#with assumption magic is not gone gone

[jadequarze]

Thinks about Orym separated from Fearne. Thinks about Ashton separated from FCG. Thinks about Laudna separated from Imogen.

I- Matt, why would you separate them??!!1

Also thinks about when they're reunited again they look different.

[ashfae]

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[interstellarrisa]

Giving up is never an option˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

Actually, go ahead and give up but remember this: if you do you'll have to continue living in this shitty reality when you could instead be enjoying life with your dream manifestations or in your dream reality but instead you chose to stay, you chose to give up, you chose to not continue persisting.

You didn't find out about all this just for you to give up. Right now you could be dancing amongst the stars or performing on a stage in front of thousands of fans. Anything you can dream about is real and you can experience it right now.

If this is all fake and we're just being delusional because the law didn't work out for you then are those success stories all just lies and if so what would they gain by spreading lies? Nobody's paying them? There's even posts where shifting anti's themselves shifted. I myself have manifested time stopping, getting full marks on a test and even have a success story posted on my page.

Maybe the fact that the law isn't working for you proof that the law works. If you assume that you don't have your desires time and time again then that assumption might spiral into the belief that the law is fake and doesn't work. Isn't that the law working then because you assume that it's not working? Just flip those negative thoughts around.

From "Why can't I see xyz?" to "It doesn't matter if I can't see it, I still know that I have it and nothing can change it."

Remember: This is your reality, it exists solely because of you not the other way around. If you want something just be the one who has it. Just have it. The same way you are being the one who lacks it be the one who has it by fulfilling yourself in any way possible. If you are manifesting money don't think the way a poor person would but instead think the way a rich person would. This does not mean that you should spend your money irresponsibly and buy anything you want just because it's cute. Don't try to fulfill the outer world but instead the inner world.

"If you want to be happy, be." - Leo Tolstoy.

Be, embody the version of yourself who has it whether it be having straight a's or being a master at entering the void state. If you give up it's truly over. All your dreams, all the magical things you wanted to experience gone in an instant. The childhood dreams that you once had, are you really going to give up on them? You were given a chance to change it all and now you're just giving up, how disappointing.

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

[spacerockfloater]

Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Omega Ours - Part 2 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader | Short Series 3.4k

Nesta and Cassian try to stay away from you, but your heat is just so irrisitable...

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, claiming & knotting! Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, anal sex, use of toys, oral sex, dp, creampie, dirty talk, bit of degredation/humiliation/teasing very much under-negotiated. NSFW. Filth.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources patient beta reading and mutual squealing from @christywantspizza ❤️

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 7 free day so ... Have some disgusting smut because I wish I was in a Nessian sandwich!

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Part 1 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

“Nesta -” Cassian’s voice was a low warning growl, you kept your eyes closed as the bed dipped. 

You felt worse, if anything, not better. Their scent was everywhere. On the sheets where you’d heard them make love night after night, on the pillow where the scent of Nesta’s soap lingered. Your heart was racing, your palms hot and sticky with sweat and that sick, dizzy feeling made the room spin. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried. 

Then there was a cooling hand on your forehead, fingers long and delicate, Nesta. Without thinking, you sighed into the touch, rolling towards her. 

“Nesta, we talked about this, we need to get off the bed now.” Cassian’s voice was so far away, floating from the doorway, but Nesta’s was a balm against your aching mind, whispered in your ear. 

“She doesn’t want me to leave, Cas, and you don’t want to leave either.” 

“No, I don’t, but she made it quite clear -” 

You were drowning in them, their presence, their very beings, the hum of magic that Nesta seemed to emit wherever she went, the swell of power behind Cassian’s syphons, it called to you. Your body was its own, separate from your will, arching off the bed with a whimper. 

“Fuck,” Cassian was closer now, his hand touching your cheek, you nuzzled into it, the callouses on his hands were rough but his palm was a dry warmth, comforting. 

The throbbing that had started in your chest moved down and you recognised the dull ache between your legs. A flush rippled over you, sending goosebumps in its wake and the humiliating feel of slick between your thighs. 

“Hmm - exactly, Cas, fuck.” Nesta sounded as gone as you did, her nose tracing the line of your jaw. “I know you’re awake, sweetheart,” she cooed. Her hands slid over your body, tracing down your side and then up over your stomach and between your breasts. Naked under the blankets, your nipples pebbled when she rubbed a thumb over each nub. 

The bed moved, and Cassian’s hand joined Nesta’s, cupping your full breast and squeezing gently. You moaned in response, trapped between them, your thighs wet with arousal, sliding over each other. 

And then your eyes flew open and the reality of your situation dawned on you. 

“What-?” 

Nesta’s head dipped to nuzzle at your neck, her teeth scraping over the delicate skin and that primal side of you wanted to go lax, to let her scent you and bite you and claim you. But you wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow yourself to give in. 

Cassian’s hand was still holding you, his wings flaring behind him, taking up every inch of your eyeline, each movement sending tingles down your spine. His smile was low, hungry and his hazel eyes flicked down to your lips before looking over your shoulder at his mate. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll take good care of you,” his voice rumbled. 

Angry, you sat up, your head swimming, and pushed their hands away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you insisted, "I can take care of myself.”

With difficulty, you scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with you to keep your naked body covered. “If you insist,” Nesta purred, her finger trailing down your back as she passed, moving slowly towards the door. “You can probably deal with this alone, omega.” 

Cassian followed, towering over you as he tipped your chin up with one long finger. “You could deal with it alone, this is your heat after all. But if you need some help, you only have to ask.” He ran his hand over your cheek and down your neck before following Nesta from the room. 

As soon as the door was shut, you threw yourself back on the bed. You knew from their own activities that there were toys and oils in the little table by the bed and it was here you went first, pulling open the drawer and rummaging around until you found a beautiful crystal toy, it was long and phallic, not an unfamiliar shape, but you’d never been able to afford something beautiful before. 

It was blissfully cold against your heated skin, sliding between your folds and you welcomed the stretch as you eased the toy inside, sighing as you lazed back into the bed. You moved the toy slowly, finding a rhythm that had you clenching on the unrelenting material. The haze took over again and you allowed your eyes to close, revelling in the relief of being full. 

Cassian was right, this was a heat and you were sure you could handle it yourself, even if you’d never had to deal with a heat near an Alpha, let alone two, where their heavy presence remained even when they were gone, their scent, the feel of their hands. You tugged at your own nipple, remembering the feel of Nesta’s fingers. Before you could stop yourself, you were sighing her name, imagining that she was still curled up behind you, taking control of the toy between your legs. Then there was Cassian. When you were feeling so vulnerable and dizzy he had kept you steady, his agreement that this was something you could weather seemed genuine, but so was his offer to help. 

They hadn’t been what you expected, this strong, warrior like couple and you moaned again. “Cassian.” 

The toy stopped, a delicate hand moving yours away and taking over, the new angle brushing against your swollen clit. 

“I knew you wanted us,” Nesta’s clear voice made it through the haze, your will to fight fading as she worked the toy harder, pressing up just as a large hand smoothed over your lower stomach. Stars exploded in your vision and you reached out grabbing at them both as you rode out your orgasm. 

Above you, Cassian leaned over, cupping Nesta’s face and pulling her into him. They kissed with such passion you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

Hazel and blue-grey eyes turned towards you, their gaze piercing, taking in your sweaty forehead, open mouth and pleading eyes. 

Nesta ran a thumb over your lip. “Do you require some help, sweetheart?” Her voice was a tease, making you throb with need. You didn’t hesitate to nod. Her thumb was replaced with her tongue, teasing along the seam of your lips before dipping inside, claiming and tasting you. Cassian continued moving the toy slowly inside, the ripples of your orgasm still making you twitch. 

Nesta’s lips were replaced with Cassian’s, his pressure harder, more insistent and you luxuriated in the feel of them moving around you, taking control of your body. Cassian slid the toy from you and the feeling of emptiness made you whine with need, grabbing at the two alphas. 

“I knew you’d be wet for us,” Nesta hummed, and you opened your eyes in time to see her lick your arousal from the length of the toy. Her hand cupped you between your legs, fingers teasing. “Your pussy’s so wet you’ve soaked the sheets, I knew it.” Her grin was feral, like a cat after cornering a mouse. 

“Let me taste.” Cassian brought Nesta’s fingers to his lips and sucked lewdly. 

You were empty again and this time your whimper did not go unnoticed. “Does someone need their pussy filled?” Nesta pouted at you, her eyebrows raised. 

“Yes, yes, please - I - please,” you begged, the fog of your heat taking over your ability to think. All you could see was them, all you could feel and all that you wanted. 

Nesta turned you to face her, cradling your body into her chest. Instinctively, you licked at a rosy nipple, taking the bud into your mouth and sucking hard until Nesta gasped. 

“Good girl,” she soothed, petting the back of your head, “You’ll need to bite down on something when he pushes in.” Her hand hooked your thigh up over her hip, opening you up and then you felt the blunt, wide head of Cassian’s cock nudging at your entrance and - she was right. 

“Oh Gods,” you moaned, pushing your face further into Nesta’s chest, breath heaving as you adjusted to his size. 

“You’re doing so well.” She stroked your back over the curve of your bottom and then back up with her nails, soothing then scratching in turn. The mixture of pleasure and pain was enough to confuse your already addled brain and, before you could register it, Cassian was flush against your back, panting in your ear. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good on my cock, so tight.” He kissed behind your ear, the gentle gesture so at odds with the rough cant of his hips. “We’ll fuck you through this heat, don’t worry.” 

“I can- I can do it on my own,” You insisted meekly, meeting Nesta’s storm grey eyes. 

“Of course you can.” She bent and kissed you gentle. “You’re doing so well, getting through this heat. It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll help you, won’t we, baby?” 

“Of course we will,” Cassian grunted, his thrusts slow and steady but deep, so deep, so full. 

When their eyes met, Nesta mirrored Cassian’s smile, knowing and understanding and teasing and Alpha. They’d take care of you, you knew they would, and you’d be satisfied and satiated by the end but you would be theirs, there would be no arguing your way out of this. 

Your eyes rolled as Cassian hit a particularly delicious spot, sending shooting pleasure up your spine, “Gods, Cassian - I” 

“Come for him,” Nesta instructed and you couldn’t stop yourself, your body obeyed before your mind could argue, pleasure washing over you so fast you had to dig your nails into Nesta’s arms to hold on, so sure you’d be pulled along by it. 

You recovered slowly, floating in a daze of post coital bliss only to find yourself sat above Cassian, the general sprawled below you, his hair like a devilish halo on the white pillow cases and his handsome face contorted with pleasure. That deep ache was still inside, making you grind your clit down against him and it was then you realised he was still buried inside of you, his cock twitching with every movement of your hips. 

“You look so pretty when you come for us.” He held your hips in his hands, keeping you seated despite your surprised attempt at getting up. “You can’t pretend anymore.” 

Nesta’s hands joined Cassian’s, twining together to hold you down, her chin resting on your shoulder. How did she move like that, so silent and stealthy? “I know what you need now, you need to be fucked and filled, isn’t that right?” 

You keened, leaning back into her arms, allowing her hands to travel up to your breasts and circle your nipples again. 

“I said, isn’t that right?” Her hand moved over your collarbone, coming to rest at the base of your throat where her fingers pressed down on your pulse. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes - I - I need to be -,” you stuttered, still reluctant to give in to the omega side of you that really did need this, needed to have their body used and filled and be given pleasure. 

“Come on.” Cassian thrust up inside, his cock so deep you were sure you could see it in your belly.

“I need to be fucked and filled.” 

“Good girl.” Nesta rewarded you with a kiss to your cheek. “Now for the last part, you need to be fucked and filled, by…” 

“I need to be fucked and filled by my Alphas. Oh Gods, please, please, I need to move.” You ground your hips again and Cassian obliged, fucking up into you, his feet planted on the bed to keep him steady. 

Behind you, Nesta moved again, her fingers tracing down your spine and the scent of lavender oil filling the room. Her hands cupped your bottom, helping to lift and lower you onto Cassian’s cock, controlling each movement. Cassian’s hands covered hers, spreading you open and pulling you forwards so you were completely exposed to Nesta’s hungry gaze. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” She dipped her finger into the slick flowing over Cassian’s cock. You couldn’t stop the feel of it, dripping between you, easing the way for him. Her finger returned, circling the tight pucker of muscle Cassian’s exploring hands exposed. “Let’s see if we can fill you some more.” 

The first press of her fingertip felt strange, but as she curled and worked her finger deeper pleasure spread up from your back. She was right, it felt so good to be full, a second finger joined her first, scissoring until the pressure was gone and only pleasure remained. 

“Nesta - please,” you begged incoherently, unsure of what you even needed from her, chasing the feeling. 

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Her fingers were replaced by the still body warm head of the crystal toy. 

“Fuck, Nes, push it in harder.” Cassian gritted his teeth, his grip moving you lightly and then you both shouted in pleasure, the toy pushing against the thin wall separating it from his cock. 

“So full, so full, so ful,-” you babbled, much to Nesta’s amusement, her dark laugh in your ear had you clenching around the hard cocks inside of you. 

Cassian’s hand took over from Nesta’s keeping the toy inside and allowing you the freedom to grind down onto him again. 

Free to move, Nesta appeared before you. 

“There’s our little cock hungry omega, nice and full and satisfied.” She ran a finger around your open mouth before dipping it inside to tap your tongue. “Now you stay there,” she instructed, moving up the bed to hover over Cassian. 

“Yes, Nes, you come here. Been working so hard to take care of our little omega, come and sit down.” 

Cassian’s face vanished between Nesta’s thighs, the muscles tensing and relaxing as she lowered herself. You watched, fascinated, as her perfect face twisted with pleasure, the controlled look in her eyes and crooked smile gone. She closed her eyes, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples as she’d done to yours. You ached to reach out and touch her, to lick the dusky bud again, to taste her and feel her, to run your fingers through her hair. 

Your hand twitched forwards, grabbing her thigh and squeezing. Nesta moaned in return, her eyes shooting open and locking with you while she rolled her hips, taking her pleasure from her mate, using his mouth and tongue until she bit her bottom lip and tipped her head back, panting and moaning through her release. 

She fell backwards onto the bed, resting her head on her arm and continuing to gently circle her nipple, riding the waves of her orgasm. 

You watched, catching Cassian’s eyes as he too turned to view his mate, her legs spread and wet pussy glistening in the candle light. With a tap to your hip, you reached up, releasing his cock with an obscene squelch, but you had no ability to be humiliated by your position, half full of her toy, crawling towards her as if possessed. Your own legs were so wet they slid as you moved and Cassian took the opportunity to nip at your thigh as you made your way to Nesta. 

She was smiling, long lashes fluttering on her cheeks as she rested, but she must have felt you approaching because she beckoned you on, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down for a sloppy kiss. 

Her long fingers gathered your slick, smearing it over your folds, your clit, back towards where the toy still split you open, and cupped your cheeks, parting them for Cassian. 

The male was behind you again and gave the toy a few experimental thrusts, revelling in the way you whimpered and moaned, depending on how he angled the head. You could practically feel his grin when he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, nipping at the round globe of your ass and pulling the toy free, leaving it to roll off the bed onto the thick rug. 

You whined, completely empty and still needy, humping forwards into Nesta’s teasing hand, her kisses just as biting, just as harsh, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth and worrying the delicate flesh. 

Cassian’s voice was gravelly when he whispered in your ear, “Ask us nicely, omega. Ask us to fill your wet little cunt and your greedy hole.” 

“Please, please, fill me, please, fuck me!” you panted, hips moving of their own accord, seeking any friction they could find. 

Nesta cupped your cheek. “Open your eyes.” You obliged, meeting her own lust filled gaze. “Now beg.” 

You cried out in frustration, “Please, Alpha, please I need it, I need you, I can’t do it - help me - please - help me. Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” You dropped your forehead to hers, pleading, praying. 

Then, you felt Cassian’s cock again, not parting your folds as he’d done before, but running it between your cheeks and pressing against the gap left by the crystal toy. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked again.

“Yes, Alpha, fuck me, take me, please, I need your cock - I need - ahh.” The first push was long and deep, he was merciless, splitting you open. 

“Gods, you feel good everywhere, ‘mega.” Cassian’s kisses returned, wet and hot along your shoulders. “Nesta -,” he grunted and the female slid her hand back between your legs, shoving three fingers into your already sloppy pussy without hesitation. 

“Look how well you take us, sweetheart. Letting your Alphas use all of your holes like a good little omega. Just a hole for us to fuck aren’t you?” she cooed, pinching your cheeks again. “Cassian’s been dying to fuck me like this for years, haven’t you?” He only grunted in answer, his pace increasing. You could barely breathe now, every inhale punched out of you by the force of his fucking. “But I wouldn’t let him. Good job we’ve got our own little plaything now. You take him so well, made for it, aren’t you?” she continued to tease and you burned with the humiliation of it, the deliciously dirty feeling of being spread open, used, vulnerable under their hands. And yet you had never felt pleasure like it, the complete surrender of your thoughts, your body, to your two Alphas. 

The thought had you tingling. Were they yours now? Were you theirs? 

Cassian’s pace slowed, his hips faltering as he hurtled towards his release. His long hair brushed against your cheek. “Never letting you go, omega. You’re ours now.” His teeth scrapped down the side of your neck and you shivered, making the decision in a split second, and tilting your head to the side. Cassian’s bite was strong, his teeth breaking your skin quickly before his tongue lapped over the sore spot. He nuzzled into you as he sucked the bruising kiss, inhaling your scent. 

Nesta reached up, guiding your head towards Cassian’s and exposing the other side of your throat before biting down too. Her claim was rougher, her teeth tasting, exploring before biting down and sucking. 

“Yours - yours - yours -” You allowed their claiming bites to consume you, to wash over your senses, and felt the calm of being mated rising to meet you, buoying you up. 

“Good little omega,” Nesta praised, tapping your cheek until you opened your eyes. Hers were surprisingly soft, her mouth wet and lips pink. 

“Such a good - fuck - good fucking omega, our omega,” Cassian grunted, sending you over the edge.

“Yours - yours - yours -” Your orgasm ran towards you and you clenched down on them both, forcing Nesta’s fingers out as your walls rippled. You bent and sucked on her collarbone, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Fuck -” Cassian followed, his hips driving forward, pushing you down further into Nesta’s chest and painting you with his release. His cock swelled, impossibly large and pressing against your entrance. His cum leaked around the edges of his knot, mixing with your own release in a sticky, claiming, mess. There’d be no denying your feelings now. 

