#WORTHY OF THE FILTH UNDER MY FOOT
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Chapter 12: the thunderclannining
GOD I love when people call Clear Sky out. It only ever lasts like 5 minutes but it is as euphoric as the brief, blissful taste of a chocolate-covered raspberry gracing your tastebuds.
"How could you believe that I'm obsessed with being right after all the times I chose not to murder you :( ????"
"I let you eat food in land that you used to just be able to walk into, even though you're disabled! I thought you were eternally grateful :(((( IM LOSING CONTROL!!"
"YOU'RE ABANDONING US BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU DESERVE RESPECT????????"
He feels like the world's worst boss and crappiest father rolled into one monstrous fusion.
There's just one problem with all this catharsis; Thunder is still whining about Star Flower, insisting that she's going to betray Clear Sky. It's frustrating because he is wrong.
Star Flower is a lot closer to another victim of Clear Sky than a manipulator, but the narrative will not ultimately conclude this.
But at NO point does it show her actually manipulating anyone. Not even Thunder. NO she did not "manipulate" and betray him. I am once again reminding everyone that Thunder offered all that information apropos of nothing, against all warnings.
Yet, "betraying" the Clan cats by warning her father of an ambush is so unforgivable that several cats agree she should be chased out of the forest.
All this emphasis on how hurt Thunder is shows that his judgement is clouded by jealousy.
All this Star Flower whinging takes away from Clear Sky being abusive. THAT should be the major issue here. This is an entire book of Clear Sky returning to the same kind of emotional abuse he was displaying back in Thunder Rising, only without murder, and what this LONG AWAITED confrontation ends up spiraling back to is the Father/Son Love Triangle
You can't even get catharsis without some incredibly weird, unpleasant bullshit dripping into it.
Im glad that Thunder has finally come to the point where he's rejecting the dumbass statement he made when they killed One Eye together, where he was gushing about, "We're not like One Eye and never have been <3" Yes. Clear Sky IS like One Eye-- a weaker version of him, someone who got out-dictator'd and needed to call in the OTHER cats to ambush him and win his group back.
but again this is meant to be his jealousy speaking. Not straight facts. He JUST had a confrontation with Star Flower about her daddy issues and he's saying that Clear Sky fits them.
CRY ABOUT IT!!!! GET BOOHOO'D LOSER! CRY ME A RIVER AND DROWN IN IT
"I always end up alone waaaaaah!!!" fucking when in your life have you ended up alone? Someone was ALWAYS behind you to hand you a binkie and a safety blanket. When you didn't have a massive group of violent rogues to back you up, the moor cats always took your sorry ass in and clapped at you for doing the bare fucking minimum. People always nonsensically stood by you because the plot demands it, after you get them and dozens of their friends injured and killed
Here comes the binkie and the safety blanket, btw
In a good series this would have been her intentionally manipulating him, bringing out his worst traits again, encouraging him to be the worst version of himself as he once again ignores all good advice.
But Star Flower never did anything wrong. She never DOES anything at all. She's JUST Clear Sky's controversial wife that Thunder has to "get over himself" about, an item to cause conflict, a mate extra supportive of him because he "deserves" to have someone by his side unlike all the other times where people were by his side.
The pack of 3 dogs that mauled you to death wasn't enough. I wish they had guns
#WORTHY OF HIM.............#WORTHY OF THE FILTH UNDER MY FOOT#who the fuck thought this was a good romance im throwing up#Star Flower GET OUT OF THERE!!!!#OH MY GODDD#dotc hate#bones reads dotc#clear sky
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Ari is divorced and moving out of the house to an apartment where he meets a happy married, reader with big breasts. Her husband is out of town one day, she and ari have intense sexual one night stand
Neighbours
A/N: I'm baaaaccckkkkk and as always I have something to say ☺️ I am in love with Ari Levinson. Great request but I have to ponder... If reader is “happily married” then why would she cheat? I feel like her being married adds absolutely nothing to the plot, so we are gonna change it to obsessed ex because like… mi no comprehend how happy = cheating. Also, I feel cheating can be triggering for some.
I also think I forgot how to write so please give feedback on this one, like why are some bits in past tense??? Idk I'm insecure validate me 🥺
WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, oral (f receiving, m receiving), dirty talk, sex, orgasm, P in v, Daddy kink (naturally), hair pulling, spit, shitty exes, swearing.
You sat in your apartment, comfy on the couch and freshly single. While most people would see this as a great time to spend their Friday nights going to clubs, seeking for a new dick to get under – you found it the perfect time to bask in the freedom of having uninterrupted you time. That was until a knock at the door caught you off guard.
You sprung up with a groan, tip toeing to look through the peephole and find out who had the audacity to knock on your door at 10:30 on a Friday night.
“Brian” You muttered under your breath in a disdained tone.
Brian. Your whiny, dickish, loser ex. Who despite not having any concrete plans for life besides his regular Friday night strip club visit still thought you could prove yourself to be more “wife material’. By that he meant, on top of making dinner, picking him up at 2am from said strip club visits so he didn’t have to spend money on a Taxi. Safe to say, dumping him didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.
You pulled open the door, standing in your almost too small pyjama set. “Can I help you?”
“I think you can.” He gave you a sick smirk, closing the space between you by moving his hands towards your waist.
“Don’t fucking touch me Brian. We aren’t together.” Slapping his hand away.
“Don’t be a bitch, everyone hooks up with their ex.”
“Well, I don’t want so can you please leave?” You heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs from the lobby and you got anxious at the thought of a neighbour witnessing this cringe worthy altercation.
“I’m not leaving until you let me in.” He moved his foot past the threshold of the door frame, to prevent you from closing the door on his face.
“Brian you can’t-“
“She said leave.” A foreign voice sounded from down the hallway cutting you off, both your heads flung to the source.
The tall, brooding man had only been your neighbour for a week, you passed by each other with tight smiles both of you too occupied to say hello. But that didn’t stop you from getting a good look at him. He was handsome in a ruggish way, often only sporting shorts and wife beaters, sweat forming on his head as he lugged boxes into his apartment. You noticed the gold band on his large finger, yet no man or wife in sight. Yet, today there was no ring and he had swapped the wife beater for a button up shirt and jeans.
“Who the fuck are you?” Brian spat at the man who could beat him to a pulp with minimal effort. Ah Brian, always so confident for a man whose dick was the size of your pinky.
Your hide your face in your hands in a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
“Ari, now I suggest you leave her alone.” He moved closer to you both, slightly moving his body in front of you, blocking Brian from entering.
“She’s my girlfriend and this was our apartment so I think I can stay but thanks pal.” Brian sounded confident but his voice waivered as he cranked his neck to look up at Ari.
“I’m not your girlfriend.” Ari looked back at you, catching your eyes, giving you a soft smile.
“Well, that settles it so either you leave, or I make you leave.” Ari knelt a little, getting close to Brian’s face his voice was calm and level, but his eyes told Brian he wasn’t bluffing.
Brian huffed and made his way back down the hall, not before turning back “Enjoy her she’s a bitch but she’s slutty.”
Ari flashed a glowing smile and a prominent middle finger as he pushed his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him.
“You, ok?”
“I’m used to it but thank you for helping he wouldn’t have never left if you didn’t step in.”
“Don’t worry about it but you look like you need a stiff drink – got anything good?”
“Tequila?”
“Perfect.” He purred, following you as you made your way to your small bar cart, catching a glimpse of the soft skin that hang out slightly from your pyjama shorts.
You grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap;
“You know your wife’s really lucky to have you around.” You spoke as you poured two shots.
“Ex-wife.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be she was my equivalent of him.” You both chuckled at the mutual understanding of horrible exes.
“Y/N, by the way.” You spoke as you handed him the novelty shot glass.
“Good to finally put a name to my pretty neighbour.” You blushed as you clinked glasses, both downing the burning liquid in sync.
“Another?” You smirked at him.
1 shot turned into 4 as you and Ari sat on your couch, bonding over stories of your exes’ antics and anxieties about re-entering the dating scene. Both losing track of time as the hours fell into early morning. But neither of you felt tired, invigorated by your conversation and the upper coursing through your veins.
“She did not!” You hand fell to your mouth as Ari recounted the story of walking in on his ex fucking his friend on their kitchen counter.
“She did.” He nodded slowly, sipping his beer as he recalled on the sight.
“Well, she’s crazy. I mean, why would anyone cheat on you… when they have well… YOU. God, I mean if I had my own version of sexy Jesus at home, I’d never leave bed.” Ari’s eyes went dark at your bold comment as the image of you and him in bed clouding his mind.
You swallowed hard, realising the tequila was speaking for you and you had invertedly just admitted you found your neighbour hot.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to say you were hot, I mean yes you are hot but-“
“Sexy Jesus?” He crocked an eyebrow at you.
“Yeah, I mean you know with the hair and beard... like… Jesus”
“I’m Jewish.”
“So, you could possibly be a descendent of Jesus then.” You tried to muffle the laugh threatening to spill as your nonsensical statement. But Ari beat you to it, reaching forward in a fit of laughter, his hand grabbing his pecs.
“You are something else Y/N… in a good way, I see why your ex showed up at your door.”
“What can I say I’m very addictive.” You twirled your hand along the rim of your glass, avoiding his prominent gaze.
“Was he telling the truth about that last comment?”
“That I’m his girlfriend? No no we definitely broke up.”
“No, I meant that you’re slutty.”
Your eyes widened and the mouthful of drink you just sipped threatened to spit out.
“I mean that depends…”
“On…?”
“On your definition of slutty.”
“I took it as you were good in the sack.” He was leaning back on the couch now, his long arms stretched along the back, his hand deathly close to your neck.
“I am not “good in the sack”, I am fucking great in the sack.” You leaned in closer to his figure on the last line, your face getting closer to his. Slowly placing your drink onto the coffee table.
He licked his lips in hunger, shortly before he closed the space between you two, his hand falling to your cheek to pull you closer.
You closed your eyes, relaxing into the soft feeling of his beard against your skin as you explored each other’s mouths.
In a swift motion, his mouth never leaving yours, he placed his drink next to yours, moving his hand back to you cup your ass that was slowly raising itself off the couch.
Moving his hand downwards, hooking your leg over his lap so your chest was now pressed against his button up shirt. Not satisfied at the feeling of fabric against you, you pulled away to undo the buttons, revealing his tanned, hairy chest and the shiny gold Star of David chain.
His chest heaved, watching you eagerly as you fiddled with the buttons. “Oh, fuck it!” You ripped his shirt to reveal the delectable abs hidden underneath. Your mouth returning to his as you ran your hands through his dark, shiny locks. He shimmied the rest of the flannel off, hands going to the hem of your cami, eager to reveal the plump, delicious tits, constrained by the fabric. With a final pull over your head, your breasts bounced, hard nipples falling in place against his chest.
“Jesus Christ.” He huffed out, pausing momentarily to admire the sight in front of him. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, nipping and sucking at your skin down your neck towards your breasts.
His hands cupped the supple flesh, bringing it to his mouth as he sucked delicately on the hard nib. His eyes looked up at you past his long lashes as your head fell back in pleasure.
He moaned as your pulled on his hair. His hands, took a firm grip of your ass, raising his hips slightly, flipping you on your back with ease, you lay exposed across the couch. Leaping up to undo the zip of his jeans, shoes long discarded he stepped out of the worn denim. Your hands grabbed at the clothed, outline of his cock in his briefs, eager to taste the hunky man. Positioning yourself at the edge of the couch. Ari crouched his knees slightly, noting his height, eager to let you at your want.
Revealing his cock, your eyes widened at his size, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen and much bigger than Brian. You grabbed his base, kitty licking at the plump head, catching the loose drops of pre-cum that oozed from his red slit.
“Fuck Y/N, I knew you knew your way around a cock.” You smirked up at him as his hands pulled your hair into a ponytail, taking the hair tie from his wrist and securing it.
You placed the thick head in your mouth, pushing your spit onto his cock as you ran your lips up and past the head.
“You think you can take the whole thing baby?” He quipped at you.
Giving him a small nod, you opened your mouth wider, flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock as you slowly moved you head forward to let his cock push down your throat.
“Fuck baby! That’s it.” Ari’s hands clutched your ponytail tightly, edging his hips towards your head slowly.
You pulled out, looking up at him, with spit smothered around your lips “Don’t hold back Daddy.” Ari groaned roughly, head falling back at the sight of the beautiful woman on her knees in front of him calling him such a salacious name. It was all he needed to roughly fuck your throat, the sounds of your gags and wet, sloppy punctures filling the room.
He pulled your head back by your ponytail, you whined at the loss of his cock.
“You’re so good at it baby but I need that pussy.” He looked down on you with awe. You nodded, shuffling back onto the couch. Ari fell to his knees, head inches away from your pussy as he helped you pull your shorts down.
His mouth immediately went between your thighs, spitting on your exposed cunt before flattening his large tongue on your heat, leaving a long strip of warm, wetness from the skin above your ass to the tip of your clit. Sucking on the sensitive pearl as you mewled at the sensation. He moved downwards, nudging the tip of his tongue at your weeping hole as his beard brushed against your sensitive clit creating a sensation you have never experienced but was addictive. The bristles moving roughly against any inch of exposed skin.
“Ari please I need it!” You begged as you pushed his head closer to your core.
He stopped suddenly, pulling away to look up at your flushed face, sweat formed on your forehead. “What’d you call me?”
“Daddy, please fuck me.” You looked into his deep blue eyes, need in your voice.
“That’s better.” He smirked up at you, moving upwards to join you on the couch. You pulled him closer desperate to taste yourself on his lips. His movements slowed as he moved his hand to support your head pulling it back slightly to get deeper into the kiss.
Between the rushed, desperation appeared a moment of deep intimacy and want for the person in front of you. He grabbed his cock in his hand and slowly glided it through your wet folds, catching your deep moan as his length filled your tight, velvety interior.
Slowly, he moved in and out, eager not to go too far out and lose the sensation of finally being inside of you.
Letting out a deep groan as you ran your nails down his back, leaving long, red marks.
“Harder Daddy please… I need it.”
He looked at you, strands of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, dipping his head down to give you a soft, wet kiss, pulling out, he grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, opening your mouth slightly as he spit roughly down your throat. You swallowed his spit greedily, flashing him an innocent smile which quickly faded as he pulled out to the edges of your entrance and thrusted roughly back in. You gasped at the sudden hit of his bulbous tip at your cervix. The repeated assault at your most sensitive core caused the coil inside you to tighten, your desperately grabbed at his large arms for stability, nails digging into his hard skin as your release rushed out of you and seeped down his length.
“That’s its baby let it out, fuck that makes me close.” His eyes darted between your two sexes, watching as the cream wrapped around his base like a decorative bow. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, savouring the feeling of being inside of you amongst your juices.
He collapsed into the warm embrace of your chest, softly kissing the supple skin of your breast as you both breathed heavy post the best sex of your lives. As his now limp cock fell out of you along with the sticky, hot mix of your release.
Your eyes squinted at the sudden realisation of light pouring through your window, releasing it was now sunrise, tiredness took over you.
You shook the heavy man on you “Ari, it’s morning, do you want to come back to bed with me?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He steadied himself by his arms on either side of your head as he rose. Holding out his hand to help your shaky figure up and into the bedroom. Arms forming a tight grip on your hips as you hobbled towards your bed.
You both collapsing, ready to enjoy a well-deserved sleep.
#chris evans fanfic#ari levison x reader#ari levinson#ari levinson smut#chris evans character x reader#chris evans fic#chris evans smut#chris evans imagines#chris evans x reader#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson x reader#deep sea diving resort#chris evans fics#chris evans one shot#ari levinson one shot
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Worthy
"Kar'niss!"
He snapped out of his trance, the echoing sound of his Matron bellowing his name quick to motivate him to rise. He scrambled out of his cobbled together bedding, nearly tripping over himself as he climbed the staircase so quickly he did so on all fours. His body ached, exhaustion his constant companion under the demanding nature of his keeper.
He rushed through the door of his Matron's chambers coming to the side of her lavish bed dripping in opulent dressing. Kar'niss dropped to his knees and bowed until the tip of his nose kissed the marble floor beneath him.
"M-Matron, tell me your desire."
Lounging in a sea of red and gold trimmed silk sheets was the lady of their noble house, Kyrzhal. Her white locks spilled over dark shoulders, scantly garbed in a sheer black night dress that did little to conceal her feminine form. Red eyes darted to peer at the cowering creature at her beside, her upper lip curling into a less than impressed sneer.
"My desire? For you to be useful, just once." Her voice was melodic and alluring yet the deadly venom behind every syllable was baked in, permanent. She sat up and turned herself so her legs dangled over the bed's edge, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Despite her lithe build she towered over him upon her luxurious perch, her shadow cast over him like the looming threat she was.
"I-I don't understand, mistress. I live to serve, live for you. My only purpose is to satisfy your every whim." Kar'niss's muscles tensed as he spoke, seeking to bow even lower though such was hardly possible.
Kyrzhal tipped her chin upward indignantly, her thin fingers curling into the thick nest of bedding surrounding her. Her leg snapped forward in order to step on the back of his neck, applying a great deal of pressure which forced his face harder into the floor. He cried out from the sudden assault able to sense the threat of his nose breaking against the surface of the floor.
"But my whims aren't satisfied!" She snarled. "Do you not understand? You continue to draw breath because of my mercy, my protection."
She applied more pressure to the back of the drow's neck causing him to claw at the floor in pain, trying to move out of instinct but finding himself held in place.
"P-P--hrk! Please!"
"You'll have to beg better than that if you desire my forgiveness. You'd still be shoveling rothe shit if I didn't pull you from the dung pits. Here I thought I had found a reasonable consort but instead I ended up with a sniveling child." She rolled her eyes and gave her fingers a curl until the knuckles popped one by one.
"I'm ss--sorry! You're right mistress, I am l-lower than filth, unworthy!" His voice muffled against the floor, his lips now coated in the blood oozing from his impacted nose.
The Matron exhaled a slow, frustrated sigh as the man begged for his life, a common occurrence in this household. Her foot soon relented the battery, lifting her leg to relinquish her hold. He jolted upright and clapped his hands over his nose, lines of crimson smeared across his lips and chin.
She watched the display with a blank stare, as if annoyed by the reaction of her punishment. "The next time I tell you to make my bed properly, no lumps, no creases, no sheet out of place, I trust it'll be performed correctly the first time."
Kar'niss nodded quickly while continuing to wipe the blood away now limited to breathing through his mouth, resulting in a nasally reply.
"Yes mistress, the first time. No mistakes, no creases, it will be perfect for my Matron. I promise!"
"Good. Because next time you anger me, I'll remove your cock. It's likely the most useless feature you have. There are many drow men who are far superior fucks." Her eyes narrowed. "Now piss off. The mere sight of you disgusts me."
Kar'niss grimaced at the threat but knew better than to argue. He'd bow to her once more and then slink free of her presence, crawling out of the room.
He returned to his chamber rattled and on edge. His legs were still healing from the last time he displeased her, bound in bandages caked in dried blood. There was never a moment of reprieve, never a time he could so much as breathe without attracting her ire. He grabbed a rag to press to his nose which was now tender to the touch. He felt the biting sting of moisture collecting in his eyes threatening to escape. He bit them back despite the pain, despite the anguish, determined to be stronger than his Matron believed him to be.
Retreating to a corner in his room he tucked himself away as far as he could manage, hoping the sparse darkness in the space would be enough to protect him. His luck would change one day he was certain of it. This was merely a test by Lolth, a rite of passage for him to become more than a plaything for a sadist. He had to do one thing first, the only thing that could ensure his freedom, his ascension.
