, but now that my main is gone, it also serves as my own account to reblog and comment and reply to things out of character! aka just me, kuni!

i will always let people know whether it’s me who’s talking, or whether it’s everette who’s responding! i usually do so i using an em dash and typing out either name, for example

— everette ainsworth

— KUNI !!

even so, there’s a lot of stuff to sift through on my account and there’s bound to be more to come! that’s why i’ve compiled a list of tags that you can search in order to navigate my account properly, in which i will sort all my posts shortly. these tags include:

#everette answers

#pre island

#on island

#post island

#lore

#everette funfact

#kuni talks

#kuni reblogs

#kuni draws

#highschool au

#ainsley!

everettes-requiem currently is sticking to answering asks. thus, there is no set story, at least not one that has enough revealed about it yet. meaning, content will be non-linear and is based on the content of the ask. however, in the near future, i promise things will answer themselves.

for now though, like i said, the ask blog will be mostly answering asks! it’ll also involve sending asks to other accounts, and also responding to other accounts that aren’t just asks! here and there, there will be posts that reveal bits of everette's backstory, and of course some shitposts too for fun!

ASKS/RULES

while this is an everette blog, other lotf characters are also open for asks, as long as the ask has some sort of relation to everette. other ocs can also interact with everette, they are more than welcome!

addtionally, i'd say that more serious or darker asks are allowed. lotf itself is a book with darker subjects. though of course, there are some rules that should be followed.

1. be patient. you should ask as many asks as you'd like, i encourage it! but please dont send the same one multiple times. i have a life outside of my blogs and asks will be answered as quickly as they can.

2. do not be discriminatory (ableism, racism, transphobia, etc) please leave this blog if you are discriminatory because we do not want you here!

3. this goes without saying but no nsfw asks. lotf is a book full of twelve year olds at the most and everette himself is a young minor. it's just plain gross.

other than that the blog is yours to ask whatever you'd like! this place is welcome to anybody and anyone really.

now i know that was a lot to read through but thank you if you did stick to the end! now go interact with everette!! no promises you'll like the response, but i hope it'll still be fun for you guys 𓆝⋆˚

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 10

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire Fisher

Word count: 13k (prepare drinks and snackies as always)

Chapter warnings: I...I don't really have much for this one. It's 13k of Claire and Loki being horny on main for each other. Dirty talk, oral (f receiving), p in v, somewhat public sex (there are guards outside the room), with a sprinkling of domestic fluff and bickering.

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger @ladymischief11

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me! Buckle up gang :D

Read this fic on AO3.

“Alone at last, little wife.” Loki purred as the heavy door to his- their chambers closed behind them. Claire smiled over her shoulder at him, the feral look in his eyes sending a thrill up her spine.

“Without breaking the rules, you mean,” she laughed as he pulled her flush against his chest. She draped her arm over his as he buried his face in her hair, kissing at the hairline behind her ear. “You gonna show me around?” she asked, drumming her fingers on his metal vambrace.

“You want a tour?” he seemed surprised.

“Of course,” Claire replied. “After all, you got to see my living quarters. I’m curious.” she felt him exhale against her skin, and he released his hold on her.

“Very well,” he chuckled before gesturing to the room they stood in. “As you can see, this is the sitting room,” he indicated the plush couches in front of the fireplace. A healthy fire crackled in the grate, throwing dazzling light on the lavish dining table and chairs in the southeast corner. Claire could already imagine having intimate breakfasts there. Tall windows bracketed the fireplace, looking out onto the city below. Beyond the windows, Claire could make out a railing. “Whenever I- or we, rather- have guests, this is where we will meet with them.”

“Is there a balcony?”

“There is,” Loki replied. “Would you like to see it?” he purred in her ear.

“Yes please,” Claire grinned, enjoying the feel of his thumbs as they brushed the backs of her arms. “I’m sure you have an amazing view.”

“It is quite stunning,” Loki replied, taking her by the hand to lead her out onto the balcony. Claire leaned over the railing, drinking in the view. The city lay spread out far below, faint strains of music from the still on-going feast drifting up on the gentle breeze. Small dots of light twinkled in the city beyond like stars in the sky. The moon was almost full, shining down on the people below. “Are you pleased?” The touch at her waist was gentle, long fingers casting through her gown to the sensitive flesh beneath.

“It’s beautiful.”

“The balcony extends around this corner to the bed chamber,” Loki said. “Would you like to see it?”

“Is that the next stop on the tour?” Claire asked flirtatiously, turning to face him.

“It can be,” Loki smirked. “Unless of course, you have something else in mind. You did say you were debating.”

“Well,” Claire sighed, running her hands up his arms. “Look who paid attention.” Loki grinned as she linked her hands behind his neck.

“I must admit I’m curious how your thoughts align with mine.”

“Then lead the way,” Claire smiled. “Although…” she murmured, eyes glinting mischievously as she glanced at the wall beside the balcony door. “The wall looks nice. And since we already know you can pick me up...”

“I agree, but for the future, little wife, not tonight.”

“Aw,” Claire tutted. “Well that’s okay. I had other plans anyway.” she winked at him, giggling when he backed her against the wall and sealed his mouth to hers. Long fingers dug into her hips, bunching the smooth fabric at her waist so tight Claire feared it might rip. His ceremonial leathers creaked as she pulled him as close as possible.

Finally.

At long last they could act on the desire they’d held back for so many weeks. Teeth gnashed as Loki pressed against her from hip to shoulder, his large hand cupping her face as he kissed her possessively. Claire threaded her fingers in the hair at his nape, gasping into his mouth as he reached down and brought one of her thighs up and over his hip. His fingers explored beneath the fabric, marveling at the feel of her bare flesh as he opened her to him.

Loki growled deep in his throat as he dug his fingers into her thigh, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her bare flesh as he pressed against her intimately. Claire gasped at the feel of him, a thin beading of sweat gathering at her neck as Loki rolled his hips against her core.

“Loki-”

“Shall we go inside, little wife?”

“Yes please.” Claire pleaded, dotting the sharp line of his jaw with heated kisses.

“You don’t wish to continue the tour?” he pressed against her once again, grinning with delight when she whimpered and dug her little nails into him.

“Show me later,” she nipped the lobe of his ear, his leathers creaking as she tightened her grip. “Loki…”

“A poor husband I would be if I did not see to my wife’s needs,” he captured her lips in a dizzying kiss before hefting her into his arms. Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her soft lips teasing at his collar as he carried her along the balcony to the double doors around the corner. Her deft fingers worked beneath his collar, and Loki staggered as she sucked a mark into the sensitive curve of his neck. “Let me walk, woman, or we won’t get far.”

“Walk faster then!” Claire protested, laughing when Loki pressed her against the wall once more. He sank his weight onto her, adoring the feel of her hands in his hair as he mapped her thighs with his hands. He groaned as chills ran down his spine, grabbing handfuls of her ass as she pulled him closer with her powerful thighs. One of her hands skimmed down between them and began working to open his trousers.

“Damn it-” she muttered when she couldn’t find the clasp. He was wearing too many clothes!

“What do you need, little wife?” Loki couldn’t help but tease her. He pressed a kiss against her neck, enjoying the way she trembled around him.

“Your dick,” Claire teased, rolling her hips against his and making him gasp. “Please.”

“I like hearing you beg for me,” Loki murmured, reaching for the door knob to let them inside. He held her against him with an arm around her waist and kicked the door shut behind them. “But you’ll need to wait just a little while longer.”

“Whyyyy?” Claire complained as he carried her further into the room. The massive bed took up a large part of the room, along with two armoires, and two room dividers. Claire spied her vanity tucked behind one of the dividers. A fireplace cast flickering shadows on everything, but Claire could also see two dark doors branching off of the room.

