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loveliestlovelygirl · 3 months

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divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

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hellsburners · 10 months

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pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will.

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men.

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand.

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.”

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold.

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon.

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger.

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying.

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering.

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends.

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound.

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain.

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested.

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me.

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering.

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door.

—

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle.

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number.

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital.

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way.

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute.

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue.

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions.

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck.

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave.

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day.

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names.

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.”

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue.

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts.

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen.

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked.

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.”

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering.

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.”

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you.

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure.

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock.

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more.

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly.

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt.

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom.

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you.

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness.

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned.

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two.

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths.

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing.

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other.

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked.

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room.

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight.

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered.

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks.

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said.

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though.

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.”

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut #punisher smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle x male reader #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle x male reader smut #punisher x reader smut

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charmedreincarnation · 1 year

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Hi Maya! my name is Claire and I got into the void state, shifted and manifested my dream life using your lucid dreaming guide, and your recommended subliminals!

I think lucid dreaming is the easiest way to do anything spiritual related because dreams are the link of reality to the subconscious. I have now entered the void, shifted, and practice manifesting while using lucid dreaming. I had been trying for 3 years and your guide really gave me clarity I needed to complete my journey. This was a couple of months ago when I first read your post that I got my dream life so I just want to share my experiences in case it could help others!

Sooo….I first restarted my journey after downloading tumblr. I knew I wanted to do lucid dreaming so I did my research and found your guide and the rest is history. I started small, and after using FILD I combined that with your intention method and your recommended subliminals and it sped up my journey. I crawled before I walked and I first started with having small manifestations using lucid dreaming

In my lucid dreams

*I practiced driving in lucid dreaming and manifested my license

*I practiced my public speaking and manifested less anxiety

*i talked to my guardian Angel. It took form of an owl, which is the first spiritual experience I ever had.

Then I went bigger and tried shifting. After a week of practice I got lucid dreaming down and could become lucid every night.

Then I shifted. Best day of my life and I had no plans so I ended up shifting to a reality where no men exist 😭 it was honestly so fun and I spent a week of dr time telling women about what men are, what they do, and the oppression women in this reality faced. It was in a futuristic yet renaissancey type like reality. Anyways as I explored this new society I discovered something miraculous: the disappearance of men has actually created harmony. Women are now able to focus on themselves and the things that matter most to them without worrying about the men.This newfound bliss didn’t last long however as I soon realized that a new problem had emerged. With the absence of men many essential tasks were left undone. And so, the women of our society had formed a collective economy in order to fill this void.One of the most peculiar duties that the women had assumed was to take care of the sheep. With no shepherds to take care of them, women used their skills to care for these animals and protect them from the elements. They have become so adept at this task that they have perfected it. The lack of men may have been a dramatic adjustment, but it has made for a joyful and empowering society.

When I came back I made a list of realities, like self created ones, tv shows, books, etc that I wanted to shift my awareness to and historic past places I wanted to visit. I spent a lot of time doing that, I was barely ever in this cr tbh and I enjoyed it throughly. I decided then that I was going to one day permanent shift and explore the infinite vast world for eternity. When I came back to this reality after having the first initial exploring crave I realized I hated my life lmfaooo. But I knew about the void and started reading stories about that and then I decided I wanted to change my life here too.

I mean.. I have the multiverse to my will so might as well fix this life here too. I hated coming back to this reality after my shifts because my parents were abusive, I was kind of ugly, and my life had gone to shit. I didn’t really care to change it because I was barely here anyways but after reading Neville and the law and understanding that “clones” really don’t exist and I’m just switching states I decided up stop being such a loser and realize it’s all me and only me. Anyways I manifested a complete change in my life in every aspect. I don’t really care to make a list but I am gorgeous, my family is revised to be old money rich, loving,and taken care of, my house is 30,000 sq feet,revised my name to Claire (it’s so pretty I love it) I have a loving boyfriend who is into shifting and spirituality as well, and so much more. I still do plan to permanent shift one day and I reserve to sundays for exploring the multiverse but I want to enjoy this reality now.

I thought being here was an accident after shifting, but nope everything happens bc you intended to and it’s so goddamn beautiful. This came out super ranty and lame but I just wanted to share in case I motivated anyone! I still sometimes come on tumblr so can I be your 🎐 anon. I love seeing all the success stories and everyone living their best life ! Anyways the best tips I can give you as a stranger who has been through all this is be kind to yourself and never give up. You found it all for a reason and you deserve to have everything and you will.