"Worthy. I. Will. Be. Worthy!"
#baldur's gate 3#kar'niss#drider#bg3#karniss#my writing#fanfic#headcanon origin story#backstory#drow#Matron#servitude#tw: violence#tw: abuse
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28th November >> Mass Readings (USA)
Monday, First Week of Advent
(Liturgical Colour: Violet)
First Reading
Isaiah 4:2-6
There will be splendor for the survivors.
On that day,
The branch of the LORD will be luster and glory,
and the fruit of the earth will be honor and splendor
for the survivors of Israel.
He who remains in Zion
and he who is left in Jerusalem
Will be called holy:
every one marked down for life in Jerusalem.
When the LORD washes away
the filth of the daughters of Zion,
And purges Jerusalem’s blood from her midst
with a blast of searing judgment,
Then will the LORD create,
over the whole site of Mount Zion
and over her place of assembly,
A smoking cloud by day
and a light of flaming fire by night.
For over all, the LORD’s glory will be shelter and protection:
shade from the parching heat of day,
refuge and cover from storm and rain.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 122:1-2, 3-4b, 4cd-5, 6-7, 8-9
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
I rejoiced because they said to me,
“We will go up to the house of the LORD.”
And now we have set foot
within your gates, O Jerusalem.
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Jerusalem, built as a city
with compact unity.
To it the tribes go up,
the tribes of the LORD.
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
According to the decree for Israel,
to give thanks to the name of the LORD.
In it are set up judgment seats,
seats for the house of David.
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem!
May those who love you prosper!
May peace be within your walls,
prosperity in your buildings.
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Because of my relatives and friends
I will say, “Peace be within you!”
Because of the house of the LORD, our God,
I will pray for your good.
R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.
Gospel Acclamation
cf. Psalm 80:4
Alleluia, alleluia.
Come and save us, LORD our God;
let your face shine upon us, that we may be saved.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel
Matthew 8:5-11
Many will come from the east and the west into the Kingdom of heaven.
When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.” He said to him, “I will come and cure him.” The centurion said in reply, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, “Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I say to you, many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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The Groupie (part 5)
Warning - smut - sexting - filth.... Not even remotely sorry.
This is set in 2006/7, and Cillian has no children. Reader is a fan, has been since day one and is a plus size girl. I myself am a UK size 16, so I hope I don't offend anyone with my story (I'm writing about my own insecurities a little here so be kind please).
Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni
A week had gone by, you'd gone to write numerous text messages without actually sending them. He was bound to be back in Ireland now, your chance probably gone anyway. you'd even contemplated texting Orla but your nerves once again got the better of you. Ella had been away with her boyfriend all week, but had come back that morning and the two of you were catching up over breakfast.
"So tell me how you know Orla Murphy?" You asked, pouring your coffee.
"I went to school with her! I lived in Ballintemple for a couple of years in my teens, and we stayed in touch. When I saw what happened at the bar I called her to see what was going on. She told me what had happened."
"So you know Cillian too?"
"Of course - that's why he was at the bar that night, I invited them both! Even though he's the oldest and she's the youngest, they've always been the closest of the four Murphy's. He's been trying to get me a record contract!"
"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know you knew him so um... well..."
"Yeah... God I'm such an idiot!! Why can't I just text him?"
"Because those old nerves are playing tricks on you again. Give me your phone."
"What? No!" She was too quick for you. Snatching your phone, she ran off upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom, ignoring your pleas from the other side of the door. She emerged a few minutes later, smirking, handing you your phone back. You quickly opened your texts and you stared at her, open mouthed.
"Ella!!! You can't start a conversation with someone like that!!"
"What? Should get his attention, right?" She winked, before heading to her room. You groaned at the text she'd sent - "You wanna know what I think about every day since that night? What you taste like.." and was quickly writing another explaining what had happened when he replied...
"Well that was an ice breaker." you read. Glancing back at the message Ella had sent him and instantly regretting ever meeting the woman.
"How do you plan on finding out?" Another reply... Oh god... You panicked and instantly shouted Ella who was more than happy to help. You'd never sent dirty texts before, and you didn't want to ruin this chance again. Her eyes glistened with excitement - her and her boyfriend regularly did this so she knew exactly what to say. You couldn't help but feel slightly giddy at this whole experience yourself.
"I'm going to tie you to the chair so you can't touch me."
"You have my attention."
"Your cock looks delicious... Hard and already leaking Mr Murphy... Are you hard now?"
"Maybe."
"My tongue stroking up your shaft... Over the slit at the tip, dipping inside gently..."
"Now I'm hard..." You bit your lip and Ella smirked. She winked and left you to it, you had actually written everything by yourself, turns out you didn't need as much help as you thought.
"I'll take the tip into my mouth... A gently suck, before taking you deep down my throat... Can you feel it?"
"Jesus... What are you doing to me, I'm hard as fucking stone here."
"Show me..."
A photo pinged through and your core clenched at the sight of his hard length - his left hand gripped the base.
"Are you wet? I showed you, now you show me." He asked. You were. Walking into your bedroom, you locked the door behind you. Laying on the bed, you pulled your jeans down to your thighs, leaving your lace underwear on and sliding your hand inside. Taking a quick photo of your hand under the lace, you sent it.
"Fuck... I wanna put my fingers inside you so fucking bad... Where are you?"
"I'm at home.. thinking of your cock buried deep in my throat.."
"Are you alone?"
"Ella's in the next room."
"Call a cab. I'll send my address. Come to me and find out what I taste like."
"I'm not getting a taxi to Dublin!"
"I'm not in Dublin - I'm in London. Call a cab now and get here before my hand does the job your dirty little mouth should be doing."
You didn't hesitate this time. Quickly changing into your favourite summer dress. The address came through and you called a taxi, making a mental note to buy Ella a bottle of wine later.
************************************************************
He had text to say the front door was open and to come straight in. You took a deep breath, pushing the door open and walking inside.
"Upstairs, first door on the right," you heard him shout.
Standing in the doorway, he was sat on the edge of the bed. He approached you slowly, taking your hands and leading you to sit next to him.
"Cill... I have to confess I didn't send that first text, Ella stole my phone..."
"Doesn't matter. You're here now. But I don't want to rush this, I've waited too long for you to come back to me and I can't lose you again."
"You won't lose me again.. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you..." He silenced you with his lips on yours, the kiss slow and passionate, his hands on the back of your neck and your arms snaking under his, around his chest.
"No more talking, we have plenty of time for that later..." You whispered, as he groaned, feeling your hand cup his growing erection under his trousers.
"You've no idea how hard it was not to make myself cum before you got here... That photo you sent me nearly killed me..." You were unbuckling his belt at lightening speed, his trousers and underwear dropping to the floor as you pushed him to sit on his bed. Dropping to your knees you smiled up at him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking it gently. The way his head lolled back and the soft moans from him made your core throb, you could feel how wet you were.
Without warning, you took him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to take him as far down as you could, his hips jerking slightly as your lips nearly made contact with the base of his shaft. His hand tangled into your hair as your mouth pumped against him, drawing fast breaths from above you and a tighter hair grip on your head.
"Fuck... You're gonna find out how I taste really soon if you carry on like that...."
You groaned into him, sending shockwaves through him as he gripped you tighter. You could feel his balls harden under your fingers as you rolled them in your hand, your mouth bringing his orgasm closer and closer.
"Baby... Fuck I'm gonna cum.... Oh god that's it...." A deep groan from above you, his stomach clenched as his warm cum flowed into your mouth. You pulled your mouth off him, allowing him to watch his seed spurt into your open mouth, rolling it around your tongue before swallowing it down.
"You taste good..." You knelt back up and pulled his face towards you, kissing him passionately so he could taste himself. You could feel him smirking under your lips before he pulled away, standing you in front of him.
"I'd have taken your word for it you know," he chuckled, swiftly lifting your short summer dress up and pulling your panties down in one solid movement. He lifted your foot to rest on his thigh, and his head disappeared under your dress, his mouth quickly making contact with your core. Your knees nearly buckled from the sudden impact, as you gripped onto his shoulder and the headboard for support.
"Oh my god that feels good... Oh yes...." Your hips were grinding against his tongue, the hand on his shoulder moving to the back of his head holding him in place. He suddenly pulled away, before laying back on the bed, head on the pillow and beckoning you over to him. You shook your head.
"I'll suffocate you -"
"Shut up and sit on my face..." He ordered, and you bit your lip in anticipation. Hovering over his face, he pulled your hips down and continued his assault, the new angle allowing him to fully explore you. Your hands gripped the headboard as your back arched. The dress was swiftly removed, along with your bra. His strong hands held your hips in place, his tongue finding your clit with precision as he lapped against it, driving you into a near frenzy.
You tried to contain your cries but it was useless - his name fell from your lips, short breathy pants as your orgasm grew close. He moved one of his hands underneath you, slowly inserting two fingers deep inside your soaked pussy, curling them up to find that sweet spot only he had ever been able to.
"Don't stop... Please don't stop..." He had no intention - the speed in which his mouth and fingers fucked you only got quicker and harder as you came hard against his face, your juices flowing onto his chin as he lapped them up hungrily, feeding from you as you came. Lifting your hips and moving down his body, he held you as you rested against his chest, slowly stroking his fingers up and down your spine. You quickly realised your frame may have been too much for him and tried to move but he held you in place, kissing the top of your head gently.
"Don't move... I've waited a year to feel your body close to mine, just let me hold you... Just for a little while longer..." He said softly, and you relaxed into his embrace as your breathing returned to normal. You could feel his heartbeat, pounding through his chest. You were certain he could feel yours too, pounding just as hard, and it had nothing to do with what he'd just done - it just all felt too right. Too perfect.
You felt his erection pressing into your stomach - it had been there since you first lay down but he wasn't in any rush to do anything about it yet. Content just to have you as close as possible. After a few more minutes, he rolled you onto your back, his lips on yours, gently probing your mouth with his tongue and running his hand down your body. You opened your legs and felt him slip inside you, before freezing.
"It's okay - I'm still on birth control..." You smiled, as he began to move slowly. His lips on your neck and collar bone, his hands lifting your legs up over his waist. You wrapped them around him as he thrust gently. Neither of you wanted to rush this moment, the feeling of being connected again.
"I've missed you.. you still feel so good..." He whispered in your ear.
Your nails scraped along his shoulder blades and over his chest as he lifted himself off you slightly, his hips starting to pick up the pace a little.
"Love having you back inside me... Fuck, you fill me up so good Cillian..."
He brought your fingers down to your clit.
"Need you to cum, I can't control myself around you..." You rubbed circles over your swollen clit as he moved quicker. Your second orgasm was already building, your fingers only increasing its intensity.
"You gonna fill me up? Cum so deep in me I can taste it again..." He groaned, his hips pistoning into you now as your words spurred him on, edging him closer.
"Like when I talk dirty to you while you're fucking me? Want me to make a mess over that pretty little cock of yours? My fingers feel so good on my clit.. ah..." His hand was resting against your cheek, your turned your face and took his thumb into your mouth, replicating your earlier actions on his cock as he groaned watching you.
"Oh god... Fuck I'm coming.. baby..." His eyes scrunched closed as he emptied into you, the force of it and the sounds he made sending you over the edge with him. Your mixed juices pooling underneath you.
"Jesus y/n..." You chuckled as he buried his head into your neck, his back rising and falling quickly as he came back down from his high. He gently pulled out of you, kneeling between your legs and running his hands softly over your thighs and groin making you shudder beneath him.
"You're beautiful... And I shouldn't have let you go without a fight y/n."
"I shouldn't have ghosted you.. I'm sorry.. Orla told me the shit Neve put you though."
"When did you see Orla?" You told him about the lunch you'd had with her last week and he laughed.
"She's a sneaky little shit. But I'm glad she did. Now come shower with me, I'm taking you out."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't care where we go as long as we're together."
#cillian murphy#cillian smut#cillian x fem!reader#cillian fanfic#cillian x smut#cillian murphy x smut
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Temptations
Reformed Hero!Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x Villain! Reader
A collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten Citru s Dome Server
Read the other entries HERE
Warnings: it's pwp, lil bit of choking, lil bit of degradation little bit of anal play. Reader calls him Daddy like twice. Filth all around
5kish words (shout out to the lovely @teddieh who beta read it for me UwU)
Read it on Ao3
It was like an itch, Touya knew he shouldn’t walk over, knew he should be staying away from you until reinforcements arrived. He knew that if he stepped foot into that room everything he’d been working for, his redemption, it would all go down the drain. But reinforcements wouldn’t be reaching their location for at least another hour and he really couldn’t help himself.
It's how Touya Todoroki, Bright Burn, reformed cremation hero, ends up standing in front of his bound target. You were just as beautiful as Touya remembered. Despite the muzzle snug tight against your face, and the quirk canceling collar clasped around your neck. Touya admired the ever-present ferocity behind your stare. Your eyes were trained on him the second he walked into the room he was keeping you captive in. Shifting against your restraints, a sly smile creeps its way onto your lips as Touya ventures closer into the room.
“Awe, finally worthy of your presence, am I?” Your voice is deceivingly soft and steady, a deceptive sweetness to it that you always used to your advantage. Thanks to your quirk, you can hear how his heart speeds up at the sound of your voice, despite his ever-present poker face. You can’t help but smile happy to know you still had this effect on him.
“Backup should be here soon. Have you reconsidered my offer?” Touya’s voice is just how you remember it deep and steady, but you refuse to admit to yourself that you’d missed him.
“No, not really. Unlike someone my loyalties don't teter.” Your voice is teasing, a smile hiding behind the muzzle tight on your face. Touya clenches and unclenches his jaw, he knew you would give him a hard time. Even so, he couldn't resist coming over and trying to convince you, beg you to come with him.
“If you come willingly they'll let you go through the reform program. Call you a vigilante instead of a villain, I'll sponsor you, please.” Touya hadn’t intended for his words to sound as pleading as they did, regardless all he got back from you was a snort and an eye roll.
“I have a villainous quirk, a wild monster remember? You used to love that about me. I looked up to you for so long, you know that?” Toya comes a little closer at the sudden softness behind your words, he approaches slowly coming to a stop in front of you, peering down at your bound form.
“You were proud of the way you looked, proud of your scars, proud of calling yourself a freak. It was inspiring, you made me proud of being called a freak with a villainous quirk. It was one of the things I admired most about you, ya know.” Touya doesn't know what to say, he tries to remind himself that you weren't on his side anymore, that emotional manipulation was your favorite pastime.
You let out a sigh, vulnerability clearly wasn’t getting you the desired response. You shift against your restraints and with another dramatic sigh. A small grin takes over your face. You decide to take on a different approach. “You used to take pride in your appearance too. What happened? Too much of a freak? Does daddy make you wear makeup?” You wanted to rile him up, wanted him to react, to explode in your face. Anything to indicate the hot-headed man you used to know was still in there somewhere.
“A healer, we found a healer who was able to create new cells for me and restore my skin” Touya’s voice is still calm and it infuriates you to no end.
“Right. Let the hero’s hide the truth like they always do. They didn't even tell the public that you’re a reformed villain, right? Daddy didn’t want to look bad in front of everyone, right? Erased Dabi from existence because it was easier for Endeavor's son to magically reappear than to admit he was a villain for ten odd years.” Your eyes scanned his face. When the ‘hero’ Bright Burn first found you, it took several minutes to process exactly who he was. Touya had quite literally smoked you out of your hiding spot, flaming red hair, a lack of any piercings, and most noticeably, perfect porcelain skin. You’d much preferred his charred skin and staples over this superficial perfection, though he was handsome either way.
Touya’s jaw stayed clenched, annoyed with the words coming out of your mouth, knowing that what you were saying was all true. He’d said the same things to himself many times before, but he was reformed. He loved his new hero life… It's what he tells himself anyway. Every day that goes by gets harder and harder for him to continue convincing himself that he’s happy as a hero. Touya thought he was ready to face you, he didn’t want any other hero coming after you, hoping that if he was the one who captured you, he might be able to sway you to the right side of justice. Touya’s attention snaps back to you when you let out a dramatic sigh, shifting against your restraints and focusing your attention on him.
“We’ve got time to kill don’t we? Why don't you let me go and we can have some fun while we wait huh?” You look up at him, mustering the best puppy dog eyes you can with a mischievous smile hiding behind the muzzle. Those words give you an immediately satisfying reaction, Touya’s body shifting making himself just a little bit taller, shoulders stiffening at your words.
“Do you remember what it was like being tangled together? My nails scratching down your back, the sweet pain of my teeth digging into your neck? The way your fingers felt wrapped tight around my pretty little neck?” You hear him attempt to cover what you know is clearly a moan with a cough. His eyes are not so inconspicuously racking down your body as he clears his throat. “Awe come on, or maybe just take this ugly muzzle off yeah? Let me wrap my mouth around that perfect cock of yours.” You can’t help the chuckle that leaves you, once a dirty pervert always a dirty pervert. No amount of ‘hero reform’ could ever change the deviance you knew hid just under the red-haired hero’s skin.
“Don't.” Touya’s voice comes out in a familiar snarl that always sends a chill down your spine, the brilliant turquoise in his eyes darkening significantly. All you need to do is push him just a little bit further.
“Awe come on we’ve got time to kill. I promise I'll be good for you. Aren’t I always so good for you, Touya?” His real name had always been his weakness, you knew you’d won when he brought a bright flaming hand close to your face. A delicious shiver runs down your spine, heat rising to your face in excitement.
“You’re bound and all you can do is sit there and beg me for my cock huh? Still a needy little slut, aren't you, sweetie?” A tingle shoots straight to your core at his words, sitting up just a little bit straighter as he brings his flaming hand to your face, his eyes dark. The heat from his flames laps oh so closely to your face. A familiar welcomed warmth. You know he won't hurt you. All he does is burn off the muzzle, ever the drama queen.
There's a flash of hesitation as he removes the mangled remains of the muzzle from your face. A bruise blooming on your jaw where he’d punched you during your initial fight. Touya’s lips form a tight frown as he brushes his thumb over it. Shaking his head, the darkness in his eyes subsides. “I was too rough.” Touya’s voice is soft as he caresses the damaged skin along your jaw but you flash him a smile, a soft hum escaping you as you lean into his touch.
“You’ve given me worse” You tease and in an instant his soft caress turns into a hard grip on your cheeks. He doesn’t make another move, however, the flash of who you used to know disappeared again leaving behind an emotionally vulnerable hero once more. “How about you get me out of these restraints, hmm, pretty boy?” Touya hates that those words make him feel the way they do. He knows he shouldn't, he knows backup could get there early. He decides he doesn't care at that moment, all he wants is to feel you pressed up against him. So that's exactly what he does.
Touya’s sudden movements surprise you for a second, thinking that maybe he truly had changed and would knock you out so he wouldn’t be tempted any further. To your pleasant surprise and amusement, he undoes the binds on your arms instead, removing the quirk canceling cuffs but keeping the collar on. Not that it matters much, even without your quirk you were still significantly agile and strong. You stand up from your previous kneeling position, stretching your arms up over your head. A happy little moan coming from you, your muscles relax after being bound in the same position for so long. You come out of the stretch and bring your arms down and around Touya’s neck, he hasn't moved since unbinding you.
“Did you miss me, handsome?” A wicked smile spreads across your face as you pull him in close, threading your hands into his hair as you press your body firmly against his. Touya hums as you tug on his hair lightly, the way you know he likes. You humm, grinding up against him. He stifled a moan, large hands coming up to still your hips as he leans in for a kiss. With a giggle, you give a sharp tug pulling his head back just as he’s about to reach your lips. You feel the bulge quickly growing pressed tight against his hero suit and a pathetic excuse for a growl leaves him as you tilt his head back, exposing his neck.
