#but he is the Only Man who i will ever be able to come up with other words for
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Based on this ask
Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader
WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy
You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.
Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.
So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.
The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.
So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.
Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.
“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”
“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”
“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.
“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”
But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves
Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.
And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.
“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.
Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”
“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”
“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.
Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.
“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”
You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.
And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.
For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.
Before or after you said I do.
But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.
Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.
An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.
No…
“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.
“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.
The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.
Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.
Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.
And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.
You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.
Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.
Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.
You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.
“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.
Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.
“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”
“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.
“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.
“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.
His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.
“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.
You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.
Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.
“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.
Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.
“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”
Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.
“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.
Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.
“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”
“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.
“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.
If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.
Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”
You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.
“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.
Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.
Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.
Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.
“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.
Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.
Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?
“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.
Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”
“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.
Moments that are very precious to both of you.
A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.
It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.
Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.
Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.
Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.
Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.
To Coriolanus’ baby.
Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.
Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.
And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.
“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.
The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.
“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.
Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”
“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.
“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.
“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.
Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.
Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.
After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.
“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.
“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”
Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”
A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”
Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.
Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.
“Cassian Xandros.”
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Building Each Other Up Pt. 2
Read Pt. 1 here.
Mark's POV
"Fuckkk," I muttered, flexing and feeling up my body and arms. The sensation of Shane being expelled from me, while surprising, actually felt really good—almost like a mental-only orgasm.
Shane, now in my body, was still sitting on the floor, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes. I took a moment to take it all in, before finally looking down at him.
"Shane, you okay?" I asked. “Or should I call you Mark now?” I said with a smile.
He blinked a few times, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, his voice—my voice—definitely a bit angry.
"I don't know, man. This is new for me too. I guess... I guess I pushed you out. Are you alright?" I said.
"No! Dude, what the fuck, why wouldn’t you get out?"
I raised my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to stay that long. I was just having such a good time training, and I wanted to help you out."
His eyes narrowed, frustration evident in his tone. "Well, that fucking sucked to be trapped inside my head for that long.”
"I know, I know," I said, my voice earnest. "I'm really sorry. I got carried away. It won't happen again."
"Okay, do we have any more of the potion on hand? Is that all we need to swap back, you think?" Shane asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Wait, wait, hold on," I said quickly. "You're out now. Why don't we just stay like this for a little bit? I'll keep training in your body, and you can actually enjoy the time off rather than just being locked in your head."
He looked at me, still clearly annoyed but weighing his options. To swap back, he knew he would need to jump into my body and go through that whole process again. And who knows if he’d be able to actually force me out of this sexy body if I didn’t want to leave?
Shane sighed, running a hand through his—my—hair. "Okay," he relented. "But just a few days. And you better not pull any more stunts."
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Scout's honor. Just a few days, I promise. And I’ll keep pushing hard at the gym to make sure you're in the best shape possible for the competition."
Before he could change his mind, I left the gym and walked out to my car and quickly took a few selfies.
---
The next night, I invited Ali over. It had been over a week since we’d last met up, and I was excited to be able to fuck him without Shane being there—it felt more intimate.
I wasn’t entirely sure how Shane felt about the sex part of the arrangement. Usually, if I even hinted at the idea of hooking up with a guy, he’d retreat into his subconscious and not be a part of it. He didn’t have a problem with me doing it per se. I mean how could he, it was his idea first. But I just think he found the whole thing a bit weird to not be in control of. I kind of got off on that back in the day, but I respect that he doesn’t.
But now, this was going to be the third time I’d hooked up with Ali. Maybe Shane would have a problem with me hooking up with the same guy so consistently—he probably wouldn’t want to give Ali the wrong ideas about this body.
Well, the good thing at least is that I’ve only really been messaging Ali on Grindr so far. I had made a profile using Shane’s pics on my own phone so that I could keep the fun going even when I was out of it. I made sure to have a secret backlog of photos too. All that to say, there’s not a huge risk of Shane finding out.
When the doorbell rang, I opened the door to see Ali standing there, looking hotter than ever in his tank top, beads of sweat still glistening from his workout. I could tell he had come straight from the gym, and the sight of his toned muscles and confident stride sent a jolt of excitement through me.
"Hey," he greeted me with a warm smile as he stepped inside. "You look great."
"Thanks, you too," I replied, my eyes drinking in the sight of his fit, athletic body.
We made our way to the living room, and as we settled in, Ali turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, I was thinking... how about we go on an actual date tonight instead of jumping straight into the hookup?"
I was taken aback. A date? I couldn’t remember the last time I went on a no-kidding date. Usually, the hot bottoms Ali’s age didn’t give my old body that kind of chance. I was more just a fun older fantasy for them—a quick, no-strings-attached daddy thrill.
"An actual date?" I repeated, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.
I hesitated for a moment, processing the words before saying, "Sure, why not? I’d like that."
We went downtown to a movie theater and watched the latest superhero movie. The place was packed, but we managed to get good seats near the back. About halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet moment, Ali reached over and gently took my hand in his. I glanced over at him, and he gave me a shy smile. Sure we had already fucked, but something about the innocence of the gesture made my heart race.
Later, as the movie progressed, I decided to make a move of my own. I shifted my hand from his and placed it on his muscular thigh, rubbing it up and down. My large hand practically swallowed his thigh, making it look small in comparison. Ali turned to me and grinned, biting his lip.
When the credits rolled and the lights came up, we both stood and stretched, exchanging amused looks as we mimicked the superhero poses we’d just seen on screen. Damn that tank top left nothing to be desired as he flexed his biceps for me.
As we walked back to his place, we joked the whole way there.
"Damn, you're really funny," I said, nudging him playfully with my elbow.
"Thanks," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "I try."
When we reached his apartment building, I turned to him, feeling a bit reluctant to end the night. "I had a really nice time tonight. I really want to do this again sometime."
"Oh yeah, me too," Ali said with a grin. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "But we aren't done yet." He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him up to his apartment.
I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him inside. His apartment was cozy and stylish, and filled with cool travel memorabilia.
"So, what now?" I asked, leaning in closer.
Ali smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, we could start by picking up where we left off in the theater."
I didn’t need any more encouragement. I leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
We have a seat on the couch, and Ali wastes no time straddling me. I grab both sides of his waist, guiding him as he grinds on me through our clothes. The friction is intoxicating, and I can feel my dick getting hard, pressing insistently against my jeans.
Ali's hands are all over my pecs, exploring the firm muscles beneath my shirt. "Take it off," he whispers, lifting the fabric and tossing it aside. "Flex for me."
I oblige quickly, flexing my chest muscles, watching his eyes light up with desire. He leans in, moving to the side to lick my hairy pits. He moans, "God, you smell so good."
I grab the back of his head, holding him there with a firm but reassuring grip. The sensation of his tongue against my skin is electric, sending shivers down my spine. Eventually, he lifts his head, his eyes glazed with lust. He stands up, strips down in front of me, and straddles my waist again. This time, he’s naked, and he starts rubbing his hard cock between my pecs.
The feel of his smooth skin and the sight of his cock sliding between my pecs almost makes me lose control right then and there. I’m already on the edge, and I haven’t even entered him yet.
Ali takes off my pants, his fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls them down. He positions himself over my cock, looking down at me with a mix of anticipation and desire.
"You ready, cutie?" I ask, my voice low and husky.
"Yes, sir," he replies, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Good boy," I tell him as he slowly starts to sit, taking in all of my manhood. The tightness and heat around my cock are almost too much to bear. He moves at his own pace, adjusting to my size, and I can see the concentration and pleasure on his face.
He finally settles down completely, and we both let out a groan of satisfaction. I grip his hips firmly, guiding his movements as he starts to ride me. The rhythm builds slowly at first, then faster, more urgent.
"Fuck, you feel so good," I murmur, my hands roaming over his body, caressing his skin.
Ali's hands are braced on my chest, his fingers digging into my muscles as he rides me. "You too, sir," he gasps, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Soooooo fucking good."
I thrust up into him, meeting his movements with powerful strokes. The intensity of the connection between us is overwhelming, and I know I won’t last much longer.
"Come for me," I urge him, my voice rough with need. "Come on, boy."
With a cry, Ali's body tenses, and he spills his load over my chest. The sight and feel of him coming is enough to push me over the edge, and I climax inside him, filling him with everything I’ve got.
We collapse together on the couch, breathing hard and spent. Ali rests his head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
"That was amazing," he says after a moment, his voice soft and content.
"Yeah, it was," I agree, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You were incredible."
He looks up at me with a smile. "So, when can we do this again?"
"Anytime you want," I reply, feeling a rush of happiness. "Anytime you want."