“Because…” Loki shuddered as sharp teeth clamped down on his pulse point, sending chills racing along his spine. “Such a menace,” he grunted as his wife’s luscious thighs squeezed his waist. Her eyes had become glazed with desire, the heat between her legs calling to him like a beacon. A lesser man would have given into temptation and thrown her on the bed by now. Her wicked mouth was trailing bites down to his collar bone, dissolving his restraint with each little nip. “We have-business to attend to-before we forget ourselves.” The bed was looking more tempting by the second.

“Right,” Claire pulled away slightly, her chest heaving as she tried to focus on not ripping Loki’s clothes to shreds. “How are we doing this?”

“I have several ideas, but please-” Loki pleaded, his hands curling into fists as he fought the urge to rip her dress clean off her delectable body. “You still wish for the contraceptive we discussed, yes?”

“For now, yes please.” Claire replied. “Do you need anything from me?”

“Not at all. It’s already completed,” Loki shook his head, a small smile flitting across his face. “It seems we were meant to continue the tour. I’ve just realized I forgot the vials in my study.”

“You have a study?” Claire asked. “You really are an old man.” she snickered, undeterred by the annoyed look Loki shot her.

“I shall not dignify that with a response.”

“Technically you just did,” Claire smiled as Loki clenched his jaw in frustration. “You like me. You said so.” Loki huffed, his green eyes rolling so forcefully Claire half expected them to pop out of his skull and roll away.

“This way, you absolute menace.” he replied, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he fought the smile that threatened. He led Claire out into the sitting room, opening another door to their right.

Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, an ornate wooden desk standing sentry in the center of the room. Two windows flanked a door immediately behind the desk, the balcony and railing visible in the moon light beyond. Loki crossed the room, pulling a small box from a high shelf. The golden box glowed in the dim fire light coming from the small fire burning in the fireplace, the delicate whorls of its design appearing to ripple as Loki opened the box and showed her the contents. Inside on the plush green velvet, lay two glass potion bottles- both small in size. One was tall and slender, the other bulbous with a slender neck. An eerie blue glow emanated from the bottles, not phasing Loki in the slightest as he handed her the bulbous bottle and took the slender one for himself.

“You made these?”

“I did,” Loki confirmed, fingers clasping hers as she turned the bottle this way and that. “You will need to drink it in its entirety. There may be some discomfort.”

“Will I die?”

“What?” Loki looked concerned. “No, of course not. You won’t be harmed at all, I swear it.”

“I was being sarcastic, mischief, it’s fine,” Claire downed the blue liquid in one gulp, grimacing as it fizzled and burned its way down her throat. Her throat burned like she’d swallowed freshly dispensed Coke, making her cough as the burn settled in her belly and made her eyes water. “See? No biggie.” she managed. “Why do you have one?”

“You thought I would put the onus solely on you?” Loki asked, one perfect brow castigating her. How he was able to convey so much in an eyebrow was annoying, honestly. Everything about the man was perfect.

“Um...yes?” Claire said, even as his perfect lips sealed around the bottle and its contents disappeared into his waiting mouth.

“Forgive the trite saying, but it does take two, yes?” Loki’s eye twitched as he fought a grimace. “Norns, I forgot how foul this tastes.”

“Well, yes, but...still unexpected. Male birth control is practically unheard of on Earth.”

“That defies logic. Men have the capability of impregnating-” Claire gagged, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t say impregnating-”

“Well it’s true,” Loki shrugged. “It seems illogical, and frankly, idiotic, to prescribe birth control to women when they can only carry one pregnancy per year-” Loki paused. “Unless your species is more prolific than I’ve been led to believe.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Claire nodded, swallowing against the rising burn in her belly. “Twins are always a possibility, but that still only counts as one.”

“Oh gods, twins,” Loki paled, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that for a while, but-” Claire blanched, his face paling. The burning was inching its way up Claire’s esophagus, and her concern was steadily growing. “Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Is it supposed to keep burning? It feels like heartburn but-” a loud burp escaped her, relieving the burning sensation in her throat only to cause a new burning in her cheeks. “Ugh, why does it taste like broccoli?!” Claire cringed, groaning as she shook her head. “This is probably the least attractive thing I could be doing- stop laughing!”

“I am sorry,” Loki didn’t sound sorry at all, the ass. “I am used to the odd side effects seidr can incur, but broccoli is new.”

“This isn’t how I thought this was going to go,” Claire found herself laughing despite her embarrassment. “Can I- I’d like to brush my teeth please. I am not kissing you with broccoli mouth.”

“Of course! Your things were brought over during the ceremony,” Loki said as he led Claire back to the expansive bedroom, showing her the armoire just inside the door. “This armoire is yours. All of your things are inside. Your toiletries will have already been placed in the en suite, through that door there.”

“Awesome. This is the easiest move I’ve ever had,” Claire joked, quickly searching out her things in the bathroom. She scrubbed her teeth clean quickly, glad to be rid of the odd burning. Hopefully no other weird side effects would crop up. “You’d better fucking work. We are not having any babies yet.” she poked at her lower belly with meaning. Not that she doubted Loki’s skill, but it never hurt to be too cautious right?

She left the bathroom, finding Loki waiting patiently.

“Do you feel better?” he asked. Claire nodded, fingers digging into his shoulders as Loki’s mouth latched onto her collarbone. His arms wrapped around her like a favorite blanket, warm and comforting and perfect. “Shall I help you select something for bed?” he murmured against her skin, making her knees weak as he sucked a mark at the hollow of her throat. Claire had worried the mood was spoiled by her broccoli burps, but found her desire returning twofold as his hand teased the small of her back.

“I- have something picked out already- hng-” Claire shuddered as his large hands clutched at her possessively, bunching the fabric of her dress at her hips as his mouth traveled down her chest to tease the valley between her breasts. Her pussy clenched in anticipation, soaking the already damp material of her panties. “Help me out of my dress?”

“I’d be delighted,” Strong arms lifted her, cradling her against his chest as her arms wound around his shoulders once more. He carried her behind one of the dividers, turning her before he set her on her feet so that her back pressed against his chest. “To think you have looked like this all day, and everyone deigned to keep you hidden from me. I should have them all flogged,” Loki groaned appreciatively as he watched his hands roam her figure in the mirror. His large hands squeezed her breasts before sinking down to her hips. Claire whimpered as his hands squeezed her flesh, sending a fresh wave of desire through her. His pupils were dilated, eyes flooded with desire for her. Loki unclasped her necklace and set it atop the vanity, breath warming her skin as he nosed at the newly exposed flesh. “These jewels suit you,” he murmured, lips once again exploring the sensitive expanse of her throat as her head fell back against his shoulder. One of his hands caressed the column of her neck as the other skimmed down the fabric of her dress. Claire cried out as his hand cupped her sex, the friction and tantalizing heat making her all but froth at the mouth. “You should always be adorned so. On my honor, you’ll want for nothing.” he promised, admiring the sight they made in the mirror as he pressed kisses along her neck. She shivered in his grip, making him smile.

“I don’t need jewels,” Claire mewled, her body arching into his touch. “Just need you.”

“You have me, little wife,” Loki pledged. “Shall I leave you to dress?”

“You haven’t undressed me yet,” Claire sassed him. “Care to fix that?”

“You’re right,” Loki smiled. “Allow me.”

“O-okay,” Claire managed. Her head was still spinning like a top. Loki chuckled as he helped her balance, sinking down to gather the hem of her dress in his hands. Slowly, gently, he brought the material up her body, savoring every dip and curve of her form as his hands traveled up her legs to her hips, her chest, and finally up and over her shoulders. Claire shivered as the cool air met her exposed flesh, goosebumps erupting in the absence of fabric and Loki’s hands. The chill was short lived, as Loki let her dress fall from his hands and pulled her against him, heat from his body seeping into her as his eyes roamed her exposed flesh with a fervor that made her heart skip a beat. Fingers dug into her hips greedily, thumbs mapping the hollows of her hips as his mouth traced her collar bone.

“You are stunning.”

“And you’re overdressed.” Claire murmured as Loki captured her lips.