“Awe, look at how excited you got.” You coo, smiling widely as you lean into his neck, sharp teeth nipping at the delicate flesh as Touya tries to pry his head from your grip. You let out a soft tut, pulling sharply at his hair and biting down harshly at his collar bone. It earns you a very satisfying moan, the first real moan he's allowed to slip through. You part his legs with your knee gently pressing against his erection as you pull away from him. Touya’s face is flushed red, soft pants passing through his lips as he looks down at you with glazed-over eyes.
“I bet no one’s fucked you the way you like since you went all-mighty hero. Can’t have all the filthy little things you enjoy slip out into the public, now can we?” Getting him like this was thrilling, you rarely ever got the upper hand on him like this. You push him back towards a comfy looking chair, Touya stumbling back into it, your hand never leaving his hair. You wiggle yourself onto his lap, your legs spread on either side of his waist. The hard length of his cock pressing deliciously against you as you grind down against it, earning yourself a deep moan from Touya.
Touya refuses to let you get to him, yes he’s hard, and yes, god he’d missed the way your body felt against his. He does his best to remain level headed but his resolve was crumbling with every thrust of your hips against his, composure crumbling with every sharp insult, every rock of your hips against his. You let go of his hair with a dramatic sigh, rolling your head before looking at Touya with disappointment on your face, maybe he really had changed. One last wicked thought crosses through your mind as you pull away from him, getting off his lap to stand in front of him instead, leaning into him so that your noses touch.
“You really have gone soft, haven’t you? Hmmm, maybe I should go find Endeavor. I'm pretty sure your daddy could fuck me better than you can at this point. Give me exactly what I want, since you don’t seem to fit the bill anymore, Touya.” You say it in the most bored tone you can muster his composure cracking as you wiggle your nose against his in an eskimo kiss.
It’s like a switch flipped, his eyes darkening and suddenly his hand is gripping your face tightly, no longer mindful of the bruise blooming across it. Dabi presses his fingers harshly against your cheeks, pressing your face down until you're kneeling between his legs. His grip stings beautifully as he shoves your face against his thigh.
“You’ve always had such a smart fucking mouth, ya know that?” He moves his grip from your face to the back of your head, pressing your face against the prominent bulge in his pants. “You want me to wreck you princess? Fine , I'm sick of your teasing. You know the drill. I'm sure that empty little head of yours can still remember what I like, can't it?” Dabi coos mockingly, excitement pooling in your belly. You loved teasing him, getting him flustered and being in control a little bit. But you much preferred it when he took charge of things. Of course, you still enjoy making things difficult for him.
When he lets go of your hair, you pull your face away from in between his legs. Looking up at him through your lashes, you trail your hands down your body slowly. You play with the hem of your shirt peeling it off painfully slow. Dabi snarls a sound that always goes straight to your core. “Too fucking slow, princess.” He shoves his foot in between your legs, harshly nudging them apart until your knees are spread before burning your shirt clean off. A surprised chirp slips from your lips, hot flames licking at your skin as the shirt dissolves in the flames, but the fire never burns you.
Dabi leans forward, ever warm fingers caressing your cheek gently before letting his fingers trail down your jaw. Gently tumbling down the side of your neck and over to your breasts, tweaking a nipple harshly between his fingers. Your breath hitches, chest pushing up against his touch as he moves to the other nipple, giving that one the same treatment. “You’ve always been so pretty like this, ya know that?” His eyes hold a softness that was only ever reserved for you, you preen under his gaze and attention sitting up just a little bit taller as he runs a hand through your hair.
“Now, let's put that annoying little mouth of yours to good use.” Dabi purrs, gripping your hair tight from the scalp and pressing your face into his lap. You let out a chuckle, happily letting him guide you, keeping you flush against his thigh. Dabi releases himself from his pants, a familiar Prince Albert piercing greeting you as well as your favorite, his Jacob's ladder piercing. You were pleasantly surprised that he still had them, but again, once a pervert always a pervert.
Dabi settles back into his chair, palming at himself with a steady grip still in your hair. “Go on princess. You know what to do.” With a smile on your face, you give the tip of his cock quick teasing peck before bringing your hand up to him, Thumbing at the bead of precum leaking from him before licking a strip up the underside of his shaft. Coming up, you take just the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there.
Dabi pushes at your head and you happily oblige, letting him guide you down, forcing all of him into your mouth. You humm, trying to relax as Dabi begins to rutt up into your mouth, keeping your head down flush against his pelvis, the hair decorating the base of his cock brushing against your nose. You cough a little as Dabi picks up speed, but he keeps a firm grasp on your hair. “Relax princess- fuck- just breathe through your nose darling. You know how.” You do your best to relax as Dabi continues to abuse your throat, bringing your hands up onto his thighs, digging your nails into his pants.
Dabi mutters a soft fuck, taking in a breath pulling you from his cock from your hair before letting go completely. He’s panting just as hard as you are and you smile looking up at him. Tears begin pooling in your eyes as drool dribbles down your lips and onto your chest. Dabi has the biggest smirk on his face, leaning over you, smudging the mix of saliva and precum from your lips to your cheek. He hums. “My messy little princess, did you miss choking on my cock?” You croak out a yes and Dabi chuckles leaning back into his chair again. “Up” he hums, you scramble to rise and Dabi pulls you in by your waist until you’re standing in between his legs.
“Are you ready for me princess? Let me see..” The soft coo of his voice has you flushing, hating and loving the way he always managed to get your riled up with just his words. You hear the distinct sound of clothes ripping and then you’re standing only in your panties in front of him. Dabi smirks, eyes taking in every inch of your body and brings one of his hands up to tweak at your nipples, the other tumbling at the softness of your belly then trailing down to where you wanted him most. His fingers brush against the damp material of your panties, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he presses against you.
“My my.. I've barely even touched you and you’re already soaked right through those pretty little panties. Filthy girl. Do you like it when I'm rough with you, princess?” The sound of Dabi ripping your panties sends a shiver down your spine. His fingers slide down your folds, teasing against your hole, barely pressing against you before pulling away to rub at your clit. You let out a whine, trying to press down against his fingers in an attempt to soothe some of the ache in your belly.
“Do you want my fingers in this slutty little pussy of yours darling?” You whine as Dabi pulls you onto his lap, spreading your legs wide with his own so that you're straddling him. His still hard cock rubbing against your exposed pussy as you settle against him whimpering. Dabi was still fully clothed and you lean forward to clutch at his shirt, hips humping desperately against his hard cock needing something to ease the heat pooling in your belly.
“No, don't want fingers, want you, need you.” You whimper, burying your head against his chest. He chuckles above you, pushing your hips away from him so that you can't rut against him. You snarl, teeth latching onto his neck in frustration. “Fuck me already.” You whine against his neck. Dabi laughs now, a deep happy sound, he smacks your ass and you jolt a little.
“Up. Turn around let me see that gorgeous ass of yours.” You huff, giving his neck another sharp nip before pulling away from him, pouting. Dabi chuckles, leaning in to kiss you soft and tender, hands coming up to cup your cheek. “On your knees. Ass up, princess.” He hums against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away completely. You happily oblige, peeling yourself from his lap, legs trembling in excitement as you do what you're told, wiggling your ass in his face before bending down in front of him.
You hear the creak of the chair as Dabi stands up and then his hands are on you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass before ghosting against your puckered hole. You chirp and Dabi chuckles, forcing you to spread your legs wider with his knee as he turns his attention to your dripping pussy.
“Look so delicious like this, princess. Absolutely soaked, just for me.” His mouth is on you then, hot warm tongue lapping up at the juices dripping from your core. Dabi chuckles against you as you cry out, dipping two fingers into the welcoming warmth of your doughy walls. His tongue following soon after, tracing your lips with his tongue before plunging the warm muscle in with his fingers. A loud moan passes through your lips as you press yourself against the floor, pushing your ass back desperately against Dabi. You want more, need more. Dabi brings a hand around your body to play with your clit and your mind goes blank, focusing only on the heat in your belly and the way his tongue feels dipping into your pussy.
“Come all over my mouth and I’ll fuck you silly. How does that sound, princess?” Dabi picks up the pace, relentlessly rubbing at your bundle of nerves. It crashes into you all at once, and you can't help cry out as your orgasm overtakes you. Panting like a bitch in heat, whimpering. Dabi doesn't let up as you cum around his tongue. He lets you ride your orgasm out as you press yourself against him. A happy buzz electrifying your body as you come down from your orgasm. The cool of the floor against your cheek helps to keep you grounded as Dabi pulls away from you, all you can manage is a whimper.
You don't get much of a chance to catch your breath, Dabi pushing into you all at once. The delicious stretch as his cock sheaths itself in your pussy, a stretch that only he’d ever been able to give you. You cry out overwhelmed as Dabi sets a merciless pace, the sound of his hips connecting flush against your ass filling the room. You can hear Dabi chuckle darkly behind you as he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you further against the ground, your breasts brushing against the cold floor. Your breath hitches as you hear Dabi spit into his hand, followed by wet fingers gingerly circling around the puckered hole exposed to him. You choke out a moan as Dabi continues to fuck into you, one of his fingers dipping into your ass and you can't help but push back against him.
“Dirty girl, do you like it when I play with your ass like this? Pushing into me like the desperate little whore you are huh? Want me to fill up both your holes don’t you baby girl?” You’re a babbling mess beneath him, cheek digging uncomfortably against the cold floor. You loved the feel of Dabi’s body draped over yours, his weight keeping your upper half-pressed firmly against the ground. His other warm callus hand holding your hips up nice and high for him to hump into mindlessly, your juices running down your legs as his hips smack into yours. Dabi snarls against the side of your head, one of the hands holding your hips comes around to your neck as he pulls back on his haunches pulling your body up along with him.
“You feel so good around me princess. Did you miss me? Miss the way my cock stretches you? Pumps you nice and full?” You choke out a soft yes, leaning into him as best you can as he continues to rut into you wildly, the barbells of his jacob's ladder pressing deliciously against your sensitive walls. The heat pooling in your stomach is overwhelming and you can't help but trail your hand down your stomach until you reach the sweet little nub between your legs. Dabi growls behind you, his teeth clamping down around your shoulder. “Who the fuck said you could touch yourself hmm? Bold of you, don't you think doll?” He pulls out stilling completely with only the tip of his cock still buried snugly inside you, the smooth metal of his Prince Albert just barely giving you the stretch you desperately desire. A breathy laugh coming from him as you squirm.
“No, no, no—” You whine out, frustrated. “I’m sorry! Please don’t stop!” You cry out desperately, his fingers squeeze your neck just a little bit tighter as you try to push yourself down onto him. Soft whimpers and nonsense spilling from you as you try to bring your hips down onto him.
“Beg for me baby girl, tell me how badly you want my cock.” Dabi chuckles, moving both of his hands down to hold onto your hips stilling you. You let out a frustrated whine, desperately trying to sink back down onto his cock the tip of his prince albert piercing teasing at your entrance.
“Please—I need you to fill me up again!”
Dabi tuts, one hand trailing up your body until it reaches your face, stroking at your lips before sticking two of his fingers into your mouth, your warm saliva coating them as he presses down onto your tongue. “I dunno, you were quite the little brat earlier, bringing up my fucking father. Remind me who you belong to, go ahead. Beg the way I like little one.” You let out a frustrated huff, mind foggy still desperate to feel him in you again.
“Daddy please—please fill me with your cock! I'm so sorry about what I said earlier. I just want your cock, only yours Daddy, no one else’s!” You cry out as he pushes back into you, your doughy walls pulling him in greedily, his fingers now thurougly coated in your own spit come down to assault your clit as he bites into your neck again. Before you can think, the heat pooling in your belly overflows and you're crying, cumming around his cock as he pounds into you.
You’re a mess chest heaving nonsensical words tumbling from your lips, you don’t get much of a chance to register what is happening. One moment you’re on the floor whimpering as Touya’s warmth leaves you. The next, your back meets the cool hard texture of the wall and Touya is pressed up against your front. Warmth radiates from a still mostly clothed Touya as he hoists your legs around his waist pinning you up against the nearest wall. You roll your head back moaning weakly as he pushes into you again, the unique stretch of the piercings lining his cock overstimulating your already sensitive walls. Touya is more gentle this time, shifting his weight so he can bring a hand up to stroke your cheek. You’re a happy whimpering mess as Touya lazily fucks into you, tears streaming down your face but you missed him. Missed this overwhelming feeling only he could ever give you.
"You look so pretty fucked out like this, little one." Touya continues to hump into you lazily stroking your cheek as he fucks up into you. He kisses you gently forehead first, then your nose, right cheek, then left. You whimper leaning into his touch and puckering your lips for the kiss you really want. Touya chuckles before finally kissing you fully in the lips, a happy whimper leaving you as you get your kiss. Touya pulls away resting his forehead against yours, a new wave of emotions wash over you as brilliant blue eyes lock with yours. For a moment, everything is ok, there are no heroes, no villains, no wars being raged. Just two souls reconnecting after a long time.
"Missed you… Touya I missed you" You can't help the fresh tears pooling in your eyes. Throwing your arms around his neck, Touya chuckles as you bury your face into his neck.
"Fuck… I missed you too princess. It's ok, I'm here. Don't worry about that right now. Relax for me little one, do you think you can give Daddy one more orgasm?” you try to focus on his deep voice, take a breath and lean back allowing yourself to relax against the wall as Touya continues his gentle lazy strokes. Touya leans forward kissing at your throat, "Such a good girl for me. Go ahead, touch yourself for me, sweetheart. Rub that pretty little clit while Daddy fucks this sweet pussy of yours." he hums against your skin, picking up the pace.
You do as you’re told, eagerly reaching between your legs to diddle your clit while Touya begins fucking into you harder. Your other hand comes around to grip onto his arm as he bears your weight, nails digging into the taught muscle as heat pools in your stomach.
"That's it, sweetie. You're doing so good for me baby girl, feel so tight around my cock, fuck— Are you ready for me baby girl? That's it cum for me—” Your name leaves his lips in a soft whisper, it sends you over the edge with a choked cry, your orgasm washes over you leaving you trembling and whimpering as Touya fucks you through it.
“Ah—Touya..! It's too much—” You whimper, hands moving away from your clit pressing against his chest, nails digging into his shirt. Touya does not relent, however, pace erratic, hips pistoning against yours as he chases his own orgasm. He leans his head against your chest, spilling into you with a deep grunt, his breath ragged. The world stills, both of you breathing heavily against each other, Touya continuing to hold you for a few more breaths.
“Think you can get your footing, baby?” Touya pulls away from your chest, peppering your face in soft gentle kisses. You let out a soft yes and Touya helps settle you onto your own two feet, his warm hands finding perch on your bare hips to keep you steady. You look up at him, a feeling of vulnerability washing over you as you look up into familiar blue eyes, tears pooling, threatening to spill.
“Come home to me,” Touya mumbles, a calloused hand reaching up to your bruised face, gently swiping at your swollen lips. He leans down to kiss you, shy and hesitant, delaying what he knows will be rejection. Touya pulls away from you and your bottom lip comes out in a trembling pout.
“Promise me things will be okay..?” You whimper and Touya pulls you into a tight hug, choking back tears as he envelopes you in a warm embrace.
“Things will be okay.”
---------------------------------Epilogue---------------------------------------
In other news, pro hero Bright Burn and reformed hero (Y/H/N) welcome their firstborn child, a baby girl into the world today. The former vigilante turned pro hero Y/H/N came on the scene five years ago under the Todoroki hero agency as a sidekick for the eldest of Endeavor’s son, Bright Burn. The pair took the city by storm. Fans of the hero Bright Burn quickly fell in love with his new sidekick at the time, the fierce-looking but gentle Y/N, whose close combat quirk complements the long-range Bright Burns beautifully. From all of us at Tokyo News, we congratulate our favorite hero pair on their beautiful new child.
#dabi#dabi x you#dabi x reader#bnha touya#dabi is touya#dabi is a todoroki#my hero academia#my hero fanfic#mha dabi#touya todoroki#dabi todoroki#dabi touya#reader insert#touya x reader
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Answer the Call: A Mandalorian Myth
Heyo! It’s been a while since I’ve written something. Follow the link to read on AO3, or just keep going below the cut!
I have a story to tell. Learn from it, if you can.
As all know, the children of Mandalore are strong and mighty beyond all other warriors of the Galaxy. Our souls are strong and our hearts are filled with the Manda, and our eyes look to the Ka’ra.
There was a time however, when the people of Mandalore had endured war for years upon years. Many clans marched to war and continued marching far ahead, with few verde returning. Buire were torn from ade, and those ade cried out with no one to comfort them.
Adennar--who was Mand’alor of the time--shut his ears to the cries of the ade because his eyes were greedy for other lands and he hungered for battle more than for drink or food.
Mand’alor Adennar called to battle the children of Mandalore, and the ranks of verde were a sight to cause fear in the heart of any aruetiise. With one voice they shouted, ‘You have called for us, Mand’alor, and so we have come!'
But Mand’alor Adennar was displeased. Not enough verde answered his call, and anger grew in his heart. Had his people turned into cowards fearful of war?
He called out to his people again, angry that they had not come to his first call.
‘Warriors of my lands! Rise up! Rise up and fill yourselves with lust for battle that we may destroy our enemies utterly.’
But from the clans of his land there was no answer. Too many verde had died over the many years of war, and all had already come to his call except for the very old, the pregnant, or those far too young to have passed their verd’goten.
As Mand’alor Adennar swelled with rage to be denied thus, he noticed a kih’rusar’ad near his feet.
‘Begone with you!’ he cried. ‘Away from my sight, etyc’ad.’
But the kih’rusar’ad did not leave. Its voice was soft as dirt, but it spoke with the rumble of thousands. ‘You have called for us, Mand’alor. And so we have come.’
‘Call for you? You and your vode are small and useless and filthy from your work in the earth! What use would I have for you? Now get you gone, or I will crush you under my boots.’ And with that Mand’alor Adennar kicked at the kih’rusar’ad and it fled from his sight, lest it be crushed.
However, the kih’rusar’ade began to fill the fields and homes of the children of Mandalore, and one could not walk a pace without finding one under foot. They gnawed on the grain of the fields, they spoiled the food saved against hard times—they even ate through the rations of the warriors, leaving all hungry and weakened.
Mand’alor Adennar again deafened his ears to the cries of his people, and decided to call once more on those who had denied him.
‘Warriors of the water! Rise up! Rise up and fill yourself with lust for battle that we may destroy our enemies utterly.’
But from the clans of his lakes and oceans there was no answer, as with the clans of the land.
Mand’alor Adennar was filled with a deep rage that choked his throat and clouded his vision. Growling insults against the cowards of his people, he sought for water to cool his head. When he reached into a pool, however, he drew back in disgust. A kih’pirun’ad swam through the water.
‘Get away from me, you pirvor’ad! Go feast on the flesh of your brethren.’
But the kih’pirun’ad did not leave. Its voice as soft as a trickle of water, but it spoke with the rushing roar of thousands. ‘You have called for us, Mand’alor. And so we have come.’
‘Call for you? You and your vode are the scum of the waters, only causing trouble. What use have I for you? Now leave my sight, else I will take you from the water and crush you with my gauntlets.’ And with that Mand’alor Adennar grabbed for the kih’pirun’ad and it fled from his sight, lest it be crushed.
However, the kih’pirun’ad began to gather near the dwellings and workings of all the children of Mandalore who lived near and worked on the water. They destroyed nets, sank boats, and the stink of them was so noxious no one could breathe and many became dizzy and sickened from it.
