#it’s glorious it’s so precise and concentrated

[firelise]

See the reason Black Sails fucks so very hard is bc the writers know the end to which they are writing towards and they know how to write in beautiful circles within circles and close a motherfucking loop. I could stare at this renaissance painting of a show forever.

[violet-eng]

fem!reader studies Neuviotter! | Fluff 🧸 with Otter Neuvillette… 🔞with Human Neuvillette.

Summary: You're a Sumeru's researcher obsessed with Fontaine otters. So you basically adopt one... unfortunately it looks like that isn't an otter at all...

Warning: 🔞 MDNI. ALL SMUT IS WITH HUMAN NEUVILLETTE! Somnophilia, oral (fem! Receiving), p i v. Unprotected sex.

1.8k words.

Not edited.

⏜︵⊹︵⊹︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜⊹︵⏜︵⊹︵⏜

The prestige of your research precedes you. A diligent student with a flamboyant gait, brilliant ideals and precise knowledge. You arrive at Fontaine from the Sumeru Academy with a precedent never seen before, with your lively, attentive eyes and your notebooks covered in leather the same color as your eyes.

Word spreads immediately that the wise y/n, scholar of the Academia, has come to Fontaine to study a creature that has captured your attention to leave the green land for that of the primordial sea. Could it be that you want to study a mythical creature that lives in underwater caves? Or perhaps a glorious bird has captured your thirst for knowledge?

How surprised your guides were when you shouted with excitement, unable to contain your joy like a little girl, when you spotted a little otter poking its head out of the crystal clear water. You jumped up and down, unable to contain your happiness, exclaiming how amazed you were to see one so close.

Alone, you photograph the otter and go so far as to dive underwater with it, surprised more by how clever it is than by your new curious ability to breathe underwater. What a joy it is to find a group of creatures frolicking with a clam in their midst, spinning in the water and turning to look at you. You may have been down there for an hour.

Back on the surface, sitting on a rock with your feet in the water, you jot down the details in your notebook, tracing with the vague lines of a sketch the elusive shape of the little animals. Concentrating on your task, on defining the details of its snout, you notice on the other bank an otter, different from the others, grooming its head with its small hands.

You watch it carefully, the creature seems a little larger than the others, slender and almost like a gentleman...

"A gentleman otter," you whisper, enraptured by the delicate and magnificent figure grooming itself in front of you. 

The otter makes sounds as he wipes his own face, lying on the surface of the water, carving his features and nose, while his two gnawing teeth peek through his pearly fur. Its small hands wash its own belly, almost ironing its fur as if it were the robe of a great lord. Deeply adorable. You hastily sketch the picture in front of you, not missing a tender detail of the cuddly toy floating carefree on the calm current.

The otter watches you with a lost look, black eyes that seem not to contain a single thought. The bliss of the ignorant. And you wave at him from your rock with a smile.

The otter swims toward you, and when he's within striking distance, he watches you, as if studying you. 

"How smart you look," you say, clutching your notebook to your chest, "and very adorable. Look at you," you show him the drawing.

The otter stares at the paper with a certain analysis, but his unmistakable expression doesn't change. Then he seems to comb an invisible curl out of his furry head and approves your sketch with a formal nod.

"What a gentleman," you squeal, climbing down from your rock and returning to get your things. The otter emerges from the water, shaking his body to dry himself from the water, though he remains fluffy.

"I thought you were waterproof," you laugh at the sight of the expressionless furball, seemingly oblivious to his adorable embarrassment, "you're different, aren't you?" you approach him with a rag, trying to dry him.

You pull him onto your lap, paws up and his belly exposed as you dry his chest with your cloth, as if he were a baby. Then you wipe his little hands and then his paws. His face is now dry. The otter played with your bracelets, making funny noises and showing his little pearly teeth.

"Do you like it?" you ask, putting it down. The Otter nods enthusiastically. "It would look very cute on you," you add, taking off one of your bracelets and placing it around his neck.

The elastic of the bracelet is lost in his white fur, and the pendant stands out as if it were the clasp of a breastplate. 

"You're missing a hat, and you could pass for another Fontaine gentleman," you exclaim, pleased with the result, as the otter poses like an elegant gentleman, his small chest puffed out, almost proud of how adorable he looks.

"It's getting dark, I should get back now. See you another day, Mr. Otter," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving your hand.

The otter hurries to follow in your footsteps, prancing subtly near you, his wet nose brushing against your ankle.

"You want to come with me, huh?" you kneel before him, and he touches your nose with his paw. "Fine, fine. We'll have a sleepover."

The place you're staying in is small but cozy, and it gets even cozier when you turn on the heat and put food on the table. The otter sits in a chair across from you, on a mountain of books, and tastes several of the snacks you've served him, though you see him going crazy over some consomme purete and the big glass of pure spring water you've served him.

"You like that, I noticed," you say.

"Burp," the otter replies with a burp that he seems to regret immediately.

"You have more manners than many people," you tell him, wiping his whiskers with a napkin.

"Okay, I'll brush your teeth and then off to bed," you say happily, with the idea of reading to the little animal before bedtime.

You sit him on your sink in front of the mirror, lift his jaw and brush his teeth with your toothbrush and toothpaste, first one side and then the other, make him drink some water and then spit it out, although he swallows it.

"Not your thing to waste water, apparently."

The otter nods.

Then you brush his head, chest, back, and tail, letting him groom himself, and when you try to remove the pin, he hides it in his small hands.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it to you," you smile.

And then you lie in bed with him in your arms, illuminated by the dim light of your lamp, holding a book with an adventure story in it. You read aloud to him, stopping when you hear him whistling and snoring. 

"Good night, Gentleman Otter," you kiss him on the forehead before turning off the light and going to sleep. ....

You're not one to dream, not at all, but ever since you came to Fontaine, you couldn't help but have these nightly fantasies about Iudex Neuvillette. That stoic and serious man, how good his face would look contorted with pleasure as you sucked his cock.

You had dreamed of a similar situation many times, you had dreamed of him against you as he pinned your frail figure against his desk and thrust into you, biting your lower lip. You had had your first fantasy after a trial, thinking how manly he would look behind you, his cock buried in your ass....

All those dreams had been vivid fantasies, and tonight's took the prize.

You lay on your bed, him biting your neck as he rests behind you, his hands playing with your breasts at his whim, his tongue sliding over your skin, enjoying the nectar of your pure complexion, his cock swollen against your clothed ass.

"Mmmmhhhh, Monsieur~" you moan, writhing in his grip.

The wonderful thing about these dreams is that you don't know how you get into these situations, but you know how to enjoy them. Because from one moment to the next, the oh so taciturn Iudex Neuvillette has his face buried between your legs, tasting your folds and your clit with his trained tongue.

"Right there~" you moan, arching your back as you feel the desire well up from his mouth, his tongue drawing lustful strokes across your sex, his deep sighs stoking the fires of your passion.

His hands wrap around your legs, and for a moment you swear it's real, the way his nails dig into your skin, leaving reddened marks in their wake, and his thumbs sink into your thighs, anchored to you with no intention of letting go.

Then you feel him thrust into you, opening your silken walls in his wake, his thick cock making its way to your center, molding your walls to his erect, large form. You feel him rub against you as your insides embrace him with little restraint.

You hear him moan and feel your legs rise up over his shoulders, his cool hands at your ankles pressing down on you, thrusting slowly but deliciously, almost as if you were made for him. 

"Monsieur Neuvillette~" you moan, clutching the pillows, your hips bucking at the growing warmth in your belly, your hands seeking your own pleasure.

"Warmer than I thought," he whispers, "

it is almost like n your dreams... though this time it feels so real...

You look at him for the first time, his face sweaty, his cheeks flushed as his locks of white hair fall down your legs. His strong arms hugging you, his pecs rising and falling, holding breath... lower down, his chiseled abdomen twitching as his cock buries itself relentlessly inside you.

The sound of his balls against your skin blows your mind and makes you realize that it's not a dream, that Iudex Neuvillette is really fucking you (and very well, much better than you expected).

"Monsieur..." you try to sit up, but he has touched your cervix with his cock, and you do nothing but collapse under him, filled with the pleasure of his gentle thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks you reverently, in a tone of sublime courtesy and lofty superiority, as if he were not mercilessly fucking you at his whim while you sleep.

"Don't stop," you whimper between words, not wanting to waste the opportunity you've been dreaming of since the first time you saw him, "damn it," you exclaim at the wave of heat surging through your chest and legs as you hear him chuckle under his breath, quite pleased with what he's managing to make of your body.

The orgasm hits you warm and rough, just as Neuvillette did with his cock, careful not to leave his seed inside of you. And your breath comes back as you feel him caress your back as if to reward you.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and the way his arms hold you beside him as your eyelids droop at the inevitable.

"How did you get here?" you babble, half asleep, caressing his chest as he draws soft circles on your arm. 

"You invited me," he whispers as he brings your hand to his neck where your bracelet encircles his skin and the charm falls to his chest.

"You'll explain it properly tomorrow," you murmur between confused shuffles...

[pocketseizure]

Kohga meets his hero in Tears of the Kingdom. Said hero, Ganondorf, has no clue who Kohga is. Shenanigans (shenaniganons if you will) ensue

The Demon King was perfect. Kohga had expected him to be perfect, of course, but not this perfect.

A chiseled face scowled above shoulders that could bear the weight of the full earth in all its fecundity. A magnificent cascade of flame-red hair framed his noble mien. Kohga was a fine specimen himself and not one to be daunted by even the most remarkable physical beauty, but it was difficult to concentrate with two necrotic phantoms clutching his arms behind his back in the inexorable grip of their malice-encrusted fingers.

Not that he was complaining. It was a stroke of sheer gorgeous serendipity that his latest foray into the upper troposphere had brought him down precisely into the sanctum of the legendary Demon King beneath Hyrule Castle. Kohga cursed himself for not having ascertained the location earlier, but he approved. Only a true genius would launch his attack from under the very feet of his enemies.

“What foolish creature dares to disturb me?” the Demon King demanded. “I await the Hylian hero, and you are not he.”

The phantoms clutched Kohga tighter. He could feel the searing burn of their grip through the heat-resistant fabric of his uniform, but he was not afraid. He considered it a glorious honor to be treated as a threat.

“I am Kohga, the leader of the Yiga Clan. We are your humble followers, my lord, and we have dedicated ourselves body and soul to your service.”

A deep frown creased the Demon King’s face, granting him an even more powerful appearance of masculine ruggedness. “I know all of my servants, from the lowliest Bokolin to the mightiest Frox, and I do not know you. Explain yourself.”