The first reality you shifted to reminds me of a very vivid dream I had four months ago. Regardless anyways your entire experience is so beautiful and I relate a lot to your experience I’m glad you have found happiness in every reality including this one beloved :)! Thank you for sharing 🎐 anon

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

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ketrinadrawsalot · 7 months

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Angeltober #17: If you get home from a downpour miraculously dry, thank your guardian angel

#angeltober #ultrangeltober #ultrangeltober2023 #angel #guardian angel #biblically accurate angel #rain #umbrella #art

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avocado-writing · 1 month

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Aziraphale x Reader

Breakfast in Bed

Soft Dom!Aziraphale*

The Voice

Receiving Head*

Confessions in the Storeroom & pt2*

Whipped Cream*

Twinned Feelings (drabble)*

First Time*

Biblically Accurate*

Thigh Riding*

Possessive!Reader

Squirting*

Angel!Reader*

Body Positivity

Loveable*

Dancing

Guardian

Oral*

Praise*

Karma

Crowley x Reader

In the Bentley*

Confessions

Fever

Innuendo

Practical Jokes

Rosé

Road Head*

Safeword*

Laudanum

Dyslexic Reader

Rough Dom*

One-sided

Lazy Day

Brought Back

Leg Humping*

Relax

Abandonment Issues

Not Right

Moving In

Pegging*

Corruption Kink*

Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

Fruit*

Miraculous*

Driving the Bentley

Hurt/Comfort

God Took Her Time*

Tech Genius

Trouble Trusting*

Teen Angel (platonic)

Choker*

Stress

Trauma*

Getting Older

Struggling

Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley (part of the Light, the Dark, and the Spaces Inbetween)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

The Honeymoon*

Quarrelling

Snapshots

Drunk

Double Ball Gag*

Beach Day*

Insomnia

Jousting

Orders* & pt2*

Admiring Aziraphale*

Roleplay*

A Little Young

Ritz*

Distractions*

Unrecognisable

Attention*

Self Care

Xmas oneshots x x x x x x x

Gabriel/Jim x Reader

Coffee

Park

Sleepover

Other

Uriel x Reader

#bottom graphics by bhaalism!!!#crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader x aziraphale #good omens x reader #gabriel x reader #jim x reader #ineffable husbands x reader

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kalak · 11 months

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Ok but obiwan ended up enabling kid luke by being his guardian angel. Like imagine if you're a reckless kid who got into all sorts of trouble but you somehow got miraculously saved every single time. Like you fall off a cliff and black out but then suddenly you're safe back in your home. You pick a fight with a slaver and your ass is about to be whooped when suddenly the slaver trips and falls and hits his head. Add the teenage 'nothing can hurt me I am invincible' mindset and the 'tatooine is so boring that I'm going to strap a rocket booster to my speeder and see what happens' recklessness and you get a guy who don't give a shit. Like a guy who, when told about the force, decides to throw caution into the wind and trust in the force about everything. The you're going to die be afraid be afraid fear that emanates from darth vader and also palpatine means nothing to luke because he experienced that fear and survived x 100. Obiwan unknowingly fostered a 'whatever happens everything will turn out alright' kinda optimism in luke tbh.

#star wars #luke skywalker #obiwan kenobi #my ramblings #star wars meta

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps, except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet.

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket. She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind. Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.” A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul.

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.” As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.”

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin. As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face.

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?” You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder.

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm.

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home.

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs.

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.”

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!”

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes. All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you.

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!”

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce.

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.”

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity.

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else.

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again.

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears.

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind.

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows.

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting.

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ”

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion.

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys.

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile".

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

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portraitsofsaints · 6 days

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Saint Isidore the Farmer

1070-1130

Feast day: May 15 (New), March 22 (Trad)

Patronage: Farmers, laborers, national rural conference in the U.S. and rural communities

Saint Isidore the Farmer, also known as St. Isidore the Laborer, was born in Madrid, Spain to a farming family. He married Maria de la Cabeza who was also declared a saint. Deeply religious, St. Isidore attended Mass daily, though never neglecting his labor. Many times his guardian angel would take up the plow while he lingered in prayer. He loved the poor and animals, miraculously multiplying food for both.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)

#SaintIsidoretheFarmer #catholicartist #catholicart #catholicsm

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yournaothings · 4 months

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Shattered

((Ahem. A short story of human being saved by what they assumed was an angel; only to witness that this so called "angel" was anything but that. *No warnings, I don't think. Talk about Oc's universe/home being destroyed. Hopelessness, feeling of loss, comfort, then betrayal.