Mand’alor Adennar once again deafened his ears to the cries of his people, and decided to call one last time on those who had denied him.
‘Warriors of the sky! Rise up! Rise up and fill yourself with lust for battle that we may destroy our enemies utterly.’
But the clans from the high places made no answer, just as with the clans of the land and those of the waters.
Mand’alor Adennar could not breathe for the rage that filled him, his heart labored in his chest and blood thundered through his body. Unable even to curse his people, he headed in search of open air to gain insight. When he reached a high place, however, a kih’abiik’ad landed on his arm.
‘Get away from me!’ Mand’alor Adennar cried. ‘Leave my sight you chakyr’ad!’
But the kih’abiik’ad did not leave. It’s voice was as soft as a sigh but it spoke with the drone of thousands. ‘You have called for us, Mand’alor. And so we have come.’
‘Call for you? You are a blight upon the air, and a cause for cursing! What use have I for you? Now get you gone, or I will crush you with my glove.’ And with that Mand’alor Adennar swatted at the kih’abiik’ad and it fled his sight, lest it be crushed.
However, the kih’abiik’ad began to surround the children of Mandalore, stinging and biting them, causing great sores and boils to cover their skin. The great number of them in the air choked the engines of ships, and not even the most skillful of pilots could fly. The people of Mandalore cried out in their pain as sickness began to appear among them, and even those who had not been stung grew gravely ill.
Mand’alor Adennar came down from the high place still full of wrath towards his unfaithful verde, but his lust for battle would not be denied so he called for his lieutenants to make ready to leave.
He was greatly shocked when they came before him, stumbling and weak with hunger, dizzy with the stink in the air, and sick from the sores that covered their bodies.
‘Mand’alor,’ they said, ‘We cannot leave for battle in this state. All of our verde are weak with hunger and sickness. No one can move across the land, our boats cannot sail and our ships cannot fly. Let us stay here a while and recover, that we may better destroy our enemies.’
Mand’alor Adennar spat at them and called them cowards. ‘Are you so weak and spineless and cowardly that you would prefer peace to battle? That you would prefer to die mewling than fighting with your last breath? Honorable death is beyond you!’
The lieutenants shook their heads and attempted to stand up straight in denial. They were loyal verde! To fight was their passion and joy. Yet their strength was sapped by hunger and sickness and they could not utter more than weak words Mand’alor Adennar refused to hear.
‘Cursed am I among all Mand’alor’e, to have you for verde. Best of the best? No—you are not even worthy of the name warriors. Laandur hut’uune! Ni’duraa!’
With every word he uttered Mand’alor Adennar’s voice rose until he was screaming with fury. His armor shook with each brutal beat of his heart, as it pumped with ever increasing speed.
‘You are not warriors! You are not Mando’ade! You are Dar’manda!’ he shrieked, heaving for breath. ‘Death to the enemies of Mandalore—death to you and your families for your treachery!
‘Death—’ Mand’alor Adennar gasped for breath that would not come, as his heart faltered in his chest. A strange stillness filled the air around him, a sense of cold that was not cold that froze limbs in their place so none could move.
From behind him Mand’alor Adennar heard a voice that was more absence than sound that froze the soul as the air did his body.
‘You have called for me, Mand’alor. And so, I have come.’
Death embraced Mand’alor Adennar from behind and lay a hand over his chest as his heart beat its last, and with one swift move pulled his soul from his body.
Mand’alor Adennar found himself dragged to a place that was as distant as the edge of the universe, yet as close as the last breath of air in his body’s lungs. Death sent him sprawling to the ground in front of a multitude of Mando’ade, and Mand’alor Adennar realized that these were the Ka’ra, the souls of all previous Mand’alor’e who sat in guidance of their people. Yet he had not been set among their number, no—he was placed before them to be judged.
With one ringing voice the Mand’alor’e spoke, and the pressure of their words weakened Adennar’s limbs and forcibly bent his head before them—
‘We have called for you Mand’alor. And so, you have come.’
So ends the story of Mand’alor Adennar. Learn from it, if you can.
Buire--parents
Ade--children
Mand’alor—sole ruler
Adennar—merciless acts
Ka’ra—lit. Stars. The previous Mand’alor’e that sit in guidance and judgement
Aruetiise—outsiders, traitors, enemies
Verde—Soldiers/warriors
Verd’goten—Mandalorian coming of age, undertaken at 13
Kih’rusur’ad—lit. small child of the land
Etyc’ad—child of filth/grime
Kih’pirun’ad—lit. small children of the water
Pirvor’ad—child of slime
Kih’abiik’ad—lit. small children of the air
Chakyr’ad—corpse eaters
Mand’alor’e—lit. Sole Rulers—Everyone who’s been Mand’alor
Laandur—fragile, weak, delicate, pathetic
Hut’uune--cowards
Ni’duraa—You disgust me
Dar’manda—not Mandalorian any longer
#star wars#mandalorian culture#mando'a language#fanfic#Answer the Call#the resol'nare#whew it's been a while since I posted something I wrote#life's been crazy#isn't it always
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1/2 Pseu, the last couple Slings I rq’ed some dirty talk & MA’AM did u deliver. But I realized I never thanked/gave feedback like a dummy so here I am! They were so so SO good (fenrir esp & SIRIUS?! 😳 woof), pls dont doubt ur DT writing skills bc they were all so hot, /very/ in character (I could practically hear Kyles!) & beautifully written to boot. Ur prose has so much personality, it is such a joy to read <3 & I have def read those pieces. many. times. I just want to thank u & apologize for asking u 2 go out of ur comfort zone. When I get the chance I will def tip u for the trouble (& commission if im brave enough lol)
Thank you so, so much for this! I really appreciate hearing that the dirty talk worked for you, that’s the best. When other writers do that right it GETS ME FEELING, so knowing that might be true outward as well is!!! a lot and very cool! But if you are this nice to me I will CRY. 🥺💙💙💙 SO LET’S GET TO THE GOOD SH*T, I am so glad you asked for this because Faust is one of the best characters to get n a s t y with, the holier the man, the, uh... holier our holes? Something like that? ANYWAY:
CW: degrading language (”whore”, “slut”), sadism, some sacrilegious thinking regarding Jesus’ crucifixion (this is quick and about related imagery, but I’m putting it in the warnings just in case), depravity in a church. If any of the stuff in the ask squicks you out, keep yourself safe and turn away. 💙
(Requests are open through May 1 if you would like to get one in, dear reader!)
“A whore in my chapel,” he muses. It’s so soft, his voice is so very soft, it makes the words feel funny in her head. She knows they are lashes but they feel like petals, and when her eyes close it is not to hide from the words but to shut out everything except his voice so she does not miss any others. She wants everything he has to say. She wants anything he has to give her. All the thorns of the crown, every scrape of the doubter’s spear slicing through the flesh of her belly. Simply knowing him—as though there were anything simple about it— has warped her. That’s why she stepped through the doors into the dim chapel, lit more by moonlight than the sparse candles at the altar.
He tilts his head as he considers her. She is just beyond the threshold and she is just deciding she should beg him to let her stay when he moves closer.
“Open,” he says, but he is pulling at her mouth with one gloved finger as he begins talking so she has no chance to obey on her own. She wants to! Why is he taking that from her? She leans forward as though it will help her anticipate his next request sooner.
She is not prepared at all for him to grab her by the chin or come so close. Her heart knows the joy of an entire flock of freed birds when she thinks he is going to kiss her. There has never been a time when she blinked so fast in her life—
He comes close enough for warmth, but not touch. He spits between her open lips. “Move that around with your tongue. Get the filth out of your sluttish mouth,” he tells her. She is beyond shocked but she does as he says. It should be revolting to have someone else’s saliva in her mouth like this, but she is so gone for him she doesn’t even want to swallow, wants to keep that piece of him mixing with her, safe and warm. When he takes a step back and lets go, she falls to her knees with her palms up like some kind of penitent. She doesn’t mean to. It just feels right.
She could be in a comfortable bed right now, instead of on the unswept floor of a chapel, all her worshipful inclination aimed away from the altar and toward a very dangerous man. Will her foolishness mean they find her in a ditch somewhere... Will they find her at all? Or will he send her back on unsteady feet with her own juice tickling her legs as it travels from her core to the ground? She can’t fathom what will seem most cruel to him, what he’s most likely to do.
That’s not really a part of her interest. She’s not sure she could explain the interest if she tried, but it is the full shape of her heart now, and directs her nighttime steps to him no matter what her brain tells her otherwise. If she knew where he was during the day, she would try to find him then, too. Her comfortable bed is nice but it does not make her blood sing like he does. The pain he gives, and his presence, those are things she has come to need.
And he fulfills those needs. He’s generous with pain and he is always there when he gives it to her. She nearly swoons to the floor thinking about it, and only the thought that she might lose out on time with him keeps her upright and dutifully swirling his spit in her mouth.
“Get up, imbecile,” he says, and he points further into the chapel! She is being invited even more inside! She could weep! “Lean back against that pew. You’re not even worthy of kneeling in this place.”
She’s not. Somewhere in her there is a heart that is kind and good, and a person who tries to do her best, but the moment she left the mansion to come here she was guided only by selfish lust. It’s what makes her stand up so fast. She doesn’t even know what he will do if she manages to please him... so far she has only experienced his sharpness, and it has worked to hook her as surely as a fish.
Her feet are moving but she is lost in an imagining that he is piercing the side of her mouth when he shouts “Swallow already!” at her, and it makes her jump. It also makes her so, so happy that he was paying so much attention. Every echo of his rage is like choir music. She swallows immediately. In her rush her throat betrays her and she feels like she will choke, but before she can stop herself she coughs and then keeps trying to clear her windpipe. His hand is on her upper arm and he shakes her like a rag doll. It does not help, but it feels like a dance.
Faust grits out “Get. Over there.” and she gets, still coughing. It is uncomfortable and her eyes are watering but she longs for him more than air and he let go of her arm when he pushed her toward the pews. So her steps are sad ones.
She puts her back and her hands onto the curve of the pew. It’s wide, smooth wood beneath her. The sturdiness brings her head down from the clouds in time to hear the slide of the book bundle he has kicked toward her, just in time to move her ankle out of the way. He laughs and mutters something she can’t hear. She tries very, very hard not to pout about it.
“I don’t have all night,” he says flatly. “Put your foot up and show your sin to me.”
It’s a scramble to comply-- should she hold up her skirt first or put a foot on the books and then raise the fabric?-- but her body just moves, eager to comply. This is why she’s here. As much as for him, she is in this chapel for what only he can do.
He rolls his eyes as she wads up her skirt in her hands. Her stockings can’t be clean after that time on the chapel floor, and there is no way her underwear is without a telltale patch of lust, not with the way all his power has been pooling between her legs since before she even touched the other side of the chapel doors. When he steps close she can actually feel a tiny but undeniable gush of arousal slipping out of her so easily it might as well be her self-control. It’s mortifying. She hopes he sees.
Then he is close, close enough for one of his hands to slip behind the leg that goes straight to the ground and stroke it, which makes her bite back a moan. She has to clench her teeth shut just to withstand the gentle contact without falling over. When he pulls her leg up, her knee rests beside his hip and she begins to shudder so hard she fears she will convulse.
“Stop that this instant,” he hisses, and his fingers dig into the back of her thigh so hard all that gently-stroked flesh is too stupid to feel the hurt right away. It comes to her quickly, though. She bites back another sound, something more vulnerable.
He watches her, then leans in beside her ear. “You put your foot on a stack of bibles in a church,” he whispers to her, every syllable touching his teeth the way she wishes he would touch her. “And you spread your legs like you think someone wants to see your mess.” He makes the most derisive, delicious noise, and her eyes roll so far back into her head it nearly hurts. More words, more words, please...
He takes her by the chin again, and when he lets go of her leg she knows she needs to keep it exactly where it was, no matter how precarious this makes her balance, while his hand comes up to slap her face. “You don’t tell me one wretched thing, slut,” he enunciates carefully. She did not even realize her thoughts had become words. She quickly tries to apologize and he slaps her other cheek.
“Shut up,” he says, syrup sweet, and slides his hand back under her thigh. It’s the exact tone of a bully. She shuts up. She shudders, too, from the way it seeps into her and makes her warm all over.
He lets go of her chin and pulls the front of her underwear into his fist. He keeps pulling until the soft, well-laundered muslin digs at the back of her hips and her sex at the same time, right up against the tender flesh of her holes, and makes her yelp. He must have measured his strength exactly, she hears the snap of two threads but the fabric holds. He could rip it from her with ease. Why is he not doing that? He gives the muslin just a little slack, then pulls it even tighter and she feels like a marionette, all her limbs out of her own control. Were it not for her hands on the back of the pew, she would be a mess on the floor instead of a mess barely standing
Faust growls, “Be still, sinner-- and keep this leg up-- or I’ll make it so much worse.”
She keeps the leg up without his hand beneath it. She will never again doubt the existence of miracles.
He pulls the soaked fabric aside, pulls back his newly freed hand, and slaps her right on her slit without any preamble. The shock of the hit is gold and white-blue behind her eyes, and her sob is ugly, an animal’s sound in a place meant for prayerful people. He says nothing as she whimpers through the hurt of every little ripple of post-pain, the way the tingles stay focused on the flesh that took the hit. It feels like a scorch on both sides of her sex that she cannot escape; how appropriate that inescapable he put that feeling on her, in her.
Belatedly she realizes that she did stay still, and that calms her spirit, strokes her in time with his thumbs on the inside of each thigh. High like heaven. Soft as a dream. He may even be shushing her tenderly instead of telling her to be silent, but she is so delirious she cannot be sure. She can feel the way she is even more wet, because the slickness makes the burn better. Not in a healing way, in a way that clarifies the precious, god-given sharpness he provides. She is sinful and filthy and so far below worthy of his touch, but he does touch her, he talks to her and touches her, and when Faust does those things she feels very holy. There is a silence in her soul that makes it a little easier to ignore the way her body is screaming from pain and desperate want.
The slap hurts. It takes her a long time to come down from the pain and the heat. But when she is silent, he sneers and stops stroking her thighs, and then he does it again.
#ikevamp faust#ikevam faust#ikevamp fanfiction#ikevam fanfiction#dt nonny (bless you)#WHEW OKAY i do not smoke but I may need to go chew some gum
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Count.
This is a request. Thank you to @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown for helping me build a story worthy of Angel.
This is filth.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It had started when you stomped your foot at Angel’s wardrobe veto. You had looked forward to wearing your new dress to the summer’s first official party and Angel, without hesitation, had said no.
“Mami, no, it’s too short. Go change. We need to leave.” Angel buttoned the top button of his shirt - sliding his leather cut over the patterned print. It was a reflex. You were a brat. Brats have reflexes. Angel’s dark eyes gleamed as he stared at you - your gaze meeting in the mirror’s reflection. His raised eyebrow and bitten bottom lip spoke for him. You felt flush as you stood in defiance.
“Go change.” Angel turned to face you, licking his lips as he gestured to the closet. You shifted on your feet - weighing your choices. Why have all your fun at once? The thought flashed across your mind as you slid the dress to your feet. Your eyes held Angel’s gaze as you stood naked in the bedroom.
“Okay.” You shrugged your shoulders as you retreated into the closet.
Angel won the battle. He wouldn’t win the war.
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Angel’s hand rested on your lower back as he guided you through the crowded yard. You recognized several friends standing near the cage as Angel pulled you close as he stood with EZ, Coco, and Gilly. You smiled at the brothers - they were Angel’s closest friends, family really.
“Get me a beer, querida.” Angel’s hand rubbed your hip - accentuating the request. You felt your body betraying your mission - your skin sizzling at his touch. A coy smile slid across your face as you pulled away from his warm grasp.
“No.” You stepped back two steps. Distance made you bolder.
The conversation lulled - Angel blinked twice as he waited for another response. He drank you in - your attitude making his breath catch with each eye roll and smartass phrase. He got off on the chase too.
You took another step back. You felt like prey under the intense gaze of Angel. You felt your breath quicken as he flexed his arm muscles - his tattoos rippling. You dreamed of Angel choking you and you instantly got wet. “No. I’m going to talk to my friends.” You exaggerated your long hair as you turned. The only loss was missing his reaction.
“What did you do to piss her off?” EZ was the first to speak.
Angel inhaled - his cigarette glowing in the twilight, “Ignore her. She’s being a brat.”
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You felt Angel’s gaze heavy on your swaying form as you danced with your friends. The tension had been simmering all night and you knew one more choice would bubble it over. Your thighs were wet with anticipation of the delicious punishment Angel would dish out. As you scanned the crowded clubhouse, you saw your chance. Walking towards the bar, you knew Angel’s eyes were following you despite his apparent conversation with EZ, Coco, and GIlly.
The crowd at the bar easily separated as you grabbed a shot. You tapped a leather-clad stranger’s shoulder and smiled as you licked your hand - your tongue sliding across your skin slowly as you watched Angel inhale his cigarette. He sprinkled salt on the wet streak without hesitation. The tequila burnt your throat as you slid the lime wedge between your full lips and sucked - laughing with the stranger easily. You felt the rush of air as Angel approached you. “Come on.” His calloused hand gripped your elbow as he dragged you through the crowd and outside into the night.
“Angel, what are --?” You struggled to keep from stumbling as Angel pushed you inside the service office. In the twilight, the shadows from the party danced across the small trailer. “Take your clothes off.” His voice was cold as he slid your skirt to your knees. You clenched your pussy in expectation of Angel’s next command.
“On your knees.” Angel stood in front of you - his eyes black with lust. You felt your mouth water at the sight of his bulging pants as you sank to your knees - the cool tile floor stinging your warm skin. “It’s not going to suck itself, mami.” His fingers threaded through your curls as your clumsily slid his jeans lower, exposing his throbbing member. You slid your tongue across his ridges - listening to his rapid breath as you took in your throat, gagging as he thrusted into your mouth. You choked as he pushed into your throat - saliva dripping as you struggled to breath through his assault.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was rough as he pulled you up. His hand wrapped around your throat with just enough pressure to make your eyes closed as he kissed you hard - his tongue sliding into your mouth for a filthy kiss. You felt your legs bump against the desk as Angel’s fingers slid over your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet. You like being a brat?” Two fingers entered you effortlessly - your hips jerking at the intrusion. Angel’s hand gripped your throat as you rocked against his fingers - seeking release.
Angel slid his coated fingers in your mouth - watching you as you sucked his fingers erotically. Angel pulled you close - turning your back to him as he bent you over the desk - papers scattering in his fury. “Count. Now.” The familiar sting on your ass caught your breath in your chest. “I said count, princesa.” Angel leaned into you - his erection pressing against your ass and your belly pushing into desk.
“One.” It was barely a whisper as you felt a lustful haze rush over you. Angel’s hand smacked you again. “Two.” Your voice came a bit stronger as you pushed your ass against Angel’s crotch - rubbing your slickness against his jeans. “You can get louder, can’t you, mami?” His fingers traced your slit as you whimpered under him.
“Three.” Your skin felt raw, but you were dripping down your thigh. Angel knew how to work you. He knew your limits and he walked the line well. Four and five came in rapid succession and the night was filled with whimpers and Angel’s ragged breath.
“Oh my god.” Angel filled you - stretching you as he pulled your hips against him. His jeans rubbed against your raw skin and you felt yourself spiral into oblivion. His hand wound in your hair, pulling you against him harshly - “does this fix your attitude?” He held you roughly as he fucked you against the desk - the floor creaking against his thrust.