“So I am.” Loki’s breath warmed her skin as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as his fingers teased along her lower back. Her hands found the release on his epaulets, sending his cape cascading to the floor behind them. Her nimble fingers brushed his hair back when it fell in his face.

“What happened to your helmet?” In between their second and third dance, the golden horns had disappeared.

“Astrid will have collected it and sent it to be polished,” Loki murmured, pleasant shivers coursing down his spine as her fingers teased the hairs at the back of his neck. “Why do you ask?”

“I think the horns are sexy. They seem like they’d make great hand holds.” Loki’s stomach clenched as Claire winked at him. Impatience growing, Loki undid the strap over his chest and let it fall to the floor.

“We shall have to test that theory.” he said as he shrugged off his overcoat and let it fall as well, the butter soft leather hissing as it pooled at their feet.

“I’ve always wondered what this is for.” Claire muttered, running a finger along the gold swoop on his chest.

“It is meant to protect my heart,” Loki explained. “It unclasps here,” he showed her the discreet fastenings at the shoulders of his leather tunic. “The tunic unlaces on the sides.”

“Oooo let me?” Claire asked, reaching for the tight lacing on the side closest to her.

“Of course,” Claire stepped closer, her fingers making quick work of the lacing that bound him. It fit him snugly, as did everything he wore. Claire couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the garment, eyes traveling along the stitching as her fingers worked. Unable to resist touching him any longer, Claire slipped her hand in the space created between the leather and fabric. Loki was silent as she leaned against him, letting her explore the dips and peaks of muscle with her hand. A breathless gasp escaped him as her fingers teased along the rise of his pants, and a smile bloomed when he glanced at her with hunger. As much as she wished to explore further, she slowed. He was still far too dressed. “Would you prefer I walk in front of you? You didn’t like it when I walked up behind you earlier.”

Loki was surprised by the question. No one ever asked him such things.

“Please.” Claire crossed to his other side without a word, unlacing the other side of his leather tunic quickly.

“I’m guessing this goes over your head?”

“It does.”

“Alright, handsome, arms up,” Claire lifted the tunic over his head, the firm leather creaking as she set it to the side. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“What comes next?”

“Who,” Loki corrected, grinning when she scrunched her face in confusion. He licked at her lips, swallowing her confused ‘huh?’ as his fingertips dug into her soft skin. He dropped the kiss, dipping his face into the full swell of her breasts and sucking mouthfuls of each between his teeth. He eased himself to the floor, digits trailing along her flesh in tender worship. The fingers she’d settled on his shoulders twitched, quiet moans escaping her as he placed light, teasing kisses just above her panty line. “Your question should be: ‘who comes next’. And the answer is: you.”

Deft fingers inched between her thighs, setting her nerves ablaze through the thin material of her panties. The hand on her hip grazed over the inked whorls of her tattoo as he held her steady, clearly curious but singularly focused on his task.

His fingers swept her panties to the side, exploring her wet heat with practiced ease and making her breath catch in her throat. Her clit bloomed under his touch, demanding attention. Claire relaxed in his grip as his hand moved deeper between her thighs, her feet shuffling apart to allow his better access as he teased her flesh with kisses. His long fingers sank deep into her channel, deep-rooted pleasure electrifying her as he began to stroke her inner walls, stealing her breath and making her clamp down on his shoulder for a semblance of control.

“Loki-” His breathless chuckle against her belly told her he’d heard her pathetic mewl, and another finger joined the first. Her head fell back, the sight of her her heaving chest giving Loki a delightful view when he glanced up to see her overwhelmed with pleasure. A slight adjustment exposed her pussy to his gaze, and gods, she was everything he could have hoped for. “Please…”

“Please what, little wife?” he asked, knowing full well what the beauty in his grasp wanted, and that he’d give it to her, along with anything else she desired. “You want my mouth on you? Or perhaps you wish to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking dare-fuck!” she trailed off in a breathless moan as he latched onto her clit, lavishing the delicate bud with a swirl of his tongue. He growled as her fingers buried in his hair, pulling him even closer as he found the most sensitive spot deep inside her. “Oh my god!” she gasped, her thighs trembling as he took her apart.

Yes, He praised as she gushed around his fingers. Come for your god and make me yours.

“I can’t- Loki!” Claire warned, her legs quickly losing their ability to hold her upright.

“I meant what I said-” Loki’s arm shifted, circling her waist to keep her upright as she slumped against him. “I will not let you fall.” Her nails dug into his shoulder as his thumb circled her clit once more, making her twitch in his grasp. She muttered something unintelligible, the fingers still buried in his hair grabbing a fistful as her glazed eyes met his. “What were you planning to wear to bed?”

“It’s a sur-priiiiisedon’tdothat!” Claire twisted in his arms as his fingers trailed up her spine, her oversensitive nerves protesting the light touch. Loki’s hand withdrew instantly, coming to rest at her elbows.

“Do you wish to stop?”

“Nooooo,” Claire whined. “Just really sensitive. Need...five minutes…” Loki grinned indulgently, his eyes going soft at her pleas.

“Very well, little wife. I will leave you to put on your surprise.” his eyes roved over her form hungrily before he stepped away, disappearing from her view with a satisfied strut.

Loki: 1, Claire: 0

Getting dressed on shaky legs proved a difficult challenge. Claire learned she needed extra support in order to step into the bottom half of her ensemble, and moving her head too quickly brought her dizziness back in full force.