He withdrew slowly, carefully, his hand cupping your swollen sex as he did and the gentleness of the touch surprised you. 

The three of you lay there, panting and sweating, slick soaked and satisfied until Cassian broke the silence. 

“Does this mean you’ll sleep in the damn bed now?” You turned into his chest, resting your face against his tattoos, and laughed, nodding. Behind you, Nesta curled over your back and smiled into your shoulder. 

“Good.”

[matrixbearer2024]

In response to your latest post I have two ideas! First one is kinda based off my oc, a gn Goetia shape shifter. They hide their true form but when they fall asleep or are exhausted their magic wears off and reveals Goetia features.

And the second one is more simple. Reader is having a shitty day and just wants some comfort from their super busy bf!Vox

Comfort Cuddles

Vox x fem!Reader

A/N: I'm just gonna go off on a tangent and fulfill some of the requests in my inbox while slowly writing for the series- Kinda just wanna write some other stuff even if it's still with Vox hahahaha!

A/N: I'm sorry if yall were expecting an interlude or an update- I'm still figuring stuff out with the storyline so I'm gonna take a breather and just do some other short stories. Anyway, as always- I hope you guys enjoy this little thing and happy reading!

Vox wasn't really surprised when he heard the loud slam of a door.

Especially when it was you stomping in cursing under your breath about some minor inconvenience you went through on the way home.

He'd taken notice of your growing agitation throughout the day whenever you texted or called him.

Suffice to say, you weren't exactly having the best time at work.

While he wasn't able to really do much being a busy man himself, he could relate to being absolutely at your wits end because nothing went well.

"Shitty day?"

"That... doesn't even begin to explain what happened today."

Vox walked over and just wrapped his arm around you, to which you simply returned the hug- burying your face in his chest.

He used his other free hand to take your work bag and just dump it on a nearby table, he could deal with it later.

Still, the fact you just leaned against him while he did everything just cemented his assumption that you were absolutely exhausted from whatever you had gone through.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really... can we just cuddle?"

You asking that reminded him of when you both first started dating.

Just the mess of everything he was and the ray of sunshine you were.

He even laughed off your very first offer to cuddle back then when he had a bad day.

Vox still remembered the memory so clearly.

"Wow, you... look really bad."

"Would expect so, today was less than ideal."

He grumbled irately, simply yanking his bowtie undone and tossing his hat somewhere else.

Let's not even mention his coat.

He could care less where anything was in his tiny frustrated bubble.

So when you randomly opened your arms to him, he was kind of confused.

"What- what are you doing?"

"Let me give you a hug, looks like you need it."

He'd initially laughed off the proposal, thinking you had simply been joking.

Only to figure out you were actually serious.

Vox hadn't ever experienced that kind of gentleness before, not in his past relationships when he was alive or even dead.

CoughcoughValentinoCoughCough-

But ever since then, he'd come to love just relaxing in your arms after a rough day.

Especially when you wouldn't really give him answers, just cooeing and humming like you agreed with whatever he said.

He wasn't looking for solutions, just comfort.

So that really really helped.

"Vox?"

Your voice broke his train of thought, snapping the overlord away from memory lane and bringing him back to reality.

Oh, right.

"You don't even have to ask darling."

He just smiled, picking you up in a bridal hold and making his way over to the couch.

Just like you would often do to him, he let you lay against his chest while gently carding his claws through your hair.

You simply just laid there, arms encircled around him and finding comfort in the warmth that came from the overlord.

Even the hum of his circuits that seemed to always just perpetually buzz.

"Thanks..."

Vox simply kissed your forehead in return, going back to his ministrations as you slowly calmed down.

It didn't really matter if it was you or if it was him going through an extremely horrid day.

Because both of you knew you always had each other to come home to.

"Anytime love, anytime."

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part III

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you are found out. Chapter Warnings: Making out, a little bit of groping, teasing, fingering, Loki being a horrendous tease.

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

It’s difficult to return to your life the next day.

You try to be pragmatic about it: you’ve told yourself over and over that what had happened in the garden was a fluke, a once in a lifetime bout of extraordinariness that would not—could not—be repeated. You know this and you accept it.

But the magic of last night lingers in a way that makes you feel a little melancholy and wistful. You’re distracted the whole day, your thoughts wandering back to the feeling of soft lips on yours, warm hands on your waist, the glimmer of emerald green eyes.

“Are you well?” Grete asks you that afternoon. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

You force a smile. “I didn’t sleep well,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie, but also isn’t the full truth. Either way, it’s enough to fool Grete, who returns to her work, chattering about something that happened with Solvi and one of the stablehands.

Even if she wasn’t a gossip, you could never tell Grete what happened in the garden. You could never tell anyone. A sudden, lonely feeling rears its head and there’s an ache in the center of your chest. You’re used to being lonely, but this feels different, sharper in a way you’re not expecting.

It doesn’t seem like it should be possible to miss a life that you never had, but you find yourself consumed with that notion.

Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t gone at all.

You don’t go to the library that night. It’s largely because you don’t want to risk the chance of him recognizing you so close to the masquerade. The more time between you and the masquerade, the better: better that you fade from his memory rather than inadvertently jog it

But it’s also because you’re not sure that you can bear to be in the same room as him when you’re feeling like this. Better to wait until your heart felt a little less tender.

You avoid the library for six days. On the seventh day, you decide that you’ve waited long enough to return. 

In hindsight, though, it was the height of hubris to think that you could pull one over on the god of mischief and lies.

In making this bargain with Loki, you were making several assumptions. You had assumed that his memory was imperfect enough to not recognize you without your mask and that your very dull and ordinary life had such a vise grip on you that no force—not even the attention of a handsome and clever prince—could possibly disrupt it.

How very wrong you were.

You’re initially quite relieved when you don’t see him in his usual chair. You’ll be able to fully enjoy yourself without worrying about looking over your shoulder as you wander through the stacks.

You’re feeling rather pleased with yourself and a little giddy with relief and you’re not exactly paying attention as you round a corner in the stacks, a fact that becomes apparent to you when you crash into something rather warm and solid. Hands grab your elbows to keep you from falling and you look up, your mouth half open in an apology.

It is at this point that you begin to process that the warm and solid thing that you’ve bumped into is, in fact, a person.

More specifically: it’s Loki.

For a moment, you think you might be able to wiggle your way out of this particular snag without any problem. But then he locks eyes with you and you immediately, instinctively know that it’s too late: he knows exactly who you are.

His smile is wide and sharp. Predatory—but not in an unappealing way. “Hello, little mouse.”

Your mouth is paper dry and suddenly your legs feel too unsteady to even attempt a clumsy curtsy.

“Your highness, I—” You’re struggling to string a pair of words together and this is made all the more difficult by the fact that he hasn’t let go of you. “Forgive me,” you say, “I can explain.” 

You are not entirely sure that you can, to be quite honest, but it seems like the right thing to say.

“You can explain why you thought it clever to lie to your prince?” he says lightly, his voice rich with mirth. He doesn’t look angry—on the contrary, he seems amused. You’re not quite sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“Nothing I said was a lie,” you say. “I only did not tell you who I was.”

“Clever girl,” he says. His voice is low and intimate and it’s doing something delicious to your insides, even as your heart threatens to pound its way out of your chest. “Tell me,” he says, “how does a servant come to be so clever as to read Auber and sneak into libraries and fool princes at masquerades?”

“Perhaps I was not always a servant,” you say and then, before you can stop yourself, you add, “And at any rate, I don’t read Auber when I can avoid him. I’m a sensible person, after all.”

It’s an impertinent thing to say and you’re already in enough trouble as it is. But Loki merely chuckles.

“You have a wicked tongue, my dear,” he says with a catlike smile. “That will get you into trouble someday.”

“One could argue it already has,” you say before you can think better of it.

“Indeed,” he says and his eyes glitter like the edge of a knife. “And now that I’ve found you, I believe you made me a promise.” 

You almost want to laugh. The very notion of him still wanting to kiss you is several different kinds of absurd. “Surely you don’t intend to carry on with that game now that you know who I am,” you say.

There again is the catlike smile. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy our merry little chase and I intend to continue it now that I’ve found you.”

“I’m beneath you.”

He gives you a wicked grin. “I’d rather like you to be.”

You’re confronted with two opposing feelings. You can’t deny that you’re flattered: he’s handsome and you’re wildly attracted to him despite the fact that it’s inconvenient, to say the very least. But at the same time, you’re not about to just cede all power to him just because you’re flattered. At the end of the day, he’s a prince and you’re a servant—you won’t let him take advantage of that imbalance.

“I won’t be your conquest of the week,” you say sharply, using a tone that most would consider inappropriate for addressing someone of his status. “I’m some toy you can play with and discard when you tire of me.”

You expect him to reprimand you, to remind you of your place, but instead he laughs. The sound surprises you, even as it does shameful things to your insides. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.

You’re skeptical of this and your expression shows it. He registers this and he becomes a bit more serious. “Darling,” he says, placing his hands on the shelves behind you and casually cageing you in, “I’m not letting you go that easily. You have my undivided attention.”

The prospect of receiving his undivided attention sends a shiver up your spine—it’s as intimidating as it is appealing.

“Now,” he says, his voice lowering as his fingertips graze the curve of your jaw, “I’d like to collect on a promise.”

Your breath stutters in your throat as both of his hands cup your cheeks. He looks down at you, his eyes hooded and focused on your lips. He waits one long, agonizing moment, and you remind yourself to breathe and forget the instruction a moment later when his lips brush lightly against yours. Were it not for the heavy, coiling heat he was summoning in your hips, it would almost seem chaste. You feel him take a breath and then his mouth is opening against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip and then sliding smoothly past it.

That last kiss was supposed to last you a lifetime—you were not expecting another one ever, let alone so soon. You feel drunk on the taste of his lips and his tongue has you thinking wicked thoughts. The longer it goes on, the more your knees wobble and the more breathless you feel.

You catch his lower lip between your teeth and tug on it gently; he inhales sharply and presses against you like he has half a mind to take you right there up against the stacks and stars above, you can’t help but want that just a little. 

His thigh slots between your legs and your body sings as you arch against him.

Maybe you want that a lot.

His hands have moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing you against him, stroking up your back and sides. His thumb barely grazes the underside of one of your breasts and a low whimper escapes the back of your throat.

You lose all sense of time and it feels far too soon when he pulls away from you, even though you can hear the clock chiming midnight. You find that you’re rather gratified and proud of the slight redness in his cheeks, how his breathing is slightly labored. You grip the shelf behind you, knees trembling.

He licks his lips as he surveys you. “This isn’t over, little mouse,” he murmurs.

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss him or scold him. “What do you mean by that?”

He smirks. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves the library, leaving your head spinning.

You return to the library the next night. There is no reason for this—or, rather, there’s no good reason for this; while you’re enjoying your book well enough, you can’t say that it’s compelling to the point of interrupting your thoughts.

There are other reasons that have been, though.

Well. One reason, if you’re being honest.

Your feet take you to your usual place in the stacks, you find your latest book, but your mind is elsewhere, listening for the telltale tap of a booted foot on the stone floor, the creak of leather.

If someone were to ask you what you were expecting, you wouldn’t know what to say. Obviously, you’re hoping to see him again—and as much as you know it’s not a good idea, you’re also hoping that he’ll kiss you. You’re hesitant to allow yourself to think much farther than that, simply because the fact that he wants to kiss you still seems rather impossible. You learned early on in your days at the palace that daydreaming was almost certain to lead to disappointment. You’re reluctant to allow your mind to stray too far down that path.

It’s easier said than done, though.

You’re not exactly sure how he arrives, just that he suddenly has—there is a presence behind you and when you breathe in deeply, you swear you can catch the faint scent of leather and something wintery and masculine.

“Your highness,” you say coolly, like you haven’t been waiting for him with bated breath.

“Are you really enjoying your book that much?” he says and you have to force yourself not to jump when his voice is much, much closer than you thought he was. 

“It’s not Auber, so yes, I should say I am enjoying it,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver up your spine. “Always so sharp tongued.”

You force yourself to turn around then and stars , he is so much closer than you thought. You tilt your chin up to look at him. “Why are you here?”

His smile is wide, like he finds you especially amusing. “I am often here late at night. You know this.”

“You do not usually loom over me in the stacks,” you say.

His eyebrows lift. “Is that what I’m doing? Looming?”

“You are standing awfully close.”

Any other person might take a step back: he takes a step closer so that your back is pressed against the shelves, lowering his head so that his lips are right next to your ear. “Perhaps I’m looking for a book,” he says.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He laughs and you feel his breath warm on your neck. “Clever girl.” His lips brush against your collarbone, his teeth nipping lightly at the delicate skin there.

“I don’t understand,” you say, even as your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his embrace. “I’m no one—why are you here?”

“Did I not tell you this wasn’t over?” he says against your neck, allowing his tongue to dip into the hollow of your collarbone, making your knees weak.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you say, but it doesn’t matter because he’s now covering your mouth with his and you can scarcely remember your own name, let alone what you were going to say next. He’s demanding and hungry, one hand tipping your head back, cupping the curve of your jaw, the other sliding to your waist, pressing you flush against him.

You’re not entirely sure what his motivations are or how far he intends to take this, but it’s hard to convince yourself to care when he’s kissing you like this. Fire is racing through your veins, filling you with a kind of reckless wanting that makes your toes curl in your shoes.

His hand slides from your waist, skimming up your side to cup your breast over your dress. He is cautious, seeming to wait for your muffled moan before taking it more firmly in his hand, expertly kneading and squeezing in just the right way until you’re half considering guiding his hand down the front of your dress.

It’s at this precise moment that he steps back from you, his dark pupils and the slight catch in his breath the only indication that you’d exchanged anything more than polite pleasantries. You lean against the shelves panting, your entire body crackling with a strange kind of heat.

“Goodnight,” he says, seemingly unable to resist a smirk as he leaves you once again in the darkness of the library as the clock strikes midnight.

He’s playing a game with you. That much is clear. You’d like to think that you’re sensible enough to know not to take his bait, to stay away from the library after dark, but you appear to be mistaken on that count. You spend most of the next day trying to keep your treacherous mind from wandering too far. You are only moderately successful—you nearly burn an entire batch of biscuits due to a particular daydream that leaves you staring out a window for a minute too long.

He’s waiting for you in the stacks this time, giving you the same smirk he did last night when he left you. You decide to keep your distance for the time being—you’re not sure that you can ever say that you've got the upper hand on him, but you’re more likely to have a chance at it the farther away he is.

“Your highness,” you say.

“My lady.”

You give him a stern look. “You needn’t mock me, I know I’ve no titles.”

“Oh, I’m not mocking you, sweet,” he says and you are fairly certain he’s being sincere. “You are an impressive woman. You ought to have titles.”

“You’re trying to flatter me,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

“Of course I am. Did I not tell you that I was trying to charm you?” he says, taking a step toward you.

You swallow and stare at him. “You said that when you thought I was someone else.”

Another step. “You seem to think that I ought to have lost interest when I found out who you are. Why is that?”

You tilt your chin up and stare at him defiantly. “When has a noble ever taken a genuine interest in a servant? It’s not done.”

He smirks again and takes another step forward and once again, you’re pressed between him and the bookshelf. “You know my reputation,” he says, his fingertips trailing against your throat. “I care very little for rules.”

His gaze meanders over your face, lingering on your lips, but you hold steady, despite your pounding heart. “So you’re using me to disrupt things because it amuses you.”

“You misunderstand me,” he says, the backs of his fingers stroking your cheek. “I find you enticing. I’m not inclined to be bothered by rules that say I ought not to because it isn’t done.”

You press your lips together and look at him warily. “I don’t know that I should trust you.”

He shouldn’t look like he finds this amusing, but his eyes glitter in the dim light. “And why is that?”

“I know your reputation,” you say. “You are the god of mischief and lies. I ought to stay away from you.”

“And yet, you’ve turned up here for the last three nights and uttered not a word of protest when I’ve kissed you,” he says.

“I said I ought to stay away,” you say. “I never said I would.”

His smile is slow. “Clever girl.”

He kisses you again, slow to start, like he’s giving you an opportunity to turn him away. When you don’t, his movements become hungrier, his tongue tangling with yours, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

His hand slips down the front of your dress and you gasp as his fingers pinch and tease your nipple into a stiff and aching point, igniting a smoldering ache between your legs. You’ve never wanted anyone like this and you resolve in that moment not to say so because telling him is the same as giving him leverage and you’re still fairly certain that that is a bad idea.

His thigh has nudged its way between your legs and you press against him as much as your skirts will allow, shamelessly trying to generate enough friction and pressure to provide yourself some relief.

The clock chimes midnight and he steps away and you wonder how much more of this you’ll be able to take.

He’s late the next night—so late, in fact, that you almost give up and leave because you think he’s not coming. You try not to dwell upon the disappointed little twinge that blooms in your chest when you think this is the case.

But then you hear soft footsteps in the quiet of the library and you look up and find him leaning against the end of the stacks, looking far more comfortable than he has any right to be.

“You’re late,” you say before you can think about it.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?” he asks with the slightest of smirks. “Were you disappointed?”

You attempt to keep your expression cool and composed. “I didn’t think anything.”

He chuckles. “You tell such pretty lies, my dear.”

You want to deny it outright, but that feels like playing right into his hands. You consider your next moves as he approaches you, again backing you up against the stacks.

“Do you know what I think?” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I think you’re rather fond of these little interludes.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting with a kind of mischief that makes you press your thighs together. “Shall we find out how fond?”

You’re fairly certain you know what he’s implying, but you’re also fairly certain that he’s not going to actually go through with it. It’s one thing to kiss you like he has been, but it’s another thing entirely to actually touch you. Surely he’s not that bold.

His left hand slides from your hip over the curve of your ass and then along your thigh, raising your leg to hook around his waist. You grab his shoulders, still certain that he’s bluffing even as he pushes the hem of your skirt up.

His hand trails along the inside of your thigh, expertly navigating your petticoats and undergarments. He watches your face intently as his hand inches up your thigh, seemingly cataloging every time your breath hitches, every time you bite your lip in anticipation. You try to keep yourself contained and calm, even as you can feel the slickness between your thighs growing with every passing second.

You realize that he’s not bluffing precisely when his fingers part your dripping sex. You gasp as his fingers lightly brush against your clit and you catch his greedy, triumphant smile as your head tips back against the shelf.

“Oh yes,” he breathes, sliding one finger inside you as his thumb presses against your swollen clit. “What filthy thoughts have left you so wet and wanting, my pretty little kitchen maid?”