You couldn’t even ask for permission to cum as you melted into the desk - your orgasm rushing over you in waves as Angel rubbed your clit, forcing your body into pleasure. “Oh, fuck.” His fingers dug into your cheeks - mesmerized where your body were connected as he came inside you. You felt a part of you go missing when he pulled out - arousal running down your thigh.
“Don’t give me that look.” Angel’s voice was teasing as he watched you adjust your skirt and panties. “You asked for it.”
#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes#Mayans MC#mayansmc fanfiction#mayans fanfic#mayans fx#mayans headcanons
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[fanfic] Savor The Display: Chapter 1
Mizael quite liked the fact that his human clothes – wherever did those come from, anyway? - covered up his arms. He didn’t have to see the names written in elegant markings there. He knew what they said, of course. He’d been able to read them as far back as he could remember.
On one arm, the name was that of his soulmate. On the other, the name of his mortal enemy. Not everyone was blessed with such clear knowledge of their love or their enemy. He knew well that Durbe and Nasch were soulmates – they shared marks that glowed when they stood close to one another.
Or so they had. Mizael didn’t know if they still did, with Nasch being missing. But they were soulmates.
Mizael didn’t know if Alit had a soulmate or not. He’d never said anything, and even when he did talk about something, Mizael seldom listened to him in the first place. He remembered Merag having mentioned once that she saw no color and likely wouldn’t until she met her soulmate. He didn’t envy her that.
He knew very well about Vector’s soulmate.
Humans, and apparently Barians, had an infinite number of ways in which one’s soulmate could be detected or observed or discovered. Mizael’s names were just one of them. For the longest time he’d wondered what the name on the left arm had meant…
He did wonder exactly what humans thought about marks like his, and decided that it wouldn’t do any harm to do some research. Humans were inferior to Barians in every possible way, but they did have a long history of soul-marks, so perhaps someone had written something about that.
Thusly, Mizael made his way to a place he’d heard about – the local library. The unfortunate part of that was that he didn’t know where the library was in the first place. His avenues for information about the human world were few and far between, unless he wanted to grab a random human and demand information.
I think I’ll have to. He had a suspicion that Vector might know, but he didn’t really want to ask Vector, for a multitude of reasons. Amongst those being that he didn’t know where Vector was right now. Probably still in his ‘Shingetsu Rei’ disguise, which Mizael didn’t really approve of to start with.
He cast a few glances around, trying to determine who he could ask. There weren’t many humans around who looked his apparent age and the adults all seemed too busy. Not that such would stop him if he couldn’t find anyone else, but he presumed someone who would be of ‘school age’ would be more likely to have the information he wanted.
A noise caught his attention and he followed where it came from until he stood in a tight, dirty alleyway. His lip curled at the stench that slunk through the air. He’d never seen a place so foul before. Empty boxes had been tossed here, subject to the whims of the weather, and from the lack of light, only one exit led in or out. Tiny puddles of oil-streaked water splattered here and there, gleaming faintly in what little light managed to work its way down there.
That little light also revealed those who lurked here. A half dozen burly humans – the largest of them wasn’t even half the size of Gilag – lounged on piles of boxes, chatting amongst themselves. Mizael regarded them with a definite air of turning around to leave, when one of them glanced up and saw him there.
“Hey, who invited the pretty boy?” That one half-shouted. “I mean, we could use a few more decorations around this place!” He seemed to think he’d made some sort of amazing joke, throwing his head back and guffawing.
Mizael wasn’t impressed. He didn’t know a great deal about humans but he had a suspicion that these people weren’t going to be able to tell him where the library was. That was just his luck.
“Well, pretty boy?” The one who’d spoken leered at him. “Come on over here. I want a better look at you.”
“No.” Mizael didn’t move for a second. Nothing else needed to be said, and he turned around. He stopped a breath later; had he seen someone lurking over there, just out of sight? It seemed nothing more than a flicker of something, but he couldn’t be certain.
He hadn’t really taken a full step before the idiot human spoke again.
“He really is pretty, isn’t he? Bet all he’s good for is -”
Hearing what the human thought brought Mizael back around, hand dropping down to his deck at once. Dueling humans wasn’t really fair; these weren't Kaito, they couldn’t give him anything close to a fair fight, but right now, he didn’t care. For what he’d said, Galaxy Eyes would feed very well. “What did you say?” Mizael refused to yell. He didn’t need to. The earth under his feet shook with the force of his rage. How dare these humans say something so vile about him? Who had given them the impression they could get away with such filth? The human grinned at him. “Oh, didn’t you hear me? Let me repeat it.” “That won’t be necessary.” Mizael bit the words off. “If you think you can speak of me like that, you will regret it. Do you duel?”
“Sure do!” The thug laughed. “I’ve got a perfect win record, too! You want a duel, you got one!” He started to lever himself to his feet.
Mizael looked forward to tearing this idiot apart. He hadn’t yet pulled out his deck before a very familiar arm slid around his waist and he was pulled back against Vector, who dropped a small kiss on his neck.
“You’re not going to have fun without me, are you?” Vector purred. Mizael suspected Tskumo Yuuma wouldn’t even recognize his ‘friend’ Shingetsu Rei right now. “That’s very cruel of you. You should at least let me get some popcorn first.” He laughed softly, breath puffing against the side of Mizael’s neck. “You know how I love a good show.”
The humans muttered among themselves, then the leader laughed even louder than before. “Look at that! He’s got a boyfriend! One of those prissy schoolkids!”
Vector’s eyes glinted softly. Mizael doubted the humans would have seen that, but he did, and he knew what it meant. How much pain these fools were in now depended on which one of them dealt with them.
“Are you my boyfriend?” Vector murmured. His right hand brushed against Mizael’s right forearm. A great rush of warmth swept through Mizael at the contact, even though his clothes. The touch of his soulmate on him – Mizael hated the direction his thoughts turned after that.
“We are soulmates,” he growled the words out. Vector’s name on his right arm, Tenjo Kaito, his mortal enemy, on his left arm. He’d known for ages, but that didn’t make it any easier.
The humans howled even more at that.
“A soulmate?” The leader shook his head, snorting. “What a joke. So, you gonna duel or not, pretty boy?”
Vector stepped back, not even gracing the thugs with a look, regarding Mizael in anticipation. “You take care of this and I’ve got a couple of things to teach you afterwards. Have you ever had a chocolate milkshake?”
“Never heard of it.” Mizael wasn’t afraid to admit that. Humans treats had never appealed to him, but he’d also never spent much time in human form. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to see what pleasures this place had to offer.
“The sooner you’re done with them, the better, then,” Vector promised. Mizael glanced over to the humans, who had no idea of what was about to happen to them.
He wouldn’t make it hurt as much as he could. He wanted this to be quick and clean. It would probably be the only clean thing in this disgusting alleyway.
“Duel!” He snapped the word out, and waded into battle.
Chocolate milkshakes were, Mizael decided, quite a worthy reward for the effort that he’d put in. The thug hadn’t really given him many issues, nor had the two who’d demanded to duel him afterwards. When he’d finished them both off in a two on one duel, Mizael decided that was all he felt like doing. It probably helped that the rest of their gang ran screaming in fear.
Vector took the time to search the pockets of those Mizael defeated, and used that to pay for their treat. Mizael might have cared, if those idiots hadn’t been human and hadn’t insulted him the way that they had. Besides, something useful should be done with their funds. They weren’t using it on hygiene, obviously.
“What are you doing around here anyway?” Vector wanted to know. His eyes narrowed briefly. “You’re not trying to find Kaito again, are you?”
“What if I was?” Mizael snapped back. “He’s the enemy of my soul.” He rested one hand on his left arm. “It is our fate to fight one another.”
Vector made an unpleasant noise before he returned to his own milkshake. “You didn’t answer the question.
“I was looking for the library,” Mizael admitted. “I have something I want to look up.”
That got a very suspicious look from Vector. “What?”
Mizael regarded the depths of what had been his milkshake. Being in possession of a mouth and throat was much more interesting than he’d first imagined it might be. Was this one reason Vector seemed to enjoy spending so much time as a human? He could taste things? Eat things?
It was a much messier form of intake than absorbing energy through one’s gems, of course. But perhaps it did have something to recommend it.
“Mizael?” Vector prodded at him with the tip of one foot. “What did you want to look up?”
He turned a bright blazing glare on Vector, who basked in it briefly, then shrugged. “I wanted to research how humans view soulmate marks. Especially like ours.”
Vector glowered at him. “Why? What else would you need to know? Right arm, we’re made for each other. Left arm, mortal enemies destined to slay one another.” He snickered softly at that.
Mizael didn’t know if Vector had a name on his left arm. He’d never seen it, which he knew wasn’t usual, given their existences in Barian World. But more than once he’d seen the way Vector snickered over the thought of a mortal enemy. Perhaps it was Tskumo Yuuma? It would certainly explain Vector’s long-term disguise of ‘Shingetsu Rei’.
“When are you planning to drop that facade?” Mizael wanted to know. “It doesn’t really get you anything.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised about that,” Vector replied, laughing softly. “But you’ll see what I have planned soon enough. I might even need your help before it’s all over with. You and Durbe both.”
Mizael wasn’t so sure about that. Though if it meant he had a chance to come up against Kaito again, he might go along with it. Power sang through his veins at the thought of Galaxy Eyes Tachyon chewing through Galaxy Eyes Photon once and for all. It would happen, sooner or later. He knew that for a fact.
Vector toyed with a napkin. “You know, there’s a chance that he could see us here.”
“What?” Mizael stiffened a trifle. He cared very little for Vector’s actual plans, but the overall goal to destroy the Astral Messenger and save their world meant more than anything, no matter how little he liked it. He started to get up, but Vector shook his head.
“He’s not here right now.” Vector waved Mizael back down to his seat. “He’s running some after-school errands on the other side of town for his grandma.” Vector’s lips twitched. “Apparently he does this a lot.”
Mizael wasn’t even certain of what a grandma was. Perhaps he would look that up if he ever got to the library. For now he just shrugged. “If you say so.” He was more interested in finding Kaito and finding the information he wanted than anything else. Yuuma was a respectable duelist, but not nearly on his own level. Though he wouldn’t turn down the thought of Yuuma calling Kaito to him.
Vector finished the last of his milkshake, then met Mizael’s eyes. “Are you done?”
Mizael knew that look very well. He pushed his own glass away and stood up. Vector joined him, the two strolling out of the shop and heading away.
Vector knew the city better than Mizael did, and guided him carefully through it, making a point to avoid any gatherings of younger humans. Once or twice he darted down alleyways and less populated thoroughfares, tugging Mizael after him, until Mizael had no idea whatsoever where they were.
They didn’t stop until they reached a long alleyway, more brightly lit than the one they’d crossed paths with those ignorant thugs in. Vector gestured to the far end of it.
“Alit and Gilag’s place is down that way. Are you staying there?”
Once again Mizael’s lip curled upward. “Why would I stay with them?” He would if he had no choice, but his first preference would always be to return to Barian World. Technically speaking he wasn’t supposed to do that until the mission had been finished. Being able to control feeble human minds meant he could acquire lodgings wherever he chose.
Vector’s lips twitched the tiniest fraction. Something pleased him a great deal. Then, without warning, he grabbed hold of Mizael’s collar and slammed him against the nearest wall. He crushed his lips hard against Mizael’s.
Truth to tell, this was the first time in his entire life that Mizael had ever kissed anyone. He’d never had lips before. Feeling Vector’s against his wasn’t something he’d ever thought about. It sparked a rush of heat to flow through him, and he started to lean into the kiss, as something began to intrude against his lips.
Tongue? He’d managed to get used to having a tongue. It was useful to speak with in this form. But he’d never thought about using it in kissing.
He wasn’t sure if Vector had that much experience in kissing, but he clearly knew what he was doing, and as far as Mizael could tell, they were both enjoying the situation a great deal.
Mizael focused so much on Vector’s lips on him, on the way that his hands traced against Mizael’s own skin, that he almost didn’t hear the quick footsteps, or the sudden sharp gasp of breath. He only noticed something as off when Vector broke the kiss and stepped back, turning towards the end of the alleyway that they hadn’t entered by.
“Yuuma-kun?” Vector sounded different, a little higher and quivering. Mizael turned to see Tskumo Yuuma standing there, packages dropped around his feet, staring in surprise and shock. Astral wasn’t there, which worried Mizael a trifle.
“Shingetsu??”
To Be Continued
Notes: Vector does love a good show – even if he has to arrange for it himself. More than once…
#fanfic#higuchimon writes#ygo zexal#Vector (Zexal)#mizael (zexal)#Vector x Mizael#mizael x vector#chapters: savor the display#au: soulmates#zexal10th
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Graveyard: Prologue
Summary: Waking up on a trash heap is never ideal. Getting imprisoned on a planet you’ve never heard of? That’s way worse. Ella was one of Asgard fiercest and most cunning protectors, but when Loki’s rebellion threatens her people’s safety, she’s made it her mission to do one thing and one thing only; kill him. By any means necessary.
Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC
Warnings: Imprisonment, fight scenes, general calamity, canon typical brouhaha.
A/N: So idk where this is gonna go just yet, but here’s a lil tasty morsel. This is my first non-Bucky fic! and it features my first Marvel love--Loki <3 Tags are open :)
The acrid smell of rust and filth surrounded you as you woke.
Sitting up, you realize that, once again, you’d awoken in your cell. Wishful thinking kept alive the hope that this was all a dream.
“Raaagg!” The guard with the tentacles shouted as he chucked the tray of mush under your door.
You grimaced at the sight of the chunky grayish-blue mush. “Thanks a lot.” You mumble as he walks away.
“...asshole.”
The substance jiggled when you poked it. Begrudgingly, you spooned some into your mouth. How could something this color taste like rotten carrots?
“Morning, Ella.” Korg said through your bars.
You smiled halfheartedly at him. “Hi Korg. Where’s Miek?”
“Ah, he’s part of the welcome wagon today.” He said cheerfully. “I guess a special guest arrived last night.”
You nod, eating your mush. “Really? Who is it this time?” You didn’t care, it was just nice to have a conversation with someone who could actually speak your language.
“Not sure, you know. But rumor has it he’s a King.” He said.
Rolling your eyes, you looked to him, “Aren’t they all.” The words dripped with sarcasm.
“No. Not everyone.” He said plainly. Korg was a...simple guy, sarcasm often escaped him.
“I know, Korg...I—forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask.
“Actually, rumor has it a few prisoners are being released to the work shed to make room for new ones. I put a good word in for you!” He said happily.
Your head perked up. “Really? Thank you, Korg!”
“No sweat. Well, I have to go draw and quarter some Skartelians. Bye-bye, then!”
When Korg had left your cell front, it was once again just you, your slop, and the first glimmer of hope you had. A chance to finally be out of this fresh hell.
You’d forgotten how long you’d been in this place; a week? Maybe two? A month?
The days were long and they all blurred together. Your only solace was plotting your revenge against that repulsive megalomaniac who put you here in the first place.
The day before your capture:
“We must get to Heimdall.” Sif whispered to you. “The people need to leave this place before he enslaves them all.”
Your bloodshot eyes scanned the area. The sound of the riots outside grew louder, and guards patrolled every exit.
Almost every one.
“Sif, look.” You said, nodding to the archway just off the main corridor.
Your stealth is something you were known for. Being as clever and cunning and careful as any warrior before you. Not only that, but Sif had been the one that trained you for battle. You were just as fierce and skilled as she was.
The cold stone of the pillar pressed against your back, “I’m going. One of us needs to tell Heimdall to open the bifrost.”
Loki had cloaked the palace in a spell, blinding those in and around it from Heimdall’s sight.
She nodded, “I’ll give you as much cover as I can.”
You crouched and rolled a ways to get to the next pillar. Your steps and movements were so light, not even you heard them.
The palace guards had just done a rotation to the next corridor, and that’s when you made your breakaway.
You slipped through the archway with ease and began running down the stairs. The cobbled flights of steps were your last hurdle, then it was just a long, but mad dash down the bridge to get to Heimdall.
“Going somewhere?”
You froze. Your foot had just touched the last step, but it was too late. You’d been caught...he had caught you.
“Hm, it looks like you are. Perhaps running to that golden eyed oaf to tell him what I’ve done?”
Loki.
You swallowed thickly.
“What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked.
“Another cheap trick? Had to conjure up a spell because you couldn’t find me yourself?” You spat back at him.
Loki began circling you. When he was right behind you, he spoke next to your ear. “Why don’t you make a run for it and see?”
It was a test. But you knew Loki would never be out here, so close to the riots. The ‘scourge of the kingdom’ rebelling against his reign and rule over Asgard.
“Alright.” You turn quickly on your heel and sprint.
You made it 20 feet when a log appeared out of no where right under your feet. You hurdled forward, stumbling and rolling on the ground.
The slam of the dirt knocked the wind clean out of you.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk...” Loki tutted. “Next time toss a pebble. That’d be a much wiser test.”
You stood as quickly as you could, and charged him. “I’d rather toss a dagger.” Your blades dropped from your sleeves into your grasp.
Slashing at him, the blade narrowly missed his throat. He stepped back smoothly, circling himself around you, before casting his duplication spell.
Suddenly you were surrounded by dozens of him. Each of them taunting you.
“Come and get me.”
Slash
“I’m over here!”
Slash
“Did you miss me?”
All attempts futile. The God of Mischief certainly was worthy of the name.
“You coward! Fight me!” You shout.
In a snap, the copies disappeared. Loki stood behind you, and cleared his throat. “Would you really kill your King, Ellaria?” He asked, using your full name.
“I’m not loyal to a throne, nor am I loyal to a murderer.” You seethe breathlessly.
Loki’s jaw clenched as he took a step away from you.
“Guards?” He said simply.
Suddenly, a dozen Asgardian soldiers surrounded you. “Please escort this little minx to the dungeons.”
You were trapped. The golden men circled you as Loki watched, enjoying the torment.
“Ella! Now!” You heard Sif shout. She had her crossbow at the ready, and fired on the guards. At her fastest, she could fire 30 arrows a minute, plenty to take out a dozen guards.
In an instant, their shields went up, and Loki crouched behind them. “Stop her!” He shouted, staring at Sif.
“Loki...” you called.
He turned quickly, and you slashed you dagger across his face, leaving a small gash on his cheek bone.
His fingertips went to feel for blood, and sure enough, it began to drip.
Loki laughed, his teeth chewing on his lip.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” You smirked.
You planted your boot on the shield of the guard next to you. They were all crouched so it was easier than expected. Backflipping out of the circle of them, you ran as fast as you could down the bridge, praying Loki’s spell didn’t cast that far.
“Heimdall! Heimdall!” You scream.
A quick glance over your shoulder confirms your wonder if you were being chased yet.
“Heimdall! Open the bifrost!” You’re screeching now.
Suddenly, the bridge shakes. He’d heard you!
“Ellaria, stop!” Loki shouts from behind you. You glance to see he’s on a horse, riding fast.
Your lungs expand once more, but before sound escapes you, you see a tidal way approaching you. Angry water pulled from the sea beneath you barreling down from behind you.
“Heimdall! Open the bifrost! Please!” You’re desperate. The maniac chasing you had indeed cast a spell; one to end your life.
You watched as the bifrost began to spin, he’d heard you at last!
Suddenly the wave over took you, launching you down the length of the bridge towards Heimdall.
You were rolling and churning in the waters Loki had cast, running out of air fast.
You’d gotten sent so far by the massive wave, somehow you been forced past Heimdall and into the still-turning stream of light that was the bifrost.
The surge of energy sent your body into a whirlwind. You were soaring through the universe in an iridescent ray of light made of enough energy to light up a continent.
After what seemed like mere seconds, you felt yourself enter and atmosphere. Shortly after that, you’d landed on a pile of...trash?