She managed to get dressed, stealing out from behind the divider and making her way to the sprawling bed with shaky legs. She could make out the sounds of Loki getting changed in his private dressing area. As she climbed onto the bed to wait, she couldn’t help but wonder what Asgardian pajamas looked like.

~~~~

He could still taste her on his tongue. Her needy cries, the way she’d clung to him…

He was desperate for more.

He left his discarded clothing in heaps on the floor, uncaring for once about tidiness. As he selected his night clothes he heard Claire settle on his bed and hurried his movements, eager to taste her again. A flick of his wrist brought the fire back to life, casting long shadows upon the walls as he stepped out from behind the partition.

And what a sight greeted him. Claire knelt on the large bed, hands on her thighs as she waited for him.

“Hey mischief.” she said softly, a catlike grin lighting her face.

“Hello menace,” Loki returned the smile, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. “What is this?”

“Part two of my super secret plan to seduce you. What do you think?” she held her arms out to sides, allowing him to inspect her. Sheer black leggings covered her legs from ankle to thigh, with a gap before the undergarments around her waist and hips. A halter style top adorned her chest, with a low cut neckline that let him see the tattoo between her breasts. Fabric covered her arms as well, from her biceps to her wrists. Loki was intrigued to see loops of the fabric around her middle fingers, accenting the new wedding ring on her left hand. The black sheer fabric lent her skin a warm glow in the firelight, tantalizing him with hints at what he knew he would find underneath.

“It suits you,” he purred. “Although I despise it on principle for hiding your body from me.”

“Not hiding- enhancing,” Claire corrected, grinning wolfishly. “You said you wondered how my thoughts aligned with yours.”

“I did indeed.” the dark rumble of his voice sent shivers down Claire’s spine.

“I’ve decided I’d like to play a game.”

“You wish to play a game?”

“Yep.”

“Now?” Loki balked.

“Mm-hmm.” Loki’s eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts, the way the black fabric clung to her thighs and hips like a lover’s grasp. He burned with desire at the sight- his fingers itched to trail down her soft skin to explore her hidden depths more thoroughly. But...he’d waited this long- what was a little while longer?

“Very well, little wife, what shall we play?”

“About that,” Claire squirmed with excitement, and Loki had a passing thought that she meant to pull out Monopoly. Surely she wouldn’t- how could she expect him to focus on strategy with so much luscious skin on display? “I want the rematch you promised me.”

“Now?” he found himself repeating.

“Yes,” Claire grinned, “But there are rules- sexy rules.” Loki huffed in chagrin, throwing up his hands in defeat when she did not concede.

“I’m listening.”

“Every time you pin me, you get to remove one piece of this,” she held her arms out again, accentuating the gesture with a roll of her hips. “Every time I pin you, I get to remove one piece of clothing from you.”

“You’ll yield again, little wife.” dark promise dripped from each guttural syllable, and Claire’s pussy throbbed impatiently.

“Since you’re so confident…” Claire bit her lower lip as she gazed up at him with anticipation. “You should give me an advantage.”

“Oh, I like this,” Loki chuckled darkly, pulling his under shirt over his head and mussing his hair. “Satisfied?” the garment fell to the floor in a heap

“Not yet,” Claire grinned. “C’mere.” Loki knelt on the bed in front of her, body poised to attack.

“A moment, please,” he asked, large hands cupping her face to press a toe-curling kiss to her lips. He pressed against her deliciously, his body heat seeping through the thin material as she trailed her hands up his thighs to tug at his hips. Claire rose up on her knees, hands mapping the defined muscles of his back as his slow, deliberate kisses made her dizzy. Loki released her, his thumb caressing her lower lip gently. “I have wanted to do that since you walked into the temple,” he confessed. “Now we may play your game.”

“And here I thought you were trying to distract me,” Claire smiled. “Trying to lull me into a false sense of security so you could stab me in the back.” she snickered.

“That’s such a boring form of betrayal,” Loki said gruffly as he trailed his hands over the dips and curves of her body. “I’d never stab anyone in the back. I would simply-” his hands clasped around her thighs, and quick like a viper, he pulled her legs out from under her and sent her sprawling onto the bed. Claire’s breath escaped her with a quick oof and before she could fight back, he’d pinned her to the bed. “Lay them flat upon it.”

“Shit.” Loki laughed heartily as Claire realized her miscalculation.

“What’s happened, menace? Your carefully calculated plan hasn’t worked?” he asked, his smile splitting his face as he fingered the edge of fabric covering her arm. “I’ll take my trophy now, if you please.” Claire clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Oh fine,” she grumbled. “Can we adjust real quick?” she asked, moving her legs to wrap around his waist when he lifted off of her. “Thanks.” she murmured as he pulled the fabric from her arms and tossed it aside.

“Of course,” Loki muttered under his breath when his eyes landed on her bicep tattoo. “’I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep’- what is your obsession with Robert Frost?”

“It’s motivating!” Claire protested, fingering the lines of text on her arm. The line, from the famous poem Stopping by Dark Woods at Midnight, had struck a deep chord in Claire at a young age. After her mothers death, she had wanted to give up. But the burning need to bring her mother’s killer to justice pushed her to keep going on her darkest days.

“If you insist,” Loki replied with a shake of his head. “What now, little wife? Do we need to reset?”

“No need,” Claire grinned, turning him onto his back with a quick maneuver and lowering herself onto his lap, directly over his groin. A choked gasp escaped Loki as she ground her barely dressed center on the hardened length inside his pants. “Doin’ okay there, mischief?”

“Gods, you are such a menace,” Loki grunted through clenched teeth, grinding his hips upward as he chased sweet friction. “Though I can hardly-unf- complain.” his fingers dug into her hips, promising marks to delight her for days to come. Claire ran her hands up his chest, settling her weight above him.

“I win.” she said smugly. Loki chuckled, wrapping his arms around her back.

“How about a draw?” he tugged the sheer top over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. Above him, Claire gasped dramatically.

“You cheated!” Loki mimicked her gasp, rolling them over to tuck her into his side.

“God of mischief!” Claire couldn’t even be mad at him, because he distracted her with a burning kiss. “I could kiss you for an age,” his velvety voice rumbled deep within his chest, raising goosebumps along Claire’s neck and arms as he mouthed a line of kisses down her throat. His large hands clutched at her sides, long fingers digging into her ribs as he explored her soft skin. Claire dug her fingers into the meat of his shoulders, sighing as his kisses bloomed heat across her chest. Claire decided she enjoyed Loki’s kisses- he mapped her skin like a foreign soil, his lips and tongue calling her desire forth from its slumber as her skin warmed. They were just as she’d hoped, as focused and intense as he was in other areas, and her clit bloomed with promise. Loki palmed her breast, melting Claire’s core and sending a pulse of desire through her body. He paused, pulling back slightly to inspect her nipple, frowning slightly in confusion at the little silver balls he saw there.. “Is this- is this metal?”

“Oh yeah,” Claire laughed. “Surprise, my nipnops are pierced.”

“I…have never seen anything like this in all my life,” Loki admitted, exploring her tender flesh with his thumb. “Is this a custom on Midgard?”

“I guess?” Claire replied, arching her back to press her breasts further into his hands. “Lots of people have piercings but it’s not like a right of passage. It’s-ah-personal preference.”

“How in the nine did I miss these last night?” Loki murmured to himself as he rubbed gentle circles over her delicate nubs with his thumb. “Fascinating.”

“To be fair, you were kinda distracted,” Claire offered, enjoying the pleasurable shivers his actions were sending up her spine. “You know, it’s super fun when hot guys put them in their mouth.”

“Is that so?” Claire whimpered a confirmation as he did as she asked, her hands tightening around his shoulders. Her hands slid down his arms, grasping his biceps as he lowered her back onto the pillows. She welcomed his weight as he continued his exploration of her nipples, his tongue navigating around her piercings with delightful precision. She brushed his long dark hair out of the way as he released her nipple with a wet pop. “Are there any more piercings I should know about?” he asked as his long fingers played with the metal balls.

“It’s no fun if I tell you.” Claire teased. Loki chuckled, pinching her taut nipple between his fingers and making her gasp.

“I suppose it’s not,” he mused. “Though I can only imagine where I might find it if I do.”

“You’re a smart man,” Claire panted, writhing as his fingers tightened. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Indeed,” Loki purred, leaving heated trails on her flesh as his hands moved lower. “But first I wish to inspect this,” His warm hands grasped her hips, turning her so he could see the tattoo that graced her hip and thigh. “This drawing-” Claire bit her lip as he tugged the material at her hips clean off. Loki hummed, tracing the delicate, tiny leaves at the top of her tattoo with his fingertip, seemingly unaware that she was in danger of creating a puddle on the bed sheets. “This flower…it does not come off?”

“No, it’s permanent.”

“What sort of ink is permanent?” Loki murmured, following the whorls of the design with his fingers and making Claire’s brain short circuit. Her clit was throbbing with need under his prolonged attention, and she was starting to feel impatient.

“It gets injected under the skin. We have special artists-” Claire whimpered as his large hand clamped around her hip, kneading the flesh appreciatively. “We go to that draw on our skin with a needle.”

“And this is done willingly?” Claire nodded.

“It can take a while, too. Large pieces like mine usually take several hours. Mine took six hours total- two for the line work and then four more for the color.”

“I would not have guessed mortals were capable of withstanding such torture.” Loki mused, manipulating her skin to move the flowers as he drank in the sight of her tattoo. “You are full of surprises, little wife.”

“I try. But it’s not that painful- some places hurt worse than others, but it’s kinda nice, actually.”

“Nice,” Loki scoffed to himself. “I see,” he muttered, tracing his fingertips over her satin panties to the lower edge of her tattoo at the top of her thigh. “The detail is exquisite, I must admit. My scars look nothing like this.”

“Yeah, the artist I went to is very talented- wait, your scars?” Claire lifted her head to ask. Loki put a large hand between her breasts, urging her to lay back down.

“It is irrelevant,” he waved her concerns off, trailing his hand down her smooth skin and setting her nerves on fire. His finger hooked on the material on her thighs, giving them a gentle tug and making her pussy clench with anticipation. “These are impeding my appreciation of your body, little wife. May I remove them?” Claire opened her legs, letting him slip the flimsy material down her thighs. The drag of the material combined with his fingers had Claire biting her lip, a delighted sigh escaping her as his mouth began to explore the revealed flesh. His lips resumed their work from earlier, heated breaths warming her skin as he held her to him with strong hands. Claire felt her body going lax under his attentions, her core growing slick with need as he pressed hot kisses to the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

The first touch of his fingers to her sex was like a jolt of electricity, making her restless and impatient. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with anyone; she was half expecting Loki to complain about finding cobwebs between her folds. Claire was woman enough to admit she’d been thinking what it would be like to feel those gorgeous hands of his on her, specifically his long slender fingers in her pussy.

“No more metal?” her husband remarked, a hint of a smirk coloring his velvety voice. “I am almost disappointed.”

“I’ll admit I thought about it,” Claire managed to say as his thumb made lazy circles on her clit. “Supposedly it makes orgasms feel even better.”

“That is a delightful thought,” Loki said coolly, as if he wasn’t driving her mad with his finger teasing her folds. “One we can discuss further at another time. No more thoughts tonight, little wife.” he slipped a finger inside her slick channel, eyes going dark with desire as she moaned. Her hands dug into the sheets as he pleasured her, hips squirming as her body begged for more.