Nothing could have pleased Kohga more. “Since time immemorial, we of the Yiga Clan have sought to undermine the royal family of Hyrule to pave the way for the coming of your lordship,” he boasted. “We have yet to find the princess, but we of the inverted eye keep a close watch on her chosen knight, striking whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

The Demon King’s amber eyes narrowed. “So you say, yet still he walks this land.”

“You are not wrong, your lordship, but this is not a cause for concern. Our strength lies in numbers, and in probabilities. I have fought the knight four, no, five times myself, and we acquire valuable information with every confrontation. In our last battle, I perfected the rocket technology capable of blasting us into space! Well, I mean,” Kohga corrected himself, “technically into the stratosphere, but mark my words. At the rate we’re going, we’ll make it to the moon! Why, just the other day, I –  ”

The Demon King raised a hand to interrupt his monologue. “You survived your battles with the knight who wields the sacred sword,” he said, slowly curling his fingers into a fist.

“Y-yes.”

“Five times, you say.”

Kohga nodded, beginning to sweat under his mask. There was nothing he loved more than enacting performances of his battles with Link, but it only just now occurred to him that he may have accomplished a feat that not even the mighty Demon King himself had managed to pull off.

“Very well.” The Demon King nodded, and the magic of his phantoms dissolved in a gradual shedding of crimson light. “I’ve long wondered about what lies beyond the borders of this miserable land. Now tell me,” he continued, a devilish grin spreading across his divinely handsome face, “everything you know about rockets.”

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

hi i came across your post asking people to talk to you about karl heisenberg so i decided to send in an ask because i absolutely cannot be normal about that man in any way shape or form at all he rotates in my brain 24/7 and refuses to get out

plplsplspls list down some of your hcs for him :33

You and me both, you and me both, don't worry 🤝🏻 I have him living rent free up there since I put my eyes on him and now he won't leave, instead he's wreaking havoc where perfectly normal and content thoughts should be 😭

Thank you so much for sending the ask! 🫶🏻

Karl Heisenberg HCs under the cut since their NSFW 🔞 (gender neutral)

I'll write a SFW Head Canon post later!

🛠 So, what's the first thing that comes to mind when looking at Kar Heisenberg, hm? Yes, exactly: "Damn, Daddy!" but as mighty fine as this is, how about we flip that table upside down and consider Karl with a mommy kink? There is something about the thought of consensually slapping that mountain of a man around and calling him a bad and naughty boy that makes my brain rot so fast 🥴 Depending on how complex of a topic this wants to be fleshed out as, one can always sprinkle some trauma into the mix because both mommy and daddy issues can very much stem from painfully real places and I imagine that Karl as quite a lot of that.

🛠 I like to believe that Karl has a surreal amount of patience, nerves of steel, but only when it comes to a few things in particular. One of them being you propped up in his lap with his cock buried inside you up to the shaft, neither of you making any hectic movements as you cock-warm him while he welds together scraps of metal in his workshop. He can do that for hours if he feels like it, enjoying the engulfing warmth of your body whilst sparks fly through the somewhat damp air of the factory, strangely enough helps him concentrate and be precise for neither sparks nor hot metal to get anywhere close to you.

🛠 Dad-Bod. That's it. Send Tweet. No, but really, I'm drop dead serious about it and will die with my face pressed to that squishy soft belly pooch and my hands clasping at his glorious man-tits. You know what Dad-Bod Karl Heisenberg gets you? So much cuddle-material 😌 And in instances during which you don't peacefully fall asleep wrapped in his arms, he muffles your moans and whines with his chest, just shoving your face into the soft and warm skin.

🛠 In my brain, Karl is a giver. Sure, he might take you whenever the mood strikes, that simply cones with the package, but never without giving equal quantities of affection back. If he'd be out for one-sided sex, he could just as well shove his cock into one of his brainless creations. Karl would make you feel wanted and desired with every opportunity he'd get because he knows how it feels to be left behind, an outcast, and he'd never want you to feel this way especially not around him, ever.

🛠 Intoxication kink, my friends 🙏🏻 Okay, listen, as aforementioned, Kar is a giver and somewhere deep deep down he carries the need to care and nurture. Sometimes it's get so overwhelmingly much that he just has to take matters into his own hands, okay? Fucking you up nicely under his supervision so that you don't go off the rails too hard.

🛠 I believe Karl to be somewhat possessive and very physical about you. Hos fingers are always lingering, sometimes at your waist, sometimes ghosting over the round of your ass and other times lovingly clasping around your throat. Same goes for his lips and teeth. One could say that Lord Heisenberg has a hefty oral fixation that can't be soothed by cigars alone. He'd suck and nibble at your fingers and nipples without hesitation.

🛠 Last but not least, you know how it goes: Save a horse... 🤠

[aruanimess]

Hi Myrtle!

I hope you're doing fine (and thank you a lot for your recent MYLYSW comment, thank you so much T^T)

As for the prompt list, how about fixing their clothes a little for them when noticing something is off with post-canon AruAni?

Have a great day!