To be continued…
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I Don't Wanna Keep Secrets Just To Keep You
Part Three of Time, Wondrous Time
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3
Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.
Chapter summary: You come to terms with your feelings for Cooper. Later, you share an intimate moment at The Man From Deadhorse cast party.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied and wears a dress + makeup, unspecified age gap, jealousy, drinking, dub con/consent under the influence, !!! sweaty Cooper !!!, hair pulling (Cooper’s), oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, cum swallowing, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart), angst, no use of y/n
That one fateful night led you headfirst into a secret affair. The first night could’ve been nothing but a fluke, a one-time slip-up as a result of a poor decision. But it’s really the second time that confirms the undeniable attraction you two have for one another. The affair lasts through the rest of the shoot. You fall into a routine of getting together at night after the workday is done, always in his trailer and never on weekends. It always ends with you two lying with each other, talking about life. He shares his misgivings about his wife and her job at Vault-Tec. He’s a paranoid man but based on what he told you, you can’t blame him.
As the end of shooting draws near, you form a pit in your stomach. A sense of dread and longing looms over you. What if you never have nights like these again? What if this is your first and last production working with Cooper Howard? And now that the end is in sight, you realize you have a serious problem…
You’re head over heels in love with him. It’s driving you crazy, craving a man who will never truly be yours. You want more than just his midnights. You want his mornings, his weekends– you want him all the time. In the countless nights you’ve spent with him in his trailer, he’s shown you colors you’ve never seen before. It makes you sick, thinking about the hold he has on you.
But you wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.
-
It’s the last day of the shoot. These past couple of months have flown by. You thought by now you’d be upset to lose your sense of community. But the truth is, you never felt like you were fully integrated into this environment. You joined the crew about halfway through the production when there were already pockets of established groups and cliques. It’s ironic to think about, the leading man being the only person to welcome you with open arms. You never expected him to even give you the time of day and yet here you are, sharing secrets under the cover of night, sweaty limbs intertwined paired with labored breaths. Those nights were fleeting moments of bliss. You wish you had appreciated them a bit more. And now that the shoot is wrapping up, you’re not sure when you’ll ever get moments like that again.
After a long, hot, tiring day, Emil finally calls wrap. Everyone is packing up when Emil calls everyone for an announcement.
“I know it’s been a long day and you all want to get home to your families but I just have an announcement I’d like to make,” Emil says. “This has been a long shoot, a lot longer than I intended it to be, and to celebrate I’m having a party for the cast and crew Saturday night at seven. If you need my address, find me before you leave. Thanks, everyone!”
A party for the cast and crew.
You get butterflies in your stomach, thinking about the possibility of seeing Cooper outside of the studio. You can only assume Barb will be there, too. But it’s worth hearing his voice and seeing his smile, at least one more time. Saturday can’t come soon enough.
You make sure to get Emil’s address before hanging back like you always do. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see Cooper in his trailer again. You can only hope since it’s the last day. But you’ve never talked about what will happen to you now that the shoot’s wrapped up. A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that your relationship will end after tonight.
You wander aimlessly while you wait for Cooper, reminiscing on your time here and most importantly with him. You turn and glance over your shoulder, watching as Cooper walks towards you, out of costume and in his regular clothes. You smile when you see him but he doesn’t match yours, his mouth forms into a tight frown.
“Everything alright?” you ask as he approaches you.
“I can’t stay tonight.”
“No worries,” you lie, already fighting the urge to cry.
“Something came up with Janey.”
“I hope everything’s okay.”
“It’ll be fine. She’s just sick and Barb has some big meeting with the executives at Vault-Tec tonight. Babysitter’s not available on short notice.”
“Sounds important.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday, sweetheart,” he says, turning and walking away.
“You’re going?!”
“Of course I am!” he calls over his shoulder, walking to the parking lot.
So much for one last time together.
-
The shoot wrapped up on a Thursday so luckily you only had to wait a day before Saturday rolled around. After spending an exorbitant amount of time on your makeup and outfit, you head to Emil’s house. You’re wearing one of your favorite dresses, a color that compliments your skin and hugs your body in all the right places. You pull up to Emil’s house, a huge mansion in the hills, overwhelmed at the sheer size of it but also expecting nothing less from him.
His house is packed with everyone from the studio, letting loose over cocktails and cigarettes. For a minute, you feel like a deer in headlights, anxious about who to talk to and where to hang out. You spot Cooper across the living room, talking with a group of people you recognize. But you’re not comfortable enough to go over there and insert yourself in the conversation. To your delight, Barb isn’t with him. But before you get too excited, you remind yourself she could be elsewhere in the house.
You get a drink from the wait staff in the kitchen and hang out in the corner of the living room, sipping your drink and awkwardly waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in. But you’re pulled from your pining when a man approaches you, drink in hand and wearing an uneasy smile. You vaguely recognize him. You’ve seen him around on set but you couldn’t place his name or what he does at the studio.
“Hi,” he says, awkwardly.
“Hi.”
“I’ve seen you around on set.”
“Likewise.”
“I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Dan,” he says, holding out his hand.
You reluctantly shake his hand and tell him your name, letting an uncomfortable silence fall between you two.
“Actually, I… I wanted to tell you something else.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, and I…”
What’s he saying turns into white noise as your gaze fixates on Cooper again. To your surprise, Cooper’s looking right at you with his jaw clenched. Could he possibly be… jealous?
You look back at Dan who’s silent, waiting for your response. You blink a few times and say, “That’s sweet of you. But I’m not looking for anything right now.”
He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, you say, “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need some air.”
You push past him and make a beeline for the glass door across the living room. But before you can step outside, Emil stops you.
“Hey! I just wanted to give you something,” he says, setting his drink down on a shelf and reaching inside his pocket. He pulls out a small envelope and continues, “Open this when you’re alone later.”
“Thanks,” you say, taking the envelope from him and putting it in your purse.
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m okay. I just need some air. Thanks, Emil,” you respond, sliding past him.
You head into the backyard, sitting on a lawn chair by Emil’s pool. The prospect of another man confessing his attraction to you just sends you further into Cooper’s arms, confirming how badly you want to be exclusive with him already. But you also wonder what could possibly be in that envelope Emil gave you. You go to open it but a voice stops you, an unmistakable voice.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
You look up at him as he places a hand on your shoulder. He’s wearing concern all over his face.
“That guy wasn’t bothering you, was he?”
“No,” you shake your head. “It’s just a little overwhelming in there.”
“What do you say we go somewhere more private?”
“Where?”
He gestures across the pool with his head. You glance in that direction and spot a pool house, turning and looking at Cooper again with a smirk on your face.
“You go first. I’ll meet you there.”
“Is Barb here?”
“Nope. She’s at a Vault-Tec dinner.”
Perfect.
You walk over to the pool house, creeping the door open and poking your head inside, just to make sure no one’s inside. It’s bigger than it looks on the outside. You opt to turn on a lamp rather than the main overhead light. You don’t want to draw any extra attention. A large sectional sits in the middle of the room, complete with a bar cart at its side. You toss your purse on the couch and turn to peek into the bathroom, finding a full-blown sauna.
Cooper joins you and closes the door to the pool house, putting a hand on the small of your back.
“Impressed?”
“Uhh, yeah. This is wild.”
“Wanna use it?”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” he says, turning up the dial.
He starts taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Before you get undressed you ask, “Are we going to get in trouble?”
“Hell no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would you stop worrying so much?” he says, hands gravitating to your waist and pulling you close. He leans in and whispers in your ear, “Strip for me. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” you breathe, turning around so he can unzip your dress. You peel off your clothes and kick off your shoes as the small wooden room heats up. A warm, earthy scent fills your senses. You look at him, his belt undone and his pants hanging low on his hips.
“You’re gorgeous… But I’m sure you’re sick of me tellin’ you that all the time.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ll never get used to it,” you say, sitting on the bench.
He gets down on his knees, pulling your thighs apart with his hands. Without warning, he dives face-first into your cunt, licking one long, slow trail up your entrance. A shiver runs down your spine as you take a deep breath, the woodsy aroma filling your lungs. You look down at him and find him staring directly at you. His tongue swirls around your pussy before he latches his mouth onto your clit, sucking with more and more pressure. He moans into you as he works you up to the edge. You reach between your legs and run your hand through his hair, gripping his locks as you teeter on the brink of orgasm. You tug on his hair every time his tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s already slick with sweat, forehead glistening in between your legs. Your moans and whimpers grow louder and stronger, coming out as choked-up sobs as he pushes you over the edge. Waves of pleasure wash over you, your cunt clenching around nothing while your thighs close around his head. He laps up the remnants of your release before sitting on the bench next to you, swiping his fingers across his jaw to collect the rest of your spend and popping them in his mouth.