His lips closed around her clit as a second finger joined the first, and Claire stopped thinking. His broad shoulders rasped delightfully against her inner thighs as he settled on his stomach, wrapping an arm around her thigh as he pressed open mouthed kisses to her sex. Her thighs squeezed his body, feet bracketing his ribs as waves of pleasure wracked her body. Loki grinned as her desperate sounds reached his ears, his other hand holding her in place as she pleaded for more. Her delightful gasps and moans turned into breathless wails as her orgasm approached.

“Oh fuck-” Claire gasped, fingers closing around a fistful of Loki’s hair as her body wound tight. Loki’s eyes flitted up to see a delightful sight: Claire’s face was flushed, bottom lip drawn between her teeth as her hands grasped her breasts. Chest filled with pride, Loki sealed his lips around her clit and pumped her sex faster. “Loki!” the needful cry of his name had him grinding his cock on the bed. He groaned as her release soaked his chin, burning with the desire to seat himself inside her and make it happen again.

He worked her through her orgasm, waiting for her trembling to subside before sliding his body up and over hers. He shed his pants quickly, kicking them aside before returning to Claire’s side. Her flushed skin had pebbled over and she was beginning to tremble more from cold than his touch.

“Forgive me if i seem impatient, little wife,” Loki murmured against her skin as she curled around him seeking warmth. “I have thought of little else but burying myself in your cunt since your delightful display last night,” Claire had lost the ability to form words after her second orgasm, able only to offer a choked moan in response. “Has it been on your mind as well?” He asked as he palmed himself, smiling knowingly when her fingers dug into the plush blanket beneath them. His long fingers pumped the column of flesh between his legs leisurely, green eyes traversing the length of her sprawled body hungrily.

His cock sat heavy between them on her belly, and he hissed as her dainty hand closed around it. Just the feel of it in her hand made Claire's mouth water.

“Impressive.” Claire murmured, tugging him down to her level by the nape as he sank his fingers inside her aching pussy.

“It’s all for you, little wife.” he managed as she worked him in time with his hand. His fingers found the secret spot deep within her and she gushed again, thighs quaking around him as she mewled.

“I feared you would be a bore, but imagine my surprise-” Loki grunted, taking his lip between his teeth as she circled the tip of his cock with her thumb. “You are intriguing-and beautiful-” another grunt as she squeezed him. “And you are merciless with a blade,” he gasped as he captured her lips. Breathless gasps filled the space between them as they clung to each other and sought revelation. “Are you ready, little wife?” Claire whimpered below him, gyrating her hips in desperate search of friction. “Say it.” Loki pleaded breathlessly as he settled between her thighs.

“Give,” Claire beckoned to him with grabby hands. “Please.”

“Surely you can do better than that.” Loki chuckled, taunting her with a slow drag of his hips.

“Give me a break,” Claire fought a shiver as her sweat began to cool without him next to her. “You broke my brain.”

“Have I?” Loki shifted again, making her whine. “How rude of me.” Good god, his cock was impressive. Long, thick, and heavy, it nearly reached her belly button. Loki shifted, his heated skin rubbing against the senstive inner thighs as he pressed as close to her as he could.

What do you know? It did reach.

“Quit teasing. You've been eye-fucking me for days.” Loki withdrew his fingers, leaving her empty as she trembled. He reached up to pluck at her pebbled nipples as he lined up his cock with her entrance.

“So I have.” Loki took his cock in hand again, teasing her soaked entrance with the tip to coat himself in her wetness. One hand closed around her thigh, making Claire shiver as the head of his cock slipped inside her. His thumb still toyed with her clit, keeping her right on the precipice as he worked himself deeper.

“Stop fucking teasing me, I swear to god-fuck!” Claire spilled over the edge, her back bowing as she trembled through the onslaught of pleasure. Deep in the throes of her orgasm, Claire tugged at Loki with desperation and he obliged, seating himself fully inside her and making her eyes roll back.

Long and thick, Loki’s cock was perfect- as if handcrafted by master craftsmen in the art of female pleasure. She felt so full; each careful thrust threatened to make her eyes roll back in her head. Loki grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, opening her thighs further to press even deeper. Flesh met flesh and Loki groaned, leaning over to capture Claire’s lips with his own. Claire whimpered into his mouth as her walls clenched around him. His weight pressed her into the soft bed as his strong arms caged her in, breathless kisses collecting her sighs like tokens with each thrust of his hips. All Claire could do was hold on.

She’d thought about this a lot in the recent weeks- the decadent slide of Loki’s skin on hers, the overwhelming pleasure as Loki’s cock worked in and out of her weeping sex- but her imagination fell flat as every nerve in her body flared to life under Loki’s skilled hands.

Her fingers wrapped around the thick muscles of his biceps, enjoying the way they flexed as he moved. His long hair swayed as he moved, eyes closed as he groaned appreciatively and buried his face in her neck, pressing heated kisses to the skin there. Her silken pussy was so tight and welcoming, and if Loki had his way, he would spent an eternity between her thighs. Loki kissed her ravenously, looping one of her legs over his arm and hiking it higher. Claire brushed his hair back, anchoring his mouth to hers as he brought her close to orgasm again.

Holy fuck, she could get used to this. If this was her marital duties, it would not be a hardship.

“Enjoying yourself?” Loki asked, sounding slightly winded. Claire wasn’t able to form a response, as he timed his question with a slow drag of his hips. Claire brought his mouth back to hers, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Christ, the strength of him. “Come for me again, little wife.” he pleaded against her mouth, enjoying the sting of her nails in his flesh as she fell apart around him.

Loki ran his hands down her delectable curves, lifting her bottom half and squeezing her thick thighs together before slipping back inside her. Claire spasmed around him, her hands grasping at his thighs as her breasts bounced with each thrust of his hips.

“Oh fuck- oh, you’re so deep-” Claire panted, her legs trembling in Loki’s grasp. Loki groaned, throwing his head back as he bottomed out. The wet slap of skin filled the room as he fucked her with abandon, the pair of them submitting to pure animal instinct as they chased the end.

They worked together in perfect harmony, hands grasping flushed skin and sweat mingling as heated words and kisses were exchanged.

Claire thought she might explode at any moment. Loki surprised her by pulling out, leaving her empty and desperate with need. She moaned as Loki pushed her knees toward her chest, legs high in the air as he slipped his cock back between her folds. He teased her with small thrusts, caressing her labia and clit with his cock. Claire squealed when he finally slid back inside, chills creeping down her spine as the head of his cock struck her g-spot, the veins and ridges of his perfect cock hitting every sweet spot inside her.

“Oh god-” Claire sobbed as Loki’s targeted thrusts inched her toward the finish line.

“Yes,” Loki groaned, grinding his pelvis against hers. “Uh...du føler deg...så bra.”

“Fuck…” Claire whimpered as he thrust again, sending a shock wave through her body. “Yes- right there!” she gasped, clinging to him for dear life as he hit her g-spot again and again. Above her Loki was panting hard as he chased his end, his breathless grunts primal as he drove deep inside her. Claire snaked her hand between their bodies, her clit throbbing as she worked herself to completion.

“Uhgh- gods, yes!” Loki gasped as he burst, Claire’s orgasm triggering his own. Her fluttering walls clenched so tight Loki saw stars, her silken muscles wringing every last drop of his spend from him. Loki felt as though the breath had been driven from his body, his lungs burning as his higher brain came back online. Claire was still spasming around him, the tight heat of her slick channel rippling with each ragged breath she drew. “Are you alright?” Eyes still closed, Claire nodded, her wild hair fanned out like a halo on the pillows.

Loki pulled out slowly, releasing her legs from their contorted position. He dotted a kiss to the inside of her knee as he massaged her thigh. Though she’d clearly enjoyed herself, he worried he may have been a bit overzealous.

“You don’t have to do that.” Claire murmured, one tired eye cracking open to peer up at him.

“Simply a precaution,” he replied absently, releasing one leg to massage the other. Claire watched on in a daze, exhaustion from the day and several great orgasms catching up with her. Loki watched her chest rise and fall as she lay comfortably among the pillows, blue eyes drooping and unfocused as she fought sleep. A small smile played at his lips as he reached for the blankets to cover her up. A pearl of his spend glistened upon Claire’s sex, and Loki abandoned the blankets to brush his thumb through the mess. “You make a beautiful sight, little wife,” Claire jerked when he thumbed her clit, a breathless gasp escaping her kiss-swollen lips as her tired body perked up at the promise of added pleasure. “Forgive me, I could not resist.”

“S’okay,” Claire murmured. “Wanna be the big spoon?” Claire asked as Loki brought the covers up around them.

“Pardon?” Loki looked up at her as though she’d grown a second head.

“C’mere,” Claire chuckled. She turned away from him to lay on her side, and tugged him closer so that he lay directly behind her. “Like this.”

“Ah, I see,” Loki said as he slid his arm around her middle, holding her solidly against him. Fuck, being caged in by all that muscle was nice. “I think in this instance you would be the tea spoon and I am the soup spoon.” he remarked, making Claire laugh.

“Something like that,” she nestled deeper under the covers, enjoying the warmth and feel of his soft skin against hers. “It’s been a while since I’ve cuddled with anyone. It’s nice.”

“It is.” Loki said softly behind her.

“Been a while for you too?” Claire guessed. Loki shifted, his thigh pressing against the back of hers.

“Most of my bed partners did not wish to stay, or I did not wish them to stay,” his hand settled on the swell of her hip, kneading the soft flesh. “I could not say when this happened last.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Claire sighed as his hand wrapped around her middle again. His breath teased the back of her neck, the steady pace of his breathing comforting as he held her.

“How are you feeling?” Loki asked, studying the rise and fall of her shoulder as she breathed. It still felt surreal to be with her, without worry of being discovered. Her skin was soft and supple against his, and her decadent perfume still lingered. He already held such affection for her.

“Good,” Claire chuckled as he squeezed her gently. “Sore, but good,” Loki hummed behind her, his breathing beginning to even out. “Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“You surprised me too,” Claire murmured. “People kept warning me about you. I’m glad they were wrong.” Oh.

“Thank you.” Loki wanted to say more, but his throat was oddly...tight?

“You know, it’s kinda funny...women back home complain about how awful their husbands are, especially when they’re pregnant, but I have a feeling you’ll be great.”

“Men on Midgard truly have no idea how to treat women, do they?”

“Nah, they suck.”

“Things are different here,” Loki rose up on his elbow. “Here, men- or the decent ones, at least- respect women. I understand you have concerns about-”

“A lot of things-”

“Yes, and I can appreciate that. But the social contract is different here. The men protect, and provide, and women-”

“Have the babies.” Loki huffed a laugh; he could practically see her roll her eyes.

“Obviously, little wife,” he chuckled. “But it’s more than that. Here, women are respected for their ability to bring life into the world. Without you, there is no future.”

“God damn right there’s no future,” Claire grumbled, making Loki laugh louder. “That sounds...not so bad.”

“Get some rest, little wife. When we decide the time is right, I will look after you.” Loki settled back into the pillows, grinning when she rolled over to cuddle with him. She hitched one leg over his, hugging him with one arm as she rested her head on his chest.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmured, glancing up at him as he wrapped his arm around her. “Good night.” she let her tired eyes fall closed and wiggled closer. She could hear his heartbeat now, and his body heat was soothing. So comfy...

“Good night.” The excitement of the day (and night) caught up with Loki, and he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