Quiet acts of love prompts

Hello, Anna!! I'm doing... okay. (Distracting myself with cute prompts) Your chapter was lovely and you should know, no need to thank me! I hope you're having a wonderful day!

~~~

For what seems like the fiftieth time this morning, Armin checks his pocket watch. The numbers on the dial seem to mock him. Sure enough, they're running late.

They're meeting a delegation from Hizuru at 10 for a casual brunch before the official negotiations. His idea. He thought they could soften them up by entertaining them first, making them more accepting to the rather unfavorable terms he plans to present them with later. Talk over some coffee and pancakes, tell a few jokes here and there, get to know each other and then serve them with the bitter pill. Easy.

But Annie slept in, and now they're running late.

He taps his foot impatiently, but says nothing to urge her to go faster. He knows there's no point in that. As a matter of fact, he's happy that Annie is feeling comfortable enough to snooze for a little while longer.

When they first started dating, she used to wake up with the sun. A soldier's schedule. Now, she stretches languorously in bed, well past the alarm, yawns like a fluffy lazy kitten and turns to the other side for another nap. It's glorious. He doesn't want to ruin this by complaining about some boring diplomats.

The bedroom door slams open and Annie staggers in awkwardly, heels clicking precariously. Her hair is still wet from the shower, and she only has one sleeve of her suit jacket on. A pastry is hanging from her teeth.

"We'll eat there!" he can't help but exclaim.

In an impressive feat, Annie gobbles the pastry up in two swift bites. Without holding it, she tilts her head back and drags the sweet thing in her mouth by opening and closing her jaw like an oddly attractive pelican, as her fingers fidget with the buttons of her shirt.

Armin eyes her with some concern. "Do you need help with that?"

She shakes her head, still struggling. "I got dizzy by getting up too fast," she explains. "I couldn't leave on an empty stomach."

He smiles as he watches her hands flying over the buttons.

When she's done, she spreads her hands. "Ready," she proclaims proudly, but she's anything but.

Armin can't help it, he laughs. Hiccupy giggles roll past his lips and he wipes a lone tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. "Oh my god, sorry. Sorry," he flounders, "it's just... your shirt is buttoned wrong."

Annie looks down to her soddy buttoning and frowns. With less confidence, her hands move once again. Armin can tell she's trying her best from the concentrated wrinkle between her brows. Once she's finished, she squints at herself doubtfully as if she knows something is wrong but can't figure out what.

She shoots him a questioning glance and pouts.

Armin bites his lip, trapping a new wave of giggles. "It's still wonky," he says. "Here, let me."

He undoes her own haphazard work and pinches the ends of the fabric carefully, bringing the crisp cotton together in slow measured tugs. He lines up the holes with the buttons with ruler-like precision and tucks them into place one by one starting at the bottom and working his way up to her collar. His gaze, transfixed at his task as it was, finally lands on Annie's flushed face. There's a small, secretive smile curving up her lips.

"What is it?" he asks.

Her chin dips down, eyes falling on her shoes. "Nothing," she says. "You're good to me, that's all."

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he scratches his nose nervously. "You'd do the same."

She hums thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

He kisses the tip of her nose. "For sure." He smiles. "But we better run."

Annie nods quickly and they're out the door in five seconds flat.

The brunch goes great... up until the diplomats start ordering breakfast cocktails. Armin of course couldn't possibly refuse when offered the sparkly drink (the intention was after all to suck up to them), so he has more than a few refills. After that, the world becomes a little blurry around the edges.

He's returning to their table after a much needed bathroom break, when Annie walks up to him and cuts him off.

"What?" he says.

She leans in. "I'd return the favor from this morning, but I don't think you want me groping your crotch in public."

What in the world, he thinks. "Huh?"

Annie's gaze flicks down. "Your flies are open."

Armin's hands fly to his pants. Oh dear, she's not wrong. Keeping an eye on the delegation, he angles himself subtly and pulls his zipper up.

He takes Annie's hand in his and squeezes. "Thank you, love. You always have my back."

She hums noncommittally and leads them back to the table without commenting. She doesn't need to, though. Armin knows it to be true.

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @spaceprincessem @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @lover-of-mine @sibylsleaves @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @daffi-990 and @ladydorian05 Thank you all so much! I look forward to all your fics!

Alright, so yesterday I asked basically for permission to work on my Halloween fics instead of NFL Buck and many of you said to do it. So just for a short time, I will be pausing on NFL Buck. I promise it is still being worked on a bit, but most of my concentration will be on my Halloween fics, which I really hope I can actually get done before Halloween.

Also, I cannot promise that I will be posting much more for tag games this weekend. My daughter is having minor surgery on Friday that we are going out of town for (hospital where I am was a year out), so I will be making most of the weekend taking care of her. I will try my very best to post something, but no promises.

Now that I've caught ya'll up, I know I mentioned a possible werewolf buddie fic. Well that is not this today. Instead I am bringing back Jigsaw Buck, my serial killer fic based off the Saw films. Previous post can be found here.

Warning below the cut. Description of grotesque death and also Devon's suicide. ENJOY!

Pretending to care, to have those emotions that make him approachable and later ignored, is hard work. Buck slipped just a little once.  After losing Devon on the roller coaster.  Of course, Buck wanted him to fight for his life, to see how much better it could be after the game was won, but in end, it wasn’t enough. And that was on Devon. But his old fire captain somehow took his quick acceptance as a form of shock and sent him to department therapy. Buck hated therapists. They were of the few who had the power to peer past the layers, rip off the masks, and see the twisted bloody hunk of flesh that resembled what remained of his dead brother-in-law. Cold with no emotion to be found; just the void that demands the retribution of others. Thankfully (and somewhat unfortunately), Dr. Wells was too distracted by the shiny layer that is firefighter Buckley to actually do her job.  Sadly, she abused the small amount of power she held in her delicate, manicured hands and tried to sexually exploit the man she was supposed to help. When Buck dug around a bit and found her many other victims, well it was a good thing Dr. Wells had such a precise schedule. It was almost too easy grabbing her in the blind spot of her office’s cameras. Too bad the therapist spent most of her given time, screaming that she did no wrong. That those she exploited wanted what she forced upon them, that she didn’t abuse the power she held. And when those last few precious second ticked away, Buck stepped into the room, saddened by her reluctance to take the second chance, learn her lesson. “Game over.” He told her bluntly then turned away, unable to witness his masterful contraption drill into her skull. The whirring tool flung ringlets of bone, blood, hair, and brain matter across the room and onto the floor. The key to her freedom, sat unused in a box just a mere two feet away. The price…a single hand, relinquishing the power she held in it and a tool of her neglect.

Dr. Wells isn't the first or the last of Buck's victims. Spoiler: Eddie will be a subject to Buck's games as well. Mwhaha.

Tagging (no pressure): @callaplums @elvensorceress @eowon @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @thekristen999 @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @buddierights @cowboy-buck @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @forthewolves @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiediaztho @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @lizzybizzyzzz @shortsighted-owl @homerforsure @monsterrae1 @911onabc @adiazhalloween @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @bvckandeddie @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @bigfootsmom @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz

[chierafied]

December Drabbles Day 15 - Snowballed

Read on AO3.

Banner fan art by the amazing @sayuri-liu

For my darling sweetest @stormielikeweather. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And thank you so much for your friendship. I appreciate you a whoooooole bunch, as you very well know. Love you! 😘💕

Day 15 - Snowballed

It was cold enough outside that Kagome had, ahem, appropriated the mokomoko from Sesshoumaru. She sat on a straw mat placed on the engawa, thoroughly cocooned in the thick white fluff like the world’s happiest little caterpillar. The cup of tea was warm in her hands, heat blooming in her chest at every sip. And also, at the sight of her children playing out in the garden. 

Natsuki was forming snowballs with concentrated precision. The serious frown on her face was so like her father’s that it made Kagome smile. Shinmaru, serving as a polar opposite to his sister, was bounding a circle, trying to catch snowflakes. His bushy tail was wagging so enthusiastically that his whole butt was wiggling. It was so devastatingly cute that for a moment Kagome’s fingers itched for a camera. But alas, such glorious inventions were much too far in the future and so she soothed herself with another sip of the tea and made a mental note about enquiring after a portrait artist. 

“Brother,” Natsuki called out, an edge of command in the tone of her voice. 

Shinmaru whipped around, his ears perked up and answered in a soft woof. 

“Catch.” 

And with both speed and precision that showed the many lessons Sesshoumaru had taught his eldest child, Natsuki lobbed out a snowball. 

Shinmaru bolted after it with an excited yip. 

Kagome had to bite her knuckle to hold back the giggles. Really, the kids could be so damn cute sometimes! It was moments like these that made the tantrums and the teething and dirty diapers worth it. It wasn’t too often, after all, that Natsuki initiated playtime with Shinmaru. Though the two siblings got along well, their daughter seemed to like her own company the best. Natsuki had taken a tad too much after Sesshoumaru, though Kagome would never tell him that. 

And speak of the youkai...  

The mating bond thrummed a moment before her mate stepped onto the engawa. He arched an amused eyebrow at her nest of fur but did not comment on her use of mokomoko. Their youngest, Kichirou, was squirming against Sesshoumaru’s shoulder. 

“Our son just woke up,” Sesshoumaru told her. “I am guessing he would like to feed soon.” 

“You’re probably guessing right,” Kagome replied with a smile. She set down her tea and held out her arms. Sesshoumaru handed off the baby, before taking a seat beside her. Kagome cooed at Kichirou and nestled him in the crook of her arm. He seemed to catch the scent of milk — his little nose twitched and his mouth fell open. 

“Yes, yes. Let’s get you fed my little guy.” 

Kagome hummed to herself, tugging the collar of her kosode looser. Kichirou had just managed to latch on properly when there was a loud yelp. 

Kagome looked up to see her older son collapsed in the snow. 

“I think he’s stuck,” came Natsuki’s deadpan assessment. 

Kagome and Sesshoumaru shared a look. The corners of his lips twitched, even as he got back onto his feet. Kagome let her eyes rest on her mate’s backside for a brief moment as he crossed the garden to Shinmaru. When he plucked the pup out of the snowbank, Shinmaru’s predicament became obvious. 

Kagome burst into laughter. 

“Shinmaru’s turned into a snowball,” Natsuki announced, impressed. 

“So he has,” Sesshoumaru replied, valiantly keeping his laughter in check. “Come. We will defrost you.” 

A fresh wave of laughter brought tears to Kagome’s eyes. She drank in the moment, committing it all to the memory in her heart. The soft press of Kichirou’s plump cheek against her breast. The gentle way her mate held their son in his arms, his golden eyes shining with amusement. Natsuki’s bright eyes and pink cheeks as she trotted after her father. And poor little Shinmaru, who had snow packed all over his fur until he very much looked like a giant snowball.  

It was Shinmaru, who tugged Kagome’s heartstrings the most — he lay so perfectly still in his father’s arms. She could see no sign of distress. Only calm trust that his parents would fix it and make everything better. 

And that, Kagome mused, was the most precious thing in the world. 

[cobragardens]

Things I love about this:

Aziraphale's cloud-pattern vitiligo. Symbolically clever and original, visually lovely.

Crowley's freckles and moles. I've literally never seen a piece of art or media before depicting a character with skin with a pattern like mine as attractive. Or, like, at all. Also I really like the way the shading and highlights on Crowley's skin are done. They're so close to being blended together, but not quite. The skin looks luminous, the arms and hands especially. This is also a glorious depiction of Crowley as a natural redhead, and I feel like @bubblytonks has nailed both the amount and the precise hue of that lovely brick-orange ruddiness many redhead complexions have in them, especially over the scapula and the shoulder and at the right elbow.

