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antiporn-activist · 2 days

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We knew this was coming, and it's here...

Teen Girls Confront an Epidemic of Deepfake Nudes in Schools

Using artificial intelligence, middle and high school students have fabricated explicit images of female classmates and shared the doctored pictures.

April 8, 2024

After boys at Francesca Mani’s high school fabricated and shared explicit images of girls last year, she and her mother, Dorota, began urging schools and legislators to enact tough safeguards.Shuran Huang

Westfield Public Schools held a regular board meeting in late March at the local high school, a red brick complex in Westfield, N.J., with a scoreboard outside proudly welcoming visitors to the “Home of the Blue Devils” sports teams.

But it was not business as usual for Dorota Mani.

In October, some 10th-grade girls at Westfield High School — including Ms. Mani’s 14-year-old daughter, Francesca — alerted administrators that boys in their class had used artificial intelligence software to fabricate sexually explicit images of them and were circulating the faked pictures. Five months later, the Manis and other families say, the district has done little to publicly address the doctored images or update school policies to hinder exploitative A.I. use.

“It seems as though the Westfield High School administration and the district are engaging in a master class of making this incident vanish into thin air,” Ms. Mani, the founder of a local preschool, admonished board members during the meeting.

In a statement, the school district said it had opened an “immediate investigation” upon learning about the incident, had immediately notified and consulted with the police, and had provided group counseling to the sophomore class.

Tenth-grade girls at Westfield High School in New Jersey learned last fall that male classmates had fabricated sexually explicit images of them and shared them.Peter K. Afriyie/Associated Press

“All school districts are grappling with the challenges and impact of artificial intelligence and other technology available to students at any time and anywhere,” Raymond González, the superintendent of Westfield Public Schools, said in the statement.

Blindsided last year by the sudden popularity of A.I.-powered chatbots like ChatGPT, schools across the United States scurried to contain the text-generating bots in an effort to forestall student cheating. Now a more alarming A.I. image-generating phenomenon is shaking schools.

Boys in several states have used widely available “nudification” apps to pervert real, identifiable photos of their clothed female classmates, shown attending events like school proms, into graphic, convincing-looking images of the girls with exposed A.I.-generated breasts and genitalia. In some cases, boys shared the faked images in the school lunchroom, on the school bus or through group chats on platforms like Snapchat and Instagram, according to school and police reports.

Such digitally altered images — known as “deepfakes” or “deepnudes” — can have devastating consequences. Child sexual exploitation experts say the use of nonconsensual, A.I.-generated images to harass, humiliate and bully young women can harm their mental health, reputations and physical safety as well as pose risks to their college and career prospects. Last month, the Federal Bureau of Investigation warned that it is illegal to distribute computer-generated child sexual abuse material, including realistic-looking A.I.-generated images of identifiable minors engaging in sexually explicit conduct.

Yet the student use of exploitative A.I. apps in schools is so new that some districts seem less prepared to address it than others. That can make safeguards precarious for students.

“This phenomenon has come on very suddenly and may be catching a lot of school districts unprepared and unsure what to do,” said Riana Pfefferkorn, a research scholar at the Stanford Internet Observatory, who writes about legal issues related to computer-generated child sexual abuse imagery.

At Issaquah High School near Seattle last fall, a police detective investigating complaints from parents about explicit A.I.-generated images of their 14- and 15-year-old daughters asked an assistant principal why the school had not reported the incident to the police, according to a report from the Issaquah Police Department. The school official then asked “what was she supposed to report,” the police document said, prompting the detective to inform her that schools are required by law to report sexual abuse, including possible child sexual abuse material. The school subsequently reported the incident to Child Protective Services, the police report said. (The New York Times obtained the police report through a public-records request.)

In a statement, the Issaquah School District said it had talked with students, families and the police as part of its investigation into the deepfakes. The district also “shared our empathy,” the statement said, and provided support to students who were affected.

The statement added that the district had reported the “fake, artificial-intelligence-generated images to Child Protective Services out of an abundance of caution,” noting that “per our legal team, we are not required to report fake images to the police.”

At Beverly Vista Middle School in Beverly Hills, Calif., administrators contacted the police in February after learning that five boys had created and shared A.I.-generated explicit images of female classmates. Two weeks later, the school board approved the expulsion of five students, according to district documents. (The district said California’s education code prohibited it from confirming whether the expelled students were the students who had manufactured the images.)

Michael Bregy, superintendent of the Beverly Hills Unified School District, said he and other school leaders wanted to set a national precedent that schools must not permit pupils to create and circulate sexually explicit images of their peers.

“That’s extreme bullying when it comes to schools,” Dr. Bregy said, noting that the explicit images were “disturbing and violative” to girls and their families. “It’s something we will absolutely not tolerate here.”

Schools in the small, affluent communities of Beverly Hills and Westfield were among the first to publicly acknowledge deepfake incidents. The details of the cases — described in district communications with parents, school board meetings, legislative hearings and court filings — illustrate the variability of school responses.

The Westfield incident began last summer when a male high school student asked to friend a 15-year-old female classmate on Instagram who had a private account, according to a lawsuit against the boy and his parents brought by the young woman and her family. (The Manis said they are not involved with the lawsuit.)

After she accepted the request, the male student copied photos of her and several other female schoolmates from their social media accounts, court documents say. Then he used an A.I. app to fabricate sexually explicit, “fully identifiable” images of the girls and shared them with schoolmates via a Snapchat group, court documents say.

Westfield High began to investigate in late October. While administrators quietly took some boys aside to question them, Francesca Mani said, they called her and other 10th-grade girls who had been subjected to the deepfakes to the school office by announcing their names over the school intercom.

That week, Mary Asfendis, the principal of Westfield High, sent an email to parents alerting them to “a situation that resulted in widespread misinformation.” The email went on to describe the deepfakes as a “very serious incident.” It also said that, despite student concern about possible image-sharing, the school believed that “any created images have been deleted and are not being circulated.”

Dorota Mani said Westfield administrators had told her that the district suspended the male student accused of fabricating the images for one or two days.

Soon after, she and her daughter began publicly speaking out about the incident, urging school districts, state lawmakers and Congress to enact laws and policies specifically prohibiting explicit deepfakes.

“We have to start updating our school policy,” Francesca Mani, now 15, said in a recent interview. “Because if the school had A.I. policies, then students like me would have been protected.”

Parents including Dorota Mani also lodged harassment complaints with Westfield High last fall over the explicit images. During the March meeting, however, Ms. Mani told school board members that the high school had yet to provide parents with an official report on the incident.

Westfield Public Schools said it could not comment on any disciplinary actions for reasons of student confidentiality. In a statement, Dr. González, the superintendent, said the district was strengthening its efforts “by educating our students and establishing clear guidelines to ensure that these new technologies are used responsibly.”

Beverly Hills schools have taken a stauncher public stance.