~~~~

Loki wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he came awake when he felt Claire stirring beside him. Loki was a light sleeper to begin with, and having a new person (however welcome) in his bed was going to take some getting used to.

In the dim light remaining from the fireplace, he saw Claire’s form as she got to her feet.

“Are you alright?” he asked in concern when several of her joints popped.

“Yeah I'm okay,” Claire chuckled as she rummaged in the dark for clothing. “It was just my hip.”

“Are you certain?” Claire laughed quietly as she pulled a night dress from her armoire. Claire laughed as she slipped the night dress over her head.

“My guy, you literally bent me in half, my joints are gonna make some noise,” she tugged the fabric down over her hips as she yawned. “I promise I'm fine. Did I wake you?”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“I am not,” Claire chuckled. “Usually once I’m out, I’m out, but I'm kinda hungry. Can we go get a snack?”

“Of course,” Loki got out of bed and pulled a pair of loose pants up over his hips. “We can have Astrid bring something.”

“Oh no, that's okay. What I want is really easy and I can make it myself. Can you show me where the kitchen is?”

“You wish to make it yourself?” Loki asked skeptically.

“Yeah, it's just toast. I don't want to wake someone up to make it for me. Please?” Though he was still confused, Loki relented and pulled on a loose pair of pants and a tunic. He helped Claire find her slippers before stepping into his own, and they set off to the kitchens together. Loki led Claire down the torch-lit hallways, ignoring the questioning looks they got from the guards they passed.

The kitchen was several floors below theirs, tucked behind the great hall. Though the large hearth still crackled merrily, the room spread out before them like a ghost town. The warm sepia-toned walls danced with distorted shadows of the various pieces of equipment strewn about the room. A dark alcove branched off one side of the room, the walls lined end to end with crowded shelves. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling of the alcove, lending an earthy smell to the room.

“Normally there are cooks here, but it's rather late, so we have the room to ourselves.”

“Let's get to work then.” Claire grinned, eyes scanning the room for a toaster. Or bread. Or anything she recognized. Claire barely recognized anything. There were familiar looking pots and pans suspended above the prep table in the center of the room, and utensils in a vase on a nearby counter. “Um...”

“What do you need, little wife?” Loki asked indulgently.

“Bread, butter, cinnamon and sugar. Also a toaster,” Loki looked at her strangely. “Do you guys not have toasters here?”

“What is its purpose?”

“...making toast...”

“It only has one purpose?”

“Well you can put other stuff in it like poptarts-” Loki grimaced, a memory of Thor sharing a poptart with him arising unbidden. “Not a fan?” Claire decided it might be best to start with the shelves.

“They are far too sweet for my taste,” Loki followed after her, his hand drifting across her lower back as he walk behind her. At the other end of the shelves, he began opening jars to find what she needed. As a prince he'd never prepared meals for himself except on the battlefield, and even then it was rare. He was as lost as Claire, both of them opening jars and frowning at the contents before moving on the next. “Perhaps it would have been faster to wake someone.” Loki chuckled as they struggled to locate everything Claire needed.

“Maybe,” she admitted guiltily. “Normally I'd have this made by now. Sorry I made you get out of bed.”

“It's alright,” Loki replied. His gaze dropped to the tantalizing cleavage her loose gown showed. The full swell of her breasts were visible, the outline of her piercings just barely visible through the fabric. “I struggle with sleep at times. Besides, the view is enjoyable.” Claire snorted.

“Still?” She asked with a laugh.

“Of course. I told you we would have fun, did I not?” Loki winked at her, proudly presenting a jar of...sugar bricks?