The repetition of their contrast motif in their skin--the angel marked with white, the demon marked with dark.

Crowley's feminine gold jewellery is doing things for me on a style level, and also I love that it's a bright orange-gold, not just because it alludes to his eye color but because it just looks really gd good. The snake armband is beautifully drawn (I love that it's venomous), and the detailed scales are done with care and some reference to an actual snake and not just longing.

I love how perfectly Crowley is ambiguously gendered here: his jewellery, hairstyle, brow style, and top are all subtly to obviously feminine, and the top leaves the Adam's apple (which gender police have a thing about apparently) veiled, but Crowley's not wearing makeup or nail polish, and he's got sideburns. His shoulder is smooth and rounded in a way that says female on someone so thin, but there's some muscle development in the arm, and length to the lower arms and wrists, that says male; the hands could plausibly go either way. This Crowley and Aziraphale are clearly inspired by David Tennant's and Michael Sheen's performances in Show!Omens, but they are also just as clearly the artist's own creation, and I love all the choices they've made.

Aziraphale's eyebrow is perfect. I feel like his eyebrows are often ignored in fanart, which is a shame bc both seasons' makeup teams did an excellent job on them. Both the visible eyebrows in this piece are gorgeous. I love that Crowley's is groomed in a feminine style. Eyebrows are my favorite facial feature, so this is a Thing for me.

Aziraphale's hair! Lots of artists make it look feathery and ethereal and cloudlike, but @bubblytonks is the first one that's made it look like a texture I can imagine feeling. I don't mean they make it look real, because it's also stylized in a way that makes my brain very happy (those little filigrees and s-curves at the crown and back of his head? so visually satisfying): it's more like verisimilitude without an attempt at realism. Ditto Aziraphale's chest hair, and my friends, it is very difficult to get me to like chest hair, just so you know where I'm coming from on this.

The curved lines of Aziraphale's body. What I'm experiencing here is that sense of familiarity you as a viewer can get when a figure is well-drawn, so that you are simultaneously aware that it is a drawing but feel that it holds something real. Rrrgh, I am not explaining this well. But like, I've slept with several people shaped like this Aziraphale is shaped, that exact line to the shoulder and upper arm. This piece depicts that line so well that when I view it I can remember what that line feels like under my hand. I don't experience that with most art; most figures do not make me think in any experience other than the visual.

The specificity of the kiss. This isn't just a press of lips; it's not the beginning of this kiss. Crowley is involved in A Kissing Project: he's holding Aziraphale's face with both hands, his eyes are shut tightly like he's concentrating, and he's drawn Aziraphale's lower lip between his own. He is very much doing a specific thing with this kiss that he wants to be doing,

And my very favorite part of this piece, by a country mile, is Aziraphale's smile: the dimple and the little upward curve at the corner of his mouth pointing to it. It's the crown on a beautiful facial expression: joy pleasure and happiness, like he's tasting something wonderful, even though at this particular moment he's the wonderful thing being tasted.

they're in my head ahhhhh

[myboiparkerimagines]

Villain - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You break the rules and become the hero, I break the rules and become the villain.

*Spoilers for MoM*

She hadn't noticed you yet.

Wanda sat at the edge of your bed, absentmindedly tugging at the fabric of your comforter. In her moment of preoccupation, you watched your wife, drinking in her features. Despite her obvious lack of sleep, she was glorious. Her crimson hair sat atop her head, giving her an effortless look that somehow made you even more smitten. "Good morning, darling." "Oh," Wanda startled. "I didn't know you were awake. I'm sorry." “Don’t be sorry,” you insisted. “I was enjoying a moment of peace.” “That’s what that was, when you were watching me?” she smirked. “Precisely,” you smiled. “How did you sleep?” Wanda’s lips turned up into a tight smile, giving you all the indication you needed to know her next words were lies. “Perfect, as always.”

Wanda had perfected your morning routine. She would help you out of bed and to the bathroom as soon as you woke up. You were still able to move around on your own for short periods, so she was able to prepare a quick breakfast while you got ready. Even so, you groaned as she helped you to your feet, trying to fight off the sudden wave of vertigo that washed over you. “You okay, love?” Wanda asked, steadying you. “Yeah, the room’s just spinning. So nothing out of the usual,” you laughed. “Do you need me to stay with you up here?” she asked, pushing your hair away from your face. “No, I’m fine, promise,” you lied.

It took you twice as long as it normally did to do your morning routine. Every sudden movement was met with dizziness and every concentrated task took twice as much effort. Wanda was at the door when you finally left the bathroom. With far too much patience, she helped you down the long flight of stairs. When you first bought the house, the stairs were one of your favorite parts. You imagined children one day running up and down it, filling your home with life. Now, it only brought you pain.

“Here you go, sweets,” Wanda said gently, setting down a bowl of oatmeal on the table before you. “Thanks, darling,” you answered, staring at the only other dish on the table. A saucer sat just to the left of your breakfast, covered in drugs of various shapes and sizes. “Let me get you a glass of water,” Wanda said, placing a gentle kiss onto your temple. While she moved about the kitchen, your eyes remained fixed on the pills that were supposed to save your life. Instead, they were slowly ending it. Once they were in your system, you would be but a shell of yourself, unable to move more than a few inches lest the nausea overcome you. Even worse, the drugs simply weren’t working. The doctors hoped it would weaken the disease, but they only seemed to weaken you. “Wanda?” you called out. “Yes, my love?” she responded, immediately at your side. “I’m going to stop the medicine. I think it’s time.” “What are you talking about?” Wanda asked, her smile immediately dropping. “It’s not working anymore and it’s draining out all of the life I have left.” “Dr. Conners said it was natural for you to feel like that, it means the medicine is doing its job,” she reasoned. “No, Wanda. I’ve been taking it for months now and he’s confirmed I’m only getting worse.” Wanda’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m not ready to stop trying. I can’t lose you.” “I’ve lived a good life, Wanda, a very good life. I don’t want to spend the rest of it wasting yours. You deserve a good life, too.” “I have a good life,” she promised. “I would take care of you for the rest of my life if it meant we got to spend it together.” You grabbed her hands in yours, pulling them to your lips. “We both know I don’t have long left. I would happily give up a few extra months of suffering to get a few good days with you, Wanda. It’s all I want.” Wanda took back her hand, quickly using it to brush away the tears that threatened to fall. “You take those pills today, we’ll talk about it more when I get back.” “Where are you going?” “To talk to a friend.”

**

It was hours before Wanda returned. She had helped you back into bed before she left, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. In her absence, you spend most of your time sleeping. You probably could’ve slept for a few more hours, but you were jolted awake by the loud slam of the front door. Loud sobs rang through the house, followed by rapid breathing, and then quiet. Wanda deserved her privacy, so you feigned sleep as she opened the bedroom door. “I’m back, my love. Sorry I was gone so long.” You pushed yourself into a sitting position, fighting through the pain. “It’s okay. Who did you go see?” “Stephen,” she smiled. “I think he’s going to be able to help you.” “How?” In the months since your diagnosis, you had tried every remedy on the planet. It was costly, but thankfully Tony had set up the Stark Fund to protect ex-Avengers, whatever need be. “He knows of a girl who is able to travel across universes. There must be one out there that has the remedy to save you.” Your heart fluttered, filled with hope you hadn’t felt in months. “What’s her name?” “America,” Wanda smiled. “I’d love to meet America, to thank her for her help.” Wanda’s smile faltered. “There’s only one problem – she isn’t able to control her powers yet. I don’t know how long it would take to train her, but we really can’t afford that uncertainty.” “What are you going to do?” “I’m going to take her powers to use myself. It will be the fastest way to get the cure.” “You can do that?” “I believe so. I was able to harness Agatha’s.” “And America is okay with it?” you asked.

She remained silent a moment too long. “You can’t take this girl’s power against her will. It’s not right.” “No, what’s not right is allowing you die while I watch. You really think this girl’s life is more important than yours?” Wanda’s words turned your veins to ice. “What do you mean – her life? What are you going to do to her?” “What I must.” With every ounce of strength, you stood, grabbing onto your wife. “Wanda, please stop. My life is not worth that price.” Tears stung your eyes as you looked into hers. They were deadest, refusing to look anywhere but you. Her jaw trembled as she spoke. “Yes, it is.”

With a flick of her wrist, you were pulled back onto the mattress. The weight of her magic pushed you down, though you don’t know if you could even stand on your own. “Please, Wanda, don’t do this,” you cried out. Your words met deaf ears. “I love you,” she whispered, before exiting your room. You screamed until your throat was raw. When you were unable to scream, you cried, the tears flowing down your cheeks in neat tracks.

Despite the pain, you screamed when the portal opened. Wanda stood at the edge of the portal, fighting both Stephen and a young girl in a blind rage. Your screams caught her attention, distracting her long enough for Stephen to restrain her. “Let me go!” she screamed, squirming in her restraints. While Stephen restrained your wife, the girl’s attention landed on you. “Please don’t hurt her,” Wanda begged through sobs. She snapped her fingers, harnessing her energy into releasing you from your restraints. Even with all your power, you knew you wouldn’t be able to save yourself.

The girl stepped through the portal. “America?” you asked. “That’s me,” she answered hesitantly, stopping at the edge of your bed. “I’m Wanda’s wife,” you spoke, quickly adding on your name. “I figured,” she said with a small smile. “I’m sorry about all of this. She would do anything for me, even if I begged her not to.” “I understand. My moms were the same way.” Stephen’s voice carried through the portal. “I can’t hold her much longer, America.” “Wanda,” America called out. “What do you want?” she asked fearfully. “I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt her.” “You need to give Strange the book. It’s hurting you.”

A dark book fell from her waist onto the ground beside her. “Done. Now please, let her go.” America laughed. “I was never going to hurt her, Wanda. I’m going to save her.”

[armthearmour]

Book Review: A Great and Glorious Adventure

A Great and Glorious Adventure: A Military History of the Hundred Years War, written by Gordon Corrigan, was published by Atlantic Books Ltd. in 2013. This book sets forth an account of the events of the Hundred Years War from a military perspective, focusing on the military actions that shaped the course of the war. After a brief introduction, the book is divided into ten chapters.

The first chapter contextualizes the beginning of the war. Here, Corrigan lays the groundwork for the war, and outlines its causes. Much of this chapter is spent tracing the events of history which allowed King Edward III to press his claim on the French throne and wage a war that would last for over one-hundred years. The second chapter focuses on the beginning of the war, paying particular attention to the difficulties and distractions Edward faced prior to his invasion. Examining the financial difficulties Edward faced early in the war, this chapter traces the English King’s movements across Northern France and his forays into the Low Countries, up to the Papal induced truce in 1341.

The third chapter strays away from the author’s chronological account of events, and instead focuses on the professionalization of the English military. The first segment of this chapter concentrates on the nature of knighthood and the semi-professional military men who made up the “knightly class.” The focus then shifts to technological advancements such as stirrups, and places a particularly large emphasis on the development of the English longbow. This then ties into a discussion on tactics, and the shift in English military doctrine away from the heavy cavalry prevalent across Europe to a more infantry-centric model.

Chapter four returns the reader to the chronology of events, focusing on the infamous Crécy campaign. Edward’s route from his landing in Normandy to the siege of Caen is traced in detail, while the siege itself receives a lengthy treatment. Edward’s march towards Paris is then examined, with the chapter ending with another detailed account of the battle of Crécy on August 26, 1346.