When administrators learned in February that eighth-grade boys at Beverly Vista Middle School had created explicit images of 12- and 13-year-old female classmates, they quickly sent a message — subject line: “Appalling Misuse of Artificial Intelligence” — to all district parents, staff, and middle and high school students. The message urged community members to share information with the school to help ensure that students’ “disturbing and inappropriate” use of A.I. “stops immediately.”

It also warned that the district was prepared to institute severe punishment. “Any student found to be creating, disseminating, or in possession of AI-generated images of this nature will face disciplinary actions,” including a recommendation for expulsion, the message said.

Dr. Bregy, the superintendent, said schools and lawmakers needed to act quickly because the abuse of A.I. was making students feel unsafe in schools.

“You hear a lot about physical safety in schools,” he said. “But what you’re not hearing about is this invasion of students’ personal, emotional safety.”

Natasha Singer writes about technology, business and society. She is currently reporting on the far-reaching ways that tech companies and their tools are reshaping public schools, higher education and job opportunities. More about Natasha Singer

A version of this article appears in print on April 11, 2024, Section B, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Fake A.I. Nudes Create Crisis in Schools. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

#be very nice to teenage girls #they are living in hell

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kel-lance · 7 hours

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Nanami’s getting a divorce so Hiromi’s here to help :)

Premise: Nanami’s divorce lawyer fucking his stepdaughter (first part of this)

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Warnings: MDNI, Age Gap, StepDad mention, Public, exhibitionism, idk have fun.

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- Your stepdad was stressed dealing with his now ex-wife, who was also your biological mother.

- You hated her though, for the life she gave you. It wasn’t until your stepdad came into the picture, helping create that family like atmosphere within the first few years of their relationship.

- Nanami was starting to leave the studio you shared more often, so much so that you complain to him every time you’ve gotten his attention. He apologizes and hates leaving you home alone with all the legalities happening with the case.

- He tells you he’ll bring his lawyer to the apartment as a compromise. It was the next best thing for you both, at least you would have peace of mind.

- The first time you saw Hiromi you almost couldn’t hide your face, as every thought was written on it. He was /fine/. Really your first thought was how heavy was it, he seriously looked like he hung low.

- Just his serious demeanor, the room just tensed up as he stepped in after your dad. You tried to control your breathing, you tried to look away after the initial first greeting. That was until he opened his mouth.

- His voice was cut from the same cake as Nanami’s. Deep, sweet, manly, and god did it echo though you. Just where did he find this guy?

- He noticed you fidgeting in your chair and turned to ignore it. You were his clients daughter after all. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of your shy face with his tired yet dreamy eyes.

- You were damn cute, it just seemed off with him being around 10 years older than you. Being close to 40, he’s been studying most of his life so relationships were never really on the table. He just felt like he didn’t need it. Though seeing you so outwardly wanting him awoke a new feeling in him. Something he couldn’t help but like.

- His features were brought out with his dark suit. If his face card wasn’t hitting that day, his demeanor and charm would still be enough to turn heads. You could tell you were in deep when his attempted smile had you look away, rather you had to leave to the bathroom to control yourself.

- “Don’t tease her too hard now. She seems to like your type.” Nanami jokes, knowing fully of your reactions and finds it funny.

- He’ll tease you further later, asking if all that time away from him made you want the next best thing. He’ll ask you if you missed him, or if you really want that stranger he hired. He could allow it since you were his after all.

- “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hiromi replied. He was an honest man, but when it comes to work, or the logistics of it, he’d stick to what he was taught, his self discipline stronger than most. He’s thankful that you stay in your room for the rest of the day.

- He seems to be coming by almost all the time, and as you work from home, it’s almost more than invading, more like annoying how you had to cover up in your own place.

- Long and baggy clothes were a nightmare for your clumsy self, getting it caught on things and dirty when it drags on the floor. Your only exceptions being nanami’s t-shirts, always draping you like a dress with the size difference.

- After the first week though, you couldn’t take it, remembering to throw something over yourself everytime you had just opened the door, you’d just regained this freedom; and said fuck it.

- you went downstairs to get yourself a glass of water, wearing your favorite t shirt and shorts, if you could call them that. It didn’t matter, Hiromi might have already arrived, he may have not, but you said it you couldn’t care and just went downstairs to get yourself that water.

- To your surprise, He was sitting at the kitchen island, the documents spread all around. You kept moving forward, hoping to complete you goal and push down this silly attraction.

- Nanami almost didn’t find it funny anymore. He just left his wife, your mother, for her addictions, hopefully you could have skipped that trait, but your new need for validation, he was the one who opened that up, and hasn’t been able to satisfy your needs lately.

- He’s doing everything he should, but the time apart was driving you both crazy. You knew this would happen, you told him there wasn’t a need for a wedding, and he just holds you closer and promises you’ll be taken care of no matter what. that usually shut you up.

- Reaching inside the cupboard, you could feel his gloomy eyes eat you up from behind. It sent shivers down your neck, affecting your balance.

- “Do you need help?”

- Crap, he totally saw you tense up. But he doesn’t move from where he sits, telling you he’s fully aware who he’s talking to.

- “Do I make you uncomfortable, miss?”

- You grab the damn cup and close the doors. Your ears were burning. It took a lot for you to turn around to even face him halfway.

- You don’t mean to be rude, you were just real choked up. The pent up energy, your dry throat, his unreadable eyes. The tension was driving you crazy.

- You get water with ice and drink as you turn around to meet his eyes. The liquid spiking you back up with energy. You look at him, staring now, though he took the hint before and stopped trying to speak to you. That had you sulking quickly.

- To apologize, you put your cup down and grabbed another, repeating filling it with ice and water, offering it to him.

- “Thank you. Is this stressful for you too?”

- You nod your head.

- He sighs sympathetically, taking a sip of his water. You get a good look at his thick neck. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down continuously and the relief in his face brought back that fuck it attitude he melted away.

- He puts the glass down and sees you staring. “Is there anything I could help you with?”

- Your cheeks flushed, and your voice was caught in your throat. It almost felt like you were having a school girl crush on her teacher, he was just so handsome. His kept hair and droopy eyes, yet so serious and respectful, you’ve got a solid type.

- Biting the bullet, knowing the repercussions on your end, you keep your eyes on his while bringing your fist up to your mouth, motioning back and forth while your tongue poked your cheek the closer your hand got to your lips.

- His eyes widened. Your innocent eyes were asking him, no, begging him to help you out like this. “What kind of face was he making?” You were too distracted as the hand you were using to motion what you wanted found itself holding onto his dress sleeve. You could feel his warmth, you were almost starving for it.

- The past few nights Nanami was too stressed and tired from meeting up with people, so many people to legally fix a mistake he made a few years ago. He did try to satisfy you but it was different from when he’s at his best.