This should bother you: you’re not his and you’re more than a kitchen maid. Instead, your body seems focused on its mission to betray you, as his words only make you whimper and tense around his slowly thrusting finger.

“I could make you come right here,” he says, his eyes raking over your body with a raw hunger. “Would you like that?”

“Please,” leaves your lips before you can ask yourself what you’re thinking.

“So polite,” he breathes into your ear. “Had I known it was this easy to tame that sharp tongue of yours, I would have buried my face between your thighs in the garden.”

Your cheeks burn, though you’re not sure if it’s from his fingers or his words. “I would not claim that victory yet, highness.”

His eyes flash and his hips press against you when you use his title—you file that little fact away for later. 

You can’t even pretend that there’s not going to be a later.

“If my hand slowed, you would beg for me,” he says with a smirk that is slightly too self-assured.

You tilt your chin up, staring at him defiantly. “You flatter yourself.”

His smirk widens as his hand slows and you immediately regret challenging him. He slides his hand away from you, holding your gaze. He pauses for a beat and when you continue your silence, he raises his fingers to his lips and slowly draws them into his mouth. You catch a glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue as he carefully licks your essence from his forefinger and thumb, closing his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. It’s indecent—everything about this is indecent—but you can’t look away.

Your resolve crumbles abruptly and completely. “Please,” you whisper.

He releases his fingers and gives you a lazy smile. “Can you be quiet like a good girl?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

He leans in and kisses you. “That’s a shame,” he murmurs against your lips, “because I want to hear you scream for me. And we can’t very well do that in the library.”

He draws back, smirking, and you suddenly know that you’ve lost another point in this strange game that you’re playing.

“Come to my chambers tomorrow night after dark,” he says. 

Stars above, you’re going to kill him.

“You’re an ass,” you say.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

You hate how much of an effect that has on you, but you’re reasonably certain that you’ve managed to hide most of that from him.

“Your confidence is inspiring,” you say.

“And your tongue is wicked,” he says, stepping away from you and it takes every ounce of pride you have not to reach for him and pull him back to you. He takes your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles, his emerald eyes never leaving yours and somehow it feels just as intimate as what had just happened. “Until tomorrow,” he says before dropping your hand and walking away, leaving you with your heart pounding.

Next chapter

[nakedbibi333]

𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

I have made lots of guides and posts about the law of assumption and its aspects in the past, however, I have noticed that beginners on the topic have been finding most explanations confusing. I’ve known about the law of assumption for years now and manifestation in general for even longer, so I often forget how it feels to be a complete beginner to the topic. So here I will be explaining the most common topics and how to actually manifest your dream life.

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 — beliefs that you have, which have little or no physical evidence to back them up.

𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧 — the spiritual you that is the source of your consciousness.

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧 — the person you are externally in the 3D (physical) world.

𝟑𝐃 — the physical outer reality. It is only a reflection of your internal reality.

𝟒𝐃 — your internal reality, known as your consciousness, or your imagination.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 (”𝐒𝐏”) — the specific person who you are trying to manifest some sort of relationship with. It can be platonic or romantic, but it most often refers to a desire for a romantic relationship.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬) — It’s a state of mind. It’s a state that you assume by being (or feeling as though you are) the person who has what you already desire.

𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭— the beliefs, or conception, you have about yourself and your abilities.

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 — revision is just manifestation but for the past. You revise—or fix to your liking—a memory in order to manifest that outcome to have occurred instead.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 — the state of the wish fulfilled is the state of mind you would assume if you already had what you desire. You are in the wish fulfilled because you no longer are in a state of desire or lack, and therefore you no longer worry, doubt, or desire.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 / 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 — to persist is to not give up. It is a reminder to remain faithful to your manifestation, even if it seems as if something has gone wrong, the opposite has manifested, someone else got what you wanted, or it’s taking “a long time” to manifest. To persist, you remain faithful, keep believing, return to the state of the wish fulfilled, and don’t give up until you get exactly what you wanted.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 (“𝐄𝐈𝐘𝐏𝐎”) — It is the idea that everyone around you will always reflect your internal beliefs (and your self-concept) back towards you. If you believe you are talented and successful, people will reflect that to you through their words and actions. The same will happen if you had negative beliefs about yourself. This is why it’s so important to work on your self-concept.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 (”𝐃𝐁”) — the body you are trying to manifest (when you are manifesting personal physical changes).

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 (”𝐃𝐅”) — the face you are trying to manifest (when you are manifesting personal physical changes). Can often be based on someone else, such as a celebrity or influencer.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?

First, I want to talk about what exactly manifestation is. A lot of people who first get into manifestation believe that it’s some sort of magic or outward thing that requires you to take x amount of steps to be worthy of something external from you to make this happen. This isn’t true. Manifestation is your natural ability to shift your consciousness to the reality that matches your assumptions and state. Shifting is easy and natural. You shift every time you make a decision, no matter how small. You do not notice your shifts because they are so minimal that the realities you shift to are nearly identical to the previous one, except for the small detail you changed. You are the source of your manifestations, not anything external. Your inner man (the spiritual you that is the root of your consciousness) is the source of your manifestation abilities. Every single person has the ability to manifest, and no one is better at manifesting than anyone else. Some people just know how to manifest and use it to their advantage. I’m here to teach you how.

Manifestation is most often referred to in relation to getting things, such as getting rich, getting your dream home, getting healthy, getting that dream job, or even getting the person you love to love you back. However, at its core, manifestation is about being the person who has everything you want. It’s about fulfilling all your desires internally and allowing that to be the source from which you see the world around you. If you want to manifest love, your goal is to become the person who is loved. You do this internally. You never need to take any action. You don’t have to say affirmations, write scripts, do spells, or even go out and take any kind of action toward your goals. All that is necessary is for you to go inward and allow your inner man to be fulfilled with everything you desire.

𝐇𝐨𝐰-𝐓𝐨

Now, I’m sure a lot of you are expecting a very detailed step-by-step guide to manifest. However, as I’m sure a lot of you know (if you are already familiar with the law of assumption), manifestation is a very personal journey and everyone has their own beliefs and preferred methods to manifest their desires. The most important aspect of manifestation, which should be the basis from which everyone builds upon their own personal journey and methods is belief.

The only thing you need to do in order to manifest anything is to believe. You need to believe that what you desire is yours and that it’s possible for you to obtain or achieve it. Once you believe, then you are able to get into the state of the wish fulfilled, in which you feel as though your manifestation is already yours. The point is not to feel delusional or to trick yourself, but to use your imagination to experience your manifestation internally. Fulfilling your desire internally is the cause that allows your desire to be made manifest in the physical external reality.

To truly feel fulfilled, you will not be worried about how it will come, or how you will deal with it when it is yours. I know it’s hard not to think about it or ruminate on it, but by focusing on the what-ifs you are contradicting the state of it already being done. If it was already yours, you wouldn’t be wondering what if, because you would already be experiencing it. You would already know what would happen because you’ve already experienced it. Relax into the wish fulfilled and keep the faith that everything will happen in the best way possible for you. If you feel this way even for a moment and then distract yourself from the topic, then you will have made a significant difference in your state and manifested wonderful things.

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐃 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞.

So, you were able to achieve your desired state, but now you’ve returned your attention to the physical world and found countless contradictions to your manifestation. This is a common issue when you first start to consciously be aware of the states you occupy. It’s not only about reaching the state but also about persisting in the desired state against all odds.

I have gotten so many questions where people mention reaching their desired state, but then something undesirable happens in their 3D and everything begins to go wrong. This is because they allowed the 3D undesirable circumstance to determine their state. They allowed the negative feelings around the circumstance to decide the state they occupied and it persisted throughout the day, which is the reason why more and more negative things continued to show up in their 3D. This is normal. Every single person allows the 3D to influence their state because the 3D seems more real than the 4D. However, consciousness is the only reality, the 4D shapes the 3D, so in reality, imagination is more real than the 3D. You are simply only ever reacting to a reflection. The most important thing to do in this kind of situation is to return to the state of the wish fulfilled. Deny anything you see in the 3D that does not completely align with your desired state. By denying it and focusing only on your wish fulfilled, you will be able to persist in your desired state and avoid the cycle of the 3D controlling your state.

I hope you realize by now that the reason your undesirable circumstances persist is that you allow your 3D to continually determine your state. It’s a constant cycle of allowing what you see to be the ultimate truth, rather than allowing your imagination to take the reigns and bring about desired change in your life. This is why it’s so important to be aware of your state and focus on not letting the 3D world determine your state. You should only ever allow imagination and the 4D to affect your state. If you find yourself slipping, return to the desired state and then persist. Deny the undesirable and persist in the desirable.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

As long as you keep persisting, you are going to succeed. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as you continue to persist, it will come. In my opinion, I’d rather get it later than never. Think about that. You have to be able to stare someone in the face calling you crazy and know internally that they are wrong. You need to be the master of your reality. As long as you believe in your desires, then everything will fall into place. No one else can tell you anything about your own reality. It’s your choice to believe what others say about you. And remember, if you change your conception of self, others will always reflect that back to you.

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲

The law of assumption is a very personal journey. A lot of the time it’s about trial and error. I want you to know that there is no failure in manifestation. There are only learning opportunities. You never miss a chance to manifest something. You can always revise and you can always return to a manifestation. When you realize that your internal reality and your imagination are the sources of everything you experience in your physical reality, things seem less dire. You will realize that you have all the time in the world, and also all the power over your life and your earthly experience.

𝐅𝐀𝐐

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭?

Anything you desire can be manifested, even things that seem impossible can be manifested. In fact, everything you desire should be fulfilled within imagination at the point of desire, so that you can break out of the endless cycle of desire with no satisfaction. The rule of thumb is: if you can imagine it, it can be made manifest in the physical world.

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞?

If you already had your desire, would you constantly be in a state of desire or lack? No, you would be enjoying already having your manifestation. You wouldn’t be worried about anything because it’s already yours. However, it’s normal and natural to feel this way. We are not asking you to never feel desire, that’s never the point. The point is to always make it a habit to fulfill your desires as they come up. As long as you keep returning to the state of already having your desire, then you’re doing well. Don’t get worried or stressed over not being in the state 24/7. It’s not important. We are not perfect beings and our minds wander and we lose track sometimes. What’s important is that we keep going back to the wish fulfilled and persisting.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭?

Doubt is normal. Everyone has to deal with doubts, especially when first starting out on their manifestation journeys. Just remember that it's always okay to have doubts. Everyone doubts at some point. I focus on building belief and finding constructive ways to deal with my doubt when I encounter this roadblock. This could be saying an affirmation, such as "it's already mine, so I don't need to doubt" or "I experienced it, therefore it's already mine." You could also distract yourself from the topic and return to it when you feel better or use emotional regulation techniques to relax your mind and return to the state of the wish fulfilled (such as any form of meditation). Doubting is a part of being human!

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥?

You need to give yourself space and time. Manifestation should never be stressful, it should be freeing. If you feel as though it’s taking too much of a toll on your life, you should take a break and return to the topic once you feel better. When you return, I strongly encourage you to figure out exactly why you spiraled. Was it difficult for you to believe? Were you focused too much on 3D manifestation? Were you placing too much weight on your physical circumstances? It’s important to do this so you know what it is you need to do differently this time around.

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭?

No! It’s entirely a misconception that you must always be happy to manifest. Being in the state of the wish fulfilled is achieving the feeling of being the person that has what you desire. That doesn’t mean you need to feel an emotion. Think about how it feels that you have your phone, the shirt on your back, or the pencil in your backpack. You just know it’s yours. That’s not an emotion, right? It’s a feeling. So, you can be sad, angry, depressed, anxious, etc. and still be in the wish fulfilled.

𝐃𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭?

No, intrusive thoughts never manifest. Think about this, assumptions are things you believe. There is an intention behind your beliefs, but intrusive thoughts are not based on your true beliefs, intentions, or desires. They’re just thoughts. Your thoughts are not what manifests, contrary to popular belief. Your state creates your thoughts which is why people consider their thoughts to be the source of their success, but it’s not. So don’t worry about your intrusive thoughts manifesting, because they won’t.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞.

Most people have this obstacle to overcome. It seems so simple to manifest a few dollars, a free coffee, or even a new phone. But when it comes to manifesting things like romantic partners (especially a celebrity SP), wealth, fame, physical changes, or even moving out of difficult circumstances, it seems impossible. Not to mention the fact that your successes seem so small in comparison to your deeper desires. What you should do in this case is work on your self-concept along with your beliefs about manifestation in general. Basically, remove your desires from the pedestal. When we say to remove your desires from the pedestal, we mean to stop giving them so much weight. Stop making your desires so difficult for you to achieve. Stop thinking of your SP as difficult to get. Stop thinking of money as anything other than a number on a website, or paper. Focus on de-mystifying your desires, so you can make them smaller than you. Remember that you are god and god can have anything. You are god living a human experience. Your purpose is to create a life that is fulfilling to you. Your desires are your roadmap for what you must create with your infinite imagination. Make yourself bigger than your desires, so that you always feel good enough for them, no matter how “big” they are. That is the way to circumvent this issue.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?

When stuck in the victim mentality or insecurity loop, it really makes you realize how important working on your self-concept and self-love is. Build up the belief that you are the god of your reality. Since that is true, no one is above you, and nothing is too good for you. You are the only one that can manifest in your reality. Nothing can happen in your reality without you allowing it to happen. Your beliefs about yourself and your reality are what determine your reality and your experience. Nothing anyone else can tell you will have any weight unless you allow them to. You are good enough to be a millionaire, you are good enough to be a K-pop idol, you are good enough to date your celebrity crush, and you are good enough to be a famous actress or singer. You are good enough. Because you are the only power in your reality. You make the decisions.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧?

First, your thoughts don’t manifest. People often like to say that your thoughts determine your experience, but that’s not technically the truth. Your state and your assumptions determine your physical world. Plus, it’s the state that you most often dwell in that is the most influential on your physical experience. Wouldn’t you rather not be afraid of your thoughts? Wouldn’t you rather not be constantly worried that a distressing, negative, or intrusive thought will manifest? Well, you’re in luck because those small fleeting thoughts are not the source, it’s the state that is behind those thoughts.

Then, methods don’t matter. You are the only source and reason for your manifestations, it doesn’t matter what method you use, or if you even use a method at all. Your state, your assumptions, your consciousness, and your infinite imagination are the true sources of your manifestations. Also, so many people think that using states is a method. It’s not. Maybe they believe this because consciously changing your state requires a certain amount of self-awareness and effort, but it’s not a method. You are constant in a state. You cannot be devoid of a state unless you are dead.

You can “just believe.” Let me explain. I’ve seen so many people overcomplicate the law to the point that I am not even sure some people truly understand the law enough to be teaching it to beginners. Why are we focusing so much on methods that take hours out of our days? Why are we focused on methods at all? Everyone forgets that the only thing you need to manifest anything is the belief that it’s yours. Nothing else is necessary, because once you believe that it’s yours, you are in the state of the wish fulfilled. Simply persist in that belief, no matter what you see in the 3D, and you will receive it. So many people complain that they can’t “just believe” that their desires are theirs. Well, how are you perfectly able to “just believe” in negative outcomes, but never in the positive ones? There is little evidence for the truth of your negative assumptions, and the same for the positive ones, so why not choose to believe in something that will benefit you instead?

And finally, you are the only person that can give yourself the life of your dreams. You are the master of your thoughts, your assumptions, and your imagination. We can give you all the information in the world on how to manifest your dreams, but if you do not apply them, then nothing will ever happen. Stop putting it off for later, stop procrastinating, and stop standing in your own way. If you let go and allow yourself to believe (assume and persist), then you will change your life to an unimaginable degree and you’ll wonder why you ever waited so long to make this happen.

𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?

I have mentioned this before, but these are the most common shortfalls I have observed throughout my many years of manifesting.

Lack of conviction—I actually had a dream about this issue a while ago and it really opened my eyes to the importance of conviction when it comes to manifesting. First, the definition of conviction is a firmly held belief or opinion. I found that when I am manifesting, and I’m less decisive or clear about a desire I want to manifest, then it either will only partially manifest, or it won’t manifest at all. In my dream, I recognized that I kept changing my mind, doubting, and not firmly choosing this desire to manifest, so I only got a half-manifestation. I can't remember the dream that clearly now because it’s been a long time, but I remember waking up knowing deeply that if I had true conviction for my desire, it would have manifested clearly. The next night, I had another dream where I had a real conviction for my desire and it came in its full capacity, showing me that I only needed conviction in order to manifest the “big” desires that had been stumping me for a long time.

Lack of a clear decision—This goes along with the previous explanation, but when I lack a clear decision for what I want, I often find that the manifestation is shaky and it’s harder for me to retain conviction for a desire I’m not entirely sure about.

Avoidance (constantly saying "I'll do it later")—This is now referred to as deferred occupancy, but constantly procrastinating and leaving applying or occupying the state of the wish fulfilled for later will always keep your desires from you. Neville Goddard has said, “nearness implies separation.” If you are not occupying your desired state now, you are constantly separated from your manifestations.

Doing a method "to make something happen," rather than entering the state of already having it—Once again, this applies to the “nearness implies separation” quote. If you are doing something so that something will happen in the future, then you are once again separated from your desires. Your only goal is to make your desires real in the here and now. Not in the future, not later, now.

Lack of faith that anything is possible with the law of assumption—Some people have limiting beliefs that only certain things are possible to manifest, and others aren’t. Such as thinking that you can manifest a romantic relationship with someone you know, but draw the line at manifesting a romantic relationship with a celebrity. It’s all possible. Nothing is harder to manifest that anything. It’s all the same. Change these beliefs so that you can create a life with all your desires, not just your “realistic” ones.

Neglecting imagination (no mental diet/not working on self-concept)—While self-concept is not necessary to manifest anything, it’s definitely a huge help. It’s so important to be aware of your self-concept and I would always recommend working on it because it makes manifesting so much easier. You will believe in yourself and your abilities much more, it will be easier to persist, and you will never ever limit yourself.

Not letting go of the idea that I need to work or struggle in order to get what I want—Finally, some people really love to cling to the belief that you have to take some sort of action in order to manifest their desires. This is not true. You never have to do anything other than believe that your desire is yours. Everything else will fall into place for you. So, stop creating more limitations and obstacles by believing that you have to take action in order to manifest what you want. Just assume the state of your wish fulfilled and persist.

𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬

Finally, I always love to recommend these two resources for the law of assumption, because they are the reason I am where I am today. These are the two resources I will defend day in day out. So, if you are looking for more information or more in-depth explanations for specific topics, please check out Edward Art’s YouTube channel (or his Reddit posts) and Neville Goddard’s lectures and books.

© nakedbibi333 (2023) I don’t give consent to anyone to post my content anywhere!

[wingedblooms]

Secret, slumbering land

This meta is a continuation of theories (forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, bright as the dawn, and heart of the night court) about Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land. This new thread focuses on the gentle healing land and lake that the sisters visit in their stories. Maasverse spoilers below, so please proceed with caution.

It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. (acosf)

Both Feyre and Nesta visit a turquoise lake nestled in the mountains. Because their description is the same, this theory operates on the assumption that it is the same place. And since things come in threes in this series, Elain may visit this magical lake in her own story. When I reread the scenes with previous visits, I was struck by the language Sarah used to describe it—secret, slumbering, forgotten—and the clues those words might hold for Elain and Wyrd, the Stone Mother.

Secret

During the first visit to this lake, Azriel teaches Feyre to fly and shares their court philosophy on training, which is connected to a legend about Nephelle (more on that later). During this scene, Azriel is bathed in blinding sunlight and his shadows are gone. His appearance is stark and clear, readable.

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch. (acowar)

@offtorivendell connected his appearance to the bonus chapter ages ago, and it is still one of my favorite metas. In that bonus chapter, we learn Azriel’s shadows are also prone to vanish around Elain.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.  The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.  A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (Azriel’s bonus) 

He tells us he doesn't need to rely on his shadows to read her, so his deep trust and vulnerability might be the only explanation for his shadows' behavior, but they can also sense power and respond to it as power themselves. For example, if someone's power is related to music, they might sing or dance in response. What power, other than the revealing light of Truth, might cause them to vanish?

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.  The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus) 

The Faelight reveals Elain's secret, lovely beauty: she glows like the sun at dawn. What do we know about dawn? In nature, dawn restores the light and awakens the earth. In the Maasverse, it is also associated with healing magic. And when we return to the lake in Nesta’s story, we learn it was once connected to healing. Healing light is bright and warm like the dawn; it has the power to pierce the darkness and outrace Death itself. It is pure life in its rawest form.

Sarah has repeatedly connected Elain to rebirth and renewal, especially in relation to Azriel: in his presence, she's the lovely fawn, vibrant spring behind her. Standing before Death. Even the headache tonic, a lighthearted remedy, serves as potential hint for this secret, lovely beauty: 

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.  I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.  Elain smiled again, ducking her head.  Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (acofas) 

Elain’s gift awakens life, veins of emerald, in the earthy brown and gray within his soul, just as she does in her own garden. It is no coincidence that Elain, who is most radiant in healing hues, glows like the sun at dawn in the dead of night. And Azriel is stark and clear before her just as he is about to finally allow himself a taste of pure life, of healing. In the wake of Elain’s healing presence, we even glimpse Azriel’s emotional scars through his internal dialogue. On healing journeys, lingering scars are faced and overcome rather than avoided. Some wounds require deep trust as the healer, patient as a gardener, walks the road with them on that journey. 

Slumbering

On our second visit to the lake, we learn the surrounding land is inhabited by ordinary faeries who prefer solitude. This immediately made me think about Elain, content and beautiful in her simple gardening dress, and Feyre’s comment about her clinging to Azriel for some peace and quiet. It would be fitting for them to come here in their story, to find joy and love and healing here together. And if I were to hand select a place for Rosehall, where someone like Azriel's mother could find solitude and healing, this would be it.

He knew these mountains well enough from flying over them for centuries: shepherds lived here, usually ordinary faeries who preferred the solitude of the towering green and brownish-black stones to more populated areas. The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. That people injured in body and spirit had ventured to these hills, the lake they were now two and a half days from reaching, to recover. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here. 

-

She’d never seen such a view. It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. […] The mountains watched her, the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake. (acosf)

The mountains here aren't brutal and sharp, but they still have a powerful presence. Like the third sister. The mountains watched Nesta like a protective seer, and the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake, like Elain’s scent. Her scent is a sparkling river, a promise of spring, that guided Nesta to her. And what did Nesta find when she reached the source of that scent? Elain’s sharp angles, once like the Illyrian mountains after she was Made, were now replaced with softness. She glowed with health and her smile was bright as the sun. She also smells of jasmine and honey, which are soothing scents and herbs that have healing properties. 

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf) 

In the span of a few pages, we're also told twice that this land is slumbering. Since it was once used for healing, it would make sense for healing magic to be at the core of its slumbering heart. Remember, the rawest form of healing magic is pure life and we just learned that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, was once blossoming with pure life. Elain’s wyrdcrown seems to mirror Stone Mother's creative powers in the form of sleeping buds:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

This imagery of Elain’s power has always reminded me of the darkness of creation and rest Yrene receives guidance from while she bathes in Silba’s Womb, which she calls the slumbering heart of the earth. In the tog series, Silba was the goddess of healing and gentle deaths and Elain shares many connections with the healers who honor her. So, it’s possible slumbering simply means the land reflects the restful and restorative healing power of those who once lived on and fed the magic of the land. 

Slumbering or sleeping can also indicate dormant magic, which is something we’ve seen in both tog and cc. In tog, Dorian has raw magic and he can shape it into different things—phantom hands, shifting, healing, etc. His raw magic is sleeping in his heart before he explores it. 

“You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his. “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and gave him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.” With that, she walked away, the courtiers parting, then swallowing up her wake. He stared after the princess, wondering what her last words had meant. And why, when she said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside him had opened an eye. (com)

We recently learned the Asteri poisoned the waters in Midgard with a parasite to feed off of the magic of its citizens. This parasite warped their magic and it is described as dormant and tethered as a result:

The Asteri had infected the water we consumed with a parasite. They’d poisoned the lakes and streams and oceans. The parasites burrowed their way into our bodies, warping our magic. (hofas) - Somehow, a barrier had been removed. One that had ordered him to stand down, to obey … It was nothing but ashes now. Only dominance remained. Untethered. But filling the void of that barrier with a rising, raging force— (Ithan’s magic, hofas) - Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep. What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t. (Lidia’s magic, hofas) - Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood. He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him. […] He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. (Ruhn’s magic, hofas)

Similarly, the Asteri pooled and imbued their magic in Wyrd to warp her purely creative magic. 

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas) - Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” (hofas)

Is it possible Elain’s sleeping buds, as a mirror of Wyrd’s original magic, represent what remains dormant, tethered?

“Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.” A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

In the scene above, Cassian and Rhysand are discussing Nesta’s powers. We learn that they aren’t dormant, which makes sense; they seem to represent the magic that the Asteri imbued into Wyrd to become a tool of death and destruction. That magic might be feeding off of Wyrd’s creative powers like a parasite and keep her half-awake, like the Fae in Midgard and, perhaps, the healing land: 

It was all so still, yet watchful, somehow. As if she were surrounded by something ancient and half-awake. As if each peak had its own moods and preferences, like whether the clouds clung to or avoided them, or trees lined their sides or left them bare. Their shapes were so odd and long that they looked as if behemoths had once lain down beside the rivers, pulled a rumpled blanket over themselves, and fallen asleep forever. (acosf)

Ancient, half-awake, behemoth. These terms are also used to describe Wyrd. The word behemoth in particular is associated with a primordial chaos monster in mythology and may be yet another potential hint that Chaos is Hel’s name for Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

-

As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. (hofas)

-

But the Cauldron. As if some great sleeping beast opened an eye. The Cauldron seemed to sense us watching. Sense us there. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I believe Wyrd saw Elain as a kindred spirit and gifted her the language of creation with the hope that she could be the key to her freedom, her healing in body and spirit. Those original creative powers could include a deep connection with the earth (earth magic), divine sense (seer abilities), fluid form and movement (travel and shifting), and healing, pure life and world-building power. Elain might already be testing the boundaries of that creative magic, learning to shape it into different things (explaining her mysterious appearances).

Elain may also need to bring her sisters together to help Wyrd. They represent the three faces of the Mother together and have been marked by her from the beginning of the series. When Feyre physically healed the Cauldron with the help of Rhysand, she cupped her hands and became the first face of the Mother. Nesta became the second face of the Mother when she healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove. And the healing lake appears to hint at Elain's role, the third face of the Mother:

Nesta cleared the hill that Cassian had mounted ahead, and a sparkling, turquoise lake spread before them. It lay slightly sunken between two peaks, as if a pair of green hands had been cupped to hold the water within them. Gray stones lined its shore. (acosf)

This is our first earthen depiction of the Stone Mother. Someone with green fingers or a green thumb is skilled at gardening. Gardeners provide gentle order to pure, blossoming life with their green hands. And we already know, thanks to Rhys and Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty—stained green, even—for a pretty result. 

When Elain's creative magic rises in her story, will it flow like a sparkling river, unfurl like a bloom, to awaken the soul of the earth? Could it soothe Azriel’s icy rage and bring true spring and healing to Ramiel, softening its sharp angles when its heart, Wyrd, is finally restored? Only time will tell.

Forgotten

The land is also described as a place time had forgotten and, as I mentioned earlier, it's where Azriel shared the story of Nephelle—the one who had been passed over, who had been forgotten—while he tended to Feyre's wounds after a fall during flying practice.

Nephelle, who had been passed over, who had been forgotten…She outraced death itself. […] And yet her too-small wingspan, that deformed wing…they did not fail her. Not once. Not for one wing beat. (acowar)

Nephelle wanted to be a warrior, but was turned away due to her small wingspan. So, she made herself indispensable as a cartographer and excelled at finding the most geographically advantageous positions for their armies. And now that hofas has been released, we know earth magic can be used to locate the best geographical locations:

…those with earth magic were sent ahead to scout lands [...] Not only the best geographical locations, but magical ones, too. They could sense the ley lines—the channels of energy running throughout the land, throughout Midgard. They told the Asteri to build their cities where several of the lines met, at natural crossroads of power, and picked those places for the Fae to settle, too. But they selected Avallen just for the Fae. To be their personal, eternal stronghold.” (hofas)

Those with earth magic are deeply connected to the land and their creative power flows freely in places where the natural magic in the land is untethered. Is it possible Nephelle excelled at finding the best locations because she possessed earth magic? And could that come into play in the next story if Elain possesses earth magic as part of her creative powers?

Despite being perceived as weak, Nephelle outraced death itself with her small wingspan to save Miryam. Her miraculous rescue inspired the Night Court's philosophy toward training: 

I raised a brow. Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”  “The Nephelle Philosophy.” (acowar) 

We saw this philosophy in action at the final battle with Hybern when Elain raced against death itself and appeared out of nowhere with Truth-Teller to protect her family. Like Nephelle, she was and still is passed over, forgotten.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (Nesta to Elain, acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today." "Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not." "Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." "Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (Elain and Nesta's exchange, acosf)

-

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her. (Cassian's observation, acosf)

These quotes hit differently with the release of hofas. @offtorivendell and @willowmeres seem to be on track with their theories that the warped magic of Hewn City affected Elain's creative magic. What if she reflects the magic of the land around her, and when that magic is warped or tethered, her physical appearance mirrors it? Is this another sign she will be able to use the language of creation to unearth Prythian’s secrets, forgotten by time? And maybe, like the legendary Nephelle, the things that Elain is viewed as weak for—her little garden, a symbol of her care for and connection to the land, and her appearance, a reflection of what was forgotten—actually become her family's biggest strength.

[stirthewaters]

Wednesday addams x magic reader?? Lightning control

Strawberry-Flavored

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Mention of drugs, high af reader, suggestive ending?

Summary: The skies of Nevermore are suddenly unusually active, and Wednesday knows that you're the one behind it

The nevermore sky was unusually dark when Wednesday stepped outside, dark rumbles of thunder and faint crackling sounds charging the air as the remaining students hurried inside due to the storm. 

Where had it come from? Nobody knew, but Wednesday had a sneaking suspicion that you had something to do with it and she was never wrong. You had to be somewhere, and as if to confirm her assumptions she hadn’t seen you for most of the day. The Addams was already on the move, the other students moving out of the way for her as she stormed through the halls, her energy not dissimilar to the thunderous and gloomy sky outside. At least the weather was good. Upon a search of you regular whereabouts you were nowhere to be seen, and that frustrated her, to say the least. There was no natural way that a lightning storm had formed when the sky had been clear mere hours ago; seeing as you were the only student in the school with the ability to control said lightning, all the signs were pointing to you.

Wednesday was exiting the commissary when she was interrupted by Thing, the appendage tapping on the floor before her, causing her to pause her search to listen, with slightly furrowed eyebrows and a small sigh of annoyance. “What is it, Thing?”

A couple more rapid taps made the raven’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise as she paused before responding, “Y/N? You found them?” Two or more taps and she huffed slightly, hissing. “Yes, I understand that Y/N started the storm, get to the point.”

When the appendage finished his sentence Wednesday had to bite back an annoyed sigh. Why must you be so foolish? Nodding to Thing, she changed directions, already headed for the secret Nightshades library. Of course you were there; maybe she shouldn’t have told you about it when you were going to use it to your own advantage. Or was that admirable-? No. She had to focus,

When Wednesday walked down the spiral staircase she instantly knew Thing’s testimony had been correct; there you were, with Ajax, head hazy with the cloud of smoke surrounding the two of you. It was a miracle that the fire alarms hadn’t gone off yet. 

You were clearly stoned out of your mind; Wednesday could tell that your control of your powers had either slipped or you simply didn’t care that you were causing a storm right on top of you. Your eyes had a droopy look, and in your right hand was your smoke, which you were already using to go in for another bump. Without a word, the Addams quickly stepped forward, taking it from your hand and stomping on it, crunching it under the sole of her boot as she watched you look down in surprise.

“What in Lucifier’s name do you think you’re doing?” Wednesday hissed, grabbing your wrist to pull you out of the slight hazy cloud, though she knew that wouldn’t effect your senses anyway, 

Ajax also looked slightly startled, and the Addams felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight, pleased that she had at least done something fun today. Turning away from the stoner’s fear, she tightened her grip on your wrist. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

When you opened your mouth to speak Wednesday huffed and shook her head, abruptly cutting you off. “I don’t wish to hear excuses, Y/N. Get a grip on yourself and let’s get you cleaned up.” With Ajax meekly giving a goodbye, she practically dragged you up the staircase, pace brisk and irritated.

The sounds of thunder rumbling and faint flashes of lightning were still present when the Addams pulled you toward her dorm, clearly showing you were still high as a kite, though Wednesday couldn’t deny it was in character for you. With a small frown, she opened her door and pushed you onto her bed, kneeling on the floor to further examine you. 

“Look, I was trying, Ajax had some sorta… like… strawberry scented vape and I was only taking a couple bumps-“ you started to speak, speech slightly slurred. “- I’m sorry, it was just-“

Wednesday shut you up quickly by giving the shirt of your collar a small tug, and you let loose a small whine, causing the raven to roll her eyes as she placed a cold hand on your face, examining your dilated pupils. Definitely high. 

Sighing, she muttered curses under her breath as she grabbed a small water bottle from under her bed, placing it to your lips and lifting your chin gently to make you drink. The sounds of thunder were starting to fade, luckily for the school, and the Addams glanced outside at the window before feeling a tug at her sleeve, causing her gaze to turn back to you.

“Pay attention.” You whined again, making Wednesday frown slightly. Of course you were acting childish, you always did so when you were high. Grumbling, she knew there wouldn’t be any other way to shut you up other than giving you what you wanted, and she hesitantly and slowly leaned forward, giving you a small forehead kiss in response. She hated the darkness that was becoming present on her face. Why was it that even in your drugged state she found you so… attractive? Was it the fact that somehow you had caused an entire weather mystery, the only cause being you under the influence? Was it the fact that you had so foolishly used the secret library for quite simply the most unimaginative reason possible? It was puzzling why your simple ignorance was so endearing to her. 

“I will not tolerate you this kindly next time, Y/N. Do you understand, or are you still unable to comprehend basic sentences?”

Seeing the meek nod from you made her nod, at least somewhat satisfied as she returned the kiss that you offered.

A/N: I'm working on the next part of TSTT, sorry for the wait <3

[reysdriver]

Baby Furniture | J.P.

James tries building a crib without magic — james x pregnant!reader fluff

warnings: reader is pregnant

words: 0.5k

"That's a lot of parts, are you sure you don't want to use magic?" You asked your husband as you both looked at all the pieces to assemble the baby furniture.

"Hundred percent sure." James answered. "I can't have my kid finding out I built their furniture the easy way instead of with my hands."

"We could just not tell them." You suggested, even though you knew he was set on building it himself. 

"We have to tell them. I want my kids to be proud of me. Besides, this'll probably be a piece of cake once I get started."

You bent down a bit to kiss him on his bird's nest of hair. You gave it a tousle as you stood back up, and he gave you a grin. 

"Trust me, my love, I've got this. And if I don't, I'll just ask Sirius for help when he comes over tomorrow."

You sighed, and went into the next room to read in bed while he started putting the crib together. Only, he didn't put the crib together. For a whole half hour, he cussed to himself about the confusing instructions, the tools he was using, and the stupidly similar screws. 

As comical as it was, you felt bad for him. You put your book down on your nightstand and walked over to the next room. He put down his hammer at the sight of you in the doorway. 

"How's the crib going?" You asked, despite the obvious answer on the floor. He only had a few pieces of the frame put together, and you couldn't even tell what part it was supposed to be yet. 

"Not too bad." He lied. "I'm really getting the hang of doing things the Muggle way."

"That's great. Well, I'm gonna have a nap because this little one likes making me tired at two in the afternoon. Maybe I'll get to see the finished product when I wake up?"

"Of course. You're gonna be so impressed."

You two exchanged smiles before you left the room and crawled into your bed. Looking down, you lovingly whispered a few words to your baby bump. "Your dad is a stubborn one." 

You fell asleep too quickly to hear much more of James working, but your assumption was that it didn't go well. So, when James gently woke you up and told you to come look at the crib, you weren't sure what to think. 

He opened the nursery door and revealed an actual crib. The whole thing was perfect and it looked just how a crib was supposed to look. 

"Ta-da! Aren't you impressed with me?" James asked you. "I bet you had gone to sleep thinking I wouldn't be able to make it, but here it is."

"You used magic, didn't you?"

He looked at you with an exaggeratedly offended expression. "You don't believe I could have made that with my own two hands?"

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow. You both knew what had happened in order to get that crib together. 