Chapter five continues precisely where chapter four left off. As the English regroup after the battle, the fallout within the ranks of the French nobility is described. In just a few short days, the English chevauchée began again. The siege of Calais and its annexation to the English crown which followed are also treated in great detail, as are the Scots’ invasion of England and the battle of Neville’s Cross which caused it to fail. A final account of the great calamity which brought the Crécy campaign to a close is given: the arrival of the Black Death.

Chapter six briefly examines the years following in the wake of the Black Death, years which saw little major military action as both powers recovered from the tremendous loss of life, but which still hosted small-scale use of the chevauchée by the Black Prince from the English holdings in Aquitaine. The Black Prince himself is given much attention in this chapter, with the author going so far as to dedicate a few pages to a brief biography of the man. The events leading up to and following the battle of Poitiers are then accounted in great detail, as is the battle itself. The capture of King Jean II of France and the ensuing chaos which occurred in his absence are also given space here.

Chapter seven briefly covers the Treaty of Brétigny and the English and French receptions. Corrigan goes into greater detail regarding the Brittany War of Succession, which this author, along with many others, considers a sort of Anglo-French proxy war, as well as the War of Navarrese Succession, another “proxy” war. General French advances retaking territory which had been won by the English are then detailed.

The deposition of King Richard II by Henry IV begins the eight chapter. Much attention is given to the rebellions the new King faced in the early years of his reign, in particular the Welsh rebellions in which his son would be famously wounded. The Battle of Shrewsbury, the culmination of the Percy rebellion, is treated in great detail. The chapter concludes with a brief description of the civil war plaguing France at the time, the death of Henry IV and ascension of Henry V, and some of the issues the new King had to face in the early days of his reign.

The most famous of all medieval English military ventures is detailed in chapter nine: the Agincourt Campaign. From the preparations in England, following the English army’s trail through Calais and to the final battlefield at Agincourt, the author details the campaign in immense detail. The account of the battle itself consumes the majority of the chapter, which concludes with Henry’s victorious retreat back to Calais. Chapter ten traces the remainder of Henry’s campaigns in France, as well as the Treaty of Troyes, which named Henry heir apparent to the throne of France. Henry’s death, and the subsequent forty years of the war, are then summarized in the span of but a few pages.

A brief epilogue closes the book, which is followed by a list of endnotes rather than footnotes. The bibliography is also given, a very brief list of scholarly works all in the English language. Finally, an index is included.

Throughout this work, the author’s English bias is readily evident. Seven chapters are dedicated to the successful first campaigns of the war, with a full chapter each dedicated to the great English victories at Crécy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. Conversely, the French victories are discussed only in passing. The entire final section of the war, the great push by the French which permanently dislodged the English from mainland Europe with the sole exception of the city of Calais, does not even merit a full chapter, instead being relegated to the final few pages of the book. Combined with the author’s lack of any sort of primary source bibliography, and complete reliance on English language scholarship, this book is of little use to any scholar of history, or even any avid enthusiast. This book does not represent history, but rather the quasi-nationalist pop history clearly espoused by the author, and should find itself only on the shelves of those interested in a purely Anglo-centric telling of the events of the Hundred Years War.

[djarrex]

In Bloom

Captain Rex x f!Reader

masterlist

@rowansparrow saw it first. It's been too long since I've written for Rex ok and this came to me this morning so I had to :') This may or may not be inspired by one of the AUs Ro and I have been discussing

Explicit | 18+ only | about 570 words | unprotected piv intercourse, creampie, brief oral (f receiving)

"Fuck... that- that feels good, Rex."

His lips curl up at one corner - running his warm palms up and down your sides and passing over your breasts before securing them in place on your hips once again. With his knees planted on the bed and thick, firm thighs parted and holding you spread open, he rocks into you, precise and unhurried - the head of his cock angling down as it breaches you again and again and again -

"Yeah?" he confirms in a soft groan - ungluing his eyes from your blown-out ones, raking over your bare, pushed-out chest and landing to where he's steadily disappearing into you. "You always take me so, so well, Princess. The way your pretty labia blossoms around me - fuck - "

You whimper at that - tilting your head up to watch what he is so taken by.

Rex's one hand then glides along your waist to lay flat just below your navel, relishing the feeling of your soft skin under his palm give and protrude with each pierce - his wide thumb extended and the rough pad of it resting unmoving against your clit. He hums again, more gravelly now, and he picks up the pace - unable to maintain this languid rhythm. He watches the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll to the back of your head and how your mouth falls open as he suddenly presses at the nub beneath his thickest digit - the pressure in your core a rapidly approaching crescendo.

"Rex..."

He doesn't verbally respond, only offering a quickened dance of his thumb, knowing that you simply like to speak his name in that way - that drawn-out, breathy way - when you've ascended almost all the way to your peak. Your toes begin to curl and you grasp the offending hand sitting heavy against your mound - nails digging shallow crescents into his calloused skin.

You chant his name in a whisper between quickening pants.

"Rex...Rex...Rex...Rex..."

Once again, his eyes lock on to where you bloom for him - his dark brows pinched in concentration and lips parted.

"The most - aaaagh - beautiful flower I've ever seen."

Rex's cock swells then erupts into you, filling your convulsing cunt with everything his body has to offer. He stills - fully sheathed inside of you. You let out a weak laugh, dropping your head to the pillow beneath and absently brushing your thumb against his wrist bone of the hand that's still holding you tight. When he slides out of you, the squeeze of your vaginal muscles is almost immediate - the thick mixture of your combined releases dribbling from you and sliding down along your swollen tissue before landing on the sheets.

Sitting back on his haunches and running his tongue across his teeth and bottom lip, Rex chuckles.

Before you have a moment to react, he's readjusting his position on the bed - face hovering just before the apex of your thighs. His warm breath and the heat from your cunt radiates into one another - mingling within the small space between the two. Your head lifts and you watch him through hooded lids as his tongue - his glorious, skilled, fantastic fucking tongue - extends to prod right where his cock had just made a delightful mess of you.

"The prettiest flower in all the galaxy bears the sweetest nectar," Rex murmurs into you.

-

me, not adding tags this time

[thedevillionaire]

Something More Unusual

So, I meant to have this done by the end of 2021 but, uh… Anyway, happy New Year! Here’s a little porn. And my usuals: any questions, about anything, please do ask, and thank you from the bottom of my weird little heart for choosing to spend some of your time in my weird little world; it really does mean so much to me. 💘 --- Kia gasps at the sight.

Oh my g…

She sometimes almost forgets his incredible power. She rarely sees it on full display, and even more rarely like this – working with something he has to actually concentrate on, something that doesn’t come naturally. Far from it. Something that takes him genuine effort: the wielding of Ice.

Abandoning any pretence of continuing on her way, she stops in place by the chamber’s open door, attention fixed on Cerberus – midnight hair damp and haphazard, shirt semi-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, a magnificent strength intense and imposing, gods physical exertion suited him so well – creating ice sculptures of three-dimensional geometric fractal beauty in midair grandeur, intricate and delicate compositions hypnotic, ethereal. An arctic mathematical precision, constantly morphing in form and scale, elaborate patterns echoing themselves in a glittering array of starbursts, mirrors, diamonds.

She stands mesmerised by this glorious conductor and the breathtaking creations he weaves, how he moves like both dancer and warrior, but also…oh, also at how he sniffles alongside this majesty, the price that performing it deals him. The briefest of shivers. The loaded pauses in which his brow creases, those little will he/won’t he moments, and her heart trips a little; this, the only fight she ever wishes him to lose…

His sharp intake of breath, irritated frown, unsteady exhale holds Kia’s own breath stilled; with crisp headshake, determined sniffle and some forceful nose rubbing, however, he manages to delay the rising urge.

They’re both well aware of how temporary a delay it is.

Cerberus forcibly steadies himself against another, deeper shiver, and reconfigures the beautiful sculptures into a row of sleek, viciously pointed spears, from art to weapon in less than seconds, and sends them with violent redoubled command towards the wall at speed, where they shatter in an explosion of crystalline winter. He snarls a little, sniffles again, and immediately transforms every remnant icesplinter into flame before evaporating the lot into no more than wisps of smoke.

He doesn’t need to concentrate for that.

But with the exercise over and any need for concentration done, when the coredeep chill sends another shiver through him – harsher, colder – this time he submits absolutely.

He buries his face in crooked elbow, and with deep inhalation and utter surrender he all but doubles over as the buzzing irritation he’s so far resisted becomes too much. “HuhTSCHuu! hh-h-HH…hhAATSCHH-uu!” A weighted pause, another staccato escalation of breath, a sotto voce curse, expectant.

Kia, rapt in marvel at how his power is intrinsic in everything he does, everything, as

oh

the hiatus of anticipation culminates insistent in need for release, his focus falling away as

“hhhAAHTSSSCHuu! AHHETSCHUU!”

he sneezes again – and OH mmm that all-consuming possession, absolute commitment; how no matter what it is that he’s doing, it is everything he’s doing. How he gives himself over so entirely. Nothing comes in half measures with this man, and Kia loves every aspect of it.

With a richpurred near-reverent “Bless you!” she smiles as she moves to meet him.

“*SNF!* Hm?” Cerberus turns swiftly at the sound of her voice, noting her presence for the first time. “Oh, darkling, I... *snf!* Thank you. Pardon me. I… hh-HH… I didn’t …”

He frowns, he knows what’s coming and he raises a finger for necessary pause, turns from his bonded as he does so.

“Hh-AHTSSCHHuu! Gods, this ridiculous element! *snff!* I ought to be able to ban it, you know,” he mutters, Creating a handkerchief and blowing his nose, Mindsending an apology simultaneously.

:Shh. No need: Kia Mindsends as she snakes an arm around his waist. “That was… Mmm.” Her smile is the very essence of wanton. “That…was incredible.”

Everything.

The frisson of dissonance not yet faded, Cerberus rubs his nose. “Thank you, love, but…” He gives her a wry smile as he sniffles again, sharply, and to no avail.  “Entirely irri—” His breath catches and he rolls his eyes at himself. “—irritating business,” he manages to conclude before he’s resolutely overtaken once more. “Ahh-HEHTSSHhuu!”

A determined sniffle in recovery as he flicks disarrayed ebony from his eyes and meets Kia’s gaze, mildly exasperated. “And it makes me sneeze.”

“Well—” She trails a slow hand down his chest, her tone undisguised flirtation. “—then I guess it’s lucky—” With a wink and a quick, carnal grin, she pushes him back onto the nearby couch, straddling him. “—that you—"­ Her fingers weave through his hair and she kisses his neck, lingering. ­“—sneeze—” And another kiss, this time to the tip of his nose. “—beautifully.”

“I wha…”

Her next kiss claims his mouth, silencing him and stealing his thoughts as she presses against him with burning urgent craving and desire.

His eyes widen briefly in mild surprise at her fervour but he’s…more than happy to just go with it, and indeed does so, wrapping a firm arm around her waist and drawing her closer still. :You have the strangest line in compliments, love.:

Kia laughs softly. “Oh, like you’re shocked,” she teases, and echoes one of the very first things he ever said to her. :You said from the start I was something quite unusual.: She flashes him the quickest wicked grin, coquettish wink as she unbuckles his belt. “I love everything about you, how about that?”

“Something… Mm!” Cerberus snarlgasps as she slides her hand down his pants, her touch deliciously covetous, caressing, dissolving all his focus. ”Something like that,” he murmurs