You trade places with him, sinking to the floor on your knees. One of your hands cups his balls as the other wraps around the base of his already hard cock. You waste no time taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock over and over again. He throws his head back and curses under his breath, bringing a hand to your face and caressing your cheek. You flash your eyes up at him, watching him go crazy for you. His jaw is slack and his pupils are wide, adoration written all over his face.
Just when you think he’s going to cum, he grabs your face and pulls his cock out of your mouth, “Not so fast.”
You stand up and turn around so your back is facing him, taking it upon yourself to sit on his cock. He curses again, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with your nipples as you bounce up and down.
“Such a good girl. Bouncing up and down on my cock like a fuckin’ angel.”
“Only for you.”
“That’s right,” he responds, letting one of his hands leave your waist to deliver a swift slap on your ass.
Between bouncing yourself on his cock and grinding your hips back and forth, you’re well on your way to your second orgasm. Your wetness seeps out of you and coats his lap, making it easier to grind against his lap. With one last motion of your hips, you cum around his cock, feeling truly full. You lean back against his chest, both of your bodies hot and drenched with sweat. Aftershocks of your orgasm rip through you, making you shudder. His hands roam up and down your body, leaving no part of you ignored. But he can only hold off his orgasm for so long. He grabs your hips and coaxes you to get up, ordering you to get on your knees again.
“On your knees, sweetheart.”
You face him with your mouth open, tongue sticking out as he strokes himself. Soon enough, he’s coming into your mouth with a guttural moan. You swallow his release before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You crawl into his lap and wrap yourself around him, always listening for his wild heartbeat. Both of you are completely covered in sweat, but it’s not gross. It’s a pleasant aroma of his natural scent mixed with the woodsy fragrance of the sauna. It’s a scent you could get addicted to if you’re not careful enough. He strokes your back, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Tilting your head, you look up at his face. “Were you… jealous of that guy earlier?”
“Who? Dan?”
“Mhm. You look like you would have punched him right then and there,” you tease.
“No one flirts with my girl.”
Those two words. My girl. That’s all you wanted to hear him say over these past few months. But then reality settles in. Dan doesn’t know you’re Cooper’s girl.
You think about where you are and remember that you’ll have to leave the pool house separately. You remember that he can only call you sweetheart in secret. You remember that he’s just… not truly yours.
The affair’s been fun and all but it’s just been placating you from what you’ve been craving this whole time– exclusivity. You want to be more than his dirty little secret. You want his Friday nights and his Sunday mornings. You want to eat dinner with him every night. You want to go on dates. You want to walk red carpets with him and listen to him gush about you in interviews. You want him to show you off.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” he asks. He must’ve sensed you going abnormally still and quiet.
You pull back and look at him, worry written on his face. What you want to tell him is on the tip of your tongue. But you can’t bring yourself to do it.
“I’m fine,” you lie.
“Okay,” he says, cupping your face again. “We should probably get showered and dressed. I have no idea how long we’ve been in here.”
“Right,” you nod, pulling yourself off of him no matter how hard it is. You reach for your clothes and walk into the shower. He does the same and turns off the sauna. You turn on the water, letting steam fill the walk-in shower before getting inside. He gets in with you, chest pressed against your back. He grabs the bottle of shower gel and creates a lather in his hand, rubbing it up and down your body as you relax. He’s careful to not ruin your makeup like a true gentleman. Once you’re clean you do the same for him, washing each other in comfortable silence. The end looms over your head but you choose not to focus on it. You choose to focus on the few fleeting moments you have left.
He turns off the water and grabs a towel, helping you dry off and get dressed. And soon enough, you’re both dressed again as if what happened in the sauna never occurred, except for your makeup that’s a little sweat-ridden. Before you part ways he kisses you, soft and sweet, telling you good night before slipping back out into the party.
You grab your purse off the couch and remember the envelope Emil gave you. Now that you’re alone you open it, finding a handwritten card that says;
Just wanted to say thank you. You really saved our asses with this production. As a token of my gratitude, here are two tickets to The Man From Deadhorse premiere.
-Emil
The two tickets slip out of the card. You glance at the date and see it’s not until January of next year, four months from now. Regardless, that was nice of him. When you signed up to work on the film you never thought you’d be able to attend the premiere. Your stomach swirls at the thought of seeing Cooper all dressed up on the red carpet but then it sinks when you remember he’ll be with Barb.
You shove the envelope and the tickets back in your purse, glancing at the room once more. Once you turn off the light, you leave the pool house, dragging your feet as you walk back to your car. The reality of the situation is sinking in now– that was probably the last time you’ll see Cooper for a while. And maybe it’s the alcohol or the post-sex hormones talking but you could break down and cry at any given moment. But you don’t give in until you’re alone in the comfort of your car, cursing the man who welcomed you with open arms on your first day on set.
End note: This series is five parts now because I’m an indecisive idiot 🤧🤧 This is also some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? And thank you to @clawdee for beta reading and telling me I needed to make Cooper sweatier 😏
If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍
Check out the series playlist! 🎶
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics
Dividers: @saradika-graphics
Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @the-faceless-bride @birdieofloxley @raviolisenpai
#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x f!reader#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul smut#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x f!reader#fallout#fallout fanfiction#cooper howard#the ghoul#time wondrous time
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Who prays for Satan? - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)
This isn't our usual dark!Tom, he's still fucked up, but not as dark as the other priest fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Priest Riddle is the reader's theology professor, a man she has always found herself interested in, but things escalate when she joins his church for her internship.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, guided masturbation (f), spanking, forced confession, smut in a church/in a confessional, choking, degrading, unaddressed age gap, power play, professor x student, religious connotations
Pairing: Priest!Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (about 3k words)
"Please remember that you only have time until Friday to tell me, where you will do your internship. Have a good week, and don’t forget the essays, please.” The sounds of students hastily rising to their feet echoed through the room, but while some were desperate to leave, getting away from the professor who looked like God’s finest creation, but spoke like the Devil himself, others were desperate to catch his attention with bland questions he found himself annoyed by.
“(Y/n), do you have a moment?” His voice drew her closer, past the group of students who looked at her with hate swimming in their pupils. She didn’t look at them as she walked past them, coming to a halt in front of the tall man with a soft smile glued to her lips. “Walk with me.”
Neither of them spared the others another glance as he strode out in the hallway, expecting her to follow him. It wasn’t the first class of his (y/n) was visiting, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, as she found herself awfully drawn towards the priest, who had taken on a few theology classes at their university. Something about him was different. Something she couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard she tried to.
“I knew you’d turn in your essay days before the others would even begin writing it, but I was pleasantly surprised by your work this week. It was smart of you to use the famous Mark Twain quote: “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” It always stuck with me.”
“Thank you, Professor Riddle. You once told me how much you think of this quote, so it only felt right to use it for this week’s focus on sinning.” The throaty chuckle rumbling through him left her feeling surprised, not used to seeing him this giddy. His smile didn’t waver, not as they came to a halt in front of his office, not as he guided her inside, not as they plopped down on their designated seats.
“Your essay isn’t the reason for this chat, though. I was thinking of what you said to me, and I decided that you can join my church for your internship. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell others I’m allowing you to do this, I never give out internships, and I’m only taking you on because I know how dedicated and smart you are.” Heat rose in her system, crawling up her throat to force (y/n) to avert her gaze. She had been desperate to find a church to join, not wanting to spend her internship as a simple office help, she needed practice, something to help her figure out what she actually wanted to do with her life.
“I highly appreciate this, thank you, professor. I promise, I won’t make you regret your choice.” Her eyes flickered back to his piercing ones, instantly sucked into his mesmerizing grasp. He was like a siren, luring her into his trap to feast on her darkening thoughts – thoughts she hadn’t been able to shake ever since meeting the tall priest.
“I know you won’t, (y/n). You will start Sunday morning to join me for the first service of the day, and then we can go through your task for the upcoming two weeks.”
……
“Professor?” Her voice hallowed through the empty church. It was still dark out, an early morning she had struggled to adjust to, and yet her nerves had managed to get her out of bed, finding her way towards these holy halls. Her sneakers met the ground as (y/n) walked up to the altar, letting her fingertips dance over the cold marble, appreciating the grounding sensation she was instantly taken over by.
“You’re early.” Professor Riddle's raspy voice made her jump, she had been too distracted by her surroundings to hear him approach, slowly turning towards him with wide eyes. He was wearing his black signature suit, paired with the white collar she’d see in her darkest moments, making heat pool between her thighs.
(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into her palms to rip herself out of the hazy fog calling for her, needing to stay focused before she could do or say something that would end her internship right there and then.