- You don’t know when that’s gonna be again, and Hirmomi san hadn’t pushed you away, so without another second to waste, you got under the table.

- Only sitting to the side of his legs, you looked up at him, playing a hand on his thigh, your fingers reaching, threatening to cross the line. “Can I?”

- This was happening fast, he hadn’t moved since putting his cup down. His dick twitched in his pants, now having a reason to feel arousal.

- It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted, but he had years of mental discipline to not react to the first sight of skin, much less mixed signals or light flirting. But there’s no mistaking the situation right now, especially with how wrong it was.

- He hesitates, his breathing was unsure but opens his legs. His hands found a few papers to hide the fact he was looking further down (at you).

- You give him a small smile, enjoying this silent communication and start by palming him through his pants. Jesus, you didn’t know what to think, you were almost scared to see him unsheathed.

- But you weren’t going to let this chance go by. You pressed your face into his bulge, your agile fingers squeezing at his thick thighs. He hitches his breath as you breath in his scent. It was so delicious, you were just upstairs about 5 minutes ago, and now you were under the island for a stranger in your stepdad’s kitchen.

- You knew not to mess with his pants, he’s gotta get up after this. Since it was your want, it’s in your best consideration to keep him clean. You wouldn’t do it if you hadn’t tried it before.

- Whenever Nami came home for lunch, whenever he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, he would come running home for lunch and fuck you til you passed out, til he leaves and comes back home to continue fucking you, sometimes waking you up that way.

- Sometimes it was you, egging him on, just to get a little more attention before his duties called. “Really quick, really really quick.” You’d pout, not wanting him to go, and of course he listened.

- Hiromi, in this case, was going to be difficult. First, you were right about it being heavy. Taking it out of his pants without his help was a bit difficult considering the way he was sitting.

- Unbuckling his belt, your hands found themselves back around his meat, caressing the pack through the soft fabric. You couldn’t hold yourself back, you didn’t even want to tease him right now. You were gonna get to work.

- Taking down his boxers, exposing only his most vulnerable area, you almost wanted to bring him back to your room and have him fuck you looking just like that.

- And maybe Daddy would punish you for once, and be rough with you how you’ve asked before. You’ve been a brat before and got spanked a few times, he had no reason to be rough with you.

- Nanami wouldn’t do it, you were his sweet girl. His baby. He didn’t want to hurt you, and the things you do don’t amount to you getting punished according to him.

- You loved him, but you were needy, and he was busy. All because of that stupid whore who can’t control herself. You start to get upset at yourself as you notice you may be falling into the same pattern.

- Shaking the thought away, he loved you too, he said it so sincerely, every chance he got he’d tell you how much he loves you, and how it was like you were made for him, of course you believe it.

- But the gasping man in front of you, the one you’ve been avoiding all week, as stoic, serious, and so handsome, it was really a sight for sore eyes. He was so pretty from any angle you thought.

- You place him in your hands, spitting onto the tip and dragging your hands down to coat his length. He’s so similar, you thought. So big and fat, it could hang low, even fully erect.

- He fixes the way he’s sitting, to seem more normal on top, of the table. His face would twinge and he grasped at the table and paper, acting like everything is normal .

- You got started with twisting the base and milked it back to the tip, where your mouth occupied. His tip slowly bucked back toward your lips each time you bring both hands back to you.

- The wet grip your fingers provided had Hiromi bring his head back, his legs slightly twitching from the stimulation.

- Both hands were on opposite poles, wet and slippery enough to keep your hands moving. It was easy enough from this angle, the problem was that you were starving.

- You keep your head locked, as his tip stayed just a bit past your lips, enough for your tongue to muscle itself onto his head while you used both hands to grip his dick and steadily pump until your arms were sore.

- You feel the burn but his quiet moans and stifled groans encouraged you, rather they gave you more incentive to continue.

- You almost started to get comfortable enough to stop a few times inbetween, giving his head attention, then throating as much as you could before you realized this amount you chose could lead to Nanami hearing y’all.

- You slowly backed away after gagging on it, your face a fucking mess. Literally just your forehead wasn’t wet, everything below was smeared with tears, spit, snot and precum.

- You weren’t tired though. You wanted to just do this for until however long he could last, but that would also mean that Nanami could come in at moment to discuss more about whatever papers were strone about.

- While you catch your breath, you could only look up and see how fucking beautiful he looked from this angle. You palm his balls lightly and massage them as you place them in your mouth. Still looking up at him.

- It’s a lot for him, he didn’t think his stamina would still stick after all these years. He just had different priorities then, but now, he was almost over the edge, literally. With the angle he was sitting at, you were practically pulling him off to stuff your face.

- Stroking his shaft me giving his balls one last lick, you lined your head steady to him, throating him again, slowly, but you were taking it like a champ.

- And so was he. His body starts to lightly spasm, Hiromi’s fucked out look was surely something you wanted to see up close, but it was something you would have to remember later as you heard a door open, and your dad’s footsteps were coming towards the kitchen.

- Wasting no time, Hiromi wraps his leg over your head, his calf pushing the back of your head further down onto him. All you could do was focus on your breathing, while you bet he could feel you tightening around him from excitement.

- “Is this considered rough?” You asked yourself. It didn’t matter as you just had to stay silent now.

- Nanami comes in from where you did, the other side of the island where you’re only facing the table, asking if that’s the right document. Hiromi looks through it, then moves to check his wrist, having an excuse to looks down at you who’s throat is being stretched open by his huge fucking dick.

- Seriously, it’s so big that if he swiveled his hips, your whole body would follow. You take small breaths through your nose, your mind more on how not to ruin his nice pants. Your palms sweat and your fingers twitched, you wanted to hold onto his thighs to help push your head to a better angle, but his leg lock was steady.

- “No, Kento San, this is too early, do you have anything that could fall within [this timeframe].” Hiromi’s voice was like nothing was happening. You couldn’t believe how good of an actor he was. It wasn’t even the fact that you could get caught this very moment, but that Hiromi was treating this like nothing big was happening, that you were helping him out like it’s normal or expected.

- “I’ll go look again. I have that one sitting somewhere…” You could hear the detached footsteps start back toward Nanami’s office. Once he closes the door, you slap down on the lawyers lap, telling him to ease up.

- He lets his leg go, and takes as big a breath as you. His hand never leaving your head, patting your hair to let you know you did so good while he regained his senses.

- You at this point get up and wipe your face off into your shirt, whatever you couldn’t make a bigger mess than this rn…

- You almost laughed at how he could act so normally in front of people that you were tempted to ask what did he really like, but your feet took off, grabbing him to come to your room.

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- Sweaty and exhausted, you both finally reached a peak in your hasty actions. The high of getting stretched out and filled up by this man was exhilarating. Not only were you split open, but your belly felt swollen with his size and seed.