Something more.

and gods he barely remembers how they got here at this point and it doesn’t matter to him just what got her so in the mood anyway. It’s unimportant. He fell in love with her idiosyncrasies long ago; what, after all, is another one?

---

[angrydebater]

THE BEST MAN SPEECH AT JILY'S WEDDING

"Good evening everybody! I'm the best man or-better-the hottest of the marauders. I've known James since we were just eleven years old kids, being stupid on the hogwarts express. He is the family that i've always longed for. A brother, or, to be more precise, a mother. He welcomed in his house a runaway from a pureblood supremacist family, who's a reckelss disaster, a scrawny 6 feet tall nerd who's afraid of his own shadow, and shy baker kid who's always anxious for something, and gave us the best summers we've ever had. The perfect person to start a family with it's him. And the perfect person to do that with James, is Lily.

I vivdly remember the day James and Lily first met. It was the first of september of 1971 and he saw her flaming locks flying around when she passed in front of our carriage. James actually said:" i'm gonna marry that one." Yes james I guess you did. After that, so many years passed in which james tried to "woo" her -yes that's the excact word he used-. And i think the most hilarious memories I have of this 7 years are actually the disastruos attempts of James to woo her.

With the help of my other fellow marauders i tried to recollect the most embarassing ones. To the adults in this room i shall say: prepare yourselves for some revelations.

Let's set ourselves into the year 1974. The mind behind all of our glorious pranks, mr. Moony, was studying in the hogwarts library with the now mrs. Lily Potter. James of course had to intterrupt their concentration trying to invite the redhead to a date in Hogsmeade. he wanted to lean himself against the bookshelves to look more cool. Unfortunately, because of the distraction provided from the beauty of the former Miss Evans, he actually fell into the bookshelves making them fall behind as well. I'll leave to your imagination Madam Pince's reaction.

A year later, a certain drunk captain of the gryffindor quidditch team -yes Minnie and Euphemia "drunk",- during a party for the victory of the cup, grabbed his broom and fled in the common room, and throughout the window. I wasn't sober either so I couldn't pick him up, but our saviour Lily took a broom (even though she isn't able to fly) escaped and brought him down in the fields. I will also leave to your imagination lily's reaction.

But the best is yet to come. We were all in cornwall for the summer, and James was trying to astonish Lily with his muscles . He was in the ocean, swimming proudly, -too proudly i dare say- with Lily. But he was too much occupied with the "Oi Evans!" -which everybody in this room has heard at least once in their life-. So he couldn't see a big wave coming down on him in time for him to jump. Lily didn't see that too because she was too occupied admiring James' pectorals -don't worry Lily we undestand you, we all have been through that-. So she nearly drowned and James too in an heroic attempt to save her. When they both emerged from the water he had an enormous jellyfish attached to his back. then lily did a wandless wingardium leviosa and saved James again.

It is with this story, that describes perfectly your relationship- with james that wants to protect lily but failes miserabily, and lily that in the end protects herself-, that i wish you a long life full of hilarious stories that I will be able to tell. To the Potters, guardians of the outcasts, parents of the marauders, but most important the best brother and sister i could ever imagine."

[darklove9314-blog]

Are You Ready for Me?: A Nessian Fanfic (NSFW)

Welcome to Day 9 of Nessian month! Prompt:Handcuffs (prompts are on @illyrianet page)

Cassian lowered his body, his wings outstretched for her as he smiled that cocky grin at her knowing how she longed to touch him, but knowing she could do nothing about it. Perhaps asking him to handcuff her and giving him full control of what he wished to do to her body hadn’t been the best idea, but she was still willing to learn where he was going with this.

“Are you still sure about this sweetheart?” He asked. She nodded.

“I want to fuck me as you wish.“ She stated.

“If I do anything you don’t wish me to do let me know.” He said as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“That kind of defeats the purpose of you having control.” She said.

“I don’t want the control if I do something you’re not comfortable with. What use is having control of both of us aren’t enjoying ourselves.“

She nodded her approval as she sank further into the mattress pressing his body over hers, his wings still spread over them as he caught her mouth in a kiss dipping his tongue in and exploring her mouth making her moan in pleasure.

“Do you like when my tongue is in your mouth Nes?” He asked kissing her once more, that gods dAnne’s tongue of his doing wonders.

“I like it when you’re tongue is in other places too.“ She replied, a heated glance sent in her direction at the words.

“Luckily for you, my tongue will be in those places soon enough.“ He promised, His kisses growing more hungry as he pried his mouth from hers, “But I want to make sure that I’m well fed when I get down there.“

A mischievous grin crossed Nesta’s lips, knowing that he could scent how aroused she was for him, that he’s be more than well fed if he feasted off of her, but he was in control of this narrative and she would willingly give it to him if it meant they’d both found their ecstasy.

His lips pressed to her throat making her feel weak in her knees as he bit down on her neck making her gasp slightly. She felt his lips curl on her neck as he sucked the skin there. Giving her a thrill that he would leave his mark on her. The strands of his long hair brushing against her neck making her yearn to touch it. To find ways to touch him without the use of her hands.

She brushed her lips against his hair, his face. Anywhere she could while he was working on her neck leaving trails of those glorious marks on her neck.

Staking his claim on her, letting others know exactly who was in her bed pleasing her night after night. The thought thrilling her as he made his way to her breast. already exposed for him. Her naked body laying under him except for her underwear. He had asked her to keep those on for whatever reason.

“It’s a good thing you’re mostly bare for me. It would have been difficult to discard your clothes with those cuffs on you.” Cassian claimed taking one of her nipples in his mouth making her gasp slightly as he rolled his tongue around her nipple before sucking on it hard. until she was nice and pebbles in his mouth before concentrating on her other breast repeating the motion while pinching the other nipple to make sure it stayed hard, her hips thrusting upward to meet where his hard length was pressing against her, begging him to take her.

“Patience sweetheart that will come soon enough, But I plan to take my time on you first. I plan to make sure you’re dripping wet for me before sliding into that nice and inviting cunt of yours.”

Her toes curled at his words before his mouth returned to her nipple, her breathing becoming more rapid as pleasure coursed through her body.

He pulled his mouth from her nipples, nice and hard for him as he kissed the valley between her breast, pressing soft kisses along the trail of her stomach as he got to where her underwear was knowing that he could scent her arousal there as he messaged her hips with his thumb.

“Cassian.” She moaned, his hazel eyes latching onto hers as he nestled between her legs. licking her through her underwear as she moaned slightly,

“I love my name on your lips, it makes me want to do such promiscuous things.”

“Then do so.“ She challenged, a wicked grin her only answer as he pulled away surprising her.

“Cassian, I didn’t-“

Before she could get another word out, he knelt on the floor pulling her body to his so her ass hung off the bed spreading her legs wide for him as he licked her through her underwear once more.

She moaned as he rested her feet on his shoulders working up her underwear until he was at the tops of her underwear grasping one of the sides with his teeth and pulling them off of her without the use of his hands. traveling down until they were at her ankles as he kept the there binding her ankles with them so that both her hands and feet were tied up,

He was still between her legs, She was still wide open for him as he grinned at her knowing that he would be down there until he had his fill of her.

Her breath grew rapid, before he lowered his mouth, his tongue sweeping over her folds getting his first taste of her.

She moaned as his tongue swept up circling her clit before licking it, he sucked at it causing her to cry out, she felt him smile in satisfaction as he licked her again feasting upon her like she was his favorite meal, His tongue lapping at her center as she ground into him riding his face.

He gave a low laugh, “Already Nesta, I expected you to hold out for longer.” He teased with a shrug, “I guess it just means that I’ll have double the fun when I’m inside of you.“

Before she could comment, Cassian‘s tongue plunged into her, hitting her deep as he fucked her with his tongue, causing her to cry out for him. She wanted him inside of her so desperately.

“Keep doing that sweetheart and I’ll finish inside my pants before I finish inside of you.”

His tongue made a sweep at her again, consuming her wetness. Gods. She wanted him.

She felt the silkiness of his hair brushing against her stomach, his warm breath on her. She wanted to do something to please him as well as she met the motions he made with his tongue.

She looked at his wings again, smiling to herself, but then remembering that her feet were bound by her underwear. She wanted to make him feel good.

He made another pass at her adding two of his fingers to her entrance as his tongue tasted her clit again. Gods he would have her undone in no time if her kept doing that.

She rode his hand as he looked up at her, gazing upon her face as of remembering exactly what she looked like at this precise moment.

“Cassian.“ She moaned, wiggling her feet as much as she could manage, signaling that she wanted him to take her underwear off all the way so they could really play this game of his.

Cassian grinned licking her one last time before pulling her underwear off completely as he dropped his underwear stoking his cock at the sight of her.

“Have it your way sweetheart.“ He rasped before lowering himself back down to his knees. “Let’s see who could make the other come first.”

Nesta smirked at the challenge as Cassian resumed his exploration of her licking at her, his tongue plunging back into her deeper this time.

She gathered her composure, mind set upon pleasuring him in the way she knew made him hungry for her. In the way she knew would get him to lose so much of that control of his that he would be fucking her cunt so hard that she would be feeling him between her legs for days.

Her feet traveled down the length of his wings tickling him. her touch so light and soft that she instinctively knew it felt good for him.

Cassian pulled her closer to his mouth. His grip tightening on her, encouraging her to continue as she made another pass at his wings, his moans of pleasure on his tongue radiating through her center as his tongue entered her anew.

She cried put for him once more as he consumed every last drop of her. Leaving no trace of her unconsumed upon his tongue, His teeth lightly nipping at her clit to increase her pleasure. Gods she was close and be damned well knew it too, could feel how she was tightening around him, could scent the change within her as he tasted her on his tongue.

She stroked his wings remembering specific spots he had showed her. crying out from her pleasure as her body begged for her first release.

She couldn’t hold back as the noises of her pleasure feel from her lips, riding her orgasm on his tongue letting him taste every bit of her he could manage as she kept stroking his wings hoping he was close to his release as well.

When her body was limp with pleasure. Cassian lifted his head up, running a hand through his hair, her release still shining on his lips.

He strokes himself for her, hungry eyes still on her and her sated body.

“Did you want my first release inside of you or do you want to taste it?” He asked her eyes flickering to his cock. beads of moisture already close to release as she purred.

“I want to taste you like you’ve tasted me,“

“In that case sweetheart, you better swallow all of it. I don’t want you being wasteful.”

“We wouldn’t want that now would we.“ She purred her heated gaze on him. Now come over here and let me taste you.”

Before she could say anything further, Cassian moved onto the bed soreading his legs so they were on either side of her shoulders, lifting himself to where his weight wouldn’t be on her body as his aching cock entered her mouth.

She licked his tip swirling her tongue around his head as she looked at him through her eyelashes. placing him in her mouth taking him as deep as she dared to as a groan awarded her effort, she lightly ran her teeth over his shaft, she could tell he was holding back from doing what he wanted and she wanted him to do it, yearned for him to do it, as she slowly released his cock from her mouth looking at him with yearning,

“Did you want to fuck my mouth, General?” She offered. His only answer was a smirk as he wrapped his hand in her hair shoving himself back in her mouth and thrusting into it with great vigor. She matched his fast paced strokes happy that he wasn’t holding himself back from her as she tasted the first splashes of his release on her tongue. Savoring his taste as she swallowed every last drop of himself he gave her like he had instructed her to do,