“You did.” Claire replied, butterflies coming back to life in her belly. Loki had already fulfilled his promise multiple times.

“Of course, if you are sore-”

“Well yeah, but the good kind,” Claire laughed. “You know I'm kinda surprised.” she glanced over at him, his lithe form covered mostly in shadow. Bathed in darkness, with only his eyes reflecting light, he almost looked like a cryptid lying in wait for her. Being a frost giant, Claire supposed, he technically was a cryptid.

A really hot cryptid.

“About what?” Loki’s smooth voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Claire turned back to the shelves grateful he couldn’t see her blushing.

“You not liking poptarts. I kinda pegged you as having a sweet tooth. Aha!” Claire set aside the jar of cinnamon sticks, wondering where she'd find something to grind them.

“I like some sweets, but not those horrible things. They are too...” Loki paused as he searched for the right word. Together they took the jars to the prep table. “Artificial.”

“Oh for sure, especially if it’s made in the States. We like our sugar,” Claire laughed as Loki left her side to search the collection of tools on the counters. “Have you tried anything else from earth?”

“Apart from the honey between your thighs, I have not.” Loki said, sliding the bread he'd found down the table to Claire. She gaped at him, giggling when he smirked unapologetically. He looked every inch like the cat who ate the canary. It was a well-deserved look.

“Okay point for you, that was smooth as fuck,” She flicked the towel covering the bread in his direction, sending a cloud of flour into the air. She spied a familiar looking block of wood and pulled a knife from it, pointing at him with the tip of it. “Do you want any?”

“In the kitchen?” Loki chuckled, his voice light with a glimmer of mischief. “How daring.”

“I meant the bread, mischief,” Claire cackled. “I'm open to the other thing too, but let me get this in the oven first. Er...on the fire?” she guessed as she realized there was no oven, only the crackling fire and the assortment of pots above their heads.

“Very well, I will try whatever it is you're making.”

“It's great, you'll see. Is there a cookie sheet?” With another search of the kitchen, the couple was able to find something resembling a cookie sheet and put the bread over the fire to toast. Loki helped her gather the butter from the larder under the floor. Claire thought she would find the archaic food prep annoying, but found she enjoyed the simplicity of it. It was nice, making something simple with someone she cared about. Claire and Loki chatted as they worked to grind the cinnamon sticks and pulverize the sugar bricks. The soft bread, Loki explained, was baked fresh every morning with flour from locally grown wheat, eggs from nearby farms and salt from mines in the south. Claire was astonished there were no preservatives or chemicals, and said as such. She didn't have an answer for Loki's confused 'why would there be?'.

“Still nothing?” Loki asked as she poked at the dubious looking almost-toast.

“I think it needs a few more minutes.” Claire poked the bread once more for good measure before pushing the griddle pan back over the fire.

“Excellent.” Loki cleared a space on the prep table before grabbing her by the waist and lifting her like a sack of flour. Loki's large hands traveled from her hips, grasping at the swell of her breasts as he captured her lips. Claire parted her legs to let him step closer, winding her arms around his broad shoulders as his tongue massaged hers. He grasped at her greedily, tugging her hips toward the edge before tugging her dress down to bare her chest. Loki’s mouth latched onto her nipple, suckling like a man dying of thirst and sending a throb of pleasure directly to her clit. Claire ground against the firm counter beneath her as Loki switched his attention to her other nipple. Her spine bowed as strong hands at her back pulled her bodily into him. Cool air assaulted her flushed skin as he released her, kissing a heated path up to her neck.

Claire urged him along, slinging one leg over his hip and pulling him closer as he captured her mouth. His teeth teased her lower lip as he pulled back, rough hands skating down her thighs as he dropped to his knees. Claire offered passing thanks to any deities listening that she hadn't put panties on.

Loki's broad shoulders forced her thighs apart, his large hands digging into her thighs as heated kisses marked a path along her flesh. Claire cried out when he licked a wide stripe along her sex. His hands tightened their grip, pulling her just to the counter’s edge as he took her clit between his lips, spelling out pledges of devotion with his tongue. She was sweet like honey, just as he'd said, with a slight tang from his earlier release. Her core was already molten, her silken muscles clenching as he pleasured her. Glass jars clanked together noisily as Claire’s hands searched for purpose on the slick surface beneath her, her panting breaths echoing as she basked in his attention. Loki looked up at her, his cock twitching at the sight he beheld.

His new wife was a vision, her eyes closed in rapture with her head back, her desperate sounds filling the air. Her long, tussled hair was wavy from her wedding braids, the strands floating around her as she writhed. The scintillating metal of her piercings was largely obscured by the silky strands, but the sight was enough to spur Loki on. This delectable creature was his. To bed...to breed. He dug his fingers deeper into her flesh, pulling her more firmly against his mouth with a groan. He was determined to wring every possible ounce of pleasure from her body. A choked gasp tumbled from Claire's lips as she dug her fingers into his mussed hair. She pulled him deeper into her slit, the ridge of his nose pressing against her clit as he suckled her tender flesh.

“Please-”

“Come for me, little wife,” He pleaded, lapping at her clit and making her thighs tremble around him. “I would wear your honey on my skin.”

“Oh my god,” Claire sobbed, her body jerking as her orgasm slammed into her like a linebacker. Loki suckled her clit as she bucked, holding her in place as he tortured her with pleasure. “Loki-” “Delicious.” Loki praised, rubbing her hips with his thumbs as he kissed her heated flesh. He rose leisurely, licking his lips as he ghosted his hands over her curves. Claire pulled him down to kiss him passionately, crossing her ankles behind his back.

“Fuck me, please.” she begged breathlessly against his mouth, pulling him closer with a needful moan. The heat of her called to him like a siren, his cock straining to fill her again.

“You should eat first,” he grunted. “You need your energy, darling,” Claire groaned against his skin, continuing to pepper convincing kisses along his neck. “I will happily bed you again once you've eaten.” He bargained.

“Alright, fine. Can you grab the toast? I don’t think my legs will hold me up right now.” Loki dutifully retrieved the toast from the fire, and together they slathered the slices with butter before sprinkling sugar and cinnamon over the top. Loki grabbed the plate in one hand, setting Claire back on her feet with an arm around her waist.

“Come, let's get you fed so I can devour you.”

“Mmm yes please,” Claire let Loki guide her out to the great hall, which was blissfully quiet and dark. Out on the terrace, they ate on a stone bench, shoulder to shoulder beneath the stars. The moon shone full and bright overhead, and Claire marveled at the beauty above them. Glittering stars decorated the backdrop of nebulae and swirling galaxies like confetti on a tabletop. “It's beautiful here,” Claire sighed happily, dusting crumbs from her fingers as she leaned against Loki. She'd consumed her toast quickly, her tired body needing the energy just as Loki had said. Loki hadn't complained about the toast once, so she assumed he liked it. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“If you'd like, I can take you to the observatory so you can see them up close.” Loki promised.

“I'd love that,” Claire smiled. “Did you like the toast? It's not too sweet?”

“I quite like it,” Loki said. “It is sweet, but not overwhelmingly so like your planets accursed poptarts.”

“My mom used to make this for me a lot growing up. It's a comfort food.”

“Comfort food? That's not an expression we have here.”

“Really?” Loki nodded. “It's something familiar and full of love that makes you feel safe and warm. Like a hug you can eat,” Claire smiled warmly. “What's your favorite thing to eat?”

“Almond cake,” Loki sighed wistfully. “I haven't had it in years. But it reminds me of being a boy, and how simple things were then.”

“See? Comfort food. I ate so much of this stuff when I was a kid.”

“I can see why,” Loki said. “It is delicious. Though not as delicious as you.” he praised, raising her chin with his fingers to kiss her swollen lips.

“So smooth...” Claire sighed.

“Shall we to bed, little wife?”

“Yes, please,” Claire begged, fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. While Loki was fixated on her mouth, she slung a leg across his thighs and mounted him, settling her weight in his lap. “Want you.”