“I thought you may need some help preparing for the service.” A sickly sweet smile tugged on her lips, forcing his teeth to rot from the mere possibility of tasting her. He took a step towards her, with his hands clamped together behind his back, giving him an extra authoritarian touch. But while her body screamed at her to take a step back, to find shelter behind the altar, her mind murmured to (y/n) to hold still, not daring to give in to his intimidation scheme.
“I certainly appreciate your help, (y/n). I knew it was the right choice to pick you for this internship.” He towered over her, staring down at her with his gaze reminding her of a snake, ready to pounce, to sink its poisonous teeth into her quivering body. At that very moment, she was Eve, tempted by the eternal sin, and he was her downfall. She stood closer to him than ever before, front about to touch his, seeking the warmth he emanated in a place as cold as this church.
“So, what should I do?” (Y/n) needed to get away from him, no longer trusting herself with ignoring the shameless whispers ringing in her ears. But the tall man didn’t back off, he kept watching her with that smirk that told her he knew exactly what she found herself bothered by. A losing game (y/n) had never been destined to win, burning out like a cigarette setting a petrol station ablaze, destined to burn to the ground.
“Why don’t you choose this morning’s prayers?” He reached for the Bible resting on the altar, way too close to her. His front brushed hers as he leaned forward, reaching for the leather-bound book before pushing it into (y/n)’s grasp. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as his hand disappeared inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a black rosary. “Oh, before I forget. Here, I want you to have this.”
(Y/n) didn’t get any time to react or to ask questions as he pushed the rosary over her head to let it rest on her chest. His hand kept holding onto the dangling cross, while his eyes flickered back to her confused ones. “They will know you belong to me, wear it whenever you are working here.”
……
Her eyes were focused on the bright laptop screen as she was typing away her notes for this day, promising to give them to Professor Riddle before leaving. Even though her thoughts were still all over the place, (y/n) found herself growing more comfortable around the tall man most students were scared of. He treated her kindly, and yet something was hiding behind his words and expressions she couldn’t pinpoint.
“Are you done with your notes?” Professor Riddle’s voice filled his office as he stepped inside. (Y/n) didn’t lift her gaze at first, hastily trying to type the last sentence before she gave in and dared to look at him.
“Just finished, should I print them?” He didn’t reply to her question, eyes fully focused on her upper body, trying to locate the missing rosary. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) watched him approach, rounding the desk to find his way towards her. (Y/n) struggled to breathe as the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against her frame, forcing her to get lost in his darkening eyes.
“Where is the rosary?” She knew that she had forgotten it at home this very morning, too tired to care about any rules and regulations, but her hand still snapped up to her chest, trying to find the missing piece.
“I’m sorry, I forgot it at home.” He didn’t give in to the soft smile (y/n) shot him, didn’t pick up on the exhaustion dripping from her words, solemnly focused on the way she had gone against his rules. His tongue kissed his teeth before he took a step back and stretched his ringed hand out for her to take. “Where are we going?”
“I wanted to go over this with you tomorrow, but it seems like tonight is the perfect time to do so.” (Y/n) was led out of his office and down the hallway towards the dark nave. They walked up to the confessional, and as he opened one door for her, he shot her a look that made her tremble, letting any protests die on the tip of her tongue.
“Have you ever confessed before, (y/n)?” She was engulfed by darkness, and could barely see her own hands, let alone the man who was sitting close to her, behind the wooden construction keeping them apart. The scent of incense hung in the air, sticking to her like a second layer of skin, a reminder of their sacred surroundings.
“No, professor.” (Y/n) had been addressing him as “Professor” for the past days, not daring to use any other title, let alone his first name. But the second she used this very title to address him, (y/n) could tell that it would be the last time she’d call him that tonight, a shift was happening, something she was now taken over by.
“It’s Priest Riddle to you.” The barely audible gasp clawing through (y/n) left him chuckling, followed by the sound of him shifting around on the bench, making himself comfortable as she grew more tense. “You sinned, you went against my rules. I must punish you for that, (y/n).”
“Punish me?” She hated that his words pushed excitement through her, forcing her to sit even straighter as if he could see her. Her fingertips began to tingle, her legs were quivering, unable to hold still as something she had only dreamt of slowly began to unfold right at that very moment.
“Honesty will be the price of your foolishness, (y/n). I notice the way you look at me, how you seem to long for something you aren’t allowed to even reach for. Tell me, (y/n), what is it you so desperately seem to want?” Embarrassment flushed through her, followed by anger she couldn’t shake. How dare he ask something like this? How dare he try to embarrass her for a simple mistake? She should have left the confessional, stormed out of the church, and reported the man for overstepping. And yet she didn’t, already stuck in the trap he had laid out for her months ago.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She didn’t know what she wanted from him if she was merely longing for his touch, or if something even more desperate was guiding her on. She didn’t know if she wanted a simple taste, or to be swallowed wholly by him. She simply didn’t know.
“How far are you willing to go, (y/n)?” Her mouth felt dry, unable to swallow as his words began to sink in. (Y/n) was grateful that he couldn’t see her, the way her pupils were dilated by the lust flushing through her, the goosebumps covering every visible part of her body as if she was engulfed by an icy wind.
“Farther than I should.” A part of her expected him to break the spell they were now connected by, to pull her out of the confessional and scold her for giving in this easily. But the priest didn’t move, and neither did (y/n).
“Spread your legs, I want you to touch yourself like I bet you keep imagining me doing.” With her heart in her throat, (y/n)’s hand disappeared beneath her skirt, slowly pushing her damp panties aside. A soft moan clawed through the student, grateful that the others had left the church hours ago. “Good girl, fuck yourself with your fingers.”
Another moan left (y/n) as she pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls as if she was preparing herself for his cock, desperate to take every inch. She kept moaning for him, choking on her sounds that grew heavier with every passing moment.
“I can hear how wet you are, I bet you taste so sweet, like the forbidden fruit.” His words guided her on, ringing in her ears as if the Devil was calling for her, wandering through the darkness to reach his open arms, getting lost in his sweet promises. “I should imprint my palm on your skin for going against my rules. You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” Her needy whimpers left the priest chuckling, sounds that almost managed to drown out the ones clawing through (y/n).
“I’m sure you are, (y/n). Stop touching yourself.” It pained her to pull her hand away, she had been close to giving in, ready to call out his name as her orgasm clashed through her, seconds before she could have reached paradise. The sounds of Priest Riddle leaving his side of the confessional echoed through the evening, followed by the sounds of him opening her side and stepping into the small space.
She was pulled to her feet and tugged in for a kiss that left her moaning. (Y/n)’s arms found their way around Priest Riddle's neck, trying to pull the tall man even closer as if she were addicted to him. He broke the kiss to turn her around, pressing (y/n)’s front against the wooden wall separating both sides of the confessional. His ringed hands felt cold against her body as he shuffled her skirt up to her waist, letting her panties drop to the ground seconds later.
“I hope you prepared yourself enough for this punishment.” His ringed hand came down on her behind, forcing a yelp out of (y/n) who pressed herself further against the cold wood. Pain stretched itself through her, an unfamiliar kind of pain that made her ache for more. Once again, his palm met her warm skin, knowing that she’d struggle with sitting for the next few days. “I can’t wait to finally fuck you, make you pay for all these times I felt your eyes on me like a needy whore who doesn’t know when to stop.”
(Y/n) couldn’t protest, she couldn’t speak up to beg him for any kindness he wouldn’t offer. Only as she felt him pull away for a moment did (y/n) allow herself to breathe, blinking away the tears that had welled up in her eyes.
“What do you want, (y/n)? And don’t feed me another lie. I want your honesty.” Chills ran down her spine at his dangerous tone, shaking through (y/n) like an earthquake set on ripping her off her feet. She had to deeply inhale, had to heavily swallow before she managed to put her longings into words, needing to break out of his trap.
“I want your cock, fuck me, please, Priest Riddle.” A satisfied hum left the man, followed by the sounds of him ripping open a condom, prepared for his very punishment. It didn’t take long until she felt him at her entrance, slowly pushing into (y/n) with a heavy groan that dripped with need and lust clawing through him.
It felt as if they had been created for his moment only, bodies made to fit.
“I should tell you to never sin again, to stay true to your promises. But you’ve turned me into a sinner as well, no promise could keep me from you any longer.” His words left her gasping, walls clenching around this twitching cock. He fucked her with urgency, set on proving to (y/n) and to himself that she was his, his to guide, his to punish.