The tingles rushing through your body drained you. You’d never been in the bifrost alone before, and it was clear your body couldn’t handle the amount of power surging around it.
Clicks and pops made you open your eyes. Shielding them from the sun with your hand, you found yourself surrounded by humanoid creatures of every size and color.
They were speaking. Communicating to one another.
“Help me. Please help me.” You begged, hoping feigning weakness would stop any unwanted hostility.
The orange creature reached his hand out--a hand with eight fingers, and you took it. He hoisted you up to your feet, and gave you a half smile.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, “Mezbanjala fo tutu.” He clicked his tongue quickly.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.” You said, shaking your head.
The group of creatures eyes suddenly widened, and the lot of them began shouting and running away.
“Hey! Wha--”
You felt a sharp pain in your neck, and then everything went black.
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I’ll Be Watching You
Stalker!Mark x Reader
Warnings: stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior.
Literally an excuse to make a preview for this upcoming fic. The lyrics will be in red. Tell me if I should do this for the other ones if this turns out okay?
Every breath you take.
Mark watched you from his seat, always making sure to sit further away from you. His hand leaned on his hand, not caring about the lesson on the board as he watched you intently take down the notes.
Every move you make
Your (h/c) hair was pushed behind your ear, getting it out of your way and showing Mark the perfect angle of your beautiful face.
The bell rung as you finished the notes, closing your notebook and putting your pencil in your hoodie pocket while picking up the notebook. You hand pulled out your phone, checking it.
Every bond you break
“(Y/n), how come you stop talking to me? I keep hearing people saying that you’re saying shit behind my back?” Mark looked up, his eyes narrowing at seeing the blond glaring at his angel.
You pulled out an earbud, looking up from picking out your music. “Are these people real? Or are you trying to start something? Just like how you told Lauren that you thought you were pregnant before complaining that people were coming up to you and asking if you were; even though no one ever did?”
“How dare you? I thought we were friends!!”
“I did too Khaja. Until I realized that you were just wanting to cause drama and pull the attention on you.” You sighed, putting up your phone as you knew you weren’t going to play on it soon. “Are you serious right now (y/n)?”
“What? I’m just saying the truth. You lie to make sure that you have the attention. You lie about sob stories to make sure people pity you. I’ve seen you thrown a tantrum because someone wouldn’t look at you.”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not. Nor would I waste my time talking bad about you behind your back. Because I could just say it to your face.” You saw her face redden with anger, but it didn’t worry you. You shrugged it off and walked past her; leaving her behind.
(Based on a true person... All this is actually true and my secret way of venting of this... Sorry about that😫)
Every step you take
Mark watched you from his seat in the cafeteria, watching you sit down by your friends. His eyes softened at seeing your sparkling eyes and turned to mush when he saw you laughing.
That beautiful laugh... He wanted to be the reason that he was making you laugh, to show him that beautiful smile.
I'll be watching you.
Click. He lowered the camera, looking at the picture he took. You were walking back to your house, Mark silently falling along.
Mark always made sure that you got home safe. You never noticed him because of your earbuds in. But he loved to hearing you singing on the way home, it was the highlight of this whole walk.
Click. He got a picture of you as you were standing by the street to cross. Your hands were dug into the pockets, your hair pulled back. Your hands pulled out your phone, changing the song and then looking up to check the road before crossing.
Every single day
Day after day, Mark’s time was devoted to you and only you. Every hour of his life, he made sure your life was perfect.
He took care of Khaja, makes sure no one ever tries to rob your house, makes sure that you get good grades if you ever having an off day. He knows blackmail against all teachers.
He makes the universe perfect for his angel. Everything must be perfect for you.
Every word you say
Mark leaned against the wall, the shadows of the auditorium hiding him. He took pictures as you were practicing a song you would need to sing for a concert.
Your beautiful, angelic voice. He’s phone was recording in his pocket so he could listen to your voice as he falls asleep.
Every game you play
“I got it!” You called out, hands clasping together before bumping the volleyball into the air. Your teammate jumped up, slapping the ball over the net.
Three opponents went for the ball, then freezing at seeing the other one running for the ball. Their frozen state is what allowed the ball to hit the ball and score your team a point.
Mark was sitting in the bleachers, taking pictures of the game. The crowd was cheering for your team, your school being put in the lead.
“Come on (y/n)!” A male called out, cheering you on and making you smile in response. Mark gave the man a dark glare, his hand tightening on his camera in response.
I will make him pay for trying to get in the way of our love
Every night you stay
Mark lowered the lock picking set and pushed it in his pocket, looking around the house. His eyes widened with happiness and he walked through the house, easily finding your room and quietly pushing open the door.
You were sleeping on the bed, the covers pulled up to below your chest. You were laying in a loose, comfortable sports bra. Your (h/c) hair was sprawled under your head, making a small halo as your eyes were shut. Your rosy lips were parted, letting off soft breaths.
I'll be watching you.
He sat besides your bed, putting his hand on your cheek and brushing the stray hairs away. His heart melted at seeing you peacefully sleeping, not a care in the world.
So beautiful...
Click.
Oh can't you see?
Mark watched you walk past him, keeping to yourself. A couple of your friends waved at you, getting a timid nod in response.
You always liked getting to your class much as possible, not wanting to get stuck in the crowd. Mark also easily followed you, making sure you got to your class without anyone disrupting you.
You belong to me
“I think you’re really pretty.” Mark’s eyes narrowed as he almost broke his pencil in his hand. You looked at guy before awkwardly looking the side, unsure of how to take to compliment.
You were never used to this. Hearing any compliment always stunned you as you doubted yourself, never ventured out to get attention.
“Oh... Uh... Thanks?” You responded back in a high pitched voice, almost uncomfortable. Mark smirked, knowing who he would have to take care of. “Would you like to go see a movie sometime?”
“Oh... Uh...” You fiddled with the earbuds and said, “Well, between practices and everything. I might be busy. I’ll see what I can do.”
You gathered your notebook, making your way out of the classroom quickly to get to your next class while Mark was glaring at the guy.
How my poor heart aches with every step you take.
Mark watched you walk past him again, sighing softly. He wanted to hold your hand, show everyone who you belonged to, that you are his. Only his.
But you don’t know him. Yet.
Every move you make
“This way.” The group was lead through the musical hall. Mark smiled at the way your eyes lit up.
Click.
There was a group taking a trip to go watch a musical. As soon as Mark saw you sign up, he was next. He wouldn’t leave you alone.
Nor would he give up a chance to see you this excited. He loved the way you react to see everything.
Your eyes looked everything backstage, awing and seeing the costumes. Gently, your hand ran over the fabric of a dress.
Beautiful. Mark thought, taking a picture. One of the staff walked up to Mark while holding his wrist. “No pictures backstage.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t take any pictures of this filth. It’s not worthy.” Mark growled, giving the staff a sharp glare for even having the thought to touch him.
Every vow you break
“Why haven’t you even felt bad for Khaja’s death?” You heard a voice besides you asked in homeroom. Lazily, you looked over as you were tired from the lake of sleep. “What?”
“Khaja’s death. You haven’t even cried or sad about it!”
“What’s there to be sad about a lying bitch?” You asked, shrugging your shoulders. “Even in death she holds the attention she craved for, I bet she’s gleaming in joy.”
“Heartless bitch.” Your chest stung as you watched the student marched off, but you didn’t have the energy to care. It was horrible that you felt like this, but you were really tired of her.
Your head dropped on your arms as you closed your eyes, falling into a short nap till homeroom ended.
Mark watched the student walk away, his blood boiling. How dare they call his precious angel a heartless bitch? He’ll make sure they pay the same price that Khaja did.
Every smile you fake
“How’s volleyball?” You looked up from your plate, seeing your father looking at you. “Oh... It’s going great.”
“Just great?” He raised an eyebrow. You nodded solemnly. “They want me to become captain.”
“Do it.”
“Yes father.” You said with a smile, feeling a pressure weighing in your chest. Volleyball was fun, but it’s not what you wanted to do.
Click.
Mark frowned as he looked at the recent picture, noticing the dull look in your eyes. This is your father’s fault. He’s taking away your beauty, he’s tainting you...
Yes, he’ll make sure to get rid of your father.
Every claim you stake
“(Y/n), did you really lie to get out of here?” Mark leaned on the wall, watching you run around in your dress. He loved that dress on you, but he hated how others had to see you wear it.
“Yes. I’m late. Where are my shoes??” You freaked out, seeing the scolding look from your teacher. Mark glared at her, letting her catch him in the mirror. He gave her a mocking look and her face paled, allowing you some slack.
You were relieved and someone handed you your shoes. “Let’s go! On the stage!”
One of the helpers called out. You made a small eep and hopped on one foot while putting on your shoes, running out.
“Why are you here?” The teacher asked Mark once the room was empty. Mark leaned off of the wall and toyed with his camera. “My baby is here. Why wouldn’t I be here to support her?”
“(Y- y/n)?” He smirked. Her eyes widened and he gave her a dark look. “Say something to her about this and I’ll make sure you’re fired within a day with never getting hired by another school again. Don’t forget, they don’t like druggies.”
He left the teacher alone, going out to watch you perform beautifully.
I'll be watching you.
“(Y/n)!” You turned your hair as you shouldered your bag, looking back at the guy running up to you. “Yes?”
You were already getting uncomfortable by this stranger coming up to you. “I finally found you!”
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh sorry, my name’s Jimin. We’ll be working on a partner dance for a competition.” He smiled, making you feel more at ease at seeing his comforting nature. “Really?”
“Yep! Do you have a study hall? I think we should get practicing as quickly as we can.” Mark’s grip tightened on his camera as he felt his blood boil. No... He was no going to allow that.
Every breath you take
“You’re so good!” Jimin complimented you as you finished part of the solo that you managed to learn. You smiled, breathing heavy. “Thanks. Let’s see what you learned.”
Mark was getting more and more annoyed. This stupid Jimin. He couldn’t get rid of him. Every time he tried, he survived.
This was really starting to piss him off.
Every move you make
“Come on ladies. Let’s go!” You jogged around the court, Mark sitting in the bleachers. He was pretending to do homework but was really watching you.
You were finally away from Jimin. Finally. That stupid boy wasn’t dampening your beauty, wasn’t tainting you. There were pictures he had to take to make up for the ones he didn’t take because Jimin would be in them.
Every bond you break
“I said I was fine!” You snapped, slamming your hands on the table. Some of the students stepped back from your outburst. While you were breathing heavy, you sat back down with pulling your hood above your head.
You didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not after what happened. “We were just checking on you (y/n).”
“Don’t bother.” You mumbled, laying your head on your arms. Your father was murdered and you weren’t having the best time dealing with it.
It almost made Mark feel bad. Almost. He remembered what that man did. He deserved to die.
Every step you take
Click.
You walked down the street, keeping your earbuds in as you just walked. You didn’t have anyone waiting at home. So you were trying to clear your head.
Mark was making sure no one bothered you. While you were being the perfect muse for him.
Every bond you break
“Don’t worry princess, you’ll be safe soon. I won’t keep making you wait.” Mark whispered as he was sitting besides your bed. You were sleeping peacefully, unaware of the stalker besides you.
“Life has been too cruel to a beautiful flower for you too long. I’ll rescue you from this hell.”
Every step you take
“Sorry.” You bowed your head as you bumped into Mark. Your notebook and his binders fell from his hands. You kneeled down, picking them up as he was helping you. “No, it was my fault.”
“No. I should have noticed where I was going.” You argued and Mark thought it was adorable. Then his almost growled in annoyance when he heard Jimin’s voice, “There you are (y/n)! Come on, we got practice.”
Jimin helped you up, giving a sharp look to Mark. Mark glared back. You were unaware of the two’s hostile demeanor, both disappearing when you looked up. “See you around...”
“Oh, I’m Mark.”
“(Y/n).” You introduced yourself before Jimin dragged you off. Mark watched you go, looking back at his camera. He picked it off from the ground, glad it wasn’t damaged before looking at the pictures filled with you.
I'll be watching you.
#yandere mark#stalker mark#nct mark#mark lee#yandere mark x reader#stalker mark x reader#nct x reader
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life is a gift: a ben solo tribute
I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot talk about something I love without talking about myself; once upon a time I would have called that a deeply selfish act of mine, making everything about myself, but I don’t think that’s the right way of looking at it. I cannot convince you to love anything, unless you yourself choose to do so yourself; all I can do is help you look through my eyes to understand why I love, and give you the full context of why I have chosen to do so. I cannot tell you WHY I love something, without telling you who I am, because both are inextricably bound. Due to this, this is going to half be about myself and my life, to give context, and half about Ben and his life, to give you truth & metaphor.
When I was much younger, I struggled for years against the great act of Being Alive. Why should I be alive, I asked? Why should I be here at all? I have always been sensitive to the great beauty of the world that I am in, and to the great beauty of all the people inside of it, and because I was so sensitive to it I could never find it in myself. For years I struggled with this seeming inconsistency in God’s plan for the greater good, having placed me where I am; why was I here, if all I would ever be is a burden upon everyone I ever loved, their single mistake? Needless to say, I had terrible self-esteem, and for years, I had this honest belief that the world would be better off if I’d never existed at all; somehow along the way, I’d deluded and made myself believe that I was a creature of darkness and filth, that if I didn’t have the Sacraments and the love of my family and friends there would be nothing there to see at all, nothing to redeem me or anything I did. And I knew it was illogical, going against the grain of everything I’d been taught; but there’s always going to be this deep disconnect between what I feel and what I know, and I’ve had to make peace with that.
Life for me, for so long seemed like a waste upon myself. I used to wish I could siphon it off, onto somebody more worthy, who’d put it to better use than myself. It seemed to crush me under its weight, sometimes, all the life I wasn’t living. All the life I had, that would always be lesser because it was lived by me, not by someone else who could do something right with it. I pictured myself as a black hole, forever feeding, causing a void that couldn’t be filled. I had this image set in stone in my heart and my head, of somebody who is always helped, who always takes, and anything I give always ending up causing more hurt. I needed to make myself as small as possible, so as not to take. I needed to exist as little as I could manage, so I didn’t take up any space. Life for me was a train; I watched forlornly out the window as it passed me by, as I made as little of a fuss to leave no imprint on it at all.
It took me time to mend from that, to heal. I had to take those images in my mind, and I had to break them down, piece by piece. What happened was this: I had to lose myself into curiosity, and I had to learn about the world, and I had to love more and more than I could in the dark, all by myself. People come and go through my life, but it’s okay now. It will cause me sorrow as they go, but they will always be part of me, and I cannot lose them. I have ground to stand on, now. I have worth whether I am loved by earthly people or not. I had to intake and inhale, and there came a moment- where I let my breath out. I sat down. And I started writing. I started speaking. I started working. I had to kneel down, and tell the altar that I felt like I had nothing to give, before I found the good in myself, not hidden, but there all along. I had to be loved, before I could really find my footing in loving outside myself. Over time, over time, the sunlight filtered in again, and I could see with clearer eyes.
But it took those years of struggle, of chaos mixing over and over in me, to truly understand the sweetness God gave me to bestow. I am gentle, because I learned to be. I have gifts, that I always had since I was a baby, but my time as an emotional person has fine-tuned them, given me greater control over the truth of what I am. It was never that I only take; it is just that I have a quietness about me. When I have the opportunity, I give and give. I give every drop there is. It is what I was made for, in every way; I have to know my limits, and I have to know who to give to, but it is my purpose in life. And I will always give in my own way, in actions less than words, in ways that are mostly silent but very grand indeed for me. I don’t always succeed at it, but when I do it right, I give with no strings and no expectations, just because it brings me joy to do the work I was born for.
It was in understanding this, this work of mine, that I was finally able to understand why I am alive, in this world full of beauty and beautiful people. It’s because life itself is a gift; we have it for a moment, and whether or not it feels like a gift in the moment, it has always been given freely, nothing attached, given purely out of love. God gives it to me out of love, as do my parents; they do because they want me to exist. It has always been a good thing to exist, to have weight and meaning and consequence. Life is a gift, and a gift given out of love has no weight; it is up to you to give it meaning. You don’t have to pay it back, because that has never been what love is; but you can hold it close to yourself, and you can make it matter. The truth I found to make it all okay was to find that the act of loving doesn’t take from you; not really. It’s the one thing in life that I’ve found you can just make more and more of, as you go on. It may bring you pain, and it may bring you loss, and grief along with it, but love is always a gift, and it’s always free. It’s not like life; it is inherently made of meaning, filled with direction, but if it’s true and rightly made, it cannot destroy you.
To live, and be loved, was never a mistake. Because we give to each other; it’s okay to take, because you learn to give, and give with all the full force of yourself. We are all human beings; we’re made to exist, to take, and to give. We need mercy and we need forgiveness before we can earn it, so that we can learn to earn it, and then pass it onwards. People want, and that’s good, it’s right to do so, but it’s only when something has gone wrong that we want back; back what we give away, in equal measure. It’s now that I see that giving itself is the joy, and receiving is also the joy, but they are not as intertwined as we believe.
It is rare indeed to have a moment in our lives where we give and receive in equal measure, and that’s okay- because we are corporeal beings, we cannot understand the full measure of our lives, and how the balance of giving and receiving evens out over time. In marriages, in families, in education- there are so many ways where someone is giving, and it takes years and time before they can be given back to. It took me entering the first real adult friendships of my life to understand the give-and-take, even giving as love is at its fully realized form; but even then, it helps me see that giving is the joy, and that is where we bloom into our full selves. That is where I found the healing, from the hurt I carried and may always carry; because to give, even of the parts of me that feel unworthy to be given, will be accepted in love, and understood. If I act always in love, then it will be understood eventually, when it is right. I live in peace with that, and I work towards it always. It’s through that that I understood the good in me, even when it gets clouded or misdirected. I’ll always have this fear, I believe, of being useless and a waste, but now I have something to fall back upon, the memory and the belief that what I can give is real, and it’s true, so I will be okay.
This is all a longwinded intro to saying that when I understood Ben Solo for the first time, and really heard him, I gathered him into myself instantly. For years, it’s been difficult for me to speak clearly about him, because he is like the inside of my chest. The moment we meet him, you can see what he truly is; like a wounded creature laying inside a cage, lashing out to hide from its pain. I know who he is, because I was him; I was that person carting around a huge, bleeding heart, burying all the hurt and the hatred inside of myself in the hope that that would make it okay somehow. Obviously he went down a different path than me, but the same beats of hurt and self-hatred are there, and the same beats of healing happened to him, too.
From the beginning, he was born into love, and he was born to love. I don’t know a huge amount of the details besides the movies themselves as to what specifically happened in his life, but I know from context that he was deeply loved by his parents, and at the same time could not understand it. If there is any deep problem with the Star Wars universe, it is its parents’ being unable to communicate their love to their children in a way that makes a true impact. Han and Leia did love each other very much, but they also fought a great deal; reportedly Han would get into his ship and run away, and so I assume Leia would do the same thing in her own way. If it were me, I could not thrive in such an environment; I know that I must be told that I am loved before I understand it, and I must be shown that I am lovable before I feel it. So this family dynamic of loving each other and constantly turning away from each other when trouble arises- that would cause deep cracks in my foundation, so I know they would in Ben, too.
Children learn how to love and be loved from their family, because they have to be taught how to do it by the first people we know. Ben learns to love from people who bury it, who can’t express it. Being this boy who has a gigantic heart, a deep sensitivity, and a tendency towards deep wells of emotion, this was distressing from the start. This, combined with his great powers, the last heir to an empire, would cause anxiety in anybody; is it any wonder, then, that he grows into a man driven to despair by fear itself?