"Yeah, I used magic." He admitted. "But, I'll do it the Muggle way for baby number two."

[mischiefmaker615]

Eat

Summary: Loki finds himself in a dark state.

Requested by: Laer111ee (wattpad)

Rating: *WARNING* mentions of depression, and $u*cidal thoughts

 

“You have to eat.’’

Loki’s eyes didn’t even flicker up at you as his fork mindlessly moved around his food. You knew he heard you as you sit across from him with your own plate, but he continues to not further the subject.

It was a delicate time.. his mood swings per say..

You knew he already felt bad for not eating the food you worked decently hard on to make, which didn’t help the already current state he has found himself in for the past several days of worsening depression. At least he had you as a support system and both of you moving into your own apartment has definitely helped since living with “earth’s mightiest heroes” has done a number on his mood already. Yet you worry..

The battle on New York is over, and due to a ton of begging from Thor to let Loki stay under house arrest at the tower to avoid severe Asgardian punishment- death, the Avenger’s obliged with only a few times of “community service” in the field in which special bracelets were made to contain a bit of his magic when it’s needed to be used. He was a really great help and his magic made most of our fights against hydra and a ton of others definitely shorter. You and him even got some one on one sparring sessions and mini missions and low and behold, decided to start going out.. from limited means since he still was under watch.

its was years now, SHIELD still has him wear the bracelets that he currently likes to pull at periodically without even realizing it sometimes. With begging on your part, you lived in this cute apartment not to far away from the Avenger’s tower, and with doing your best with the limited means, you both have been happy. Yet recently his mood has changed. Sometimes he doesn’t wish to get out of bed, even if he was wide awake. Sometimes the smallest things could set him off where he would either yell or accidently break something with his god strength- forgetting Midgardian furniture isn’t built like it is in Asgard. And quite recently, he’s refused to eat a whole meal and now he hardly eats at all.

Being a god, he can go far longer than humans.. but with the amount of time that’s passed, you were sure it was concerning even for someone like him to go on this long with only like two bites and then he was finished.. he was scaring you, you worried for him and whether he realized it or not, you had to prep the house encase any.. initial thoughts would come along..

Getting Thor involved was out of the question, he hated anyone that was related to the new York battle- which happened to be all of your friends but to hang out with them, you were to scared to leave Loki alone so it really put a damper on your mood as well. The apartment was mostly quiet, worrying what would be said or done to set off either of you but sometimes it was just the fact knowing you both were around each other- verbal or not, was comforting.

Yet this eating thing has gone far enough and your already lean boyfriend was becoming noticeably more lean as time went by.

Setting down your fork, you slowly rose and crossed over to pull the seat out next to Loki to have a seat- his eyes barely resisting your movements as he continued to move around his vegetables.

After a moment of silence, you gently placed a hand on his and he stopped moving, the fork slowly sliding from his fingers.

‘’Loki..’’ you began, your voice quiet as your eyes glued to his face with a gentle expression.

The only response he gave you was a small nod- one would miss it if they weren’t paying attention.

‘’I know there are a lot of things on your mind, a lot of thoughts that are sparking new ones, ideas and assumptions. It’s been a few days since you’ve had a proper amount of food, and that’s okay’’ you add and squeeze his hand a little as he gave a small sigh.

‘’what can I do to help? Even if it’s just an ear if you wish to talk things out out loud..’’

Loki stayed silent for a moment, staring mindlessly at his plate but no focus in his gaze. As if someone was forever zoned out and his hand was limp when you held it. his skin was cold- colder actually. You didn’t rush him, you just waited as your thumb gently stroked his skin, staring at his beautiful face you loved so much and stayed quiet as you focused on his slow breathing.

Parting his lips slowly, he sighed another hopeless sigh we’ve all had when there was no point to anything. Where we have been at our lowest and wanted to quit whatever we were doing right then and there. Happiness was dead at this time and light was no option in this type of tunnel we found ourself lost in.

‘’I’m a failure..’’ he barely whispered, his words breaking your heart as tears formed in his eyes once more.

‘’Loki you’re not a-‘’

‘’my whole life is a lie.. it would have been better if I would have just perished as an infant on Jotunheim and all this wouldn’t have happened’’ he said between sobs, his hands forming fists on the table in which you had to quickly pull your hand away but instead rested it on top.

He has found himself comfortable in your relationship to tell you about his upbringing, the betrayal, the lies, Odin, all of it. but he’s always spoke out of hatred.. this was the firs time he’s actually shown sorrow upon the subject. It broke your heart seeing him like this, and you knew you were important to him in your life where he’ll need you more than ever in these moments. You will not abandon him.

You slowly rose from your chair and went to his own, bringing his head to your chest as you wrapped your arms around him, his face turning slightly to continue to cry into your chest while you stroked his silky hair.

‘’Loki.. I can’t tell you how much it pains me and angers me of what has happened to you, you deserved none of it and you did everything to the best of your abilities to make things right with the best intentions. Not everyone will be able to see the reason, it doesn’t mean what you did was wrong..’’ you kept the part of murder out, figuring it wasn’t the best time to revisit that topic as you spoke slowly and in a hushed tone as his sobs began to quiet.

‘’if people fail to see your good intentions and continue to be selfish, hypocritical and blind to their own actions, then- blood or not- are they really worth having in your life..’’

‘’I don’t.. want to be alone..’’ he whispered as his arms hold you closer to him, almost making you fall into his lap as you hold him tighter.

‘’you’re never alone Loki, I’m here and I’ll never leave you.’’ you whisper and pull away a little to be able to cup his cheeks and have him look at you, your thumbs wiping away his tears as your expression becomes serious.

Memories of two weeks ago poked at your mind, how you almost lost him once if you hadn’t gotten to him in time. the fear always hits your heart whenever you saw him like this, afraid he may do it again. It just meant he needs you more than ever and with the right guidance. It just takes time.

‘’sometimes what you’re thinking..’’ you didn’t have the heart to say it as tears pricked your eyes but you took a deep breath. ‘’sometimes that seems like it’s the easiest answer.. but it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem.’’ You whisper, bending down a little to kiss him, his lips kissing you back with almost a desperate, eagerness.. as if he hasn’t seen you in ages.

You shared this moment, stroking his hair and back before pulling away, seeing how his tears had subsided though he still looked drained. Sitting in his lap now, you picked up his fork and brought it to his lips.

‘’how about.. if you could finish just a few bites, we could go to bed and just hold each other?’’

Loki’s eyes slowly looked at the food, showing no interest in it but looked back into your eyes at what he could have if he did. A small smile- a mischievous one just barely tugged at his lips as he sighed. ‘’just hold each other?’’

You couldn’t help but smile, a bit of his old self peaking out of his depressed state. It’s a start. ‘’we’ll see.’’ You tease and brought the fork forward.

And by the gods, he ate. 

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I can’t remember rn, but why was asra homeless and raised himself if his parents were still alive and well?

This ended up longer than expected, but here's a rundown of what happened with Asra's parents! Putting it under the cut for spoilers :)

The timelines aren't very clear, but during Asra's early childhood, their parents were hired to build Lucio's arm. Aisha and Salim are from a country called Zadith, where alchemy (described in the art book as a combination of magic and science/technology) is a commonly studied practice. Lucio had recently lost his left arm and as count wanted the best prosthetic available.

It's unclear if the Devil steered Lucio towards Aisha and Salim specifically for the commission, or if he simply saw a chance as soon as they started working for the Palace. We do know that since the two of them have The Lovers as their patron Arcana they were key to the ritual that the Devil was slowly working towards with Lucio as his pawn.

When Aisha and Salim completed the prosthetic, Lucio ordered them to be thrown into the dungeons in separate cells and said that they would be executed, because he wanted his arm to remain the only and best of its kind. We later find out that Lucio did this at the Devil's request so that he would have a bargaining chip.

The Devil approached both Aisha and Salim separately and told each of them that if they went into captivity for him, he would make sure that no harm would come to their spouse or child. Both agreed, and they were locked in their own shared magician's gate, leaving Asra behind for roughly twenty years.

Meanwhile, from Asra's child point of view, their parents went to work one day and never came back. He would meet Muriel three years later by the South End docks and the two of them would finish growing up together in a sibling-esque relationship. When Asra first meets Muriel as a child, they say that their parents were "taken", but later, they just refer to their parents as "gone". He does seem to know from the get-go that Lucio was involved in that sequence of events, but by the time canon starts, he's given up on reuniting with his parents and isn't even sure if they're alive any more.

It's unclear, but Asra does seem to be somewhat aware of the deal that ensures that they won't be harmed. We know that Lucio knew who Asra was when he was still a kid at the docks, and that Lucio later recognized him as an adult in the Palace. Both Nadia and Julian seem to express some level of concern for their safety around Lucio but Asra themself acts with an assumption of immunity that they don't normally adopt around people they distrust so heavily.

In the end, Asra is united with his parents in most (if not all) of the upright endings, and it's implied that the three of them are able to begin rebuilding their relationship and stay in each other's lives.

Sorry for long that got, hope that helps anon friend! :D

[endless-ineffabilities]

the aftermath

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader

part four of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me? - part two: and what of your love? - part three: the flames that divide -- part five: never tear us apart

themes: injury, violence (choking/assault), language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 3.7k ▪︎ masterlist

The reader is left comatose after the curse inflicted by Alys Rivers. Daemon and the rest of the Blacks are determined to set things right. Aemond finally learns of what happened, and makes sure that the guilty pays the price.

The gillyflower lies on the round desk in the middle of your chambers.

It has been three days since its arrival, and devoid of the solace of its earth, it has inevitably began to wilt.

Rhaenyra had been the one to pull it from the box in which it arrived, for its intended recipient lies unconscious on the bed. She comes back to check on you each day, opening the windows to let the morning air in. The ladies-in-waiting tend to you, running warm cloth over your face and body, cleaning and replacing the healing ointment on your injuries.

It has been nearly a week since the tragic incident, which still remains unexplained by everyone. You had sustained treatable injuries, including a broken leg and wrist, but you were also left comatose, after hitting your head in the fall. Thankfully, in a desperate effort by your dragon Fyraxes, the blow was softened as she did her best to minimize the impact in her final moments. She is afflicted with a similar condition, yet to wake again, just like you.

The door to your chambers flies open, and in enters Daemon followed by the maester. He has also been a steady visitor, making sure that all measures are taken toward your recovery. He had been the one to take you back to Dragonstone on Caraxes. Jace stayed behind with Vermax in Horn Hill to watch over Fyraxes, awaiting Baela on Moondancer to help carry her back on makeshift mesh netting.

Daemon’s rough hands carry an ebony box, and he need not open it to determine its contents. It’s the usual one, sent by your lover. He sets it down on the desk. It is left adjacent to the one previously sent, the contents of which have already grown much fainter in vibrance.

Gillyflower. Yet again. In its usual shades of red and violet. A secret call, another attempt to coax you back into his arms.

He knew nothing of what happened. If he did, it would only be reasonable to assume that Alys Rivers would take the brunt of his wrath.

If Aemond only knew, then there is nothing in this world that he wouldn’t burn to reach you.

Daemon’s low spirits intensify as he observes you, lying supine and unmoving in the room. He hates not understanding your affliction. This never should have happened; something clearly isn’t right. Both you and Fyraxes showed no sign of any ailment prior to the incident, and nothing could have overtaken you that quickly. You were laughing one second, and gone to the world the next.

He is determined to see this right. Daemon needed you to be well, as he’s grown to see you as a kind of younger sister, someone he would protect at all costs. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t even fucking fly his dragon fast enough to save you from the fall.

“Well?” Daemon irately questions the maester who looks over you, yet again, “you wanted to say something? Speak it plainly, then. If you have any idea at all as to how we can help her, hold nothing back or I will make sure you regret it.”

“My prince, it is hard to say-”

“Say it.”

“It is only a matter of possibility. A mere assumption. I, myself, do not claim to have any determinate method to confirm this, but the lady y/n may have been targeted with dark magic.”

Daemon pauses, not expecting those words from the maester. Dark magic? “Do make it clear how exactly you arrived at this assumption.”

“Well, if I may show you,” the master lifts your hand, palm upwards, beckoning to Daemon, “if one has been targeted by a spell or an incantation of sorts, it tends to leave a mark.” He traces the lines on your palm, “As you can see, the creases on her palm have been tinged with a shade of maroon. It is almost hard to distinguish, unless studied closely.”

Daemon lowers his head to detect the traces of this on your palm, as the maester continues, “There are records of similar traces from victims of such witchcraft in our histories. One being a lord who was seemingly branded with a murky red contusion on his back, and another lady whose iris morphed into a similar colour. A telltale sign of the work of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. A disgrace to the one, true religion of the Seven, if I do say so mys-”

Daemon straightens, a fit of rage starting to resurface, "This must be the work of someone from the fucking Greens. It has to be. We must question any known priest or priestess from this Red religion. Anyone who might have any idea about the doings of these bloody witches," his lips curl in distaste, "Immediately."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond sits at the edge of the bed. The very same one that you shared nearly a fortnight ago. In this familiar cabin, in your secret field, he waits. He has been waiting for several hours, as he had waited several days ago.

And yet, you are nowhere to be seen.

The gillyflower must have reached you. He made sure that it would not be intercepted on its way to Dragonstone. It must have arrived in your chambers, for your immediate notice.

So where are you? When you did not arrive several days prior, Aemond tried to let it pass. You must have been preoccupied with other pressing matters. You are a trusted ally in the Black Council, after all, with your own duties to fulfill.

But again, you have yet to make your presence known. You have yet to come home to Aemond’s arms, where you belong. He tries not to worry, not to let it get to his head. Perhaps, it’s the same case. You must be occupied, or sent on an envoy to one of your allies. There must be a reason that would justify your absence. Surely, you would not choose to simply ignore him, ignore the constant arrival of gillyflower to your chambers.

He lets his fingers drift across the sheets, going over the memory of the both of you entangled in them. It’s been too long, and he’s just gotten you back. There is no way in seven hells that he would let another separation linger between you and him.

Perhaps it’s time to leave. His entire being pulls him toward staying in the cabin, perhaps just a little while longer. Just another minute, or another hour even. Maybe then, maybe you…

Out in the hills, Vhagar huffs impatiently. She feels distraught, struggling to maintain a sense of calm, mirroring her rider’s exact sentiments. Vhagar and Aemond have always been attuned to each other in this way, which has also led to the largest dragon’s affinity for you. She watches Aemond walking back to her, stone-faced and looking downcast. He certainly did not get what he came for. Silently, he clambers up onto Vhagar, and sits back, assessing the field and the skies. Trying to catch a glimpse of your arrival. Anything at all. Even a raven that holds a letter to explain your absence.

He's not certain how much more time passes, as he sits atop Vhagar. The dragon shuffles slightly, pulling him out of his thoughts. In a huff, he makes a split decision, voice sounding agitated, “Ivestragī's jikagon. Sōvegon.” Let’s go. Fly.

The field is enveloped in a massive gust of wind, grass and gillyflower whipped about in a flourish. Gravel and dirt are spread out from where Vhagar took off. Back in the cabin, candles are left lit around the room, casting a warm glow in the emptiness. The entire place - the field, the cabin, the skies above – seems to have lost its wonder, its defining spark, without the star-crossed lovers who have made it their home.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sworn knights escort a woman into the great, looming hall in Dragonstone. The elderly woman walks with dignity, her head held high, her modest red dress billowing slightly as she strides. The queen and Prince Daemon finally take notice of her, as the maester walks forward to announce her arrival.

“My Queen, my Prince, might I present the Lady Cerrah. She hails from Essos, but she currently resides in the Riverlands, in the employ of our ally, House Tully.”

“They have a fucking witch in their employ?” Daemon doesn’t mince his words, as always, eager to get on with the interrogation.

“My queen,” she bows her head in obeisance, before adding in response, “I am a respected healer in House Tully, Prince Daemon, and I do not appreciate your tone.”

Rhaenyra gives her consort a sideward look, advising him to take caution, “We welcome you to Dragonstone, Lady Cerrah. I suppose you have been informed of why you have been summoned?”

“Summoned?” The lady’s voice is shrill, disbelieving, “I was plucked out of my chambers in the middle of the night and dragged out here in a pathetic carriage-”

“You should consider yourself fortunate that you weren’t put in chains, witch.” Daemon snaps, “This is a matter of urgency, so the sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we can be rid of each other’s presence.”

Lady Cerrah doesn’t recoil at Daemon’s tone, already accustomed to men approaching her in a brutish manner, without any effort made to hide their prejudice. “The maester has already informed me of the Lady Y/n’s condition, and I’m afraid he is not mistaken. This is the work of a priestess, and quite the powerful one, might I add.”

Rhaenyra proceeds in a practiced, diplomatic manner, “We have reason to suspect that this might be the work of someone from the Greens. Perhaps they too, have a priestess such as you, my lady, in their company.”

The priestess does not appreciate having to be a mere tool, her religion clearly viewed as lesser by these nobles, “And? What do you require of me? The name of everyone who might potentially be a priestess who sided with the Greens?”

“Just one name would suffice. The name of the cunt who put a curse of Lady Y/n and her dragon,” Daemon fiercely says, matching Lady Cerrah’s derision, “Whoever they are, they’re likely to be under the command of the Hightowers, or any of the traitors in King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra interjects, “Daemon, we can’t be certain-” but her husband does not cease his tirade.

“It must be. Do you know of any priest or priestess who may currently be in King’s Landing?”

“We followers of the Lord of Light know better than to be under the direct control of any of you Targaryens,” Lady Cerrah sneers, “You only seek to bring about the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms, simply because you wage war amongst yourselves.”

Just before Daemon angrily speaks up, Rhaenyra is quick to implore, in a comparably calmer tone, “I do not wish to antagonize you, my lady, and if you felt as if you were not properly treated as you were brought here, then I offer my apology.  But the Lady Y/n is quite dear to me, and to all of us. She is more than just an ally; she is my family.” At that, Daemon can’t help but sullenly nod in agreement. Rhaenyra continues, “If you know of anyone who might be rightfully suspected of harming her, then speak their name.”

Despite Lady Cerrah’s resistance, the queen’s genuine sincerity was something she could not ignore. She speaks again, her voice softer, “In King’s Landing, you say? Well, I suppose there is someone who is close enough to the royals, that it is likely her faith is being utilized to their advantage,” she pauses, making up her mind, “You must have heard of Alys Rivers. The consort…well, former consort of Prince Aemond Targaryen. She is the daughter of a devout follower of the Lord of Light, a true priestess who devoted her life to the faith. I came across her mother several times in our youth, before she was impregnated by the late Lord Strong.”