“You take my cock so well, I bet you dreamt of being fucked by me in a holy place, didn’t you?” His warm breath clashed against her tingling skin as he spoke his words, drawing a heavy sob out of (y/n) as she lost her grip on their surroundings. Tom’s hand moved like a snake, slithering back up to her throat to hold onto her, letting go of a raspy, “Speak when I ask you to.”
“Yes, I did. I dreamt of it.” It was a simple reply, yet it was just enough to make the priest hum in approval. He twitched inside of her as he could tell that they both were ready to let go with their hearts pounding and their limbs aching. (Y/n) struggled to breathe on as he tightened his grip on her throat, forcing her head to rest against his broad chest. The priest stared down at (y/n), her lighthouse in the darkest nights, the burning bush to rely on. An anchor of safety.
“Let go, (y/n), be honest once again.” She came with a gasp, with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted. A sight so ethereal, the priest followed her moments later, letting his teeth graze his lower lip to draw some blood. He pulled out of her all too quickly, to turn her back towards him with his bloody lip finding hers, “Now you’re truly mine, bound my blood.”
And who was she to deny a sinner a wish this pure? At least it was on them to pray for Satan that night, since God no longer would pick up on their calls.
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Lights up (Ch.2)
summary: gale goes on a coffee date with that sophomore boy.
word count: 4504
warnings: mentions of past abuse, alcoholism, kind of harassment from john, blowjobs (again)
notes: chapter two is here! kinda surprised with myself that i got it done so fast. dunno if i'll always be able to get a new chapter this quickly but i'll try! enjoy the chapter!
chaapter one | ao3 link
for as long as gale could remember, he was by his lonesome. at home, in class, in nature. he always found comfort in solitude– the way the silence would give him time to think about everything he had going on at the time. whether it was after a particularly hard day at school, or after his dad had yelled at him and called him words he would try not to repeat in his head.
he grew up on a farm in wyoming, vast and beautiful. they had plenty of animals as he grew up– horses, cows, chickens, goats– and gale would spend countless hours caring for them like they were human children. he remembered him momma telling him when he was younger to not get too attached to them, but he would never listen. he named, groomed, fed, and loved every animal that he could before his father inevitably sold or killed them.
it was like therapy for him. when it came to people, he was no good at communicating or getting along with them. he found making friends difficult compared to animals. people were complicated. they did things with no rhyme or reason and were needlessly cruel to fuel their own need to feel superior to others.gale was bullied- not too harshly, thankfully- but enough that he would sometimes tell his mom that he didn’t want to go to school that day. his mom, angel that she is, would let him stay at home, with the animals he loved so dearly.
his father was a brash man, to put it politely. he drank heavily and gambled more. ever since he was old enough to walk on his own, gale remembered seeing his dad stumble in through their front door, alcohol permeating the air around him as he exhaled heavily, angry at all the money he lost that night. his angry eyes would land on gale, burning holes into the boy as he clutched an empty beer bottle in his large fist, gritting his teeth and spitting out an intelligible swear.
sometimes he'd go to bed. other times, gale wouldn't be so lucky.
he would constantly belittle and chastise gale for hiding in his room at home instead off telling the kids who were teasing him off- but gale wasn’t that type of person. he always avoided conflict, out of a deep-rooted fear of becoming like his father someday.
as he got older, gale discovered certain things about himself that his father didn't particularly like. he began isolating gale– becoming harsher and more physical than before towards him whenever he would try to be himself. his poor mother did her best to support him, but she could only do so much. one night after gale’s father had beaten him down both physically and emotionally– she had come into his room and begged him to try and be who his father wanted him to- at least until he could move away for college.
his heart clenched that his own mother begged him for such a thing, but he knew it was the safest option. he didn't know if he could take many more beatings before his father decided to do something drastic.
he did what his mother said- became quiet and docile until his father was satisfied with what he saw.
gale never really let go of the act. he kept quiet and timid– hiding himself- and he never really knew why. maybe it was out of a lingering fear that he would turn a corner and see his father standing there, just waiting to lay his hands on him.
he sat in his math class, anxiously tap-tap-tapping his pen against the edge of the desk as the professor went over everything they spoke about for the day. he was filled with a nervous energy- and the fact that he could feel the reason for his nerves staring at the back of his head wasn't helping.
just why gale had agreed to go out to lunch with this random man in his class was beyond him– maybe it was because he reminded him of someone–, but there was no backing down now. it's not like he didn't want to– he was a handsome guy and all, but he would have liked to at least talk a bit more first. he knew nothing about him– other than his name. gale tried to soothe himself by saying they'd get to learn more about one another at their lunch ‘date’, but it didn't help much.
class was dismissed and gale began to pack up, biting at his bottom lip. he felt on edge, like any little thing could send him running out that door.
“heya, gale,”
a large hand on his shoulder, calloused thumb brushing against his sensitive neck ever so gently– like a faint breeze. he jumped, instinctively backing away from the foreign touch clumsily- almost tripping over his own feet.
there stood john, the hand that was just touching gale’s shoulder held up in mock surrender as he looked at the blonde with wide eyes.
“whoa there, should i have given ya more of a warning?” he jokes, stepping forward to close the gap gale had put between them. “didn't know you were so easily startled.”
gale laughed uneasily, taking another micro-step backwards to put just a bit more space between the two of them. did he always have to be so close? “i’m not. just…i dunno. nervous.”
“aw, nervous for our date, gale?” he laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulder, leaning into him with his body weight and almost making gale stumble over with the suddenness of it. “that’s cute.”
he smelled like cheap cologne, smoke, and beer. the scents on him were all too familiar to his father stumbling into the living room after a night at the casino.
“haha, yeah,” he mumbled, standing up and adjusting the strap on his shoulder, hiking his satchel back up to where it needed to be. “you ready to go?”
gale felt that unease in his stomach spreading out to the rest of his limbs like horrible black tendrils of smoke. john’s large hand was now grabbing at his slim waist as they walked out of the classroom, the other man babbling on and on about some party he went to last week, and how he drank some poor freshman under the table like it was nothing.
then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him. why he was so nervous. why he was so compelled to say yes to this date– why he felt like he couldn’t say no to john. it wasn't just because he was handsome and somewhat charming. his stomach was sinking as he dug his teeth into the skin of his cheek almost painfully.
john reminded him of his father.
—---------------------
they arrived at a small, student-run cafe on campus that gale liked to visit often. he stopped by when he could, buying a coffee and a little snack and taking a window seat to finish up some schoolwork.
they walked in, john still hanging off of him like a koala as they walked up to the counter, gale’s face pink, eyes affixed to the counter as he placed his usual order. he could feel different pairs of eyes on him as he stood there, the quiet blonde that only spoke to order his coffee suddenly with a loud-mouthed frat boy hanging off of him. he felt shame creeping up his spine like boiling water about to spill over the edge of a pot.
“what'dya recommend, gale?” john asked him, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.
“ah, i usually get something with a lot of caffeine,” gale blurts out, nervous energy beginning to show in little fits and starts. “keeps me awake so i can study at night.”
“You’re pretty big on school, huh?” john comments passively, making gale flush in a mix of hot embarrassment and shame. The comment hit a little too close to home after growing up and hearing the same thing from countless assholes in school growing up. “i’ll just get whatever he got. make it easy on ya,”
he gave the barista a wink, and he smiled back at john softly.
“alrighty then, that’ll be $10.59.”
gale pulled his wallet out of his pocket, handing it to the barista and glancing at john with a little anxious smile. god, he was really bad at trying to keep it together.
“you can go find a table for us. i’ll grab our drinks and meet you there.”
“you got it doll.” he crooned, giving him a wink and that million-dollar smile that made something bloom in gale’s stomach. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure if it was a good thing, yet, but he felt it, every time he saw those eyes crinkle up.
he turned to the barista quickly, leaning in a bit to whisper in case john was still in earshot. “is crosby here?”
“right here, gale,” a familiar voice sounded, turning to face him with two obnoxiously large iced coffees in his hands. “what’s up?
“i’m on a date,” gale blurted out, putting his head in his hands and running long fingers through blonde locks. “I hardly know the guy, but he gave me my glasses after i left ‘em behind in class, and–”
“okay, okay-” croz said, hastily handing off the coffees to the two concerned-looking students beside him. “so did he– did he force you on this date? do you want me to tell him off?” he asked, tone suddenly very serious.
gale hesitated. he wasn’t forced on this date, not in the slightest, but he just couldn’t shake the sinking feeling he had about being here. john reminded him so much of his father– he just felt like his intentions were less than pure with each passing second.
“no, don’t say anything,” he mumbled, rubbing at his temples. “jus’... keep an eye on us if you can? i just feel nervous about this whole thing. i’m not sure if i’m overthinking or if it’s actually the way he’s acting.”