I am very lucky myself, that I am surrounded by people who love me, and by a support system that helps me know that my fears and my anxieties are just things; I know how to deal with them, more or less, because I’m not alone. When they get magnified, I know how to tackle them and tie them down till they settle. But he—does not have that privilege. From the beginning, he was taught to fear power, to believe that it is something that always corrupts, and that if you have it, you will be unhappy in the end. I believe he has a deep inherent fear that has driven his whole life, a fear that the power he was born with has cursed him.
He has the same feeling I did, that he is somebody who just takes and takes and corrupts. For a person who was made to be driven by love, to be constantly motivated by fear in this way is antithetical to his being. He believes himself to be awful, and so as every person in his family makes him believe that they believe he is irreversibly corrupted, he sinks deeper and deeper into that fear, and it drives him out of the light. He would never have gone to the darkness if he had not loved them so deeply; he would not have hated himself so deeply if he had not trusted them so implicitly. The moment with Luke, even though Luke repents it, drives Ben to the edge; he turns to darkness because he believes there is nothing else he can be. The root of all his hurt is his love for his family, because even if they did not mean it, he interprets their actions as meaning that he is their disappointment, and that belief festers inside of him till it drives him into a cage of fear and despair.
He buries emotion, because that is the thing that was meant to drive him, and it would betray him for who he really is. He turns away from the truth, in the fear it will pull him back into the light, back into love. He believes he does not deserve love or happiness; that he must be a creature of darkness and despair, so he must abandon himself to it. And because he was that sweet boy, full of love and loving, he dedicates himself to the dark. If he hadn’t been such a loving person, he wouldn’t have clung to it so deeply, for so long. His fears become the only thing that matters to him anymore, and life is to him as it was for me; a meaningless waste upon him.
It takes Rey to shake him out of this, for she sits with him in his fear and his despair and she calls him by name. Ben. She finds out the truth of him, and she doesn’t run away from that. What Rey is afraid of, more than anything, is being loved. She has no problem with loving, with understanding. It was all she trained for, all her life. Sitting alone in the desert, she was preparing herself to love people, so for her to meet him was exactly what she wanted, in the end. Their dichotomy is that of two people, one afraid of taking, the other thoughtless with giving. But it’s with Ben that Rey focuses herself; and this shakes him out of himself. No longer is he alone in the dark- now there is someone with him! Who calls him by name, understanding that he is wounded and afraid, knowing that he has done terrible and loving things, and sitting there with him anyway. For the first time in his life, someone has gazed into his soul, and not staggered back in shock. For the first time, somebody loves him, unmoving, unhesitating, right where he is. Not for what he should be, but for exactly what he is.
This is a chiasmic shift for him; suddenly somebody is just as stubborn as he is, and she sees someone lovable in him. He has to grapple with this for a moment, but at the same time it opens back up that well in him, the part of him that wants to give and give. He has to grapple with that truth, the truth that he’s loved, and yet how he believes that there is nothing in him that he can give to begin with, nothing that somebody could love. He has to resolve this inconsistency, but at the same time he starts to try and give to Rey—THIS is what makes her run away. She’s not equipped to dealing with people who give to her; she loves to sit in a place where she is the person in power, giving. To take is an imbalance for Rey; she does not know how to rely, and Ben is perhaps the one person in her life she has ever really relied on. This is what she has to grapple with; with her need to lean on somebody, after a life of standing alone. She doesn’t know how to handle not being alone; not because she doesn’t want it, but because she does so much. This is what she’s running away from.
At the same time, Rey’s running away brings back old demons for Ben; this is the same family dynamic he grew up with, and it breaks his heart all over again. But since Rey is the person that opens up the wells of emotion with him, finally shatters the cracks in his walls, and he for the first time is more outweighed by his love for her than his fear of her. That is why he spends the entirety of TROS chasing around after her; because of who he is, his deep heart is steady and he is constantly telling her to her face that he loves her and that love will never go anywhere. This is a huge act for him; because he has always been taught that love is something silent, something to be buried. For him to shout it in her face, in his way, is an enormously loud act. But it doesn’t yet get to the heart of his hurt, and he has to get to the bottom of that to heal, truly.
His deepest hurt, the one that he built his worst fears off of, is his family. He cannot save himself, because he doesn’t believe that he’s worthy of being saved. They have to save him, all of them. It’s human pride that leads us to believe one person can save somebody. We need God’s love, unmoving and forever faithful, to truly do that. In lieu of that, in Star Wars that translates as Ben’s family. They are the people who taught him to love; so they have to teach him how to come back from the blinding fear. His mother is the first to do it, by calling him by name out of the dark. She gives everything to do it; she literally gave him life, and then gives him her life to help him remember his name, the truth of who he is. I read Leia’s moment of calling Ben as a projection, meaning that she spent her lifeforce to call him by name. Han very literally did this, by reaching out to his son, calling him by name. And Rey is the last to do so, by telling him she wanted to take his hand, Ben’s. It’s more contextually than anything else in these actions that we understand- for Ben to heal, Kylo has to die. Rey kills Kylo; Ben is the one who she heals.
All of this, to hammer home to him; life is a gift, and we’ve given it to you. It’s a good thing that you’re you, that you’re Ben. You’re good, there’s good in you, and we’re sorry you ever felt anything but that. Luke has to tell him that he failed him, by believing Ben was ever truly gone to the dark. It is a good thing to be ourselves, to own what we are. We love you as you are, for all that you are. Come home, Ben Solo. We’re always waiting for you. We’ll never stop loving you. We’re not going anywhere. We love you because you ARE Ben, and nothing could ever change that. Even in the full sway of the darkest impulses of your heart, you are lovely and worthy of love and mercy, and if you can muster strength to take it, it is here for you. We give to you, freely, because we want to. We want you to take this love and life, and rise again, as yourself. Han literally says- it’s not too late. It is never too late to start again, to try anew. Mercy never runs out for us, if we’re willing to take it, to really move on from the pain.
And this- all of this, altogether, wakes Ben up. He dies, and he casts off the chains of fear he was bound to for so long, and rises without them. He sees with clear eyes for the first time in his life; that he is loved, and he is himself, and both those things exist at the same time. He is loved for what and who he is, and he is who he is because he’s loved. And because in the past it was given with wrong intentions, he couldn’t understand that he was loved; he was failed in that way, and it was because of that that he built himself into this frenzy that drove him into the dark. But he is loved, without recompense or fear. His family- Han, Luke, Leia- all love him. So does Rey, even as she’s running off to deal with her own hurt. And he’s not too far gone to be loved; he can be reached by their love still, so he can take that as a lifeline and come back to himself. He finally, finally takes mercy, and accepts it into himself. He casts aside his hurt, and in doing so finally gains that true ability that he was born to do; to give, every drop, just like me.
(It’s what we all need to strive for; that humility to accept help, grace and mercy when we need it, not just when we think we deserve it. The humility to say I want to get better, not just live inside my own shame anymore. The strength to turn towards the light, even when it stings us to.)
Just like that, Ben Solo becomes his full self. All his life, he’s been afraid of living; now he revels in it. It’s been said a thousand times, but it should be said a thousand more: Adam’s acting is truly brilliant and brings this beautiful dimension to what Ben truly is, as he is propelled by his true purpose. He seems magnified by the brilliance of his devotion, his full-on sprint towards Rey. Just like he was given freely to, no shadows or expectations, he wants to give freely of himself. With every bit of his emotion freed from its grave, he runs straight to her, just to stand beside her, just to give all that he has to her. Everyone has always left Rey; he’s the first to come back to her. When Ben is freed of his chains, he has strength beyond anything anybody could have imagined for him; he drags himself literally & figuratively out of the void to hold onto her to the last.
Here is the thing about Ben Solo; when he gives, he has zero reserve. He just pours and pours, every bit down to the last drop. And because all of his family is gone, he does this for Rey. He gives himself to her, truly him, body and soul. In this, his purpose is fulfilled. He’s at peace with that. And so am I.
I had to find hope through this action because of this; this ending does rhyme, because Ben does what neither of the other two protagonists could. He’s able to save the person he loves. Anakin isn’t able to save Padme; Luke couldn’t save his father. They were both saved by those people, by their love, but in the end all of them were separated. The Skywalkers were a story of tragedy, people loving each other and being driven to madness and despair by each other until the bitter end, when they look at each other and realize it was all a mistake. Ben—never does that. He knows that he loves Rey, from the start. He doesn’t grapple with that, because loving was never the hard part for him. It was being loved that he had to struggle with. And he’s at peace with that part now, so now he can love in full force. And because he’s Ben, he does it in a way where nothing is held back. Just like Rey gave him his life back, like his family gave him his name back, he gives his life to her.
It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s happy with that. We shouldn’t live in fear of death, but the fear of an unhappy death. He has given his life to her, so they can never truly be separated, ever. They share a life between the both of them; it’s just that she has to live it for them both. If you’ve been truly loved by somebody, nothing can cast a shadow upon that love, not even the division of death. He will always be with her, loving her. So there is hope in that act- that he could accomplish what he spent his whole life searching for. There’s no more fighting for him; he gets to spend the rest of time, standing beside her, doing what he was born to do- loving her.
He brings peace to this great tragedy of his family, by doing what they could never do. He lets go of his fear, his pride, his selfishness- throws it all away into the sea, and gives everything he is with no recompense. He does his Great Work- he loves, and so he can sleep, now.
I have to tell you that I understand if you can’t come to this same place of peace, that I’ve found, with regards to him. I understand. I wanted him to live, too. I’ve had this strange struggle with life and death, all my life. But now I see, that it’s okay. What I was afraid, more than anything, was that he would never stop hurting. That he would never let go of his fears and his ghosts, and that he would die like that, lonely and desperate. But he didn’t- he did what he needed to, and he set all his hurt down, and all that was inside of him at the end was peace, joy, hope, love.
So that, more than anything, brings peace to me. Because of who I am, because he is me, to see him live out his entire life, and have that grace of a complete work, and the blessing of a happy death- that is hope for me. It’s proof that I may find my own moment at the end of my life, where I let go of my fears and ghosts, and that I’ll be okay. I know now, through him, that I can find my own peace.
He’ll never truly be gone. He’s part of me. Just like that, I carry on. He’s my proof that people like me can be okay; Because more than anything, he understood that life is a gift, and he gave it freely. So I will grow with that, and I’ll be okay, in the end.
#star wars#my meta#long post#you know what! none of this makes sense! that's okay!#it's what's been in my heart for the past month#you don't have to like it- but this is my peace and that's okay too#i should edit this down and i probably will later but here it is as it is#(both maria and i became truly obsessed with the idea of gifts after cate last year huh)
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From the Ashes - Chapter Ten.
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Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Chapter Ten
“Follow my footsteps though this part, it’s rocky but Roach will get her footing if you dismount and lead her through.” Arelle told Geralt as they headed north, the sprite moving on ahead at the kind of speed she was capable of and checking the trails for the safest routes to take through the deeper parts. It wouldn’t be until they reached a little more civilisation that the roads would be ploughed.
On they went, carefully negotiating the way before they saw just that a while later, two huge Shire horses attached to a plough, clearing the route about five miles out of Fenris Morr.
“Do you tire yet?” he asked as she sprang from tree to tree, about a mile into the ploughed routes.
“Not much, why?” she asked, pausing on a branch just above where he was about to ride under.
“Watching all of your bouncy parts bounce for the last couple of hours has put me in the mood to get out of the saddle and into you.” Arelle jumped down from the tree so quickly, he could but laugh quietly as he got down from Roach, leading her under the trees.
He set her off to graze before following where Arelle had moved to, finally finding her in a patch that was so darkened from the canopy above that no snow had fallen. Something definitely had though. “Oh look, all of your clothes mysteriously fell off.” He observed, raising an eyebrow. His tone always remained fairly deadpan, but it was his facial expressions that conveyed his humour.
“I know! I hate it when that happens.” She joked back, his arms sliding around her to grasp her bum as they began to kiss, Arelle squeaking into his mouth when he slapped it a few times. They’d been utterly insatiable for one another since he’d returned to the forest, needing to enjoy one another at least a couple of times a day.
She kissed him ardently, pressing her body against his for warmth as she trembled. Surprising him with her total nakedness was just about a worthy trade, what would follow would definitely be constituted as such. Feeling a hard, hot mass forming against her stomach, she sank down to crouch in front of him, freeing his hard cock into her mouth.
He let out a shuddered breath, fingers stroking through her hair as he watched himself vanish into her throat, whispering ‘fuck’ in exclamation as she slowly dragged her lips back up his length again. A lustful quake rippled his well-defined abdomen when her tongue dragged around the head of his cock, Arelle gently pulling his foreskin back and sucking on him as she locked her eyes on his, moaning softly.
The things this sprite did to him…she drove him utterly out of his mind with desire. To strip off in the middle of winter, in the north, no less, all because she wanted him? He’d never been with a woman who had that kind of daring about her before, but as he was learning, Arelle truly was like no other in a lot of respects. It’s why he was a moth to her flame.
“So, what do you want to do? Bend me over and fuck my tiny little cunt from behind, or pick me up and drop me on your cock? Either way, handsome, I’m going to scream for you.” Then there was when she talked to him like that. She was an absolute temptress, one who enjoyed teasing him within an inch of his sanity. Sprites…they were utter filth.
“I think the latter.” He growled, pulling her up and lifting her to do exactly what she’d suggested, impaling her onto his steely hardness with a satisfied grunt. She tightened her legs around him as he began to lever her up and down, kissing her neck as she panted, hands gripping his armour.
Walking her backwards until she was pressed against the nearest, broad trunked tree, he moved to grip her thighs as he began thundering into her at a voracious pace. Half was out of need, the other because he could feel her excessive trembles were from the fact she was freezing.
This caused her to keep to her word, screaming in ecstasy as he fucked her without pause or reserve, driving every last inch of himself into her wetness savagely as he groaned against her neck. Gripping his shoulders hard, her legs tightened as her inner walls went into spasm around him, her orgasm rushing through her feverishly as he came moments after.
“Arelle?”
“Hmm?”
“Never change.”
She laughed at this request, catching her breath as she kissed him before the cold drove her back into her clothes. Back out on the road, she took to the trees again to be the lookout, able to see so much further from her vantage point almost thirty feet up from the ground.
The road to Fenris Morr was quiet, with them stopping to stay in the village for the night before they continued on to Rhinegaff the following morning. That journey they both took on foot, the snow too deep in places to safely negotiate Roach through, so she got to stay behind in one of the innkeeper’s stables.
They finally arrived in the town at nightfall, managing to find lodgings for the night and meeting up with Davrin, who was drinking with a small group that included the archers Geralt recognised as well as a few women he didn’t. One recognised Arelle though.
“Arelle, it’s been so many years!” she exclaimed, getting up to embrace her warmly. The women had been friends since childhood but since they now lived so far apart, seldom saw one another regularly. Arelle was absolutely overjoyed to see her. Living so remotely, being social with her friends was often a difficult task. This made the times she did extra special.
“It has, Daida. I’m well, how are you? Still the queen’s mage?” she inquired as they sat, Davrin pouring out ale for them both.
“One of them. She has three of us on her counsel, but has sent me out to meet with some fellow mages in an attempt to cease this portal activity we’re facing. We’ve cast enough wards around Fenris Morr to prevent them being able to open here, but up in Rhinegaff it’s shocking. It’s taking so much time to even attempt to secure a city of that size.” Arelle nodded, taking a moment to introduce her to Geralt before their talk continued.
“She’s going to call a public meeting, the queen. I’ve been made privy to some delicate information which I am not to reveal, but she will be doing so tomorrow at her grand halls. All who intend to fight are welcome,” Daida continued, Geralt listening too.
“It sounds like the queen is gearing up for war. What further proof does she have that confirms this?” he asked, Daida shaking her head.
“I cannot say, but yes, she is expecting a war. She’s right to, there’s one coming.” At hearing this he frowned, thinking to himself that it wouldn’t be happening in the first place if she’d actually done a sufficient job all those years ago and had Mardryk’s head for his crimes. Sending him off to Beiklin Island had been a ridiculous solution.
He wasn’t about to reveal such to one of her mages, but he did share his thoughts with Arelle later that night in bed.
“I think from what I’ve been hearing, I must go back on my thoughts that Mardryk was content in his exile. I’m just waiting for it, for them to appear,” he told her, stroking her back as he held her to him.
“Vulc?” He nodded in confirmation. This made her shudder a little, just the thought of the creatures who had decimated her family returning.
A confident archer she may have been, but Arelle had never known battle and faced with the prospect of fighting a beast that made even the most hardened of men – case in point her lover – feel dread, she knew she’d have her work cut out for her. Life was about to get extremely difficult.
“Be confident in your abilities, Arelle. You’re an excellent archer, you’re swift in movement too. You’ll make a formidable opponent, come what may,” he told her. She turned onto her front and kissed him, grateful over his faith in her. It was nice to hear.
“If only we still had the dragons,” she sighed.
“They’d be an intimidating ally, yes.” Years ago, before the Great War, dragons and the fae people had lived harmoniously. The Grey Mountains had even been home to some of the great beasts, before the results of the war made their alliance to one another crumble into bitter resentment, one the likes of which had never truly been resolved.
The sprites were the true companions of the dragons out of all the fae. They’d been the dragon riders for centuries, yet the decisions of Kesrin had completely scuppered such. They were also the only people who could communicate with dragons. Sure, any person could talk to a dragon in the common tongue and the beast would understand, but only sprite ears would hear their reply. To everyone else, it just sounded like quiet growling.
Not that anyone spoke to the dragons these days. They’d gone back to their ancestral home of Dragon Mountains, never to return, too soured by the great loss of lives as well as the deceit they considered Kesrin’s actions to be.
Nilhir the Black, the oldest and hugest dragon of them all had personally vowed to incinerate any sprites who dared ever broach the territory again, so to that day no resolve between sprite or dragon had ever so much as been attempted. Everyone knew Nilhir of old, he was vengeful and full of wrath, his old heart still likely full of sadness that his kin once stretched to over sixty dragons and after the war, just five survived.
They had been brought down from the air, burned alive from the inside by their own fire ignited from spells cast by Mardryk and his dark mages. It was an awful way for such majestic creatures to die. Geralt had witnessed one perish first hand, the beast almost crushing him with his wing on the battlefield as it fell from the sky.
War contained many horrors, all of which he was likely to see again. For that moment though, he busied himself with what was right in front of him, with sublime beauty instead, with someone that made him feel the very opposite of horror.
“Mmmm, again?” Arelle questioned as he turned her over and began kissing her breasts. He didn’t reply in words, but the look she received from his bright amber eyes was all the answer she required.
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God damn, I was right on the cusp of getting better.
I.
this is a
meta for no reason
bad take on myth
sloppy, tie up those loose ends
vignette enjambment
you will atone for!
she dangles a carrot to trap my sins
lure them in like a moth to a flame
when
I really thought I was right on the cusp of getting better
I was once a writer but
I’ve become the monster that wrings a bunny by the neck
just to save its soul
and forget
why
II.
her writing is so smooth if it were skin I’d peel it off of her face and wear it.
she lit a wildfire in Heaven
all of the Angels hated
this mortal poet,
for she picked up God’s pen
as it came to her in a dream
she wasn’t blessed
by the divine but she was still his favorite
until
she wrote what came true in his head
and
Revelations were a nightmare
he poured the ink down her throat and
buried the pen in the deepest pit,
scribbled Hell upon the Earth’s pages
and closed the gate
casted her out for eternity’s sake,
she’d wake cradling darkness in her arms
shooting pain when she saw the stars
but
all she could remember was a white light
she’s right on the cusp of getting better
feeling a familiarity with the equator
but she falls in his trap
and he casts her away again
only to reach the end of the white light,
where
snowflakes
whisper
a unique prayer
taunting her,
here’s your fallen halo from the sky
a puff of smoke,
her tongue on fire
Hell’s first dying ember glows…
III.