When he had spent the last of his release he pulled his cock from her mouth running his finger over her lip,

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be screaming my name off these mountains,“ He rasped kissing her, as she tasted both of their releases.

“Promise?” She purred.

He leaned down, lightly nipping at her earlobe,

“Promise.”

Her eyes flickered to his cock, his length hardening again at the thought of claiming his mate. She relished in that thought meeting his scorching gaze as he kissed her hard, his hands in her hair, laying his body a top of hers as he lined himself up at her dripping core, His eyes looking at her with a lustful glance.

“Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” He asked voice low.

“Yes General.“ She smiled, He cocked his head to the side. observing her naked body before him. thinking of all the ways he could make her come before him.

A slow, seductive look passed his face, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead confusing her slightly. before he looked her in her eyes and stated,

“You’ll be calling me than general when I’m done filling that pretty cunt of yours with my seed. There won’t be a single inch of that sweet sex of yours that won’t be covered in me.“

Her breath hitched up as he rammed into her entrance, She cried out in surprise wishing that he would do it again as he held himself there. What was he doing?

“Should I start from right here?” He asked, she felt as if the question was rhetorical as he pulled out of her, he flipped her onto her stomach bending her forward as he sheathed himself deep inside her causing her to moan out even louder for him,

“Or right here.” He inquired, pulling out again, her breath heavy. Her need for him trying to claw out of her. as he laid on his back positioning her so she was on top of his cock as he slammed her down onto it, She made a half gasp, half cry as his smirk returned.

She felt so full in this position. She had always loved riding him, impaling herself on that massive cock of his, but without her hands.

His eyes went to hers, as he thrusted up into her again making her cry out yet again. She knew he would not be gentle. She didn’t give shit if he wasn’t,

“Now thats the sounds I want to hear.” He growled, “Move your hips with me, mate.”

She let out a breath, as he slammed into her again, moving her hips with his hands, gripping her ass so she could move with him, Move on his cock the way he wished. The pleasure of it feeling like utter bliss as his name feel from her lips making him thrust harder. Her cries of pleasure turned into sobs.

“Cassian! Cassian!“ She cried out “I’m about to-“

“Come sweetheart. Come for your mate.”

Her sobs of pleasure flew from her mouth as she felt him come with her, She threw her head back feeling his seed deep in here as she milked him with her own release making noises that she didn’t know she could as they both rode their orgasms as she collapsed on top of him, her pants flowing through her as she pressed her head to his chest listening to the racing of his heart.

He grabbed the key from their bedside table, taking the cuffs off her and rubbing her wrist,

“Are you alright?” He asked. She nodded.

He kissed the top of her head, running his hand through her hair.

“I love you Nesta Archeron.”

“I love you too.” she smiled as she listened to the beating of his heart as she laid with her mate knowing That she would do this again,

[uni-seahorse-572]

Day 6: Wanderling

Warnings today for violence, albeit not very graphic, along with major character death. @gay-otlc @rainbow-frog-earrings

~

~

Your girl is a soldier. War lives in her eyes and shapes the callouses of her hands, and even you cannot pull her away from her battle.

Every mission, without fail, Maruca’s the brave one. She narrows her eyes with perfect focus at their plans and lists out strategies without faltering.

Biana watches her with silent eyes. Her fingers tap-tap-tap on the table and her concentration on the Collective’s words is only as steady as ocean waves.

She isn’t scared for herself. Just the people she loves.

Maruca isn’t scared at all.

Your girl is a warrior. She could tell you what the inside of an explosion feels like. Fear does not know her, does not trouble the firm set of her jaw.

They march out not long after. Biana jokes around with her girlfriend as they strap on their weapons, debating exactly what they’d want their Planting to be like with more and more ridiculous answers—Biana wins with the statement that she wants her Wanderling to be carved with insults towards her killer and everyone at her funeral to pretend she was lost under mysterious circumstances. The sweet sound of Maruca’s laughter is more than enough distraction from what the blades she tucks in her boot will be used for.

They kiss. Not like it’s the last time, not like it’s the first, but they just kiss. It doesn’t last long enough but they’re still giggling against each other’s lips and their hands entwine together as they head out.

Your girl is a lover. Her heart is open as it is sharp. She reaches out her hand, palm open and worn, invitation written into its creases and confessions smeared across her lips sweeter than her cherry chapstick.

In combat, Maruca stays steady. As the rest of them give way under the adrenaline, acting without thinking and clawing only for survival, her face takes on a steadfast peace. She is at home here, even if she doesn’t want to be. She will not give in.

Biana cannot say the same.

She loses control.

Without fail, her own movements become foreign to her. She ducks and dodges and weaves and strikes. She blips in and out of visibility, her weapons whirling, relishing the rush of adrenaline and the satisfying sound of her knives hitting home.

She’s a predator. This is her hunt.

Your girl is a constellation. She will teach you her every star if you watch closely, and you will learn to steady yourself by reciting all their names one by one by one and all of them are glorious. She is eternal—the wisdom in her eyes and grace in her limbs has been here since the beginning of time, and she last long long long like the stars ever-bright above or a slowly-weathering statue.

Biana loses control.

She isn’t careful. She can’t be amidst this chaos.

She blinks into being and looses a flurry of throwing stars, all leaving her outstretched fingers with deadly precision. She isn’t looking, not really, not everywhere—too focused on where she’s aiming—

But the blade from behind doesn’t strike true buried in her chest. Because Maruca’s there, shoving her out of the way, face serene, moving with the motion too.

And it would be okay. If not for the throwing stars, sent flying by her own hand, that thud into Maruca one by one—her throat her heart her forehead—and all it takes is a moment, that’s all Biana has to scream, and after that it’s a haze haze haze and she comes out of it clutching Maruca’s blood-soaked corpse to her chest.

Maruca’s face is still peaceful, horribly so. She’s still. Stiff.

The battle is done.

They won.

Your girl was a fool. She trusted wholly, surrendering herself to your careless hands, leaping over every cliff’s edge and waiting for the safety of your shaking arms. She was too blinded by her own mistaken love for you to see the depths of your desolate brokenness and every day you curse the fact that she had to pay for everything wrong with you.

The Wanderling pokes slowly through the soil. Biana’s curled with knees tucked tight against her chest not far from it. Above, the light is fast fading.

The Planting wasn’t long ago. It was just an ordinary one, she believes. Nothing to commemorate the depths of this loss.

She didn’t go. Among the mourners, she’d be a fraud. She’d be at fault.

She never thought much about Wanderlings before. She can’t help it now. It seems so meaningless. What can a tree do to replace what’s gone? What can anything do?

Council. She doesn’t need a memorial to the girl she loved and lost. She needs someone to sweep through her mind and make it okay again, make it not her fault, at least. She needs to forget Maruca’s sharp gasp as she fell and the pattern of the dried blood on her forehead, the chill and weight of her corpse in Biana’s arms.

But remembrance is a curse, and it’s one she must take it upon herself to bear.

She’s the reason, after all. Maruca’s mistake was trying to save her and Biana can’t even fault her for it.

Your girl was a guardian. She could stay standing in the strongest storm, build a shelter out of her own body and save the world with it. Sacrifice came like second nature to settle heavy on her shoulders and she bore it well, taking on the mantle of everyone else’s safety but never her own.

Biana measures time in a tree’s height now. It never feels like long but it’s taller than her now, trunk starting to grow thick as it loses the reediness of its adolescence the way Maruca never fully would, now.

When she can, she’ll sit under it for hours, doing everything or nothing. Mourning. No one knows. The guilt’s still too thick—it clogs up her throat and stops up her mind until it leaves one single thought like a litany: why did you do it, Maruca? Why would you? How could you?

Her back rests against the deep brown bark. The tree envelops her, hanging leaves shielding her from the world. Its branches arc protectively above her and it stands so firm as if in defiance. It dares the world to challenge it and cradles those who rest beneath it.

Of course it does. Maruca, protective even in death.

“I hate you,” Biana murmurs over and over until it becomes a sob and she’s crying, finally, crying and crying and crying. She wishes it didn’t have to be like this. She wishes so many things. “Mar, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, just come back—”

The wind just rustles through the Wanderling’s leaves.

Your girl is a ghost. She whispers to you from the shadows, in the trace of her fingers along your spine and the cold remnants of her embrace that cling to your skin like burrs. You lose yourself to her so fully—she’s real when the world is not and she beckons you home.

Your girl is calling. She gave it all up for you and you still don’t answer. ,

[mimisempai]

I will always find you

Summary:

End, continuation and fixing of the episode 6, Loki is facing Mobius who does not know who he is and Mobius does not know where to look for Loki. Will they manage to find each other?

Notes:

I had to fix it, it's done. End of The story of Loki and Mobius - Season 1 series on AO3 I'll begin soon a whole rewriting of the season 1. Follow my other series for more Lokius oneshot post-canon.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32584870

3008 words - rating G

He was back at the TVA.

Mobius!

He was about to rush to find him when he stopped abruptly.

Sylvie... the kiss...

Now that the adrenaline from the fight had worn off, thinking about the kiss gave him such a weird feeling.

He didn't know what had made her kiss him, if it was a desperate attempt to change his mind or if it had been to betray him.

He had not even answered the kiss, too shocked to react, and she had taken advantage of it to send him here, at the TVA through a Timedoor.

Mobius, he had to find Mobius. That was his only thought.

He ran through the hallways in a desperate manner. Everywhere there was turmoil.

He came to the archives, between the familiar shelves, and there he saw him, next to Hunter B-15, finally.

It was like coming home, the sight of the familiar face and stance giving him an unimaginable feeling of comfort, the impression that everything was going to be alright, that anything was possible despite the disaster.

Mobius seemed flustered and as Loki went on, he heard their conversation.

"That's, what, 63 new branches in this unit alone?"

"Does he want us to just let them all branch?"

"At this point, how are we gonna stop it?"

Loki shouted, "We can't!"

Mobius looked at him surprised, "What? What'd you say?"

Loki shouted back, "It's done, Mobius. We made a terrible mistake."

Loki wondered why Mobius didn't react, why he seemed so distant, as he asked him, "What's done?"

Loki answered hastily, "We freed the Timeline. We found him beyond the storm. A Citadel at the End of Time. He's terrifying. He planned everything. He's seen everything. He knows everything. It's complicated. Okay?"

Mobius replied, bewilderment on his face, "Right."

Loki continued, "But someone is coming. Countless different versions of a very dangerous person. And they're all set on war. We need to prepare."

Mobius tried to soothe him, but something wasn't right, "Take it easy. You're an analyst, right? What division are you from?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

It was Loki's turn not to understand as Mobius asked him, pressing, "Who are you?What's your name?" and that Hunter B-15 was calling for reinforcements, "Boots on the ground now. Archives."

To Loki's dismay, Mobius asked again, "Who are you?"

Loki felt the same pain break his heart as when Mobius had been disintegrated before his eyes. Panting, he slowly turned around and his eyes fell on the spot where the three timekeeper statues normally stood. Instead, there was a statue of the man, the demon, he didn't know what to call it, the one who was in the Void.

Loki understood.

It was not his TVA, it was not his Mobius. It wasn't him!

As the guards came towards him, he felt hope returning and the wheels of his brain turning at full speed, he had to find a way to get back to the TVA from the main timeline.

———————

Meanwhile, Mobius and Hunter B-15 watched the main timeline split into hundreds of timelines.