I did my best for Shattered Dream, like I had said in a previous post, I don't know much about him. I read the fandom wiki's to kind of help me out. So, possible OOC for him. Probably ooc for him. heh...

The story was inspired by lyrics from "Unbecoming" by Starset.

You found me drifted out to sea

It's automatic

It's telepathic, you always knew me

And you laugh as I search for a harbor

As you point where your halo had been

But the light in your eyes has been squandered

There's no angel in you in the end

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Enjoy the fic!

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"I hope you find your room to your liking. Good night, my starlight."

The room? It was more than I had expected. The large bed was comfortable, covered with silk sheets and a cozy warm comforter. The amount of pillows outnumbered the ones I had on my own bed at home. The rest of the room was very spacious, lined with a wardrobe, a vanity, a body length mirror, a bench that sat at the end of my bed, and in the wall in the middle of the room was a fireplace with a fire burning bright and warm.

The castle was cold and dark when Dream led me to my room. The only light was from the burning torches that sat high up on their holders on the walls. The light from the flames gave the environment a gothic and almost creepy feel to the halls. The fireplace in my room was a comfort for sure. The light from the flames of my fireplace was perfect, as well as the candle lights that sat all around the room. Even the connected bathroom had candle lights burning.

Being here made me feel like royalty. A better feeling than what had had only hours ago when I found myself without a home-

That's right. I no longer have a home. What did Dream say? My universe was destroyed and somehow, miraculously I survived and was thrown into the anti-void? The dull room? Plains? Whatever you want to call the boring, blinding place that is the "anti-void."

I was lost. Walking for hours, I think? I couldn't keep track of time. I didn't even know if it was day or night! My body was exhausted by the time Dream found me. I was lost, and so worn down that I had thought he was a hallucination. But then, he came to me as if he were an angel sent from above! Even though he was a skeleton.

His gloved hand held out while he gave me a brilliant, calming smile. His eyes are pretty gold, as was the circlet he wears on his head. His clothing made him look like an angel of sorts, though they didn't billow like you would see in the movies. But, the yellows were so vibrant, and the green or turquoise bordered the tunic he wore. The black under armor? Or maybe it was compression wear? Whatever it was, it was the perfect look for his outfit, making him look so regal.

I hadn't realized I was on my knees when he found me, dried tears caked to my face. When did I start to cry? It had to have been while I was aimlessly walking about the empty void. With hesitation, I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet, and oh, his voice was so majestic, so imposing.

"There, there. No more crying."

He settled my nerves, my sadness, my anxiety. He told me how he watched me break free from the destruction of my home and fell here.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. Now that I have you, will you allow me to help you?"

I couldn't say no. Not when I had nowhere to go and no home to go back to. Going with him was the safest for me, the only way for me to get out of here.

"My name is Dream."

"Are you a guardian angel?"

He laughed softly at my question, his free hand gently covering his teeth, as if to hide his laughter. His pretty gold eyes shifted to look at me.

"Is that what you think I am?"

I nodded; of course I thought he was an angel! He saved me! His only response was a soft pleased hum as he guided me through a strange portal.

I slept so soundly throughout the night.

I felt so safe. Not even my nightmares could get to me. It was like Dream was protecting me physically and mentally. I knew I could stay here forever, or for as long as Dream allows me to stay. Somehow, I had to repay him for his kindness.

If only I had thought better of the situation when I had met Dream.

The next few days (at least I think it's been days) went by without a hitch. Dream continued to help me out. He conjured up new clothes for me- he must have gone out and bought them! Another thing on my list of things I needed to repay Dream for. The food was very delicious, and his company was soothing. We talked. (I talked to him, Dream listened.) We got to know each other! (Dream got to know my personality, my likes, my dislikes. My comforts and my fears.) Everything seemed to be going well, and I was so happy about it!

"How would you like to live with me?"

Dream finally asked, his elbows were propped up on the dining table and with his fists clenched, his chin rested on top of them. His grin was lazy, relaxed. His eyes were unreadable, but I didn't notice. I perked up and I could feel my lips widening into a grin.

"I would love to! I really like it here!"

Dream chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "Wonderful. I must throw a welcome party for you."

I raised an eyebrow as I finished my breakfast. "A party? You don't have to do that."

"Oh, but of course!" Dream said with enthusiasm! He stood from his seat and started to walk towards the doorway leading out of the dining room and into the kitchen. I grabbed my now empty dishes and followed after him. It would be rather rude to just leave them on the table! As I walk into the kitchen, fully intending on washing my own dishes, I paused and my grin faltered.