“alright.” crosby says, patting gale on the shoulder firmly. “you just let me know. i’ll hop over this counter and kick ass.”
“we both know i can handle myself,” gale hums with a smile. “besides, those eyebags tell me that if you made any sudden moves you’d probably pass out.”
“yeah, well.” he stutters for a second, before his coworker comes to his rescue and hands him two identical coffee cups. “here’s your coffee. i’ll keep an eye on your date for you.”
“stop pulling all-nighters, croz,” gale scolds as he takes the cups in his hands, walking into the open part of the lobby and scanning the cafe for the brown-haired boy he came with.
he spotted john near a table in the corner by a window, staring at the passer-bys as he waited for gale to bring their drinks. for a brief moment, gale’s worries were gone as he took in how pretty john really was. curly brown locks, a strong jaw, straight nose, blue eyes and long eyelashes. he felt that strange warmness in his stomach again as he approached, tensing a bit as john’s eyes landed on him as he sat down.”
“that was pretty quick,” he hummed, taking the cup gale handed to him and smiling crookedly. “i see why you like this place,”
“yeah, i’ve never had to wait too long for a drink here,” gale laughs softly, his nerves creeping back up as he scooted his chair forward. “i mean, most drinks on the menu are pretty simple, so…”
“you know a lot about coffee?” john asks, taking a tentative sip from his scalding hot cup, hissing as it goes down. “wanna be a barista someday?”
gale actually chuckles a little at that. “ah, no, just… have a friend that knows a bit about it. shares menu secrets so that i can make ‘em back at my dorm if i want. i’m more into math….animals…stuff like that.”
“never understood people that actually like math, y’know.” john laughs, thumbing at the small opening of the lid of his cup. “was always my worst subject. i mean- i was never much of a school kid, but math really did me in.”
“ah, well math was always kinda fun for me.” gale began, feeling a little more at ease with the casual conversation john was making. “it was hard, yes, but that's what made it fun, you know? it's like– when you finally solve that equation that's been bothering you, you feel so good. like you could conquer anything. it's why i took up physics– much harder, made you really use your brain.”
“issat what your major is?”
“yep. i’m well on my way to getting a degree in physics– minor in education.” gale explains, fingers tracing along the sleeve that hugged his warm coffee cup. “i’d love to be a teacher one day. i know a lot of kids are apprehensive about math and other hard subjects like physics, but i wanna be the teacher that makes them enjoy subjects like that. an enthusiastic teacher can change everything for a kid.”
“mhm. all my teachers were assholes. didn't like me. ‘s why i skipped class all the time.”
“don't say that,” gale laughed, leaning in to take a sip from his coffee, which was hot enough to fog up his glasses. “i’m sure they liked you. it’s just hard being a teacher, sometimes. kids are a handful, y’know. which is why i’ll probably teach an older grade.”
“...so like….what is physics?” john asks suddenly, leaning back in his chair, strong arms crossed over his chest. “i mean i know what it is but like…what's it the study of?”
“it's basically the study of the nature and properties of matter and energy. a lot to do with the mathematics of movement, different types of energy, that type of thing.” he explains, leaning forward in his chair. “like, we’ll study how atoms and soundwaves work, do the math for force and inertia, focus on the mathematics of atoms– its all really nerdy stuff, but i find it fascinating. dunno why– maybe it's the fact that someone out there figured all of this out and shared his teachings, only for them to get built upon to the point we are today… i just love things like that.”
midway through his spiel, he noticed that john wasn’t exactly looking him in the eyes, which was fine. gale had trouble with eye contact sometimes– it wasn’t something he was too concerned about. then he realized john’s eyes were scanning him, up and down like a predator ready to pounce on a helpless little animal it spotted in the swaying grass.
His gaze would go from his eyes, to his lips, then to his hands, which were beginning to grip his coffee cup so tightly that he thought it would explode, and then to his chest, which prompted gale to cross his arms over his upper body protectively.
“enough about that– i’m sure you don’t wanna hear about the math behind force and motion,” he laughed, clearing his throat. “what are you majoring in?”
john blinked at him, eyes a little wide as a big hand scratched at the back of his neck. “well, shit. I guess i’m just majorin’ in general studies. i’m gonna be one hundred percent honest with you gale, i applied to college when i was high with my friend curt.”
gale paused. “really? and you got in?”
a soft laugh left bucky’s lips, eyes crinkling up as he took another small sip of his coffee. “yep. i was just as surprised as you. told my momma i’d apply just for the hell of it, not thinking i’d get in, but whaddya know?” a strand of hair fell into his face as he set his cup back onto the table, pink tongue darting out to lick at stray droplets of coffee that clung to his lips. gale felt his throat tighten, oddly.
“as for hobbies…i dunno. i drink, i party. typical frat boy stuff. i find just about any party on campus, head on in, drink until i can hardly recognize anyone– gets crazy. usually ends up at my dorm.”
gale flushes at the implications and grabs at his coffee cup as john continues.
“you ever been to a frat party?”
“no.” gale says simply, pressing his lips to the rim of his cup and worrying the plastic of the lid with his teeth. “never been much of a party person. i like when things are quiet.”
“i dunno, i feel like if you were at a party with someone you liked you’d really enjoy yourself. i know you said you don’t drink, but have you tried it at all?”
gale shifted in his seat, eyes affixed to the ground as that familiar, dark sinking feeling returned to the pit of his stomach. he didn’t like where this conversation was going at all.
“i…. i have, once. didn’t like it.” he says against the plastic lid. “said i’d never drink again.”
john’s thumb is brushing against his lower lip, now, eyes lidded and affixed to the way gale’s anxiously mouthing at his coffee cup. predatory, gale thinks, trying to avoid john’s gaze as he begins to speak again.
“knew a guy like that a few months ago,” he starts, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “straight edge, hated beer. took him out to a party and man- i’ve never seen someone drink so much. got real loose. we ended up in a room together and the rest was a total fuckin’ blur. still comes to my room to drink every once and a while. or… just to hang out, you know.”
their eyes met, blue-on-blue, dark and lustful on doe-ish and scared. gale suddenly very much wanted to be anywhere else but here, in this cafe. He should have went with his gut, trusted that little voice in his head telling him that this living embodiment of 2000s grunge was just trying to get into his pants. almost like he couldn’t stop himself, he shot up out of his seat, coffee in one hand and bag in the other, trying to hide the discomfort painted across his face.
he wasn't a prude– that's not what this was– he's just never positively thought about sex. mainly because he'd get weird compliments and looks as soon as he hit sixteen, which had kind of soured his whole idea of sex. he had always declined hookups and booty calls, leading to nasty words and nastier threats, but he did it for his safety. it was just the way it had to be.
he remembered his father’s words to him. no one wants to sleep with a goddamn–
“sorry, i have to go.” gale said firmly, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “i just remembered i have a test for another class tomorrow– you get it. we can reschedule.”
he’s backing out towards the door as he rambles out excuses, back hitting the door roughly. “i had fun, really. sorry.”
before john could even try to chase after him, he turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the cafe, hissing as the sun's rays hit his eyes. he felt like the world was blending together- a mix of all kinds of sickening colors that passed his watery eyes in a blur as he bulldozed his way to his dorm. he felt bile rising in his throat, burning and bitter- making the tears in his eyes well up more. he found shelter in a small alleyway nestled between buildings, dark and quiet. he felt his breathing slow a little bit.
no, no. don’t you dare fucking cry, gale. not over this– over him. he scolded himself, lips parted as he let out little puffs of air, trying to regulate his frantic breaths. his eyes scrunched shut, trying to fight back tears like he was a little kid again, standing before his father with his head hung low, fists clenched.
“c’mon, damn it. hit me back! i didn’t raise a bitch!”
and poor gale, he’d raise his fists again, not left with a choice, trembling like a leaf on an unsteady branch as he looked at his dad with tears running down his face. that same cheap beer smell was everywhere.
“oh, you wanna cry, huh? i’ll give you somethin’ to fuckin’ cry about!”
gale hasn’t shed a tear since that night. a deep, deep-rooted fear that if he did, everyone around him would dig into him and eat him alive was instilled in him after that night. he hasn’t cried since then, and he won’t cry now, not over some dickhead in a slipknot shirt.
he inhaled deeply, lungs expanding as he opened his eyes, hand running through his hair gently. his coffee had completely spilled onto the ground, puddling around his feet in a murky, dark brown pond.
what a waste of five dollars.