- God did you miss this feeling, it wasn’t you fault the only time you got affection or learned about affection was only through sexual acts. Not until Nanami showed you more of what you had been robbed of, and that you were thankful to him. Speaking of which,

- Nanami comes out of his office now and you expected him to head back to the kitchen or even the restroom, but he walks straight to your room instead .

- He asks you if you’re okay, and what you wanted for dinner. You responded with whatever he wanted, to which he said okay before asking if he could have his lawyer back.

- You ask what he means by that and he says “(y/n) you left your cup out in the kitchen when I first asked about the documents.” You don’t say anything and he opens the door.

- “You could just ask next time sweetie,” he comes in and looks at your mess, at how tired you made each other, he wondered what would’ve happened if he had joined. “Unless you can’t handle two men.”

- “Did she learn all of that from you?” Hiromi asks, he’s pulling his clothes back on.

- Nanami comes over and places his hands on your face, giving your body the aftercare it’s used to by him.

- “More or less,” He pats your head one last time before letting you go. “We’ve got a lot more to discuss now it seems.”

- Hiromi comes back to the bed and kisses your cheek before he’s led back to the kitchen with Nanami to talk.

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thefallenangelsgang · 2 days

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Fuck it, I'm throwing my hat on the ring about the Emil announcing Nate from Fallout 4 is the bystander Soldier in the Fallout 1 opener.

First and foremost, it was a stupid thing to say. As he backtracks to later, the conceit of Fallout's protags is they are supposed to be anyone (and that issue is precisely why some people hate the extensive prewar character background given to you in Fallout 4). For the lead writer to pull a JK Rowling (why would you do that? None of those went over well) is such a major marketing misstep that it wouldn't surprise me if Emil gets reprimanded for it before we even get into the implication of what he said.

Emil your voice is as good as God when it comes to the canon. You can't just say shit like that and expect it to go well. Especially considering the implications.

Speaking of the implications, I'm not mad about Nate being a war criminal. It's a coloring I actually would welcome if the games discussed concepts like Capitalism, Racism, and War in any meaningful way anymore. And if Emil also didn't say this.

Fallout's canon is rooted in reality. That is part of its whole thing. It's fun to do goofy shit like becoming the Silver Shroud and having a make believe superhero fight with the Mechanist or write a woman obsessed with Nuka Cola so much she traverses two games to basically kidnap the CEO's cryogenically preserved head so she can talk to him for all eternity, but the setting is very much rooted in reality.

You aren't dealing with fictional countries, you aren't dealing with fictional races, you aren't dealing with fictional hypotheticals. That is The Elder Scrolls job. You are dealing with actual countries, actual racism, actual history, and actual fucking politics. You have to be mindful of what you are doing and saying. You can't just do things because it's an interesting plot device without first thinking about the implications.

Fallout's world is a heightened version of our own, a path we seem to stumble towards with ever passing year unless we do something about it. It fucking sucks. I'm sure writing it feels like prophesizing the future and eats your soul a bit. It would mine. But that doesn't mean Fallout can just take a sharp left in terms of story and reality and get away with it.

To have Nate be the bystander Soldier and then meet him when he has a very good thing going for him (an expensive house during an inflation crisis, a robot butler, he gets into a vault for free for fucks sake) very much speaks to life rewarding him for his crimes. There is no hatred in his words when he looks at the flag of the country that made him kill innocents. His speech is speaks of remorse for leaving his family and the cycle of war, it does not speak of the horrors. Of watching you comrades bleed out in the Anchorage snow. Of the scream of shells overhead. Of the fear in civilians eyes as your buddy puts a bullet between them.

You all have to see how it looks like the man is fine with what he had to do during the war, right?

Not interacting with these concepts enough paints a picture of apathy and acceptance. In this day and age where being keeping the government honest and responsible for their actions is so important, that isn't going to slide without it being EXTREMELY purposeful, which it is not. It's tone deaf and lazy.

I respect a lot of what Emil has done in the past, but I am not above keeping him culpable when he has something so delicate in his hands. I hope this situation is what he needed to get his head on straight, or is the light bulb moment where he realizes he needs to pass the torch onwards. There is no shame in subject matter becoming too much as time goes on. There is shame in letting a previously critical series become the very thing it was criticizing.

He is going to keep getting dragged until he realizes that or he manages to convince the fans to be complicit in the degradation of setting. In doing so he is going to lose Bethesda most of its biggest fans who well and truly love the series and what it stands for.

But that's just my take, and I'm just a kid who studies polisci and history and can't shield myself from the inherent horror of nuclear war no matter how much I try.

War really never changes

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout new vegas #fallout 3 #fallout 2 #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #emil pagliarulo #bethesda

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mercurygray · 22 hours

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Apologies Owing

Well, they're finally here - the pilots, that is. The base's WACs have some opinions they'd like to share.

A follow up to this piece - and an announcement! I'll be trying to post all of Cord's drabbles on AO3 at Pavilioned In the Fields.

The talk over dinner was about nothing but the officers.

There was no consensus yet, it seemed, over who was the handsomest. Netta was stumping for Brady, the one who'd ridden his fort straight into a rut in the middle of the airfield and had walked away without a scratch, but Anita and Mary Dacre both wanted to speak of no one but DeMarco - or rather, the dog he'd brought with him, who had kindly consented to pets and treats and much crooning while his owner stood by and beamed at himself for the genius idea of getting the husky to find his Friday night dates for him. (Mae, too, seemed taken by the idea of the dog, though she was a little too world-wise to let the pup's gorgeous blue eyes win her over to his owner.)

"I liked the one that blew us a kiss," Nina said, almost loyally, still mooning into her soup about it nearly three hours later, elbow firmly planted on the table while she started wistfully into space. "What'd you say his name was, Phoebe?"

"Biddick," Phoebe said, wisely taking the middle road and saying nothing about anything apart from name, rank and serial number, reaching around Nina's elbow for the salt. "Curtis Biddick. Flies with Richard Snyder."

"The one who looks like Leslie Howard?" Becky looked like that was more her speed. "Now there's a man I'd let do a few close maneuvers."

"Curtis Biddick," Nina smiled dreamily, staring off into space obviously having heard nothing Becky had said. "It was so romantic."

"You gotta watch out for boys like that, Nina, they're usually more trouble than they're worth," Mae said, locking eyes with Phoebe across the table and exchanging abbreviated smiles.

"You all can have fun with the squaddies, but I feel like aiming a little higher," Ethel said with a cutthroat grin, inspecting the arch of her brow in the convex of her soup spoon. "That blonde who drove in with Major Egan looks like he really could be in pictures."

"Cleven," Phoebe supplied, before anyone could ask. "Major Gale Cleven. He's Egan's best friend, apparently. He came up to tower, didn't he, Cord? With Major Egan and Demarco?"

"He did," Cord said, non-committal while she wiped some sauce off the corner of her mouth and considered whether she wanted to try chasing down the last of her peas. "Seemed nice enough."