Dream walked over to three skeletons who looked oddly similar to Dream. I paused as I looked at each of them and frowned.

"What's going on?"

Dream turned to face me as he stood in between the grinning skeletons. His hands slipped behind his back and hooked together as he stood in a perfect, regal stance. His friendly grin was gone and was replaced with something more sinister looking. As my own grin fell, the skeletons' grins widened.

"We're going to throw a party for you, remember?"

I glanced at each skeleton, then at Dream.

"These are your friends?"

"you sure did pick a stupid one, shattered!" The one skeleton with what looked like a wriggling target on his front spoke with a snarky tone.

Dream hummed with amusement as he seemed to take great joy in my discomfort.

"A naive human, yes. But, they are perfect for what I have planned."

As he spoke, Dream's body shifted into something more grotesque, terrifying so. His body leaked with what resembled black tar that continuously dripped from his body. His left eye socket was covered by his goopy tar, and the right socket remained the pretty gold color I grew to love. I choked on a gasp when from his back four tendrils protruded out and hovered and wiggled behind him.

He pointed to his head, a sickening amused grin widening as his one good eye socket widened in mirth.

"Still think I'm an angel? There was never a halo, pet."

His once majestic voice was gone and replaced with something so dark and frightening. He was a nightmare.

"You tricked me. Into doing what exactly?"

I was hurt, betrayed. I thought he was my friend. I thought he was my savior.

"Anything that I desire of you."

"But, why?"

"Why do you think, pet? A lost soul in the anti-void? You should consider yourself lucky that I found you and not Error."

"I don't know who that is." I shook my head. It was then I felt myself trembling in fear. The dishes were still held tightly in my hands.

"Oh, you'll meet him eventually; and when you do, you can thank him for destroying your home."

My eyes slowly widened as he said this.

"H-He's one of your friends?" Dream's laugh was my answer. "Dream- why?"

"hehe! they're still calling you by that name?"

"his name... is shattered."

"you should be thankful he saved you."

"Heh. I suppose I should give introductions. These will be your friends. Killer, Dust, and Horror."

Drea- Shattered gestured to each skeleton. Killer was the one with the wiggling target, the black tears streamed down his cheekbones and stained his bones. Dust was the one with the mismatched eyes. Blue was what made up the middle, while the red bordered it. I could barely make out his grin. He wore a torn scarf around his neck. And finally, Horror was the big guy with a huge crater on top of his skull. A massive head wound and just below that was one large, nightmarish eye light. His clothing, much like the other two's clothing choice, was torn and bloodied. Horror was the perfect name for him.

I moved without thinking. My dishes fell from my grasp as I turned to run. Where the hell was I going to go? I never left the castle. I didn't even know where this castle was! But, the safest place I knew of at that moment was my bedroom.

"want me to chase after them?" Killer grinned as he summoned his knife.

"i can chop... off their feet." Horror snickered.

Dust grunted in disgust. No way was he running after that human, unless Shattered asked for him to do so.

"No. Let them run. There's nowhere to go. I will always know where they are from now on."

Shattered's laughter echoed through the halls, reaching the ears of the panicked human who was now a prisoner to Shattered Dream and his team of Bad Sanses.

#undertale #sans #dream sans #shattered dream #utmv au #picture not mine #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #bad sanses #dream x reader #reader #shattered dream x reader

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avionvadion · 3 months

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My brain had some thoughts while I was trying to type the fanfic and de-stress, dunno if I'll follow through with it, but it was a fun idea that I wanted to draw out, haha. Like, why was El the human that was summoned instead of any other? Surely there's a reason, yes?

What do you think happens to the Angels and Demons that die??? To the Sinners that are killed in the Exterminations? Reincarnation isn't in the bible, but... it's a fun idea to play with, especially since it's a thing in so many different religions. And since Lilith is a thing (following the Jewish texts in that she was the first woman and Adam's first wife) it's not purely the Christian version of events.

I dunno, I think it leaves room for creative liberties, haha.

Anyways, dark ramblings below!

The idea is that Iliana served as Adam's guardian angel, but fell in love with Lucifer and his ideas. Lucifer, however, fell for Lilith, and Iliana probably slacked off on her duty as Adam's guardian angel (or at least distracted him while Lucifer was meeting Lilith) since she cared for Lucifer's happiness over her own.