Daemon’s blood runs cold. He mouths slowly, “Alys Rivers is a fucking witch.” If she had anything to do with this, then it must only be at the behest of his nephew, and Daemon knowingly let you go to him. I let her go to him, to that fucking traitor, and now she lies unconscious, her fate uncertain.

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a knowing look, both aware of your history with Prince Aemond.

“Thank you, my lady,” Rhaenyra says, “That will be all for now. You will be given your own chambers during your stay here. Clear the room,” she hurriedly commands her loyal knights.

Before she is ushered away, the priestess adds, moved by the queen’s grace, “My queen, I wish to express my regret for what happened to the Lady Y/n. I shall look over my texts, and see if there is anything I can do.”

The room has just been emptied, before Daemon angrily speaks, "That one-eyed cunt shall pay for what he's done to her. He clearly has not learned his lesson after-"

Rhaenyra stops him with a single look, and Daemon knows better than to bring up the subject of her second son.

"If this is all Prince Aemond's doing, then why does he persist in sending gillyflower to her, in hopes that she might meet him? It does not seem like he's aware of her condition."

"It must be a trap," Daemon asserts, "or a diversion. To make it look like he's innocent in all this-"

"Daemon, you said so yourself that you believe them to truly care for one another. This is why you let her go to him. If that is true, then Aemond would not have done this."

"Well, perhaps I thought wrong," Daemon hissed, "If Alys Rivers is a priestess, then her connection with Aemond would deem her most likely guilty of the fucking curse our Y/n was put under."

Rhaenyra reaches for Daemon's hand, attempting to ease his agitation, "She will make it through this, Daemon. She's a fighter, always has been."

"I know she will," Daemon mutters, "but Alys Rivers must be dealt with, and I know just the way to see this done."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond absentmindedly plays with the sapphire-blue stone ball in the symbolic round dish set before him. His mind is elsewhere, fixated on you. The other members of the Green Council drawl on, and his mother Alicent’s expression grows dimmer as she sits at the head of the table. The proclaimed King himself is once again absent from the council meeting, no longer a surprise to anyone, for it was always clear that the Hightowers have been the ones to maneuver the plans of war. Figureheads in the shadows who are actually running the Seven Kingdoms.

Ser Tyland Lannister drawls on about the need for more resources in some battle, which of course, Casterly Rock would be more than happy to provide. Not unusual of their House which constantly leeches off of the power of the Iron Throne, through favours and self-serving flattery. Tyland poorly hides his annoyance when  Jasper Wylde interrupts, who claims to have good news from the Greens’ network of spies.

“Word has reached us that a very important player in this game for the Blacks has suffered a grave injury. As luck would have it, her dragon is in the same condition. The Lady Y/n is rumoured to be lying unconscious, and it is uncertain whether she will ever wake.”

Aemond freezes completely. His stomach twists and a sense of nausea threatens him, his eyes widening in shock. Rage quickly follows, when he replays what Jasper has just reported, his increasingly grating voice a mere echo in the background.

… suffered a grave injury… rumoured to be lying unconscious… It is uncertain whether she will ever wake.

“Wonderful news, dare I say!” the bumbling Lannister exclaims, unaware of the inner turmoil about to be unleashed from the Targaryen prince across the table, “And she rides one of their largest dragons, doesn’t she? A true loss for the Blacks, so this should…”

Alicent grows aware of her son’s distress, of his fist turning bone-white, tightening around the blue stone ball, “Aemond,” she implores, “Aemond, don’t-”

Tyland Lannister drones on, “…be a cause for celebration. But we should also make haste in considering our next-”

Gasps erupt around the table. Silence falls. Tyland Lannister’s speech was effectively halted by the same symbolic sphere, that shining blue implement, hurled from Aemond’s fist to his mouth.

The council members look from their prince to the Lannister, who stands in shock. His quivering hand covers his mouth, but blood has already begun to seep through his fingers. He makes a gurgling noise, and keels over, spitting a heavy clod of blood and several of his teeth on the stone floor.

“Fuck!” Tyland yells, muffled by the damage done, “You…you utter cunt…”

“Careful how you address your prince, Ser,” Ser Criston threatens from the side of the room.

Aemond stands tall, dominating the room with his silent, burning wrath. Lips tightened, jaw tense, fists curled at his sides. The very image of a dragon prepared to bring about destruction with his fire. He makes no move to excuse his action, and does not offer any semblance of an apology, both in word and in his expression.

Alicent is quick to act, fearing further escalation into violence, especially due to her son. “My lords, I must declare this council meeting over. We shall discuss any proceedings on the morrow.”

“What of… of what’s been done to me?” Tyland wheezes, blood still spilling from his lips, “I demand justice!”

Aemond’s head whips to him in a fury, “Justice would warrant that I have your head mounted on a spike, for levying insults against my-” He pauses. My love? My consort? My... my life.

The air is thick with anticipation and intrigue. The intrusive thought of Prince Aemond and Lady Y/n settle uncomfortably within their minds.

“Ser Criston, see everyone out,” Alicent instructs, “and have the maester see to Ser Tyland straight away.” Everyone shuffles out of the room, apart from Alicent and her son. She takes one of his fists, squeezing it gently between her palms, beseeching him to meet her gaze.

“Speak to me, Aemond,” Alicent pleads, “Why have you acted in such a way? You swore to me that you would never let your anger take over you again. Do you still care for the Lady Y/n?”

“Mother, I-” Aemond whispers, words failing him, “I…” He sits back down, leaning forward on one arm to steady himself. His hand is still curled tight, fingernails digging into his palm. Alicent sits beside him, pulling his fist close. Prying it open, she is saddened to see familiar, bloody crescent marks on his palm, from where his nails dug too deep. A memory flashes across her eyes, a sensation from her long lost girlhood, her hands defaced in a similar way. Of her own doing. And now her son has to suffer the same, and whatever pains have led him to this, she only wishes to take it away.

“Was this our doing?” Aemond says lowly, “Was this an attack orchestrated by our allies? I must know who dared harm Y/n.”

“I am not certain of this at present, Aemond. However, I will have Ser Criston report every detail he can collect about this incident. Rest assured, you will have your answers.”

Aemond envisions you, hurt, and he feels powerless to do anything to remedy it. His chest tightens with a pain he is sure he has not felt in a long time, not since he lost you the first time. Now, he could lose you for good. He refuses to entertain that possibility; he fears the monster he will become if that ever came to be.

He forces himself to nod to his mother in acknowledgement, before striding out of the council room, every step he takes bearing heavy. He was never a devout man, only playing the part of the dutiful son who upholds his mother’s beliefs. But a prayer repeatedly races through his mind. By the old gods and the new, let her be well. Let her recover completely. Let her return to me.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond walks the halls determinedly in apparent calm. His face does not betray what simmers within. After Ser Criston Cole left his chambers, having reported everything he had gathered about your condition, Aemond sat transfixed by the flames. The amber flickers drew him back to one dark-haired bastard girl. The one who worships these flames. That witch.

It had been her. She was the one whom the Blacks have apparently determined as the likely cause. Aemond can’t help but concur. You had been allegedly been afflicted with a curse, the doing of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. And who else would have reason to target you? Who better to suspect that his scorned former consort.

The door to Alys Rivers’ meagre chambers flies open. She had been sitting in front her mirror, running a comb over her long tresses, when she felt a cold gust of air from behind. She turns, finding the object of her fixation. The one-eyed prince, the love that had been promised to her by the Lord of Light. She was sure, he was meant to be hers.

She stands, excitedly at first, until she manages to observe him entirely. His entire demeanour is dark and menacing, his regal, austere face taking on a cruel edge.

“My Aemond,” she tentatively whispers, her hands reaching out to touch him. She lightly grips the sleeves of his tunic, but he remains unmoving. A long, torturous moment passes.

Then Aemond snaps, springing into movement, too quick for Alys to comprehend. His fingers tighten around her neck, cutting off any air in her windpipe. His fingernails dig into her skin, and her eyes widen alarmingly, begging him to cease his assault.

His seemingly dead eyes look right through her, numb to her pain. For once, the witch���s heart is stricken with fear caused by her true love. She can barely recognize the man in front of her.  

“Ae..mond,” a desperate croak, her slender hands scrambling and failing to urge him to release her neck.

Aemond finally speaks, voice dripping with menace, “What the fuck have you done?”

-----------

Sorry that you did not make an appearance in this chapter, dear reader. 🙃 I wanted to emphasize the gravity of the situation, and we simply can't have you just gallivanting around right away, if you're meant to have suffered a great blow from your nemesis, now can we?

I hoped yous understand the reference to the symbolic stone balls used during council meetings. No, Aemond does not have a blue ball he just brings around and plays with. (Lol)

And that's right, no smut in this one. This is kind of a filler chapter + you're in a bloody coma so simmer down for a while 😂

What to expect in the next chapter: you'll finally wake, Aemond will attempt to come see you (risking his head because Daemon will surely be out for blood the moment his nephew sets foot on Dragonstone), you might see Aemond in a new light (you'll be more distrusting, because it was his fooling around with that witch that led to your affliction after all) ...

the taglist continues in the comments, I sincerely apologize if I missed anyone. There must be nearly 200 of you that asked to be tagged so it's been insane! (in the best way) thank you all for reading!!! 🖤

taglist: @schniiipsel @thelastcitysposts @angel6776 @huntycola @sanguinalia @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @outundertheocean @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @stillinracooncity @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @whitejuliana1204 @caught-in-the-afterglow @witchmoon @meilikki @carlottalhn @xcinnamonmalfoyx @writer-lee5 @solacestyles @noneedtosearch @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mikariell95 @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @aemondswh0re

[shina913]

Permission | JJK

Permission

Pairing: Dancer!JJK x Fem!Reader

Rating:  M (🔞); NSFW

Genre: stripper(ish)!AU; one-night stand; fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; alcohol consumption; lap dancing; lots of hip grinding; food play; mentions of dry-humping; dirty talk; oral (F-receiving); fingering; clit play; breast/nipple; praise kink; protected sex; multiple orgasms

Word count: 6,703 words

Summary: You get more than what you bargained for during your friend's bachelorette party weekend.

A/N: This is loosely based on a true story...with some embellishments, obvs 😅 Anyway, if any of you ever get a chance to go to Magic Mike Live in Las Vegas--it's a good time 😏

The visual is Esquire!JK or ON!JK during MAMA practice 👀 The song during the lapdance scene is Jodeci's Freek'n You ; while the title was taken from Ro James' song. I've been really inspired by a lot of slow jams lately so--get all those body rolls in!

Five pairs of heels hot-footed their way through the marble floor. You and your friends rushed through the final course of your dinner and hopped into a rideshare hoping to make the scheduled show.

“Shit…is it this way?” Your friend, Leia, calls past her shoulder while you all walk aimlessly around the casino floor.

“I’m pretty sure,” Myla says unconvincingly while looking through overhead signage for directions to the theater. Still, you follow her lead as she speed-walks through the crowd. 

“A-ha! There’s the escalator!” She exclaims. She was here not so long ago with her boyfriend for an anniversary trip and reported back as they did an advanced ‘walkthrough’ of where the show was located.

The show in question was supposed to start at 7:30 and it was nearly 10 minutes past that time after you all practically jogged toward the rideshare pickup area. You kept glancing at your phone’s clock…you knew you’d be late. You just hoped that you didn’t miss too much when you finally arrived at the door.

“What if they give away our spot? Or worse, what if they won’t let us in?” Yuna asked in a panic while trying to adjust her “Bride-to-Be” sash around her shoulder and waist.

“And why would they do that? We paid for these tickets last month!” You reasoned.

“Exactly,” Divya agreed. “We all paid to see these men grinding shirtless onstage, damn it and nobody will get in the way of that!”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have worn these heels,” Yuna curses when you all step onto the escalator.

“Girl, don’t worry–you look hot! When you get picked to go onstage, Soobin will be sorry he let us take you on this trip,” you giggled.

Yuna scoffed. “Well, regardless…I would have gone anyway!” Her comment elicits laughs from your whole group as you finally arrive at the door.

While the usher scans the tickets from Myla’s smartphone, Yuna leans in and whispers in your ear. “And how do you know I’m getting picked? Did you pre-arrange something?”

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe,” you mumbled then laughed as the staff guides you through the doors with his flashlight pointed to the ground.

******

You walked into a dimly lit room and were greeted by loud shrieks and whooping from audience members. You could understand why.

At center stage were 10 dancers, who were currently taking their shirts off seductively to reveal their signature washboard abs.

One of them catches your eye. He had his hair pulled back in a bun, revealing his sharp jawline. He revealed a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm so it was easy to spot him in the crowd.

You’re so distracted by him that you trip over your feet, nearly falling onto Leia, who was walking right in front of you.

When you arrive at your table, you find two girls who had taken over your seats under the assumption that you were no-shows. The usher tries to reason with them but one of them is dismissive. Divya steps up and mouths something inaudible. She had a smile on her face but your best friend was a firecracker and you know that she didn’t sweet-talk those girls into getting out of your seats.

They finally, begrudgingly get up and move to their actual seats, which were located at a spot that had an obstructed view.

They grumbled under their breaths but Divya just smiled and waved at them. She turns to you and laughs, “What did I tell you? Nothing and no one will get in the way of me watching hot, sweaty, half-naked men grinding for me!”

You laughed and then eventually join the crowd in screaming as the female emcee introduces the next act of the show.

******

“Hey, gorgeous! Can I bring you up for the next number?” The emcee approaches your table, addressing Yuna, who had a white, bedazzled veil pinned in her hair.

She nervously looks back at your group, and then at you–who was responsible for organizing this ‘excursion.’ You all screech in excitement, goading Yuna, who screams her agreement.

The emcee takes her hand and guides her to the opposite side of the stage.

Minutes later, the music starts and the spotlight comes on. A dancer glides across the top of the bar. It wasn’t a fully-functioning one–just another flat surface that served as a stage.

Even though his face was obscured by the baseball cap that he wore, his sunshiney smile was unmistakable and contributed to his sexiness. After a few flips and smooth spins from him, more lights come on and your group screams when you spot Yuna, who was sitting at end of the bar.

The dancer kisses her hand and brings her closer. A fellow performer hands him something in his hand, which you realize is whipped cream after he pipes a bit of it into his mouth.

More squealing from the audience when he pulls her in closer and proceeds to peel his shirt off.

He gently wraps his hand under her knees and gently brings her legs up. Slowly, he lays her flat on the bar much to everyone’s delight, and does more of his dance, grinding his hips above her. He picks up the whipped cream and squeezed a little bit on her exposed thigh and licks it off.

Next, he crawls up higher, squeezed a little bit of cream on her cleavage, and seductively licks it just the same.

For his final act, he pulls on her arm to where she was sitting upright, where his bare chest is right in front of her. The song is about to fade out and he pipes a strip of cream at the center. He wiggled his finger at her to beckon her closer, and she does. You watch her lean in and stick her tongue out, just in time for the lights to go dark.

Your group and the rest of the theater go crazy.

******

After another group dance wraps up, the lights dim again and they switch to a combination of red and blue shades. The music starts to play–starting off with a brief sound of rolling thunder fading in through the speakers followed by the first few notes of the song.

I wanna freak you…were the words that echoed to the deep thump of the bass.

A few dancers sauntered out of different corners of the theater and some were coming down the steps that connected from the second-level balcony. They were dressed in black underwear and not much else. All of them were carefully scanning the room for a target.

The emcee announces a reminder, one that she’s made all throughout the show. “Remember, everyone–if you don’t want any attention from our boys, just say the safe word: ‘unicorn’ and they’ll move on with no questions asked!”

This was a free-form portion of the show where random members of the audience may get a lap dance.

When the beat dropped, spotlights were trained towards each dancer and whatever section they were in, grinding and body-rolling into consenting audience members.

Everyone, including your group, gets on their feet, screaming and cheering, hoping to get one of the dancers’ attention.

“I want that one!” Myla pointed at one of the taller dancers who was two tables down from you. “I want him to drown me in those dimples!”

“Not if I get him first,” Divya contests, putting two fingers between her lips to let out a loud, high-pitched whistle.

You laughed while your friends argued over which hot guy they wanted to dry-hump then. You briefly turn away to reach for your drink.

After taking a sip, you hear a voice calling from behind you.

“Hi.”

Your group was so distracted by one side of the theater that you had forgotten that all guys were making their rounds in both levels, and all directions.

Even in the dimly lit theater, you instantly recognize him by his full sleeve of tattoos. It was the same guy who had been trading glances with you as soon as you sat down for the show.

“Uh…h-hi,” You stutter as he approached you.

“May I?”

Your eyebrows lift when he asks for approval to dance for you. The ladies next to your table are screaming, begging for his attention but he doesn’t hear them. At this moment, his attention was solely on you.

“You may.” You smiled as the girls next to you looked deflated.

Your approval earns you his best panty-busting grin. He then scoots your chair toward him and swings his right leg over to your left side so his crotch was hovering over your thighs. Your girlfriends start screaming when he begins to roll his hips.

He takes your hands and brings them up to rest them on his well-sculpted pecs. Then, he proceeds to guide them painfully slowly down his chest. You close your eyes briefly on contact. His skin felt soft and smooth, and his scent was this dizzy mix of sweat and cologne.

“Eyes up here.” You vaguely hear his command and you obey accordingly.

You look up to see him looking down at you. The POV perspective was not lost on you. Here was this insanely gorgeous man, grinding up on your lap while your hands were on his bare chest.

Tonight, you got my time Tonight you won't be sorry Tonight, you got my mind What must I say? What must I do? To show how much  I think about freek'n you

When your hands got to his waist, he guides them backward, where he rests them on his ass. 

You and your girls pre-gamed back at the hotel before heading down to the theater. Coupled with the drinks you had at dinner, you were feeling bolder than usual.

You give him a gentle squeeze, followed by a playful smack. Leia sees what you did and it makes her scream louder, egging you on.

His eyebrows quirk in surprise but he chuckles softly. Without missing a beat, he grinds some more, subtly moving in closer to you…so close you could feel his breath on your cheek.

“You’ll pay for that,” he whispers darkly in your ear and continues to undulate his hips.

You laugh and decide to tease him back. “I really hope that you’d make me,” you countered. With the knowledge that you were never going to see him again, it was an empty challenge.

He smirked then slowly backed away. “I’ll remember that,” he gave a wink before sliding off you. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissed it, then moved on to a different section of screaming audience members.