"Hmmm." Ethel looked unimpressed, and perhaps a little put out that Cord, of all people, had gotten an eye in to the main chance that she clearly couldn't appreciate properly. "Nice enough to have a girl at home?"

But no one ventured an answer for her - the half of the table that was facing the doorway all clammed up at same time as the man himself approached the table, uniform immaculate and blond hair swept just so over his very handsome face. The table stood up as one, Nina accidentally flinging her spoon into her bowl with a clatter.

"Ladies. Was wondering if I might have a word alone with Lieutenant Callaway." His voice was all gravitas and gravel, and Ethel looked like she'd die of envy the way she was glaring across the table at her lieutenant.

Mae's eyes, on the other hand, flashed with delight, and Cord looked around the table to see that nearly everyone else was smiling the way girls smiled when they thought you had something to keep a secret about. She felt hot with betrayal. Now just what do you all think - "I think we're all finished, Major, we can leave," Mae offered, gesturing to the rest of the table to get going. "We'll catch you up, Cord." Mae promised, beaming back at her friend, following the rest of the group out the door and back to barracks.

Cord took a breath and studied her shoes for a moment, hoping that none of that heat had made it to her face, and Cleven hadn't seen any of their hinting smiles - or heard what Ethel had just said. She waited until the crowd cleared the door to speak. "Sir?"

"Seems I owe you an apology, Lieutenant."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say ...wasn't that. "…What for, sir?"

Cleven's gaze was patient, though it looked like that patience was being tested a little at the moment. "Whatever John's done here for the last month."

It took Cord more than a moment to realize he was talking about Bucky Egan. She'd plumb forgotten his first name was John, if she'd ever known it at all. He introduced himself to everyone as Bucky. "…that's very kind of you, Major Cleven, but I'm not sure that's your apology to make, sir."

"Well, a fellow can try." He smiled - a brief thing - and Cord realized why Ethel thought he'd do well in movies. Underneath those baby blue eyes ran some very, very still waters. Well, they'd have to be, to have Egan for a friend. "He - he means well, usually. He's just not…real good at thinking things through sometimes."

You can say that again. "That's…not a quality one looks for in an executive officer, if you don't mind me saying, sir."

Cleven chuckled - a sound Cord was getting the impression most people didn't hear very often. "No, it most certainly is not. But he has others - a damn fine flyer, a good man to have with you in a fight, and a - a good friend."

The quiet fortitude was growing on her - a strong contrast to Egan's boisterous take-all-comers antics. And he'd come here, when he didn't have to, when nothing said he even needed to, to apologize, on the sole basis of one meeting this morning where she'd stood her ground and been short with his friend. He noticed things, Major Cleven did - and that counted for something. "He must be, to have you making apologies for him on your first day here."

Again, the smallest of smiles. "He'd do the same, if it had been me that had stepped wrong. I'm just trying to…pay the favor forward." He took a breath, and looked at his shoes. "He, ah - he mentioned you were from Ohio."

"Dayton," Cord supplied, wondering when this had turned from an apology into an interview.

"Pretty prime flying country out there at Wright-Patterson," Cleven said quietly, glancing at her with softly curious eyes.

"Yes, sir, it is. I practically grew up there - my dad worked on the base, as an engineer. Worked pretty close with the test pilots."

"Is that how you got into the tower?"

"More or less, sir."

"Heard Brady say you were the calmest voice alive, talking him in today."

The 'for a woman' that had doubtless followed the original comment went unsaid, and Cord measured out her own smile. "Well, there's two types of pilots, sir - those who've had a belly landing, and -"

"-those who will." Cleven finished the old chestnut with a smile. "They teach you a lot about belly landings in Dayton, Lieutenant?"

Cord took a deep breath, remembering the rumbling, skating feeling of the plane underneath her, the nameless terror that the brakes no longer worked and her steering was in God's hands, waiting endlessly while the machine skidded heavily to a halt and she planned her exits, preparing to make a run for it. "A fair bit, sir."

"Hopefully we won't give you any more." He caught her gaze and held it. "Let me know, if he gives you any more trouble? We can't have our controller off her game."

She looked him in the eye and knew, instinctively, that he meant that, and if she said something, he would take her at her word - something not too many men on this base would do. That counted for something, too. "You'll be the first person I tell, Major."

He nodded, glad to be heard and understood, and turned to leave, before thinking of one last thing. "And maybe you'll let your friend know the girl at home is named Marge?" His smile was nearly imperceptible, and Cord almost laughed to see it. So he had heard. That's a very dry sense of humor you have there, sir. "Wouldn't want anyone …getting the wrong idea."

She nodded, happy that there was something here she could do for him. Oh, we're going to get along so well. "Of course, sir." Well, Ethel, serves you right. She could just see the other woman's face when she told her that Cleven was definitely off the market.

The understanding, it seemed, was mutual - Cleven gave a little nod and put his hand in his pocket. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

"And you, Major."

He went back outside, and Cord's eye followed him through the windows to the group of pilots joking and laughing in the road outside, probably getting ready to go into town. What reason could he have given for stopping in the mess hall? Or maybe he didn't need one. Egan hooked his arm around his friend's shoulders, and Cord caught a glimpse, again, of Cleven's fleeting smile - wider now, laughing with his friends as they set off for the village and the pub. And they're best friends? Well, they do say opposites attract.

Cord tidied her seat and exited the mess, surprised to see Mae was sitting on the bench outside the mess, apparently waiting. She got up as Cord stepped outside, grinning from ear to ear. "A word alone with Lieutenant Callaway, huh? You got something you want to share with the class, Cord?"

"Oh, buzz off, Mae. He just wanted to -" She paused, feeling, suddenly, that the apology was not for public consumption. "To thank me, for helping Brady land."

Mae nodded, a little impressed with the new Major. "The way she's going, I think Netta's gonna thank you too."

You can read more of Cord here on tumblr at her tag.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #cordelia callaway #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x oc #stop the presses everyone i have written gale cleven

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hopelessfool · 17 hours

Text

CHAPTER 1: showtime

MASTERLIST

"I'm curious, have you had a chance to watch the show, yet?"

A collective sigh filled the room. This season, everyone and their mothers had tuned in to see the love is blind cast and the amount of chaos they had caused on screen. There was at least a handful of other people in this room to blame for that, yet the complete and utter attention of the viewers was fixated on you.

"Yes", a girl snickered, "we've ALL seen the Y/N L/N show by now."

As you could feel a few pairs of eyes pierce through you; hear the bitter chuckles of friends and foes alike, he grabbed your hand. And everything was okay. Everything was worth it.

As long as it meant you would sit next to him on this very couch, matching rings, matching heartbeat, you would do it again.

And you wouldn't apologize to any of these fuckers.

This is going to be fun, they said.

It will get your mind off the breakup, they said.

You need to get laid, they said.