I thought I saw her on my windowsill
I think she visits me in my dreams,
like the best nightmare
I couldn’t help but come closer
with those flickering wings,
a rainbow vulture
maybe a hummingbird
or a butterfly
I wanted to singe the edge of my fingertips
and taste the trail of ashes she leaves behind
I heard a voice,
it’s okay to cry my little moth
for your tears give me something to read about
I felt the skin peel away
under my eyelid
and
a drip of darkness
like a teardrop
flowing out of me
a puddle of
sugar water
in mid air
but she disappears
before I take a sip
I am
a scar in progress,
the draft upon her pages with a rabbit's foot on my windowsill
where there’s no such thing as coincidence
her edits re-write
me sinless
sun-kissed
wound me invisible
IV.
falling in my own traps
I’ll banish myself to white walls where Angels in white coats hate to have me back
I am a unique prayer
for I came true,
the moth to her flame
she’s an irresistible pen
and ink with side-effects,
I opened up the Bible to Revelations and
saw my savior in between the lines,
the only God worthy of my sins
I was so close to getting better.
God damn, I nailed myself to the cusp
but penned her instead
of remembering why I resurrected.
some say
if you die with a poem in your head
she pulls your book off the shelf
and reads you for filth
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Heaven Is a City We’ve Been Priced Out Of (Ch 1)
Another death is nothing, but the life he finds in the wake of it means everything.
---
After taking out a target, Bucky just plans on getting home and going from there. Running into heaven in the form of the skinny little slip of Peter Parker was not part of the plan. Doesn't matter now though, Bucky isn't leaving without the mysterious angel in the slums.
AO3 LINK
Warnings: Underweight character (due to poverty), violence, drowning, mentions of drugs (no usage), and possessive behavior.
The ones like this. The slow ones. They were one of the few times he truly felt something other than indifference. One of the few times he felt pity. As the grimy little thing seized in his hands some part of him, the once human part, hoped that this was a release. A sad, painful life this thing had lived, it was written in it’s skin. The dirt, the leathery hide, the wrinkles, all signs of a poorly lived life. A series of mistakes that lead it to Bucky’s hands to die, drowned in less than a foot of water as he held its face submerged in a bucket by the neck. Sinking it would have been too obvious, holding it in the river itself too loud. So he sat here, stiff as steel, unflinching as he felt the body desperately suck in water looking for air. Pained gurgling that had made lesser men empty their stomachs. Thought he could hear the lungs sloshing.
It gave one final kick and slumped. Bucky held it there a few moments longer, making sure the deed was well and truly done. He let go and the bucket slipped, the homeless man slumped to the ground, now drenched in water. Bucky’s arms covered in scratches which had bled under the dead man’s fingernails. He dragged the body towards the river. The yawning void of night swallowing the scene, a bad part of town where predators lesser than him lurked. No one would see the man who had to die. The man who had stumbled in on a Family dealing, a deal meant to be so secret not even Bucky knew the details. Why they had sent their top enforcer made sense in that light, even if the man was an easy kill, failure was too dangerous to risk.
Bucky silently slid the man into the water. Waded in, washed under the man’s nails to remove evidence of his existence. Scooped mud from the bed of the river to redirty them. He went out till he was chest-deep, rolled the body in the water to ensure nothing was dry. Let the body settle face down before pushing it out into the current, watched as the mass of tattered cloth was whisked away in the turbulent, black water.
He got out, stripped his wet clothes off and threw them, wrapped in a plastic bag, into the ratty backpack he had brought. Put on beat-up jeans and an old T-shirt, a well-worn coat and barely held together shoes. Picked up the various ‘valuable’ trash he had originally put in the bucket before setting off. The last article of clothing dawned, an old blue baseball cap.
The quickest way back was through the tent city he had originally come through. He retraced his steps, the man in the river already forgotten, just another body that marked him a killer. It seemed as though those within the homeless encampment knew that as well, the dirt paths between the cluttered tents strangely empty. Prey could always sense the proximity of a predator it seemed.
He was studying a strange sculpture in front of one of the tents when he walked into something. The clattering of cans and the short point of contact led him to believe it had been a garbage can until he heard a high “I’m sorry!”
He was going to ignore it, keep walking and leave the rat to scuttle amongst its filth when he caught a flash of the boy in front of him. The kid could barely have been older than eighteen. Big doe eyes and wild oaken curls, milk-white skin hidden underneath dirt and poverty. For the second time that night he felt. This time it wasn’t pity, there was certainly sadness but this feeling… it warmed him. His very bones sang with the image of divine beauty before him. The dim street lights in the distance seemed to build a hazy halo and for a second Bucky wondered if he had truly found an angel. It seemed as though God had a cruel sense of humor to place such beauty before him after he had smothered a helpless soul only twenty minutes before. He wanted to reach out, feel divinity on a carnal level. He wanted to-
“I’m so sorry sir!” The sweet bell of the angel’s voice brought him back to reality. To the fact that the angel was kneeling in the dirt at his feet, scrambling for cans that had been dropped and scattered. No place for a being of heaven.
He crouched down and helped pick up the trash, placing it in a plastic grocery bag where the others that had been retrieved sat. “It’s alright, shoulda been lookin’ where I was goin.”
They picked up the rest of the cans in strangely comfortable silence, though Bucky wished to hear his voice once again.
“Ah, thank you for helping me. Most people would have either taken them or kept walking. I really appreciate it.” The kid looked up at him. Those honey brown eyes melting his heart, their gaze saying so much more than his words could.
“Of course, seems rude to walk away when you were in need’a help.” As though he hadn’t been planning on just that.
“Still, thank you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around? Are you new here?” Those sweet eyes blinked at him, curious as they melted through every wall he’d ever put up.
“Yeah, just came to this part of the city, didn’t know it existed before.” Not a complete lie, though Bucky had never been one to care about the morality of such a thing. Yet, lying to this man more than needed made him feel off kilter, like there was something wrong about it here and now.
“Oh, yeah, most people don’t know about it. They don’t want to think about us, sadly it’s easier to forget than try to fix it.” The kid stood up. Bucky mirrored him, never taking his eyes off him. “I’m Peter by the way.” A frail, bone-thin hand reached out towards him.
Bucky saw that hand and it was like he’d been slapped across the face with it. Suddenly the sallow body before him came into focus, the beauty still fiercely present but a sickness hid behind it. Something in him broke at the sight, a protective instinct he didn’t know had been living buried under his skin ripped through him. He took that hand ever so gently, wanted to cradle it between both of his own but refrained. His closed fist swallowed that tiny hand. He could feel every knob, every knuckle, bone, and tendon shifting under that paper-thin skin. He didn’t dare squeeze, terrified he would shatter it. “Bucky, pleasure to meet you.”
Peter blushed and it stoked a fire inside of Bucky, the flare of pink bringing life back into that now too pale looking skin. Bucky had to resist every instinct to consume the angelic little thing as Peter politely pulled his hand away.
“Well Bucky, I know it’s a bit late but would you like to come by my tent? I don’t have much but I’d like to treat you to a snack if you’d be willing.” The kid wouldn’t make eye contact, glanced away. Bucky wanted to hear him say his name again, wanted to hear it whispered in his ear between gasped breaths and screamed as he slotted himself inside Peter’s body.
“Course, doll. Lead the way.” He gestured absently with his hand towards the dirt path.
Peter strode ahead, so trusting as he left Bucky at his back. It made the hunger grow. In his world, trust was everything, to have it so easily given made him want to know more. Made him want to keep Peter and all his innocent trust to himself.
The journey took longer than he expected. Peter’s tent seemed to be on the very edge of the encampment, a fact that set off alarm bells in Bucky’s head. The farther his tent was from the center the more likely he was to be attacked and harmed. Such a frail thing would be easily overpowered and wounded. It triggered a rolling swell in his gut, a muted anger that these people would leave someone so vulnerable on the outskirts in a place set up to provide safety in numbers. That anger only bloomed into a simmering rage when he realized Peter had a limp. He’d seen enough of them to know it, even as Peter clearly tried to hide it. It wasn’t an old knee injury-induced one, Bucky had seen enough busted knee caps to know it. No, this limp was from a hip injury, how it occurred was beyond him but that fact was as clear as day.
Peter brought him to a dark green tent that had seen far better days. It had been patched with duct tape, plastic bags, and even small strips of cloth. It was filled with numerous holes too small to bother patching up, that said, there were spots where the fabric puckered from being sewn together. This tent was old, older than Peter. Pointed to the fact that even amongst the homeless this boy was at the bottom rungs of poor, barely sitting above those without tents. Peter stopped in front of the zipped up entrance and faced Bucky.
“There isn’t much but it’s mine. It’s meant for four people but it might still be a little tight. You’re a lot… broader than I am so I don’t know, hopefully it’s not too small.” Peter gave a nervous smile, like he was trying to make Bucky comfortable with all this.
He wasn’t, but not in the way he knew the boy was worried about. “I’m sure it’s lovely doll, don’t be nervous for my sake. I can promise I’ve seen worse things.” Far worse. Terrible, terrible things.
That blush popped back up again, warmed Bucky up once again only to be doused by a bucket of ice water. Peter opened the tent, inside was almost harder to see than the outside. A pile of bags filled with cans sat in one corner, waiting to be recycled for change. A small pile of food, barely worthy of being called a pile as it consisted of a few cans and a plastic tray of cookies, all carefully taken care of and clean despite the dirt that seemed to cling to his skin. Ratty blankets took up a third of the floor space, all threadbare and providing a poor illusion of being better than sleeping on dirt. Each detail chipped away as his cold heart, somehow thawed out by this angel disguised as a wretch. It should have been frightening, to become so attached so quickly, to want to protect this being with every fiber of his own. It was foreign, completely alien to Bucky but in a way, it grounded him. Just the short time he’d already been around Peter made things feel sharper and brought him into the present. Like he had been dissociating, barely within himself all this time and Peter was a light sent to return him home. Bucky had never been a religious man but in this moment he felt as if Peter may be something beyond human, a gift sent specifically to pull at Bucky and make him feel.
Peter took off his shoes, beat to hell red converse that were held together by hope and tape. It was such a domestic and ingrained activity, yet strange to see in this context. Slapped Bucky across the face as once again he was forced to acknowledge that this hovel was Peter’s home and had been for god knows how long. Bucky set the bucket he’d been carrying outside and slipped his own shoes off, seeing how clean the floor of the tent was earnestly kept.
“You can bring your shoes in, just stick them by the entrance. Some people will take anything not nailed down.” Peter said it jokingly but it only made Bucky wonder if the sparse belongings were because of someone following exactly that code.
“I have cookies, they’re fudge stripes! I got them a few days ago, this nice old lady offered to buy me a snack. I… probably should have asked for something a little more substantial but I couldn’t resist. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sweets.” There was a distinctly sad note to Peter’s voice. Bucky hated it, never wanted to hear it again. Too permeated by sadness already.
“Doesn’t hurt to enjoy the little things.” Not that he got to enjoy much of anything.
“Well, I’m glad I have them at least. It’s a bit harder to share stuff from a can. My spoon broke so I just kind of drink out of them. I don’t think you’d appreciate swapping germs with a random stranger all that much.” Peter smiled as he opened the tray of cookies, slid out the plastic holder, and held it out to Bucky.
Bucky tried not to think about how he wanted to do a lot more than just swap germs with Peter. But, he was a man of control, and even though this slip of a thing was working his way under Bucky’s skin in the most pleasant of ways, it didn’t suddenly void his training. He took two cookies after Peter encouraged him to take more than one.
“So, Peter… How long have you lived out here?” Took a bite of the cookie, hated the taste of over-processed flour and cheap chocolate but was willing to put up with it when Peter beamed. He seemed to take pride in being able to give despite having so little.
“Oh, here specifically it’s been about six months but I’ve been homeless for about a year total.” Peter was shoving a cookie in his mouth as he rustled around in the blankets, looking for something. Bucky zeroed in, watching as even with this helpless one he could not break the need to be on guard.
“And how’d you end up homeless, kid?”
Peter stopped and looked at him. “I know that there are a lot of stereotypes out there but it wasn’t drugs if that’s what you’re thinking,” he resumed looking, found his prize in the form of a small box of cigarettes. Bucky couldn’t help but note the irony. “I lost my aunt and uncle in an accident. I lived with them for most of my life after my parents passed. They didn't have life insurance so I was on my own. Had to sell everything to pay off their debts and then my hips were crushed in a car accident three months later. I lost my job and all the insurance payouts went to medical bills because I didn’t have health insurance. Seems like insurance is the root of all evil in my stories,” He laughed and offered Bucky the box of paper wrapped nicotine. He explained when Bucky shot him a look. “I don’t smoke but they’re good for trading. You said you were new to this whole thing so I thought it might help you out some to have these.”
Fuck, fuck, this god damn kid. He couldn’t leave him here. Couldn’t let such a sweet soul rot out here in slums of the city. Bucky’s world may be dark but at least it isn’t this. At least there is food and a bed. At least every moment wasn’t trying to survive solely on chance and the kindness of others, however rare it may be. Could be yours. You could keep him safe, an angel all your own. He doesn’t have to say yes… A voice whispered in the back of his mind, dark not like his own but… persuasive.
“Peter, you don’t have to give me those… I’m not homeless, I was just passin’ through. Was headin’ to my car just on the other side of all this.”
Peter wilted, set the pack of smokes off to the side. “Oh, I’m sorry for assuming. People just don’t usually come through here unless they are.”
Bucky gently caught Peter’s hands, startling them both. “Peter, let me take you home. Let me treat you right. You shouldn’t be out here, let me take care of you.” Knew he sounded crazy, could see it in Peter’s eyes.
“Bucky… that’s really kind of you but…” I don’t know you; know if you’re safe to go with. Peter didn’t say it but Bucky could hear it.
The same voice whispered to him, telling him to just go the easy route, pick up the kid and leave. No one would notice but… Seeing him wilt like that just from Bucky rejecting the cigarettes told him all he needed to know. The beauty on the outside was alluring but the peaking light of his personality was something he wanted, needed. He wouldn’t risk destroying that, not now.
Bucky reached into his back pocket and flicked open a pocket knife, held it out by the blade to Peter, didn’t miss him flinch. “I know I’m askin’ a lot here, doll. Can’t have trust without earnin’ it. If you don’t feel safe then you can take a stab at me.” Covering the blade he set his fist lightly just below his ribs. “Just take a shot here, blade isn’t long enough to kill me but it’ll still hurt like a bitch.” He held it out again, this time a little closer to Peter. Let the knife rest on his open palm this time.
Peter picked it up very carefully. The knife was carbon black all over and the blade about as long as his pointer finger. Bucky used it for a variety of things. It wasn’t a great weapon but it was reasonable for someone on the street to casually have. Even if Peter tried to stab him, he didn’t have the training to do much damage, and Bucky could easily stop him before it plunged through his skin. No, this was about proving something. Showed that Bucky was willing to give this stranger a weapon to defend himself to prove he meant no harm, risking his own hide if Peter ended up being the “dangerous” one here.
Peter looked up at him out of those doe eyes, so large in his hunger ridden face. “Okay, I’ll go with you, but only for tonight.”
Bucky wanted to laugh, Peter wasn’t leaving tomorrow. He’d go the peaceful route first, certainly, but Peter had sealed his fate by taking the knife.
Bucky shuffled out of the tent. “Let’s go. It’s gettin’ late and we’re gonna have to run through somewhere and pick up food. I’ll have groceries delivered tomorrow, you can tell me what you like and I’ll make sure it’s in the pantry.” He could feel Peter’s need to protest, wanted to grin when it didn’t come. The temptation already enough to stifle complaint.
He slipped on his shoes, picked up the bucket, and held out his hand to Peter. The young man gave it a suspicious glance before gently taking it. Bucky did let himself smile this time, happy to have this tiniest of surrenders. His car was only a few minutes away but he had a feeling Peter would grow tired. The hand not only a warming point of contact but a way for Bucky to assess Peter’s exhaustion.
“Come on, sugar. Car isn’t terribly far. Food and shower seem like priorities right about now so we’ll go somewhere quick. Any preferences?” Bucky wasn’t normally a talker, in fact, the amount he’d spoken in the last twenty minutes was more than he had willingly in the last four months. Something about the kid made him chatty, made him want to run his mouth just to see how Peter would react to every word.
“Um, just something warm.” Peter squeezed Bucky’s hand for stability as they clambered over uneven ground. Peter had closed the knife and was holding it in his other hand, not quite relaxed but not strung tight. “I’ll really eat anything, it’s just cold and I think something warm would help.”
The word ‘cold’ pinged in Bucky’s mind as he realized that yes, it was. Things like that didn’t normally come up on his radar, weather was one of those things that just was so he was inclined to ignore it. He only ever considered it when he needed to dress appropriately to blend in. He slowed for a second and slipped his hand from Peter’s to remove his coat, handing it off to Peter.
“Bucky, you don’t have to give me your coat. It’s cold and you’re already doing so much-”
“I’ll live, cold doesn’t bother me much and you need the insulation.”
Peter looked like he wanted to protest, and seemed about to. Bucky cut him off by taking the coat back briefly so he could drape it across the smaller’s shoulders. He picked Peter’s hand back up and went back to their march towards the car, charmed briefly by Peter’s childish huff as he followed Bucky’s lead.
It didn’t take all that long. The car came into view, exactly where he left it. It was a painfully dull car, one of the various work vehicles the Family had on hand that he was given to use. The license plates were regularly swapped and all under false identities just in case it was ever linked to a scene. It was a perfectly serviceable car, which was why Bucky didn’t think about the challenge it might pose for Peter’s injured hip.
Bucky unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Peter, who stood there staring at it. He naturally read it as hesitation, Peter possibly reconsidering.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Ready to catch him if he ran or lunged.
“Yeah, um, I- I can’t crouch that far without… without my hip locking up and falling.” Clearly embarrassed to admit, refusing to look at Bucky.
Relief. “Oh, doll, I’ll help you. Come ‘ere.” He gently maneuvered the smaller man so his back was against the open door frame. “Put your ‘ands on my shoulders and I’ll lower you down.” The ‘h’s disappearing in the softness of his accented voice.
Peter complied, held on tight as Bucky bent his knees and braced Peter with an arm just below his rear and a hand on his lower back. Bucky had lifted and lowered enough bodies to know it needed to all be in the knees as he crouched to help Peter down. Nearly purring as those arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him as Peter was guided down into the seat.
“Thank you, Bucky.” Peter withdrew, not in fear but merely to situate himself, buckle in.
“Anytime.” Shut the door carefully and moved around the other side, scanning the area for anything abnormal, anything he should worry himself with. Nothing but the empty night looked back at him. He dumped the trash in the bucket into the bin in front of his car where he’d found it and stuck it in the back seat as he climbed into the driver seat.
Peter had his hands folded in his lap. The knife still closed and now resting between his clamped thighs. Bucky wanted to reach over and feel the soft muscle giving under his hand, to pet at the pretty thing next to him. Instead, he jammed the key into the ignition and listened as it hummed to life. Pulled away into the night without looking back, for the first time bringing back a life where he should have left death and death alone.
#siliqua writes#winterspider#bucky barnes#peter parker#peter parker x bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#hitman!bucky#homeless!peter#bucky is real sweet on this kid#will i ever write something other than winterspider?#god only knows#one day ill write s'tucky like I promised#but today is not that day
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