When he leaves, Yuna grabs your shoulders, shaking you as she shrieks her excitement at your face while Myla, Divya, and Leia give you high-fives.

*****

Two acts later, the lights come back on onstage and one chair, placed on one side comes to view.

“I know I’ve said this multiple times but in this show, we are all about getting your permission here.” At the emcee’s announcement, a dancer comes up onstage. He had a soft, innocent-looking smile but the crinkle on the corners of his eyes showed a hint of cheekiness.

A woman with a ‘birthday girl’ sash is ushered onstage by a different dancer who had a smoldering look. He also looked sexy as hell but the bandana he wore as a headband to get his hair off his face gave him that little bit of a boyish charm.

When the smoldering guy gets off the stage, the cheeky dancer greets the audience member and beckons her to sit on the chair propped onstage.

Once she settles in, the song swells. The singer croons about asking permission from his significant other to give him the green light.

“Everyone, let’s welcome ‘Sasha!’ Sasha, will you give Jimin permission?” The emcee asks.

When she nods enthusiastically, he smiles at her and brushes his thumb to his lips before he begins his routine. He starts off slow, seducing the birthday girl with a few caresses on her cheek. He then carefully peels his shirt off before getting on her lap to grind on her.

The crowd eats it up and the woman is completely enthralled by the rest of his routine.

While everyone’s eyes are glued to the stage, a different dancer, taller and leaner with the plushest lips approaches you.

“Hi, will you come with me onstage?”

You were surprised to be picked a second time but maybe these guys lose track of whoever they give lap dances to during the show.

You were about to decline when Yuna screams, “Oh my god, yes, YN!!! Pick her!”

The dancer smiles and you relent, thinking that this was just a lucky night for you.

As you are ushered toward the stage, another chair is propped diagonal from the woman who was already there. Was this a double act? You weren’t sure.

“What’s your name, honey?” The emcee asks, pointing the microphone to you.

“YN,” you answer.

“Alright, YN! Will you give Jungkook permission?”

You whip your head around underneath the blinding stage lights, trying to identify this ‘Jungkook,’ to no avail. Then, thinking there was no way anything could go wrong, you absently shrug your shoulders and say, “Y-yes.”

You sit down as soon as the chorus fades into the next verse of the song and you feel an arm caress your shoulder. You turn your head and once the glare of the spotlight fades, your eyes widen at the sight of the same tattooed hottie, now dressed in a pair of jeans and what looked like a tear-away shirt.

Jungkook pushes your knees together and just like the first time, dances on your lap. He cupped your nape and leans in, which sends the audience into a frenzy.

Still, in a state of shock, all you can do is laugh nervously while he goes about his dance. He tears his shirt open, hands roaming over his chest and cupping himself, his hips perfectly timed with the beat.

He does a synchronized choreography with Jimin, where they switch off partners briefly so you have the other dancer grinding on you for a few bars of the song.

You were in awe of the routine. It wasn’t trashy or remotely corny. Even the way they stripped their shirts off was beautifully synchronized. It was all seductive and designed to stimulate your senses.

You’d gone to another adult male revue show once, a few years ago and even though you had a fun time, you felt that it seemed a bit old-fashioned. Not only were the men terrible dancers but the show was formatted to focus on them.

This show was different. It felt more interactive and more focused on the audience.

Every dancer there, looked as if they were all asking you what you wanted and were fully intent on giving it to you by the end of the night. 

Not long after, Jungkook gets up and speaks into your ear again. “I need you to put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. It’s all part of the routine,” he says hastily. 

“W-What?” Your pulse raised. You didn’t see any hint of this act within the customer reviews.

He cocked his head to the side and uttered, “Time to pay up!”

In a flash, he lifts you off the chair, making you instinctively grab onto his neck for support. He smacks you in the ass, making you yelp in surprise.

You were subconsciously grateful that you decided to go against the mini-dress and instead went with black jeans and a mock-neck fitted top, lest you suffer some sort of wardrobe malfunction.

He carefully lays you on the floor, gently pushing your knees apart–and at the drop of the beat,  dips his head to your center, and grinds his hips against the floor. 

The crowd goes wild when he rises to his knees, takes your ankles, holds them straight up with one hand, and grinds into you. He puts them down, hovers over you, and flips his body around in a 69 position with you.

Deafening screams fill the entire theater, making your eras ring.

The last thing you remember before your vision blacks out is seeing Jungkook’s shit-eating grin with pink paper bills falling around you like confetti.

******

“Oh my god! Thank you, guys, for planning this,” Yuna gleefully says to your group. “This is the best bachelorette ever!”

You snorted. “Shit, I hope it’s the only one you’re planning on having.”

“Ugh, girl! You know what I mean!” She laughed, then hugged you tightly. You all file out of the theater and take group photos, thanking the nice stranger who offered.

“Man, those guys got me so horny, I might drunk-dial my man for a little action,” Divya blurts out.

“Whatever you decide, do it in the walk-in closet, please,” Leia says.

“Speaking of horny–how bout that one guy hitting up YN twice?!” Myla teases, making the other girls pile on you.

“Guys, stop!” You wave them off. “He’s just doing his job. It’s not that deep.”

“Oh, I can tell–he really wanted to get deep into you,” Divya and Myla high-five each other.

“Whatever,” you shook your head. “Do you all still want to hang around here or head back to our hotel? I got us on the list at the club there. What do you want to do, Miss Bride-to-Be?” You turn to Yuna.

“Eh, let’s head back,” she shrugs. “Besides, I need to change out of these fucking heels. My toes are about to fall off!” She winces as you all head to the rideshare pickup area. “And then we’ll head into the club to get fucked up!”

“Hell yeah, ladies’ open bar for the win!” You yell out.

“Sheesh, I’m freaking starving. I’m thinking of heading straight for the crab legs and prime rib,” you say to Myla while your group stood in line to check in for your brunch reservations.

“At 10:45 in the morning?” She says with a quizzical look.

“It’s a buffet, My. They serve everything once it opens.”

After crawling back up to your suite a little after 2AM this morning, it was a shock that your whole group managed to wake up and get ready in time to make your way to the buffet at your hotel.

“I don’t know about you guys but I’m down for bottomless mimosas,” Divya remarks.

“Me too,” Yuna says.

Leia, who just handed her credit card to the cashier turned her head to address the rest of you. “Me three! Also, I’m pretty sure I had a dream about one of the guys from last night,” she quipped.

You yawn, trying to keep yourself awake while your girlfriends reminisce about your wild night out.

Myla teases Yuna about being so drunk that she wanted to  Facetime-sex her fiance, Soobin, from the club’s bathroom. Unfortunately, she passed out from having one too many shots. Sometime in the middle of the night, she apparently admits to dry-humping Divya, whom she shared a bed with last night.

Yuna embarrassingly apologizes. “Girl, if you wanted to dry-hump, you could have told me. I brought my teenie mini on this trip,” Divya says, making Myla laugh out loud.

Leia’s ears start to ring. “Speaking of dry-humping, I still can’t get over the action that YN got last night!”

Your cheeks start to heat up at the memory–you did have a lot to drink last night and may have said some naughty things to one of the dancers. But you weren’t going to see him again so you laugh it off in an effort to move on from the subject.

“Are we still on that?” You laughed. “I mean…fine, it was pretty wild but you guys are making a big deal out of nothing. I’m sure they have to do that several times a night to audience members–based on the reviews I’ve read online, at least,” you say in an attempt to rationalize the situation.

“I don’t know,” Divya says. “He was pumping his hips awfully hard when you guys were onstage!”

“Ooh look at those crab legs!” You exclaim loudly.

That seemed to be the magical word to get the heat off you. Deep down, you wished you didn’t have other plans today since you seriously contemplated seeing the show again. Then again, this trip wasn’t about you–it was about celebrating Yuna and your friends who wanted to indulge in a wild weekend, without spouses, kids, or significant others.

******

With two plates full of meat and seafood, you carefully make your way back to your table. But you abruptly stop when you notice staff setting out some braised pork belly.

“Dee!” You call out to Divya. “Help me get a plate!”

She stops to turn to you only to say, “Do you see how full my hands are? Just come back for it later.”

You let out a pathetic whine when you see several patrons grabbing one plate after another.

You curse under your breath, torn between abandoning one of your plates to pick up some pork belly.

“Need some help there?” A male-sounding voice asked.

You whip your head around in confusion. Your mouth falls open when you see who was offering to assist you.

“Uhm–h-hi,” you say to the same man who gave you a lapdance and essentially dry-fucked you onstage in front of hundreds of people.

******

It was like a scene out of a movie. A bunch of male entertainers randomly running into a party of women who were in town for a bachelorette party, at a buffet–out of all the other buffets this city had to offer. You couldn’t have planned it better yourself.

Your parties pushed your tables together as chatter flowed casually. Jungkook sat next to you while his buddies, Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok chatted away with your girlfriends.

“How long are you in town for?”  He asks you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” You answered.

His face faltered slightly. “I see. Early flight?”

You shook your head. “No, after lunch. Some of my friends will probably need some time to recover. They plan on staying up all night, trying to tick all of the boxes for this trip,” you laughed.

He laughed as well. “That’s cool. And a buffet is on your checklist?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “What about you? Do you hang out at buffets during the day when you’re not grinding your hips up at customers at night?”

He threw his head back and guffawed. You thought the way he wrinkled his nose when he laughed was adorable. “I mean, the food’s good here and they have the best selection out of the other places.”

You nod your head at his response.

“I’m glad to run into you, though,” he whispers in your ear, making you chuckle.

“Do you always say that to everyone you’ve given lapdances to?”

“No, because I almost never run into people I’ve given lapdances to,” He smiled, pushing some errant strands of hair away from your face.

You weren’t sure if he was full of shit or just being cute. Scratch that–you were sure about one of those things.

You laughed. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks. I think you’re cute, too.”

******

After brunch, your group didn’t have any solid plans before your reservations to The High Roller, a fancy Ferris wheel where groups of adult parties could avail of the open bar privileges in each pod.

One thing led to another and the next thing you knew, your group invited them for a bit of fun this afternoon.

Namjoon, the one whose dimples Myla wanted to drown in, suggested checking out the Seven Magic Mountains, an outdoor art installation in the desert which was a bit of a drive away. Since the strip was really more fun at night, exploring away from it was a welcomed idea.

You all head to the hotel’s parking lot to call for a rideshare when Jimin stops to check his weather app.

“Damn, the weather report says it’s going to rain,” Jimin remarks.

“What? But it looks so sunny out, though?” Hoseok countered.

“If it’s going to rain, I have another idea of what we could do indoors!” Namjoon pipes up. He suggests an indoor escape room at the next hotel. They also happen to have relatively cheaper casino games compared to the one at your hotel.

Everyone is in agreement until you realize that you planned to go back up to your room to take your jacket and change out of your bottoms.

“Sorry guys, I need to go back up to the room to grab a couple of things. I’ll come back down as fast as I can!”

“Need any help?” Jungkook offers.

Your girls start to snicker amongst themselves and you grow flustered.

“You don’t need to do that. I can find my way back,” you smiled, starting to walk back to the elevators.

“Right, but just in case you all decide to go on ahead to maximize time, at least you’ll have a local guy to show you around?”

You roll your eyes, thinking you could just humor this guy to stop your girlfriends from teasing you.

You relented. “Fine, you guys can go on ahead.”

“Just give us a call, YN,” Leia calls out, adding a mischievous wink while you and Jungkook walk back toward the elevators together.

When the doors shut and the cab ascends, you both stand on opposite corners.

You exchange looks as the cab ascends. He makes some remark about how much the hotel has changed since he was last here, to which you absently nod your head in blind agreement.

“Anyway,” he says in a sudden switch in subject, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you since last night.”

You gulped just as soon as the elevator dings its arrival on your floor. All you do is chuckle nervously and walk into the hallway, pretending you didn’t hear what he just said.

******

The censor beeps and you turn the door handle to enter the suite. Once you both stepped in, he caught you by your waist and gently spun you around to face him. Caging you against the wall, he asks, “I wasn’t sure if you heard what I said earlier?”

“I did,” you answer simply.

“I meant it.”

“Oh really,” you challenged.

“Yes,” he reaffirms. “Shall I show you?”

“I mean…it’s all empty words to me. Flirting is part of your job, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Last time I checked, I’m currently off the clock. So that must mean that I’m not bullshitting you.”

You smiled back at him. Truth or not, he was hot and you wanted to know more of what he was all about right this second. “Well, what are you waiting for then?”

He flashed a grin before he sealed his mouth over yours.

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling through your kisses while he carried you toward the bed. All the while, your tongues continued to lick into each other’s mouths and your hands roved everywhere.

You stumble onto the bed closest to the door and he haphazardly strips you off your bottoms.

“Geez…fuckkk.” your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, Jungkook pinned your hips to the mattress and flitted his tongue against your clit. Your core tightened and your vision blurred while your body settles into the pleasure that his tongue and fingers were so intent on giving to you.

The sight of his dark head between your legs made your pulse thrum, racing in unison with the steady humming that he did against your flesh. You caught sight of your panties on one side of the bed–they were ruined, literally shredded to pieces from his grip, and yet he was still fully dressed.

“I’m ready.” You pushed your fingers into his hair. As much as you relished his oral expertise and would happily lie on this bed all day to enjoy it, you didn’t have the luxury of time. Not to mention that people were waiting on you to simply fetch a jacket.

If those few seconds where you cupped him by the doorway were any indication of what you felt underneath those jeans,  you wanted it inside of you sooner rather than later.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready.”

“Come ooon,” you whine. “We have to—holy fuck!“ You gasped at the hard suctioning from his mouth, coupled with the two fingers he slid into you.

“You were saying?” He lifts his head, a cocky grin on his face while continuing to slowly rub the raw bundle of nerves deep within you.

“I want you inside…now,” you mewled while your legs shook.

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” he whispered before dipping his head down again to tease your swollen flesh with the tip of his tongue.

You plump your own breasts and tug at your nipples to get yourself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook breathes out at the sight of it.

You sucked in a deep breath as your climax neared. Even though you wanted his cock to fill you, the urge to cum while he ate you out was stronger.

You let out a breathy cry as you trembled through your orgasm, your back arched off the bed while you rode your high with each thrust of his fingers.

He hovers over you and whispers in your ear, “Atta girl.” His praise sent another course of shivers through you.

Eyes still shut, you groaned. “I’d come harder if you were inside me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked. You flutter your eyes open to see him pulling off his shirt. His jeans and boxers followed more slowly.

You push up and lean back on your elbows. It was much more seductive to watch him do this privately…without prying eyes and other thirsty bitches wanting a piece. This show was all for you and you alone.

He straightened from shoving his boxer briefs down, then knelt on the foot of the bed and crawled toward you.

He hovered over you, his hair falling around his face. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth and lightly traced the seam of your lips with the tip of his tongue. “I’ve wanted to taste you since I first laid eyes on you.”

You dart your tongue out to lick his. “I could say the same about you.”

You gripped his hips, arching upward to try to feel his warm skin against yours. You needed that closeness…craved it, even. And at this moment, it didn’t matter that this wasn’t going any further past the four walls of this hotel suite. You just wanted him.

You catch a glimpse of something squeezed between his pointer and middle finger. He brings it up to his mouth and tears the foil open with his teeth.

He sits back on his heels to roll the condom on while you sit up to pull your top off.

You wrapped your fingers around his length. He moans softly when you slowly pump him in your fist. You lean closer to kiss him, your hand still sliding up and down.

He breaks the kiss for a moment to slot himself between your legs, lining himself up to your center. He cradles your nape to pull you back into a kiss.

Slowly, he pushes into you. That initial contact, the soreness, makes you gasp. He continues to inch his way in, gradually stretching and filling you. Your walls clench around him once he’s fully in.

Your nails dug into firm flesh of his ass and tugged him against you. you didn’t care that it might hurt. If you didn’t get him in you, you thought you’d lose your mind.

Jungkook slid his hand into your hair, fisting it to hold you where he wanted you. “Look at me.”

You stilled at the command in his voice. You stared up at him, your frustration melting as you watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over his handsome face.

His features tightened first as if he were pained. A wince knit his brow. His lips parted with a gasp, his chest beginning to heave with labored breaths. His jaw ticked and his skin grew hot to the touch. 

Your hands gripped onto his biceps, anticipation building.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you begged–hypersensitivity be damned.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he utters before he sinks himself into you.

Your mouth was agape while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt him enter you inch by delicious inch–you could have sworn you’d just cum again and he hadn’t even started to move.

You gasped. He was hard and so, so deep into you. The connection was…indescribably intense.

His hips ground against yours. His entire body steeled, his chest muscles and arms visibly straining as he pulled out to the tip before he slams back into you–hard. The scene was reminiscent of the night before, where you were both in the same position, fully clothed.

Except now, he was actually inside of you…claiming you in every possible way.

You moaned in pleasure while his chest rumbled with a low growl. “Fuck, you feel so good…”

Tightening his hold on you, he started to fuck into you rhythmically, nailing your hips to the mattress with fierce thrusts.

He buried his face in your neck, feeling his hot, steady breaths in your ear. Thrusting harder and faster, gasping heated words that drove you absolutely crazy.

You were so focused on every move, every swivel of his hips, every stroke that had pleasure coursing through your whole body like electricity.

You moaned helplessly, his mouth slanting over yours, capturing it. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving a small trail of crescent indents on his flesh.

Another orgasm brewed within you, everything tightening, clenching, squeezing. He shoves one hand beneath your hip, cupping your ass to lift you to meet his thrusts. His cock stroked your aching center over and over.

“Ahh…holy sh–I’m…fuck…” you babbled incoherently.

“Right there with you, YN.”

With a broken sob, you climaxed in a rush. His body tenses, shuddering as his own orgasm rips through him.

He collapses on top, though careful not to put his full weight on you. You both try to catch your breaths, all the while having no clue how long you laid like that. His lips grazed over your shoulder and neck–it was an unexpected soothing moment.

******

“You know, your friends could get suspicious,” He chuckles, pointing to your outfit that was completely different from what you had on when you came up to your room.

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure they have a good idea of what went down.”

“Oh, do they?” He sauntered toward you, his arm snaking around your waist.

“Yeah. We’re all grown-ups here who just want to have a good time,” you answered him.

He leans in closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “And did you?”

“I did, thanks.” You give him a quick kiss on the lips. “Anyway, Yuna sent me a text saying that they’re at the restaurant if we want to meet up. You’re welcome to come if you want to?”