While you couldn't particularly spot a lie in any of these sentences, you were still overwhelmed by what your friends had signed you up for. On short notice, they had picked you up, sat you on a plane with a ridiculous amount of luggage and wished you good luck.

A tv-show. One which pretends to be classy and all about real love and still manages to only cast conventionally attractive people. One in which you would have to get married to "win". Coming here, you definitely didn't plan on taking any of this too seriously. Just because you needed or rather deserved a distraction from your previous love leaving the picture, didn't mean that you wanted to jump into a marriage. Particularly not with the other Z-list-celebrities-to-be.

At least half of them had to do this for fame, you thought. And the ones that were looking for real love, well... You remembered the countless promises of "forever" and decided that the ones looking for that might be stupid.

Really stupid - from the first impressions you were gathering from the other female contestants, you could already tell whose hopes would be let down soon. Because love is not blind, at least not in the way they wanted it to be. At some point, you believed, you just unwillingly close your eyes. To faults, absence, mistreatment. Even to the lack of love.

But people are constantly aware of the surface-level aspects that they are not attracted to. Sooner or later, even when you're not able to see your dates, looks, hobbies, and even your financial situation could kick you out of the show.

So you got dressed up along with the other girls, mentally hyping yourself up for the cameras to start rolling. Though you didn't plan on saying "Yes" at the altar to anyone, you might as well get your hands on a paid vacation. That just meant passing the first phase of the show - and convincing some guy to propose to you.

You heard a jittery sounding voice through your door. "We're doing interviews now, hurry up!"

Naomi, you recognized, was one of the genuinely excited participants who fully believed in the experiment. She was here to find what you've already lost. And as much as stupidity irked you, she unfortunately didn't seem dumb. She came across as hopeful. Under other circumstances you might have respected that.

The blinking red light signaled that you were already being filmed, although the interviewer hadn't even entered the room yet. So you tried not to fidget and mustered up all your strength to not sit there bent like a shrimp. Your mind started to wake up for the first time since arriving at the studio. People around the world would see you. The least you could do was to not make a fool of yourself. Not right away, at least.

With a swift opening of the door, a man in a beige suit strutted in. With his expensive glasses and watch and the way he held himself, you could picture him as a history professor. A broker. But not as an interviewer at love is blind. You tried not to seem surprised by his elegance. Or was it arrogance? Of course he would feel above this kind of job, would he not?

He nodded his head in greeting and placed himself on the chair across from you. "Nanami Kento", the blonde man introduced himself. "I will be your personal interviewer during the love is blind experiment. I'm also obliged to tell you that you can come to me for advice at any time." You watched in confusion as his hand reached out to cover what seemed to be the...microphone? "But this is not possible without any cameras involved, so I would suggest you don't."

You could only come up with a few blinks and a nod. He looked annoyed to be here. Although you were grateful for the heads up, you couldn't tell if he actually wanted to help you or hoped that you wouldn't take up too much of his time.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Nanami. I'm Y/N L/N and-"

"Kento is fine", he sighed, "and I already know all about you." Fanning himself with what looked like your file, he added: "I'm excellent at my job, Y/N. Don't believe I haven't taken my time getting to know you."

That was the point at which you felt see-through under the gaze of Kento for the first time. Heart pounding so loud you could suddenly hear it in your ears, you sharply sucked air into your lungs. You now had to rely on your foundation to hide the warmth that had formed on your cheeks. Did he really have to phrase it like that?

"I'm here to find out everything about you that can't be put onto paper. Things that the viewers care about, things that make them root for you."

"I'll try to live up to the expactations."

A deep, hoarse noise escaped his lips - your words somehow managed to make him chuckle. The slight lifiting of the corners of his mouth made him look more approachable immediately. Absurdly handsome, actually. His face was chiseled in a way that only gods had the tools for. Despite that, you couldn't spot a ring on his finger. Unmarried and overqualified for his job. Now you wanted to know everything about him that couldn't be put onto paper.

"I'm going to start with the questions now, is that alright?"

"Ask away, Kento." You would try to win them over. The viewers, the dates. You figured that answering Kento's - for sure - well thought through questions, might get you an idea on how to win the affections of the male participants.

You were determined. You deserved some fun, a beach vacation. And you deserved the dumbstruck look on your exes face when he sees you getting cozy with other men on tv. After how he left, you weren't above being petty like that.

"Well, I can't ask you why you've signed up for love is blind. Your friends sent in the application for you, which makes you an unusual participant. How do you feel about being put into a experiment like this on short notice?" Kento had a curious look plastered on his face. You didn't expect him to actually be interested in what you had to say. As a professional he was probably able to feign certain emotions to get you to open up to him. But his stern brown eyes looked honest.

"To be honest, without a little push from my friends, I would've never thought about coming here. When they told me that I had been cast for this show, I was overwhelmed, confused, excited. But my first instinct was to ask them if they're insane."

"But you still decided to come. Why?" Moving forward in his seat, he leaned his face onto his hand, eyes on you the whole time. "Could this have something to do with your past relationship?"

Sore wound. But you wouldn't let that rattle you in the slightest. You wanted to match the professionalism your opposite offered you and not offend him with your tears or your rage. They belong to someone else. They belong in the past.

"I understand why this connection would be made. The relationship ended only a few months ago. But rather than looking for a rebound - or a husband, for that matter, I'm here to let the experience convince me."

That was unexpected. Suddenly, Kento wished he hadn't disregarded his own offer of lending you an ear whenever you needed something. For the first time at his interviewer job, someone answered one of his questions to his satisfaction. Made him want to know more.

"So, you don't believe that love is blind?"

"I'm here to find out. That's what the show is about, isn't it?"

And when you smiled at him and into the camera, he found himself looking forward to the following interviews. You were a natural.

"Are you ready to fall in love?", the hosts had asked at the end of the introduction to the show. The sentence and the following cheers from the other women rang in your ears while making your way to your first cubicle. Inside, on the other side of the wall, there would be a man waiting to get to know you.

After meeting Kento, you weren't sure how some guy should impress you as much as he did in a shorter amount of time. You would have to sit through 15 minutes with each of them and hoped that at least one of them was bearable enough to at least fake date. Eyes on the prize!, you told yourself. The prize in question being free breakfast mimosas on a hot beach.

With the first guy, you just didn't vibe, which was fine. But after five more dates of being asked specifics about your look and sex life within five minutes, you felt like screaming into a pillow and taking the next plane home.

"Do you think I could carry you on my back?", was just a watered down version of saying "You're not fat, are you?" to which you so badly wanted to reply with "Do you even lift, bro?" - You chose to be civilian and just left the room, though.

The next room you had to enter was just left by Naomi. With flushed cheeks, she ran up to you, grabbed you by the shoulders and clutched on tight.

"Y/N!", she swooned, "Y/N, oh my god. All the girls already claim to have dibs on that guy."