—---------------------
john didn’t come to class the following day, much to gale’s relief. he was able to focus and get some good notes taken without feeling his gaze on the back of his skull. it was rainy outside today, the clouds completely overcast the sun and drizzling rain drops over the fresh earth outside. gale felt hypnotized watching the way the water dripped down the windows, amplifying his calm.
his eyes remained affixed to the rain outside as he exited class, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather pants. he loved the rain. the smell, the clouds, the way it looked.
“hey.”
he froze in his steps, eyes slowly moving to gaze at the man in front of him. gale really thought he wouldn’t have to deal with him today. maybe he was actually worried about him? god, who fucking knows.
“john,” gale said evenly, straightening his back. “you weren’t in class today. wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“had to come check up on you after yesterday,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall. “left me hangin’. what happened?”
gale set his jaw, taking deep, even breaths. keep it together. “had a test to study for, like i said. sorry if i seemed shaken up or anything, but it was a big test.”
“big test…” john repeated, tongue running across his lips. “yeah, i get it.” he shrugged, smiling crookedly. “must be tired from all that studying. you free tonight at all? you could come back to my dorm, hang out for a bit.”
gale flushed, partly out of anger, and partly because he was flustered. jesus, this guy just didn’t know when to fucking quit, huh?
“nah, i’ve got plans tonight, actually.” gale mutters, averting his gaze. “work.”
“you work on campus?”
“off campus, actually,” he said curtly, checking his watch. “actually gotta get going soon, or i’ll be late. maybe another time.”
he didn’t even wait for a response, because it would probably just be john asking when he was off, or if he was free tomorrow– and he didn’t feel like dealing with it. all of his anxieties towards him were starting to turn into annoyance. he still felt uneasy around him, but seeing as he hasn’t actually tried to harm and/or force himself onto gale, he felt like he had a bit more wiggle room to talk back. And if he did try something, then…
whatever. he didn’t need to think about him right now.
—---------------------
“he’s bein’ so fucking difficult, curt.” john huffs, pacing between their beds like a caged animal. “he’s got mood swings like a goddamn chick– i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing wrong!”
john kicks a stray can of beer across the room, before flopping onto curt’s bed like a kid having a tantrum. “he makes me feel like a goddamn creep. like– whenever i get close, he steps back- or when i touch him he looks for an excuse to get away from me.”
“maybe he jus’ doesn’t like being touched,” curt shrugs, laying down by john’s head and playing with a few strands of his loose hair. “you literally told me that you might have to play it slow with him- why’re you gettin’ all impatient?”
“what was it you said? you wanna devour him? that’s why.” he sighs. “thought i’d be able to control myself to play it slow, but goddamn, curt, he’s gorgeous. absolutely beautiful. i jus’ don’t get why he has to be so uptight and shit.”
“damn, maybe you are a creep.” the shorter man teases, making john groan and press his palms to his eyes. “i’m just jokin’, bucky, jesus!” he sighs, fingers tangling in his hair.
“i’m jus’ over it at this point, curtie. why can’t i just get my dick wet with a cute blonde? and what do i do? back off? come on stronger? why’s it so hard to get laid nowadays?”
amid his self-pitying rant, curt had sunk to his knees between john’s legs, small hands on large thighs as he laid his cheek against the warm skin.
“i know. life is soooo hard for such a pretty boy like you, isn’t it,” he teases, hand tracing upwards until it meets with the semi-hardness of bucky’s cock. “why don’t i help you feel better, hm?”
john hissed at the touch, hips rising into the warmth of curt’s palm as his other free hand pulled him from the confines of his shorts. “fuck. you always know how to cheer me up.”
curt just smiled, full of dimples, before taking john in his mouth with practiced ease. he knew bucky and his cock all too well– so it wasn’t hard to get him going. he ran his tongue along the bottom, savoring the salty-musky taste of precum on his tongue as he swallowed him down with eagerness. it wasn’t long before john’s loud grunts picked up in volume, becoming breathier as he reached his peak, spilling down curt’s throat for the second time that week.
curt pulled off, giving him one last cruel lick before standing and smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt. “okay, now get up. we’ve got a party to go to.”
“goddamn, gimmie a minute to catch my breath,” john huffed, sitting up and tucking himself back into his shorts. “you just sucked my soul out. can’t we just stay in?”
“as much as i’d love to give you your post-blowjob cuddles, this party is literally in the next building over and has this dude from history there that i’ve got my eye on. get your ass up.”
bucky sighed deeply, standing on wobbly legs and placing a large hand in curt’s already messy hair. “you’re a pain in my ass. you’re soooo lucky i love you.”
john swears he sees curt go a little pink at that- but he ignores it as the shorter man leads them out of the door.”
“yeah, i know.”
taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove
#masters of the air#mota#college au#buck x bucky#clegan#curtbucky#curtbuckygale#masters of the air fanfic#motaedit#john egan#gale cleven#curtis biddick#lights up
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i just caught up to wind breaker manga (the satoru nii one) and i desperately need to rant abt it
let's start from the fact that i'm not a fan of this genre of manga. the only other delinquent series i've actually read was t*kyo r*vengers but we shall not speak about this one and it certainly didn't leave a good impression of this type of manga on me. so imagine my surprise when i tuned in to the first episode of wind breaker and i found myself tearing up by the end of it, let's just say that it was quite unexpected.
the thing that surprised me the most about this series is the heart that it has. yes it's cheesy, yes it's cringe at times, yes the premise of the town and the school is so silly it might just fall apart if you start looking at it too closely. but the series manages to build the sense of community within this place so fast and so well that i never actually found myself questioning any of that.
another thing that was a really nice surprise was how kind the series is, both with its characters and with the themes it builds itself on. the main one of course being opening yourself up and learning how to trust others. every time we see a character struggle with that it tugs at my heartstrings so much i end up barely able to read the chapter cause my eyes water immediately, especially when it's about sakura himself.
sakura, oh my dear sakura. i could sing him praises for hours i fear so i'll try to keep it short. he's just incredible. he's truly the heart of the story in every sense of the word. he's so kind! he's such a good person, even if he doesn't believe it or doesn't know how to properly express his care for others! he's so lovable from the start, even before you see him grow into the person he is at the current stage of the manga. and he keeps growing and changing and becoming the person he probably never thought he could ever become before he came to furin. and it's all because of the people around him that accept him and let him grow at his pace, even if he makes mistakes or doesn't do things exactly right immediately.
i love the slightly more recent imagery of comparing him to a plant that started to grow since he joined furin. it started in the stretch between the keel arc and the red lights district arc when he decided that furin is the place that he belongs in and we saw a little sprout, but i feel like it's gonna come to full fruition in this arc. it's pretty clear to me considering that endo literally compares him to a flower and his whole thing is to try and set sakura on fire (metaphorically of course... i hope). it's probably gonna be contrasted to umemiya who's literally a gardener and under whose care and leadership, directly or not, sakura was finally able to grow because he was nurtured by those around him. in this case the main person who allowed that to happen would be umemiya as he's the one who made furin into what it is now. also, i've seen quite a lot of people be worried (?) about sakura potentially going with endo to protect furin but idk man i don't think that would happen. the angst potential is incredible but he was literally calling out that girl in the red lights arc (i'm sorry i forgot her name, it slipped my mind cause i've read like 90% of this manga in two days) for... basically doing just that. giving herself up so that others could be safe without thinking about their feelings. i feel like he's probably gonna take that lesson and apply it here.
speaking of which, i love this whole theme of passing down knowledge and advice on how to handle things that are new to you. first it's kotoha telling sakura that he needs allies to be at the top of furin, that he should start facing people that want to be there for him and even the small things like telling him to just say "leave it to me" when someone asks for help. and then, in the keel arc, he uses the same advice he was given before and gives it to someone else who's also struggling with quite similiar things to him. then there's him learning how to rely on other boys in his class and going to kaji for advice, who's very clearly meant to be kind of a parallel to sakura. kaji's went to somewhat similiar things, he's just further down the path of figuring out who he is, what he can and can't do that sakura is (or at least that was the case when they talked). so he gives sakura advice, one that was given to him before by hiragi when he was struggling as a newly made grade captain who felt like he was wholly undeserving of the trust that people placed in him and felt like he's gonna dissapoint them. he knows exactly what sakura is struggling with so he can help him the way he was helped before, the same way that sakura helped nagato before.
i have a lot more thoughts about this series but they are not sorted out in my brain in any way yet so i'm not gonna say anything more cause this on its own is messy as hell
#wind breaker#sakura haruka#satoru nii#hajime umemiya#kaji ren#i have so many thought abt this series#but i cant express them properly yet#so im just yapping#and thats not even all#like i havent even mentioned tsubaki#or nirei#or togame
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A Twin's Anger
I've been thinking about Twin Marston lately
I don't think "Twin" ever hated Andrew. Or, at least, not to the extent he did his parents. Because for how terrible the dismissals were, the neglect he faced for the sake of Andrew, Twin doesn't seem the kind to have hated him solely for that. After all, with how Andrew talks about them, they seemed like best friends in their younger years. Playing video games, sneaking out, etc. Was he jealous? Absolutely. Hatred? Eh..