“Darling if you don't let me get up, I won't be able to take you to bed,” Loki chuckled.

“So don't. That pillar looks nice.”

“Another night, darling. Our first night shouldn't be spent where others can easily spy.” Claire groaned in protest, but allowed him to steer her back into the kitchen. Loki set their plate on the empty counter space he'd cleared earlier, the memory sending a thrill through Claire's body. The report she'd received had been a great start, but clearly Loki was into more than the report entailed. He seemed like a service top, and judging by his hand on the small of her back, he couldn't keep his hands off of her. Claire knew just how skilled those hands were and had zero complaints, even though the feminist in her piped up that she was more than capable of walking on her own. Claire took his hand in hers as they walked back, enjoying the way his hand dwarfed hers. The guard outside their door opened the massive door for them when they returned, closing it after them when they crossed the threshold.

Loki pulled her against him the instant they reached the bedroom, large hands roaming over her body as he buried his face in her neck. Claire dug her fingers into his arm as he anchored her body against his, a whimper falling from her lips as he teased her labia through the fabric of her gown.

Pulling free of his grasp, Claire pushed Loki onto the bed. Though surprised, he quickly recovered when she climbed in his lap and kissed him. Clothes were discarded quickly between kisses and before he knew it, Loki lay at Claire’s mercy on his back. Settling on her haunches, Claire ran her fingertips along the length of his torso. Luscious alabaster muscle lay beneath her fingertips, perfectly aligned like a decadent mosaic of masculinity.

“Are you satisfied, little wife?” Loki asked with amusement, her hands sliding down his chest as he sat up. “Or would you like to inspect me more?”

“Hey, I let you inspect me the first go 'round,” Claire replied, pushing him back down. “Fair is fair.” Loki laughed, smiling wolfishly as her fingers teased the trail of dark hair leading to his cock.

“Apologies, my lady,” he relented, threading his fingers together behind his head. “You're completely right.” If she wanted control, he'd let her have it. Loki was delighted to find Claire had a sexual appetite to match his own. He'd hoped of course, that this marriage wouldn't lead to a complete derailment of his life, but this was an intriguing development that he hadn't forseen.

He hissed as her plush lips closed around his nipple, her fingers continuing to map out the rippling muscles beneath her. She released him from her mouth, leaving a line of bites and soothing kisses on his skin as her mouth followed the trail her hands had marked. She straddled a thigh, shifting her weight to press her bare sex against him.

“What happened here?” She asked softly, her finger ghosting along the faded scar on his abdomen.

“An injury from battle. It's old.” Loki replied casually.

“Older than me?” Claire guessed teasingly. Loki snorted dryly.

“Twice over at least, if not more.”

“You're pretty hot for an old man.” Claire groaned appreciatively as he pressed his thigh against her harder.

“I assume that to mean you find me attractive.”

“Bingo,” Claire sighed, draping her hair over one shoulder. She moved her hips, grinding her wet heat against the meat of his thigh, leaving a trail of arousal on his skin as she leaned down to kiss the flesh beneath her palms. “Wouldn't be this wet for just any old man.”

“I'm truly touched.” Loki hummed, sitting up to grasp her hips and pull her closer. Claire shushed him, cupping his face as she kissed him fervently. Loki's grip tightened on her hips, his cock straining toward her heat like a compass finds true north. Claire slid an arm around his shoulders, pressing against him to fully straddle his thighs. Loki's hands moved to her ass, guiding her down onto his cock as they shared open-mouthed kisses. The couple moaned in unison as she settled against him, fully seated on his dick. “Du tar meg så godt,” Loki murmured, his forehead resting against hers as she rolled her hips. “Like you were made for me.” he groaned, overcome with pleasure as Claire took control and began to ride him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Claire moaned, tits bouncing as she fucked herself on his dick. Loki could feel her wetness on his lower belly, the slick mess squelching as their bodies collided again and again. “You're so deep, holy shit. Kiss me.” Her hand found the base of his skull, pulling him in for a heated kiss. Loki groaned into her mouth, thrusting into her heat and making her tremble around him. Claire’s body went lax and she melted into him, her pleasured moan muffled against his shoulder as she gushed all over his cock.

“Faen-” Loki’s body jerked as she nearly ended him. She clung to him like a koala as she caught her breath, and Loki was content to let her. “Are you satisfied? Hmm?” Loki asked, kissing her shoulder as he brushed her sweat-damp hair to the side.

“Not yet,” Loki grunted when Claire pushed him back onto the pillows. “Ever had a girl on top?” She asked breathlessly. Gods, her breasts were hypnotizing as they moved with each decadent roll of her hips.

“Not like you.” Loki praised, eyes half lidded as he gazed up at her with awe. Claire laughed breathlessly as she leaned back, resting her hands upon his thighs as she rolled her hips. Loki bit his lip as he watched his cock disappear into her slick channel with each pass of her hips, driving his desire to the boiling point.

He'd bedded many, but all his partners had touched him with reverence for his title, his body. As such they let him direct the pleasure, which was enjoyable, but this...Claire took her pleasure in her own hand, without shame or waiting for him to gift it to her.

Loki liked this give and take they'd found so naturally, and wondered if it would always be like this. Gods, how many times had he had her this night? Loki had lost count. Above him, Claire began to bounce, pulling a ragged moan from his chest as his balls tightened. He grasped at her hips, driving his hips up into her and giving himself over to the pleasure she gave him.

“I'm gonna come again, oh god,” Claire wailed, her head falling back in abandon.

“Do it,” Loki commanded breathlessly. “Let the guards hear how well your husband fucks you.” Claire whimpered, her hips jerking as she fell apart. Her hips shuddered and she cried out, bracing her arms on his thighs as her pussy squeezed him like a vice. Loki continued to thrust, chasing his release within the valhalla between her thighs.

“Fuck. Yes. Loki!” Claire's broken cries broke the dam inside him and he pulled her down onto his cock as he came, a breathless, jagged shout of completion escaping him. Claire's hips still moved, her clit rubbing against his pubic bone as they both fought to catch their breath.

Loki’s bones had stopped working. He wanted to move, to return the soft kitten kisses his wife was dotting along his hairline, but his strength was depleted.

“You okay?” Claire asked, her hand soothing his heated brow as she looked at him with concern. “Did you die?”

“No, I haven’t died-”

“Well you can’t blame a girl for worrying. You are-”

“Yes, yes, I am old,” Loki huffed, trying and failing to summon the strength to turn onto his side and unseat her. “Honestly, woman.” Claire’s unrepentant giggles made him roll his eyes even as he checked her over.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“We should probably go to sleep. You're going to be very sore come morning.” Ignoring her comment, Loki massaged her hips where his fingers had no doubt left marks on her delicate flesh.

“Worth it,” Claire moaned as she slumped forward onto his chest. She'd made no move to pull off of him, his cock still deep inside her well-fucked cunt. “I think I'm gonna like having a sexy husband.” She said sleepily, pressing her sweat-slicked body against his as she wove her arms around his neck between the pillows. “Can we cuddle?”

“Shall I be the soup spoon?” Loki asked as he pressed a breathless kiss to her temple.

“Mmm yes,” Claire sighed, moaning as Loki rolled them onto their sides. A trickle of wetness trailed from her pussy when he pulled out, and she whimpered when Loki's fingers trailed through the mess. “I like the way you hold me.” she admitted as she edged closer to sleep.

“Do you like the mess we made, little wife?”

“Yes. So hot,” Claire mumbled, making a small noise of complaint when Loki shifted her to put his arm beneath her. “M'not ready for babies yet, but fuck, I like the practice.”

“As do I,” Loki purred as he brushed her wild hair from her face. Another kiss found the bolt of her jaw as he molded his chest to her back, nestling within the blankets beside her. “As do I.”

Translations: (Norwegian)

Du føler deg så bra- You feel so good

Du tar meg så godt- You take me so well

Faen- fuck