With furrowed brows you looked at her, having the urge to say: "I mean, the bar's not that high. Have you met the threesome-guy yet, he's disgusti-"

"No, he's really dreamy, Y/N!", she puffed, "Im so jealous that you get to have time with him, the 15 minutes were way too short."

"Oh, you're talking about Toru?" Suddenly multiple women stood next to you and Naomi with their hands on their hips. The tall blonde at the front, Jolyne, had a teasing smirk on her lips. "I doubt he's interested in you two boring country-cows. Also, I already have dibs on him. Do you know nothing about girls code?"

"Excuse me?", you spat. "I haven't even talked to him, yet. Get your hysteria out of my face, please and thank you."

You shoved them aside and continued your walk to the next cubicle, which gained you multiple offended hisses. Somehow, Jolyne's rage made having that guy to yourself sound really delicous. Fired up, you walked through the door and planted yourself on the couch.

On the other side of the wall, you could hear some faint rustling, which told you that the other person was there as well. You couldn't help but be curious. What kind of guy was able to make all of the women fall for him - or his tv personality - in just 15 minutes?

What would he tell you? What had he told them? Did he talk about how handsome he was and everyone just bought it? Did he make up some story about saving cats from trees, or about rescuing children from a housefire?

What kind of guy could literally have anyone?

"Hey there, I'm Satoru."

No, that couldn't possibly be - that had to be a fucking joke.

"Gojo?!"

"...Who?"

©hopelessfool 2024

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #toji x reader #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #x reader #self insert #love is blind #trash tv au #interviewer nanami goes brr #jjk imagines #ex!gojo #choose your own story

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cottonlemonade · 1 day

Text

Plan B [part 2]

word count: 1490 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

part 1 for context

_______________________________

Of course your staff had immediately informed you about the display from the day before when you came in the following morning. The barista even showed you a few snapshots he had taken with his phone and as much as you hated to admit it, you would have loved to have been there to see it in person. Pictures didn’t really do him justice, you thought. “Should I send those to you, manager?”, the barista asked with a knowing smirk. When you didn’t say anything but just stoically walked past him into the kitchen, you were glad when your phone buzzed a few seconds later and a small flood of pictures appeared in your chat. You cleared your throat and got to work.

Despite his regular appearances the last couple of weeks, the guy didn’t show up again the next day. Or even the day after that.

“Maybe he actually finally gave up?”, the waitress suggested with a shrug. She was counting the receipts while the barista helped you clean the espresso maker.

“I hope not. What else are we gonna do for entertainment around here?”

“How about your job.”, you suggested.

The barista let out a theatrical groan, which earned him a dish towel to the face.

At this point, a week had passed since the last time you saw the guy and although you found your thoughts wandering to his handsome smile every so often, you decided it was most likely for the better.

It was late in the evening and the café was closed for the day. The sky was gray and obviously brewing up something unpleasant so you wanted to make sure to send your team home as quickly as possible.

Soon enough, after hugs and waves goodbye, you locked the glass door from the inside and went to the kitchen to prep food for the next day.

You had just started to mash up a bowl of overripe bananas when a soft knocking made you look up and glance through the serving hatch.

The wind outside brushed past the shops with a low whistle and you could make out a very familiar shape in the dim light of the streetlamps.

More excited than you’d like to admit you made your way to the door.

“Sorry, I’m late.”, the guy’s voice was muffled through the glass.

You pointed to the Closed sign with a raised eyebrow. He put his hands together in a silent plea.

With a very big eye roll you grabbed the keys from your apron pocket and opened the door a handwidth.

“Hi.”

“Hey there.”

“I need a cake.”

“Goodbye.”, you closed the door again.

“Please!”, he called.

You shook your head and gestured to your ear to signal you couldn’t hear him.

He thought for a moment, then took out his phone and began to type something. A few seconds later he held the screen up against the glass.

Forgot to get cake for friend’s birthday.

You pulled a notepad from your belt and wrote “unfortunate” in response.

Low rumbling of thunder made you both look to the horizon. A few moments passed in which he threw you puppy dog eyes. You sighed loudly and unlocked the door again.

Not a minute too soon. With the click of the lock the first heavy raindrop hit the windowfront.

“Thank you.”, he said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it. But you will have to live with what’s left of the day. The ones for tomorrow still need to be decorated.”

He followed you to the counter, having the decency to look apologetic as you waved him to come along further to check out the cakes in the fridge.

He chose a white chocolate cake with strawberries and you carried it back to the front to pack it up.

“How has your last week been?”, he asked as you worked.

“Uhm, I made my best cinnamon rolls yet and finally found my TV remote. So pretty good, I’d say. How about you?”

“Not as good as yours apparently. Pretty busy. I had to do some traveling and give a bunch of presentations. Sorry I couldn’t come by to bring up that counter you keep on the blackboard.”

You closed your eyes and made an indefinable noise. You'd have to talk to your staff about the concept of discretion.

“Technically, that means I owe you at least one.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

He swaggered closer and, leaning on the counter, considered you for a moment.

You held his gaze, expecting the worst.

“Wait, I… actually forgot what I wanted to say."

You tried not to smile but were betrayed by your pursed lips.

"Gotta be honest, of all your flirting so far that has been the best one."

He gave you a half smile.

"How about you don't see it as flirting. See it as me just being extra friendly to someone extra beautiful."

You scoffed but couldn’t stop a short sort of giggle escaping your lips.

After a moment’s pause he added, now with genuine sweetness, "Go out with me. Just once. I promise it'll be fun. And really, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Where do I even start?"

"Okay. But besides that, the worst that can happen is that we realize we don't have anything in common."

You looked at him, your head slightly tilted in thought.

"Like, what are you doing tonight after work?", he suggested.

"Well, I’m meeting some friends."

"What will you be doing?”

“A museum has a science night we wanna check out.”

“Oh! Really?”, he asked excitedly, dropping his flirtatious manner completely. And sure enough this little piece of information carried you through the subject of scientific fun facts to books to hobbies and so on. The rain had lessened significantly but an hour later he was still there, sitting on a chair at the kitchen island, talking while you worked, peppering in little compliments here and there but keeping it mostly pleasantly fluffy.

When you eventually parted in front of the café, Kuroo hesitated, obviously thinking about how to say Goodbye. In the end you both settled for slightly awkward smiles and went your separate ways.

He had an extra spring in his step as he arrived at the restaurant, incredibly late but incredibly happy. His friend accepted the cake with a tipsy, somewhat off-key belt of “Happy birthday to me!” and pointed to a free seat next to Kenma.

"Someone's looking chipper.", his former setter commented and accepted a slice of birthday cake, “Why did you leave me here alone?”

“You’re hardly alone, Kenma-kun.”, the older one said vaguely, "I had to pick up the cake first. I only remembered when I was already at work."

"So… is it from that little café?"