Mobius, more than a little worried, said aloud, "No turning back now."

Hunter B-15 replied, "Who said anything about turning back?"

"For all time."

"Always."

One sentence remained while the uncertainty was complete.

"Mobius! Mobius!"

Mobius turned at the call of his name. Casey was beckoning him over. He quickly rushed toward him.

"What?"

"You told me to tell you as soon as I had access to data about Loki! I found it! Because of the multiplication of timelines, we now have access to the Void's timeline. We can see what's going on there! Look at it! There he is! Loki is here!"

Mobius pulled up a chair and sat down next to Casey, his eyes focused on the screen, deaf to everything going on around him.

Sylvie and Loki seemed to be in a castle or building and across from them stood an unknown man who spoke, "Better hurry. Timeline's already branching."

Sylvie seemed to look surprisingly aggressive as she addressed him, "So, what are you suggesting? That we think about it. And what precisely is there to think about?"

Loki turned to her, looking almost imploring, "Weren't you listening to what he was saying? That's the gambit. Remove the dictator and what fills the void?"

The way the screen reflected the image, he couldn't see Sylvie's face, but he heard the animosity in her voice when she said, "Ah. You want the throne?"

Oh no...After all that Loki had done to become better, how could she say something like that?

Loki replied in an urging tone, "No, that's not it. No."

"I don't believe you." Sylvie's tone was unmistakable. Mobius, who knew Loki perfectly could read all the distress on his face as he tried to convince Sylvie.

"Sylvie, the universe is in the balance, everything we know to be true. Everything. I know the TVA has hurt us both. But what if by taking him out, we risk unleashing something even worse? All I'm suggesting is we just take a minute to think about it. I promise you from my heart this isn't about a throne."

Of course not! I always knew it. Only you didn't know it Loki, you thought that's all you could be, that that was your glorious purpose. I always knew you were capable of much greater things.

Sylvie insisted, " What was I thinking trusting you? Has this whole thing been a con?"

Mobius' heart broke for Loki who answered her, his voice clearly strained, "Really? That's what you think of me... after all this time? Sure. Why not? Evil Loki's master plan comes together. Well, you never trusted me, did you? What was the point? Can't you see? This is bigger than our experience."

Sylvie, completely unmoved by Loki's argument, answered him, "Why aren't we seeing this the same way?"

Loki replied, looking defeated, "Because you can't trust... and I can't be trusted."

Oh yes Loki. You can be trusted. I trust you with my life, without hesitation, without even thinking for a second. Don't you see that you are not the same as you were?

"Then I guess we're in a pickle."

After these words, Sylvie attacked him. On the screen it was impossible to follow the whole fight, but it was clear that Loki was only defending himself and refused to go on the offensive, until he magically placed himself between Sylvie and his target. Mobius saw with horror Sylvie's blade on Loki's throat. a.

"Stop. "I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel. Don't ask me how I know. All I know... is I don't wanna hurt you. I don't want a throne. I just…" Loki sighed deeply before continuing, "I just want you to be okay."

Sylvie lowered her arms and suddenly kissed him. Mobius' heart sank as the kiss dragged on and suddenly Sylvie stepped aside and said, softly, "But I'm not you." before pushing Loki through a Timedoor.

"Where is he? Casey, where is Loki now?"

Casey didn't have time to answer, as the screen blurred and Loki was back on the screen. This time the surroundings were much more familiar.

"It's the Time Theater!" shouted Hunter B-15.

Mobius started to run, arriving at the door, he opened it and called, "Loki!"

Nothing. The room was empty.

"Mobius! Mobius!" Hunter B-15 was coming running in, "You need to come back and see this! Right now!"

"What?!"

"Hurry up! Come on!"

He rushed up behind her and they reached Casey's office area again. Hunter B-15 showed him the screen.

Loki was walking the hallways of what appeared to be the TVA, the ones past the time theater, but Mobius knew that couldn't be the case, they had just passed through.

"Casey, are you sure this is happening now?"

"Yes, we're in real time!"

Loki was now in the archives, and seemed to be looking for someone, maybe him, Mobius, between the shelves.

"Mobius!"

Mobius gasped, in front of Loki a few shelves over were himself and Hunter B-15.

"What? How?!"

"Wait, wait, wait!"

On the screen, Loki continued to advance toward their duplicates, and they heard Mobius say, "That's, what, 63 new branches in this unit alone?"

Hunter B-15 answered, "Does he want us to just let them all branch?"

"At this point, how are we gonna stop it?"

Loki intervened, shouting, "We can't!"

Their two doubles looked at him in surprise.

As he watched Loki try to explain what was going on to the two stunned doubles, Mobius' brain began to race, trying to pick up clues from what he was hearing.

63 branches in this unit alone. 63 branches in this unit alone.

This unit alone. That means there are several. Think Mobius. Think!

He began to speak aloud, "The main timeline branched, that means there are a lot of timelines now, what if each timeline has now a TVA? Could it be that..."

On the screen he looked at Loki and asked, "Who are you?"

Loki, looking shocked, slowly turned around and began to breathe heavily before releasing a gasp, which Mobius and those around him in front of the screen repeated in echo.

Where the statues of the three timekeepers should be, there was a single statue, that of the man Loki and Sylvie were with before.

"Casey! keep looking, cross-reference the data, try to figure out what date it is, I need my Tempad!" Mobius ran to his office.

_____

Loki looked back at the one who was not his Mobius and did not answer, quickly assessing the danger, he had to find a way to find the TVA he knew, but first he had to escape since Hunter B-15 seemed to have called a squad to stop him. He concentrated, closed his eyes, and saw the room he wanted to teleport to, the one he had arrived in. He felt the suction, then reopened his eyes, he was there, the relief short lived, because it would not take them long to find him. Still, he summoned a spear to put across the door, to at least delay their arrival in the room.

Think about it Loki, you're not supposed to be here, but now that the timeline is branching, how can they find you? Everything is chaos...

Spinning around in the room, he sighed, wondering how the situation could have slipped away from them like that. In fact, he knew, they had never been in control of the situation, their enemy was ahead of them.

Sylvie... who had not hesitated to betray him while he for the first time had found a "glorious purpose" that was greater than him, in fact it had nothing more glorious, because he no longer needed glory, he had discovered that it was much more rewarding to fight for a cause greater than himself. But now...

Mobius... His Mobius, where was he? How to find him? Did he get through it? Had he been able to warn all the other agents? He missed him so much, his reassuring presence that had the power to calm him down. How he had developed such a strong bond in such a short time was something that still amazed Loki. In Mobius, he had found someone who had believed in him when he had only seen the worst Loki was capable of, who had seen beyond what Loki was showing the world.

He had told Sylvie that love was not real, but in the end...love had a name.

Mobius…

"Mobius...", lost in thought, he didn't realize he was saying his name out loud.

When suddenly the now familiar sound of a Timedoor opening made him turn around. Summoning his sword, he braced himself ready to attack.

The Timedoor was just forming, when he heard the door to the room trying to be forced open, as voices shouted at him to open it from the other side.

Suddenly a figure he knew well stepped through the time door, "Loki! It's me Mobius!"

Loki, suspicious, did not dare to let his guard down. What if it wasn't his Mobius? How could he be sure?

The man in front of him looked uncertain and did not move forward. He lowered his hands in surrender as the banging on the door grew louder and louder.

"Loki, it's me, Mobius, the real one."

"How can I be sure?"

"Ask me a question. Something only the two of us would know."

Loki began to think quickly, what question to ask? Then suddenly he knew.

Cheeks slightly flushed, he asked, "Where did our first kiss take place?"

Mobius shook his head and smiled fondly, "The elevator."

Refusing to give in to the relief that washed over him, Loki asked another question to be sure, "Why?"

Mobius sneered, "To shut you up."

"It is really you, my Mobius!" shouted Loki before rushing into his arms. Mobius closed them on him. In an instant they reconnected with the emotions and sensations of their last embrace. Once again Loki felt like he was home.

"Yes, it's me." The door rattled, interrupting them. Mobius let go of him, took his hand and pulling him behind him, he led him to the Timedoor saying, "Quick, let's get out of here first, the explanations will come later."

They rushed through the Time Door, which closed on them as the door to the room gave way to the guards.

It was odd because they ended up in the same room, but in the TVA that Loki knew, there was the table and chairs from the last interrogation before Mobius went to join Loki in the Timecell. It seemed like only yesterday that Mobius had refused to believe him, blinded by jealousy as he himself had said."

"You-"

" How-"

"You first," Loki told him.

"Come on, let's go sit down," Mobius told him. They did, but instead of being face to face, separated by the table as they had been every time they were in this room, Mobius slid his chair next to him.

After an awkward silence, Mobius began to speak, "So, you and Sylvie..." then he stopped, aware of what he had just said.

Loki raised his head, shocked. "You... you saw?" he didn't even give him time to answer, "Mobius! I swear I didn't mean to kiss her, I didn't even respond to the kiss, I don't even know why she kissed me, I've never felt that way about her, never, you know that, Mobius, it's you I love, I know we haven't really had time to talk about our relationship and I'm not the kind of person who can be trusted and I've lied in the past, but please, you have to believe me, I would never- Hmph"

Mobius had not let him finish and had crashed his lips against those of Loki. He kissed him in the same way as their first kiss in the elevator, the difference was that it was no longer their first kiss, it was a kiss of reunion, of familiar sensations, of shared intimacy.

When they separated to catch their breath, Mobius murmured, his lips against his, "This is really the best way to shut you up..." and laughed softly.

"Hey!" Loki pushed him gently. Then he got serious again, because he wanted to make sure Mobius believed him, "Mobius, I'm serious."

Mobius took his hand and replied, "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I didn't feel jealousy, I'm human after all, and seeing the man I love kiss another woman was pretty hard to watch. But I also chose to trust you, that means all the time and not just when it suits me. So if you tell me that kiss meant nothing to you, then I believe you."

This time it was Loki who barely let Mobius finish his sentence and who put his lips on his, settling astride Mobius' knees and putting his arms around his neck. This time, they took their time, the kiss was soft and slow, then they caught their breaths, their foreheads pressed one against the other, neither of them wanting to be separated more than by a few centimeters.

Suddenly Loki kissed Mobius again, this time forcefully, he was shaking, his hands clutching Mobius' back, holding him tightly. Mobius, feeling a wetness on his cheek, pushed him gently.

"Hey, hey easy Loki, it's okay, it's okay now."

Loki " I-I, I really thought I had lost you, when your double asked me who I was, I thought you had completely forgotten about me."

Mobius wiped away the tears with his thumbs, letting his hands linger on Loki's cheeks before kissing him gently. Then he cradled Loki's head on his chest, resting his chin on his head as he hugged him tightly, Loki's arms wrapping around him again.

"Never, you hear me, never will I forget you. And even if I did forget you, I'm sure you'd find a way to get my memory back."

They stayed like that for a few more moments, tasting the relief of having found each other again and of having once again overcome an obstacle. Together.

Then Loki came down from Mobius's lap and held out his hand to help him stand up.

"I guess there's a lot to do now that the timeline is branching out."

"Thanks for the reality check... but yes you're right, as nice as this interlude has been." replied Mobius, keeping Loki's hand in his.  Then he continued, walking towards the door, "Come on, it's time to introduce you as a member of the team."

At those words, Loki had a strange feeling, something like belonging, and asked with a smile, "What's the TVA's motto again, For all time...?"

"For all time. Always." answered Mobius.

Loki squeezed Mobius' hand as he continued to walk forward. When Mobius opened the door, he repeated softly, "For all time. Always. Together."

They didn't know what was going to happen, but one thing was certain now, they would face it. Together.

_____

Whole series : The story of Loki and Mobius

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