He sighs and carefully pulls himself away from you. “Ah, I wish I could but I gotta get back and get ready for the show.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “Oh okay.”

“I don’t get off ‘til 1AM. Sorry,” he says with regret.

“Hey, no need to apologize. We both got what we wanted,” you say simply.

He nods. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Time to get back to reality and all that.”

“Well, if you’re ever in town again…” he says slowly.

Jungkook was cute, but he was just a fantasy. And this was just a one-time thing. You figured that he was just being nice.

“Sure,” you answer him vaguely. “I’ll hit you up.”

He smiled, walking toward you again. “Alright well…have a safe flight back, I guess?” He raised his hand to touch one of your fringed earrings.

“Thanks.”

Sure, he was just a one-time fuck but it was probably going to be a while before you’d forget about him.

He stood there, his face an inch away from you, staring.

“I thought you said you had to leave for work?” You chewed at your bottom lip and stared back at him.

“I did say that,” he whispers while he tongues his lip piercing. While you watch him do it, your body temperature quickly rises to a fever pitch once more.

He swallowed roughly. “Would you think it was incredibly cheesy if I asked for a goodbye kiss?”

What mesmerized you was his big, round eyes and the hint of vulnerability that flowed out of them. You’re not sure why but the thought of that made you want to give him anything that he asked for.

“No. You can have one.”

With your permission, he captures your mouth with his.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. You licked into his mouth, stroking your tongue along his eliciting a low growl from him.

His hand grazes the small of your back and moves lower until he reaches the swell of your ass. He gives it a definitive squeeze, making you jump slightly. He catches you and presses his body harder against yours, while you moan into his mouth.

You’re both breathless when you pull away. He presses his forehead against yours.

“Damn…I wish you lived around here,” he panted.

The yearning in his voice was unmistakable. Under normal circumstances, you would hang onto that, roll around, and coat yourself in it. But as any person knows, nobody expects permanence in this town. And whatever happens here…stays.

You giggled, dipping your head on his chest briefly. When you lift it, you see him smiling at you. “I mean…we had our fun, right?” 

He flashed a warm smile and agreed. “Yeah, that was fun.”

******

You both make your way back down the hallway and toward the elevators and attempt to make small talk.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he answers.

“Your performances at the club…do you pretty much stick to the same routine every night?”

He shrugs. “Depends. Sometimes, the emcee asks the audience member to choose a dancer, sometimes it’s random. But we all stick to the same routine with a few improvisations.”

“Ah,” you nodded.

He pushes the ‘down’ button and immediately, one of the elevators opens up and you both step into the cab.

While it descends, you decide to sneak a glance at him only to find that he was doing the same thing. You both burst into laughter.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to stare,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you smiled.

“So, why did you ask about the performances? Was there a number in particular that you were curious about?”

You shrugged absentmindedly, staring at your feet. “N-no reason. Just making conversation.”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as you approach the first floor.

You shake your thoughts out of your head, keeping in mind that your friends were waiting for you to rejoin them.

You didn’t know why you felt awkward all of a sudden. He’s just been inside you, for crying out loud! And yet, maybe the thought of him being this unattainable fantasy was what prompted you to say the things you had said last night and earlier today…or you were just horny.

You start to rub the back of your neck to diffuse the tension there. Yep…definitely a high percentage of just feeling horny.

Finally, the elevator doors open up and he steps out right before you. Before he gets too far, you capture his wrist and tug him back toward you. It takes him by surprise.

“You know what? I am curious about one thing.”

His eyebrow quirked with curiosity.

“That whipped cream number–”

Before you could finish, he cuts you off. “I remember passing a coffee shop around the corner. He grazes your chin with his thumb, making your pulse erratic. “Maybe we can buy a can from them and I can show you what really goes on after the lights go out.“ He cocked an eyebrow at you.

Your answer is immediate and a little too breathless. “Yes–let’s do that!”

[lokisgoodgirl]

Role Play [Sub!Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader] 18+

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: To satisfy your curiosity, Loki brings magical spice into the bedroom by transforming you to the male version of yourself. (w/c 2.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. M/"M" Smut. Bisexual Loki. Praise kinks. Oral sex. Anal play. Anal sex. Dom! Reader/ Sub! Loki. Body transformation(F reader, M body) Kind of fluffy too - but mainly smut. A/N: I hope this is read in the spirit it was intended; curiosity and for love of Loki 💚

Loki’s warm lips pressed against the nape of your neck as he unclasped your necklace, trailing the pendant slowly up between your breasts.

“Can you believe it’s been a year, darling?”

You smiled as his fingers toyed at the zip of your dress, slowly pulling it down. He moved his mouth’s attentions to the smooth skin it revealed, working firm kisses between your shoulder-blades as you let out a reluctant sigh. It was now or never.

“Loki…?” you whispered, “I need to ask you something.”

He paused, hands on the curve of your waist held tightly by the rich fabric of your dress. You knew his face would be creased in expectation, his keen gaze narrowed in suspicion as he pulled you towards his firm torso.

“Yes?” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting your ear before sucking one earlobe between his lips.

You moaned, the loaded question hovering reluctantly behind your teeth. 

“Do you ever miss being with men?” you mumbled cautiously, the seconds ticking by as he considered his answer; the pliable skin of your ear rolling across his tongue.

“My love, I’m with men constantly. One can’t get rid of them in this realm, they are quite resilient.” he murmured goadingly as you keened against him.

Your stomach flipped. He was avoiding the question. A classic Loki misdirection. Fuck.

“You know what I mean...” you said firmly, spinning in his embrace to wrap your hands around his neck, “I don’t want you to feel…stifled by our relationship.”

You felt your cheeks burn as the reluctant confession lay heavy on your heart. It needed to be said, but as for his answer? You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

He gazed at you intently, the twinkle of mischief that never left his eyes burning brightly as a smile crept to the corners of his lips.

“If that is what has been concerning you these past weeks, darling...I wouldn’t worry. You can give me everything I desire... should you wish."

You raised an eyebrow towards him as he lowered the straps of your dress, the last defence of your modesty gone as it fell to the floor around your feet. His hands cupped your naked ass, lifting you effortlessly to wind your legs around his waist as your slick pussy grazed against his growing arousal, hidden in the tight material of his suit.

“Would you like to try something new, my beautiful one?” he purred as he carried you across the room, setting you down before the ornate full length mirror in the corner.

You fizzed with anticipation at his words. His eyes darkening as he raced ahead in his mind, pupils blowing wide with lust as he stood behind you. Your head spun at the implications as your own thoughts caught up with his, hoping that your assumptions were correct.

“Loki do you mean…?” you stammered, running your eyes across your curved body in the reflection as he slid his hands up to cup your breasts.

“Yes, darling. What do you say?”

You nodded silently as his fingers toyed with your hardened nipples. “Very well.”

Loki drew you into a sideways kiss as his hands slid down your waist, running his palms across your skin as tingles followed in their wake. This was more than his intoxicating touch, this was magic.

Your head swam with vertigo as your tongue massaged his, an ache deep in your muscles as you felt his hands grip around your hips and pull you back towards him gently with a soft thump.

“Look at yourself, darling” he murmured.

Your gaze fluttered to the mirror and you gasped. It was you but…not you.

Loki’s arms were still wrapped around your hips, his thick forearms draped over the lines of your taunt lower abdomen as he grinned to your side.

You were…taller - your jaw thick; chiselled, handsome – not beautiful. A strong neck ran down to broad shoulders that flexed over the muscles beneath as you took in your flattened chest, defined pectorals resting above your firm stomach. Below Loki’s hands hung a generously sized manhood resting shyly against your elongated thigh.

“Like what you see?” Loki whispered as he lustfully drank in your masculine reflection. You couldn’t blame him. You looked good. Really good.

“What should you call--“you coughed abruptly, the unexpected gravel of your new voice choking you like dust.

Loki smirked behind you, pressing his lips to your hair; “Try that again...”

“…what should you call me?” you repeated, the vibrations feeling unnatural as you watched Loki’s amused reflection lower his hand to encase your soft cock.

“Well on any other night, you’re my good girl…I see no reason why tonight you can’t be my good boy, hmm?”

You shivered as you felt blood rushing to your lower body, emptying like a warm bath as your unfamiliar organ began to rise against Loki’s palm. You smiled.

“Maybe I’ll be your bad boy?” you narrowed your eyes, watching as your lover restrained himself from laughter.

“Let’s not run before we can walk, shall we?” he said, squeezing the hardening flesh in his hand as you groaned beneath him. “Tell me what you want, I want to please my precious mortal in any way he chooses…”

You panted as you thrust involuntarily into Loki’s palm, the thin skin of your member sliding gracefully against his hand as your temporary form reacted to the stimulation. Fuck, it felt good.

Waves of anticipation ran down your thick thighs as you stared intensely at the god behind you in the mirror. He was still dressed in his impeccably fitted white shirt, the top buttons undone. His snug trousers clung to his lower body, creases straining against his muscular hips as he pressed towards you, bracing your buckling knees against your pleasure as his hand slid back and forth.

“…blowjob?” you blurted, your eyes closing as you immediately regretted your uncouth neediness. Loki huffed disapprovingly, cutting through the jolts of pleasure coursing from your groin.

“If we’re going to do this…we’re doing it properly. Say it like a man.” he instructed gently, using his free hand to brush the shoulder length hair from your neck, watching your posture straighten.

You took a deep breath, lowering your chin to smoulder at his reflection as his gaze raised to watch you expectantly. “Suck my cock, Laufeyson.”

Loki’s lips curled in an approving smile as he circled in front of you, running his eyes down your naked form as your hard length twitched with need, “Good boy.”

Long fingers wrapped around the base of your manhood as he walked you backwards, kissing you deeply as you fought upwards against his grip, desperate for the friction to begin again.

Low heavy growls hazed from your throat as you inhaled his scent, clinging to his skin like his hand clung to your cock; restraining you, prolonging your anticipation.

The back of your legs hit the bed, unfamiliar muscled thighs colliding with the duvet as you relented to his will. He straightened his lithe body which now closely resembled your own as he rubbed large hands down his bulging thighs. His own cock begged to be freed from confinement, raging against the expensive fabric which held it firmly to his hip.

“The first time can be overwhelming, so its best you sit down…” he muttered darkly, the velvet tones of his voice driving you wild with need as he sank slowly to his knees.

“The act itself?” you panted, “…or you being the one performing it?”

“A bit of both.” he murmured coyly, before he swallowed your desperate cock between his lips.

You inhaled sharply, falling backwards to rest on your elbows as the feeling of his tongue enveloping your length washed over you like a tsunami. God, it felt amazing. You could see what all the fuss was about.

A deep groan escaped your throat as he sucked you slowly upwards from the base, his mouth forming a vacuum as hands slid firmly up the sides of your thighs to grip the toned flesh.

“Loki…fucckkkk” you moaned, the gruff strangeness of your voice forgotten as you wound one large hand in the God of Mischief’s hair, tugging his curls between your strong fingers. You stared at him in awe, his perfect chiselled faced in deep concentration, wisps of curl falling around his brow as he pleasured your male form.

His tongue swirled around the tip as you growled beneath him, thrusting your squared hips upwards deeper into his waiting throat. Loki’s cheekbones hollowed as he consumed you, your deep cries of pleasure spurring him on as you gripped the bedsheets beneath fists. The sight of his mouth around your cock was more than you could bear; a dark fantasy you never knew you had.

The intense need to take him, to own him…it burned as you watched your manhood disappear to slide over his warm tongue again and again as he knelt between your open thighs.

You began to pant with broken breaths, legs quivering as you felt a coil tighten somewhere down below. It was different…but the same. Loki felt the change, slowing his pace to a gentle suck as you strained your hips towards him – willing him to give you more.

“You’ve done so well for me, it must have been so difficult for you not to cum…” he murmured against your wet skin, slick with his saliva. His gaze never left yours as he placed a lingering kiss on the tip of your girth, lapping gently at a bead of pre-cum that languished there.

Those legendary long legs unfurled as he rose to crawl on top of you; biceps straining at the arms of his tight shirt as his mouth crashed to yours, pressing you back on the bed.

The wave of dark lust rose in you again, the intense energy of pure masculinity as you gripped his forearms and flipped him on his back with ease. Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion before a coy smile flirted at his lips, “well, well…it seems you may be a bad boy after all.”

You growled, rumbling from your throat like thunder as you pinned the god beneath your grip; between your thighs. Loki’s eyes widened as he searched your intense stare, his lap thrusting upwards involuntarily as the determined square of your jaw flexed above him.

Your hands flew to the middle of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt as his bare chest was exposed under your unrelenting control. You had never felt more powerful, and you weren’t going to let it go to waste.

Loki moaned beneath your touch, keening up into you as the pressure of his cock against his tight trousers became too much to bear. Your thick fingers wrapped around the metal of his belt, unbuckling it with force as he threw his head back, his dark curls flipping.

“Wait…wait…” he panted, raising a hand to your chest as magic dissolved the fabric clinging to his legs. He leant upwards, cradling your jaw in a rapturous kiss as his bare thighs pressed against your ass; his familiar cock rubbing tantalisingly against your skin.

“Take me.” he groaned needily into your mouth.

Your breath hitched as you had a moment of clarity, the reality of the bizarre scenario searing through your mind as he looked up at you with sincere and utter submission. You had never been more turned on in your life, and with Loki as your boyfriend…that was a bold admission.

A vial of oil manifested in his hand as he pressed it to your palm, raising an eyebrow as his eyes came alive with mischievous intent.

“You know what to do, my love…” he murmured, “just a bit of…role reversal, yes?”

You unplugged the vial, allowing the tepid oil to run over your fingers as he rested back on his elbows.

Cautiously, you reached between his thighs seeking the tight hole which hid between perfectly muscled cheeks; a hiss of approval falling from his lips as your wet fingertips brushed his entrance.

His legs jolted as you slid one finger inside him, pressing against the walls as he groaned desperately beneath you. A second finger joined as you eased the digits repeatedly into his channel, the tightness loosening as his body willingly submitted to your ministrations.

Loki’s eyes fluttered shut. His angular jaw raised to the ceiling as he thrust upwards; his straining cock seeking release. You lowered your head to suck at the tip gently as you listened to grateful praises spilling from his tongue, begging for more.

“Now go easy on me,” he mumbled coyly as he marinated in pleasure beneath your touch, “...it’s been a while.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, unable to form coherent words as a powerful storm of lust brewed in your belly. You had never felt anything like it, a sizzling line of explosives ready to blow at the sight of your typically dominant lover spread beneath you, waiting impatiently for you to take him.

You emptied the rest of the oil into your hand and cast the vial aside, clinking to the floor as your fingers returned to his entrance, slathering him in the viscous substance. The remnants found their way to your hard length, preparing yourself for him. God, he looked so fucking good. You were going to ruin him.

You towered over your lover; muscular torso lowering to his skin as you savoured the low groan from the god’s throat. Your hips pressed firmly against his desperate arousal as he met you in a needy kiss. One of your hands encased his jaw, tangling in his curls; the other lining your cock up at his keening entrance, pausing to rub the tip against the slick flesh.

“Give it to me…” Loki moaned, his tone laced with desperation as you smirked above him. You could get used to this.

The tip of your cock pressed gently against his tight channel, Loki’s breathing quickening as he braced his forehead against yours with one hand grasping around your neck to pull you close.

You edged forwards, your intertwining moans of pleasure signalling that you had breached him as you felt waves of primal electricity coursing through your body; building excruciatingly as you bottomed out.

“Good boy.” you whispered through strained breaths; an amused smile playing on Loki’s lips as he settled around your length.

You began to move inside him, gritting your teeth against the intense pressure of your quickly building orgasm; the exquisite tightness and novelty pulling you towards the edge faster than you could catch your breath.

Loki moaned roughly beneath you, beads of pre-cum leaking from his exposed cock as he pressed wantonly into your hips. He raised his muscled arms above him, pressing them against the headboard as he pushed down onto you, his perfect ass colliding with the flat expanse of your pelvis as he took you all the way.

“Loki…” you warned darkly.

The tenor of your voice matched your concentration, carefully controlling your thrusts as adrenaline begged you to fuck him as hard and as fast as you could. You moved one hand from his raised thigh, sliding it down to grip his cock to a growl of approval from your submissive god.

Slowly, you stroked his length as his ab muscles clenched beneath you, perfectly defined in his torment. The effort of restraint made his body flex around the cock buried deep inside him; you were losing yourself.

You had always wondered what it would be like to fuck as a man…but this? Nothing could have prepared you for this. For fucking Loki. It was everything.

He began to mutter ancient Nordic phrases beneath you, his chin raised to the ceiling as the muscles in his neck stood out from the strain.

“Does my good boy want to cum?” you heard yourself say, a sea of lust thundering in your veins carrying away any hint of embarrassment.

He nodded, heavy pants escaping his lips as he threw his head back in expectation.

“Use your words, love…” you growled, his own phrase that had goaded so many times close to climax tumbling from your tongue.

“Yesss… fuck, yes” he groaned in exasperation, “I want to cum, please let me…”

You tightened your grip around his length, sliding your widened palm fluidly across his skin as the sound of his cries rang in your ears, making you dizzy with need. You thrust into his hot channel, inching him towards the headboard as he tensed beneath you.

You weren’t sure who came first.

You felt yourself tighten and release like a weighted spring, boundless pleasure spurting from your cock with force as your hips buckled and shuddered into the man beneath you. Loki’s luxurious seed coated your hand as he came, his back arched on the bed as he roared your name. Your real name.

You laid your wide palms to rest on either side of his broad shoulders. Words weren't forthcoming as you closed your eyes, focusing on the heavy breaths leaving your body as you slid yourself from his entrance, sticky with your cum. Loki’s strong arms pulled you down to him, running over your broad shoulders lazily as he kissed the top of your head.

You felt the familiar ache of his magic as your body flexed and shifted beneath his touch.

The flat pressure of your chest against his became cushioned, his arms tightening around you as they found the familiar curve of your womanly waist. You raised your gaze to meet his, his eyes soft as he looked at you with pure love; running one finger down your cheek to brush a strand of your hair.

“There she is…” he murmured softly, “…well, what did you think?”

You rested in the crook of his neck as he fondled your breasts; inhaling the musk of his sweat laced with sex as you considered your answer.

“It was...enlightening.” you smiled, meeting his eyes which flickered with a knowing look.

“Remember, I will always want you, love. In any realm, in any form…” he whispered seductively in your ear, “with us, the possibilities are endless.”

The low embers of his sultry tone made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

-

Tags

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