Kuroo shrugged, but was unable to hide a grin.

His friend lifted a brow. Originally, Kuroo hadn’t meant to talk about it. About how he didn't expect you two to actually have so much in common, about how funny you were, how smart and how gorgeous you looked even after a long day at work. How you practically made him beg to get into the café at all and how easy it was to talk to you once the ice was broken. It took him a few minutes to finally stop gushing.

"Sounds like a very promising night.", Kenma said approvingly, hoping he’d finally be free of his friend’s whining about why you wouldn’t go out with him, "So you got her number, then."

Kuroo's dreamy expression fell at once. "Oh.”

The sun glistened on the streets still soaked from last night’s rain but the air smelled fresh and you hummed to yourself when you thought about the previous evening. As you unlocked the cafe’s front door you heard someone calling your name and turned around.

Your stomach dropped when you spotted Kuroo on the other side of the road, waiting to cross safely.

“Good morning.”, he said, a little out of breath but with a winning smile.

“Good morning. What brings you by so early?”

“I have a full day today so I wouldn’t be able to come by otherwise.”

You tried hard not to look too pleased.

“I was wondering, if - I mean, I forgot to - Could I have your number?”

Pretending to think about it, you opened the door.

“Do you want that on a to-go cup?”

“That would be easier to brag with.”, he said, nodding thoughtfully and stepping in behind you.

While you prepared his usual, Kuroo watched you closely and you weren’t sure if the pink in his cheeks was from his jog here or something else.

When you handed him his tea a few minutes later he stood there, looking you up and down with his cheeky grin.

You squinted in suspicion.

“You look even cuter than usual today.”

“Get out before I charge you double.”

He lifted the cup and winked. “Talk to you later.”

_________________________________

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurou x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x you

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mrsarcherofinfamy · 14 hours

Text

●Hook x Tattoo Artist Reader●

Summary: Hook discovers your tattoo art on Instagram.

_________________________________________

*Tyler's POV*

Sitting in the locker room with Orange, Kris, Willow, Trent and Chuck, I am scrolling through Instagram when I come across this tattoo artist page that catches my eye. I click on the page and start scrolling through the pictures. Trent comes over and sits next to me looking at my phone.

"Woah dude. Who's art is that? That is amazing!"

"Oh its this chick named Y/N."

Willow and Kris gasp and run over to the couch next to me.

"Oh my gosh! Y/N is so talented!"

"Yeah she did my tattoos!"

"Mine too! You have to go to her!"

"And I think Tyler would really like her if you know what I mean."

Willow nudges my side and I roll my eyes. The girls have been trying to get me a girlfriend for a long time and it hasn't worked out. Kris pulls out her phone and starts typing on it.

"I have an idea!"

She starts calling someone on speakerphone. I look over at her confused.

"Hellooo lady!"

"Hi Y/N!"

My eyes go wide looking over at Kris. Willow laughs at me.

"Is my other bestie there too?"

"Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Willow!"

"Y/N, we were wondering if you possibly have an opening tonight or tomorrow for someone new?"

"Is it a man? Better not be like the last one you brought me."

"Yes it is a man. And no nothing like that last one."

They are start laughing and I shake my head no at Kris. Kris smiles at me than looks at her phone.

"So I actually had a cancellation tonight so why don't you bring this mystery man with you at 6?"

"It's a date! See you than!"

"Bye!"

She hangs up the phone than looks over at me.

"Looks like you got a tattoo appointment tonight. Better figure out what you are getting."

"Thanks Kris."

I roll my eyes and go back to looking through her drawings to see which one I am going to get now.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

I am currently sweeping up the floor in my tattoo shop when I hear the bells on the door jingle. I look up seeing Kris and Willow walk in with two men walking behind them.

"Kris! Willow!"

I set the broom down against the wall and walk over to them.

"Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good! How are you two?"

"Good! Good!"

"Awesome!"

I look over at the two men that came in with them.

"Who are these two?"

"Hi I'm Trent!"

He hugs me wrapping his arms around my head and I hug him back wrapping my arms around his waist. He pulls away keeping his arm around my neck.

"You are short."

I roll my eyes and push his arm off me walking up to Tyler.

"Hi. I'm Y/N."

"I'm Tyler."

"Oh, you are the one I am tattooing. Did you figure out what you want?"

I walk back to my section in the shop and he follows behind me as everyone else sits in the waiting area. He pulls out his phone and shows me the eyes that I posted on Instagram.

"Oh... you... you want one of my drawings?"

"Your drawings are incredible. I looked through all your pictures on Instagram. There is a couple of them that I wanna get."

"Thank you. I will go print out the stencil for you. Be back."

I grab my phone and walk over to my machine printing out different sizes. Kris and Willow walk up to me with big grins on their faces. I shake my head looking at them.

"Soooo whatcha think?"

Kris whispers to me and I look down blushing a little.

"He is cute."

I mumble still looking down at the floor and they laugh a little at me.

"And he said he went through all my drawings on Instagram and wants to get more later on."

"Oh he likes you already than."

Willow nudges my arm and I smile looking at her. I grab the stencils and look at them.

"Time for me to tattoo ladies."

"Go get your man."

I laugh walking back over to Tyler. I put the stencils on my little table infront of him.

"What size would you like?"

He looks through the sizes and picks out the middle size one. I take it from him and look at him.

"Okay. Next question. Where do you want it?"

He takes his hoodie off and I gulp seeing him not wearing a shirt underneath.

"I want it about here."

He points to below his neck on his back. I prep the area he wants than put the stencil on. I pull off the paper revealing the stencil on his back. I take a picture of it than walk infront him showing him the picture.

"How's that?"

"Looks amazing. Let's do it."

I get all my supplies ready and start tattooing him as he sits there playing on his phone.

_________________________________________

Finishing up the tattoo, I start wiping it down and cleaning it up.

"Mind if I take a picture?"

"Go ahead."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture. I walk infront of him and show him the picture.

"Wow! That's amazing! You did a great job! Thank you so much!"

"Of course!"

I giggle looking at him. He pulls money out of his pocket.

"How much do I owe you for it?"

"A date."

"What?"

"You owe me a date. With you."

He stares at me for a minute than smiles. I giggle at him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"It's a deal!"

He stands up, kisses my cheek than walks over to Trent and they leave. Kris and Willow come running over to me.

"What was that?"

"Details!"

"He asked me how much I owe him for the tattoo. And I said he owes me a date. With him."

"Ooooo yes girl!"

"I think you two will be really good for each other!"

God I hope so!

#wrestling imagine #writing #imagines #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #aew fluff #aew fanfic #aew fic #aew hook fanfic #aew hook imagine #hook aew #aew hook #all elite wrestling #hook fanfiction #hook fic #tyler senerchia #tyler senerchia fanfiction #charley's fics

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shreddedparchment · 5 hours

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The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

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