When Lucifer and Lilith fall, she becomes lost in despair- but holds on long enough for Adam to ascend into Heaven. Having no reason left to keep going, her duty done and her one-sided love lost to the depths of Hell, she stabs herself and dies. She wasn't particularly close to Adam, but she was the only one that remained by his side despite his horrid personality, so he cared quite a lot about her. He was more than a little upset (and pissed) when she died in his arms.

Thousands of years pass.

Iliana the Angel is reborn as Eleanora the Human, who ends up getting summoned into Hell via a demon trying to reverse engineer a summoning circle. She's miraculously saved by Charlie, Lucifer's daughter. And... yeaaaah.

I feel like Adam would end up having a, "You're lucky you're a human now, or I'd have killed you myself for dying all those millennia ago!" Before actually trying to kill her during the next extermination after she's transformed into her somewhat demonic self out of rage/betrayal that she "abandoned Adam/died on him" just to reincarnate "for Lucifer".

Like... dude lost both his wives to Lucifer. And then he lost his "best friend" at the time, only to find out she reincarnated as a human... and rejected Heaven again... for Lucifer.

Adam's gonna rampage. XD

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc #tw implied suicide #tw suicide #dancing with the devil #charlie morningstar #charlie magne

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kleenex-tissues · 4 months

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Yours Truly (21)

Read on AO3 here

Ch. 21 - Stop the Clock

“Do you Parisian heroes make a habit of getting impaled, or is that just you?”

Marinette wanted to go back to sleep, but a burning pain in her leg and throat kept her mind from drifting off. She almost hadn’t heard the sly remark above her because of it. Almost. Most of her nervous system was currently failing her, but she managed to groan out, “No’ usually, bu’ firs’ for every’fing.”

She was met with a chuckle, and she tried smiling back. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded. Her eyes fluttered open to a blurry world, a black and blue blob staring down at her, and she wondered if this was a pain-induced hallucination. At least the voice speaking to her was nice. Maybe it was an angel?

“Ladybug, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Adrien? No, probably Chat Noir. Not that that distinction mattered anymore. It had only been a matter of time until she found out his identity. If not on the field, she would have had to know as Guardian eventually anyway. She just wished it could have been under better circumstances.

When Marinette tried to mumble his name back at him, he quieted her. “No, don’t talk! You’re really hurt right now, and you have to stay as still as possible.”

Staying still sounded nice. She could do that.

“Listen, I know Tikki is slowing the blood loss, but I need her. Someone has to cleanse the akuma and use the miraculous cure. I'll give you Plagg. We just have to do this quickly.” He was stumbling over his words in his panic. “I’m so sorry I let this happen, M’Lady.”

In any other circumstance, she’d hesitate, not wanting to reveal their identities to anyone else. She still wasn’t sure if the black and blue blob was a real person or not, really, but their situation was dire. This would be an issue for her to deal with when she was more coherent. Tikki would understand, she was sure of that at least.

“Spo’s off.”

As soon as the red flash of light disappeared, Marinette began screaming. The pain was too much too soon. It hurt, and she heard Adrien sobbing out apologies as he removed her earrings. He grabbed her hand and despite both of their shaking, managed to slip his ring onto her finger.

Someone held her head down, and she heard another voice whispering, “Mari, it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

The voice sounded familiar, but she knew there was no way Damian was in Paris with her right now. She listened to it anyway, and thanked the universe for sending her such a comforting gift in her final moments.

“Your partner said you need to call for 'Plagg.' Can you do that?”

A gloved hand was rubbing her cheek, and she leaned into it. She tried nodding, but ultimately gave up in favor of mumbling, “Claws ou’.”

The green light that encased her seemed to ease some of the pain. It had become much more manageable, and she tried to pull her focus onto the hands holding her face to distract herself. She needed to focus on anything but the cold metal in her upper thigh and her scratchy throat.

The hands came loose from her face for a moment, and she tried to follow before they quickly returned, bare this time. They were warm. She leaned into them as best she could.

One hand rubbed soothing circles on Marinette’s cheek, and the other moved up to stroke her hair. She barely felt the tears dripping onto her forehead.

Finally, the world was righted again, and she felt the ladybugs swarming her body before she saw them. It wasn’t very often that she had the chance to feel the miraculous cure from this side, but it felt like nothing in the world had ever made sense before that moment. She felt like she was home.

Marinette began to properly stir, blinking away the blurriness that had clouded her vision. The night was bright with Parisian lights, just like it should have been. She began to that she might have imagined the last however many hours, but her fears were assuaged when she held up a black gloved hand before her eyes. This wasn’t the Ladybug suit, and that certainly wasn’t Chat Noir looking down at her.

Holding her were two men she had only ever seen in the news — Nightwing and Robin. Where had Damian gone?

The hands still performing ministrations on her head belonged to Robin, and judging by the sopping wet hair Nightwing sported, they were who had pulled her from the Seine.

She blinked up at them before Robin pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Wait, why was Robin kissing her?

What had happened when she was passed out?

—

Damian had never felt such righteous fury before in his life, not even when his father had gone missing or all the times Ra’s had beat him senseless on the sparring mat. He had arrested many monsters and let them live, but he knew he could never grant such a mercy to the man who had done this to Marinette. This pure soul deserved everything life had to offer, and he would gladly give it to her, which meant destroying Hawkmoth.

He hadn’t had the chance to think better of it before he began pressing a hurried kiss to her forehead; he just needed to feel that she was still there, from his fingertips to his lips. It was rather embarrassing that Dick had been the one to witness it, as well. He wouldn’t say anything of it now, but Damian knew he was never going to live this down.

Yet right now, nothing else mattered. His Mari was safe, her beautiful heart beating in tandem with his. Everything about her was beautiful. Her delicate face, lithe hands, and soft hair felt almost too good to be true. He could live a thousand lifetimes repenting, and he still would never truly deserve her.

Part of him was glad that she had changed suits because the black leather highlighted the deep blush painting her skin. The red spandex would have distracted too much from it.

Marinette let loose a nervous laugh. “Uh, what did I miss?”

Damian never let his eyes linger from her own, but he could feel the shit-eating grin dancing across his brother’s face. He chose, very pointedly, to ignore it.

“I took too long to get here,” he whispered to her. “I wish you had been able to inform me of this foul bastard tormenting your city. I would have had his head on a platter for you in a heartbeat.”

Dick chimed in, “Wow, kid. You sure know how to woo ‘em.”

Marinette’s face somehow became impossibly redder, and the skin was burning underneath his hands. She tried to sink into herself, but the tight leather suit left little room to hide. The faux cat ears were definitely not helping her.

Before she had the chance to question the vigilante’s familiarity with her, her partner came rushing towards them. He now donned a red and black polka dotted suit similar to the one she had worn earlier. The accessories they had swapped seemed to be the cause of it, but they could discuss this later. Maybe when they hadn’t just watched Marinette thrash around in agony.

The ladybug hero fell onto his knees and threw his body around her, crying into her shoulder, “Thank Kwamis, you’re alright! I don’t think I could have lived with myself if anything had happened to you.”

Marinette pulled a hand up to gently pet her partner’s hair, a soft smile gracing her now less-red face. He buried his face further into the crook of her neck, and she brought her other hand to rub along his back. Damian felt his heart drop at the exchange.

“It’s alright, Minou.” She let out a dry laugh. “Now you know how I feel every time you throw yourself head first into danger.”

Damian was overcome with a sudden possessiveness. He knew who this other boy was. He was Adrien, the boy who had broken Marinette's heart, and the one she still called her best friend. Damian believed that perhaps she was far too forgiving. He would never let anything bad happen to her again.

One of his hands moved to push Adrien off of her, the other still tenderly holding her face. The other boy was caught off guard by the sudden movement, and Marinette’s eyebrows jumped in shock.

“Bug off, Minou, ” Damian growled at him. His hand returned to rubbing her hair back. “She’s mine.”

He felt a sudden smack against the back of his head.

“For fuck’s sake, Damian. I taught you to act better than that,” Dick chided him. Damian swung his head around to meet his brother’s menacing gaze with his own.

“So much for secret identities, Grayson.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Like she wasn’t gonna find out anyway. What, with your little kiss and confession.”

Heat rose in Damian’s face. Whether it was in anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t say, but suddenly he was tackling Dick back into the river. It wasn’t a ‘confession,’ okay? It was simply a truth she should be aware of. Damian Wayne didn’t do ‘confessions.’

They hit the water in a tangle of limbs and spandex, and Damian swore he could hear Marinette laughing as he submerged into the water. He was overcome with the thought that maybe, it wasn’t so bad to open up his heart to someone. After all, nothing in this world could possibly be sweeter than her voice.

A kick to the jaw reminded Damian why he had tackled Dick into the Seine in the first place. He was so going to kill him.

#batman #wolfish-writes #damian wayne #maribat #maridami #miraculous ladybug #mlb x dcu #dcu x mlb #batbros #batfamily #daminette #dick grayson #adrien agreste #lady noire #mister bug

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