Then Isaac and Darling happened.
Canonically, Twin didn't (at the time) know about Andrew and Isaac's relationship (see here) and there's no way to tell if he saw the video/knows about Andrew's current relationship, but this entire post is in the realm of speculation so let me indulge.
Because if he did know about both relationships? Oh god.
Isaac's the difficult one. It lends credence to both forgiving and despising Andrew. On one hand, it's rational to think that maybe Andrew didn't speak up because he was in a similar situation to Twin (that is, being queer). But, from another perspective, Andrew also being queer gives more reason to help his brother - what's being a golden child worth if it's spent at the expense of a man scorned from your shared vice?
That’s where the disdain begins. For Andrew to silently choose their abusive parents before him, despite also being queer, it solidifies Andrew’s indecisiveness. Or perhaps he thinks he’s better than Twin. That even if he’s into men, that can be forgiven because he’s him.
Either way he feels, Andrew is a hypocrite. And Twin leaves. And they’re both left to deal with the fallout, each emotionally constipated.
Years pass. Twin’s only exposure to Andrew is the occasional call or text. Voicemails left unheard. And then the scandal happens.
News is plastered everywhere on his phone, curated from the years he googled Andrew’s name in midnight depressive spirals: Professor caught… professor groomed… there’s even more headlines. A video. Two videos. Thrown drinks. And him, the disgraced professor, defending the relationship.
And Twin is reminded of when he didn’t.
In defending someone he had barely known (because Andrew and Darling really didn’t know each other, they lusted after each other) Andrew showed that he was willing. He was able. Just not for his brother. Because what does it say about Andrew, who was willing to defend a near-stranger in some selfish desire to keep his relationship and wasn't for the man whom he shared a womb with?
Andrew had given up everything for Darling, we know this: But to Twin? Beyond the obvious, Andrew essentially threw away every year, the decade of abuse he suffered because of Andrew's "intelligence" for the sake of lust. And he was allowed to stay working at the university! Twin's love, the kind that got him thrown out and a reason he was discarded, was probably painted as just lust, not real love. But where he was so severely punished, Andrew didn't even loose his job — he made the choice to leave.
And if Andrew has a male listener? Then all this would be amplified ten fold. Golden-child Andrew is in a very public relationship with a man, defending them in some vain attempt to justify it! And they go out to museums together, they eat at nice restaurants, they get to be happy together. And Andrew is happier than he’s seemed in so long, because Twin knows his brother’s joy, and it sure as shit wasn’t there when he was alone and isolated as the young, prodigy professor. Andrew has turned Twin's eternal sin into his saving grace.
Could you imagine the anger? The bitterness? The feeling of watching the man you once called a ‘brother’ further drive the knife in your back?
That’s where the anger comes from. Not the original offense, but everything that came after. The ricochet of it all. If Twin wasn't coming back before, he certainly isn't now.
I guess the beauty of it all is how many parallels there are. A Marston is in a forbidden relationship, which is only forbidden due to the direct surrounding environment as outside of it there's really nothing wrong, and is found out by the very creators of said environment. They defend themselves, but upon lacking support from those he thought he could count on (Andrew or, in his case, the faculty) he leaves the situation completely and gives up on a huge factor of his life.
Crazy.
(Of course, this post doesn't take into account Andrew and Darling's POV, because Twin doesn't have that. We know that they argued and broke up, but he doesn't, and I really wanted to explore just how he may feel about all of this without further context.)
(Please somebody talk to me about Twin Marston I'm dying over here. Severe droughts in content for him I'm STARVING)
#self indulgent post bc it’s my birthday :]#pls just let me watch#not sex - his therapy session#sakuverse#zsakuva#twin marston#marston twins#andrew marston#zsakuva andrew
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Im sobbing and jsut imagining MK and the Noodle Gang doing a visit to FFM during Slow Boiled (either not the version where DBK dragged Wukong to live st the palace or a version where Wukong managed to convince them to let him live in the conforts of his own home) and see him working on building a shrine. First, they immediately stop him because "Wtf you're pregnant! Put the hammer down!" before asking what the shrine was for.
"Ah, it's a bit... personal. I'd been meaning to rebuild this old thing for a while after it got destroyed in... the Burning..." Wukong's face faltered a moment here at the memories, "but hadn't been able to bring myself to do it. I figured I'd finally get around yo it."
It doesn't take long to realize this shrine was to honor an ancestor of some sort, although with Wukong being well known for not having parents (as far as they knew) they were confused and asked who the shrine was for. Wukong had a sad, almost nostalgic smile as he calmly, yet somehow enthusiastically, explained.
"He was the Elder of the troupe that led us when I was a cub, before I became the Monkey King. He-"
"Wait! You weren't always the Monkey King!?"
"*sigh* Yes, kid. Once upon a time, I was a cub just like anyone else. Anyways! He was a storyteller at heart and ancient, like, old enough to remember the Great Floods ancient! See, the thing about him is that he was like me, a stone monkey. So when I hatched, he took me in and raised me, taught me about our people. As much as he could, anyway. His memory was going, and he wasn't long for the world even when I was still a cub."
"THERE WERE MORE-"
"Yes, scholar... I was not the only Stone Monkey."
DBK can't keep his little bro locked up at the Bull palace for long. Red would sneak Wukong out if he asks nicely. PIF and DBK just sigh, they can't cage a free spirit.
Wukong getting the drive to fix things up around FFM, only for the Noodle Gang to stop him from doing heavy construction. You know Pigsy makes a choked squeal the first time he sees Wukong trying to climb a ladder unassisted.
When Wukong finally explains what he was trying to fix, the gang's hearts just drop. Is it well known that The Monkey King did in fact lose people in the War - to think that he lost the closest thing to a parent even before that surprises them.
Tang ofc is nosey and must known More.
Wukong: "He was called Elder Shítougùshì. He was the only other Stone Monkey I had ever met."
Tang: "Another stone monkey!?"
Wukong: "Yes. He stayed behind on the island after the Great Flood even as the other survivors left for higher ground. He wanted to make sure no one forgot the original troupe."
MK: "Then... you were born into a whole troupe of monkeys like you..."
Wukong: "Not exactly. I still popped out of a stone egg - the "Boulder" that held me... it was my mother."
The Noodle Shop Gang, thinking hard about the King's current Egg issue: "OH."
Wukong: "Yeah... Elder and my Stalwarts had been the ones to find me when I finally hatched. He tried his best to raise me with help from the monkey demon troupe, but he still passed on sometime after we rediscovered the Stone Palace. Then I set out to find my first immortality."
Tang, jttw-brain firing: "HE! He was the old monkey that passed away and set you on the path to find Master Subodhi!"
Wukong, smiling sadly: "Yes. Yes he was."
Sandy: "He sounds like a fine man- monkey Mr King. Hope he's happy to see where you are now."
Wukong, tracing the old shrine with his fingers: "So do I big guy."
After the convo takes place, the Noodle Shop gang conspire to fix up some of the shrines and statues around the island. They get DBK involved since he remembers what the island was like pre-Burning. The Bull King would also jump to help honor the man that raised his little brother into the King he became!
Wukong comes home one day and finds that the shrine to Elder Shítougùshì has been reparied - not exactly how it was before the Burning, but finally clean and completed. A little ceramic monkey figure sitting on the altar.
Wukong cries like a cub when he realises MK and his friends fixed it.
#slow boiled stone egg au#stone matriarch au#stone monkies#sun wukong#pregnancy mention tw#lmk mk#qi xiaotian#lmk tang#lmk pigsy#lmk mei#lmk sandy#lmk#lego monkie kid
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we will be everything we say - Chapter 6
masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 3.5k // updates Mondays (aest)
Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.
As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.
But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: TW for mentions of parental death and abusive behaviours. if you're unable to handle that right now and would like a chapter summary, head to AO3 and look at the chapter's end notes! please look after yourself.
Chapter 6: twenty-three and twenty-four
Tension lingered in the air like a heavy fog, accompanying the grey clouds overhead that helped set the incredibly morose atmosphere. It was fitting, considering what was happening today.
Feyre sat with her sisters, side by side, in the front row of the funeral home. It was a small, simple service - their father had never been a very outgoing man, and it had only gotten worse after their mother had died. Elain had been the one to handle all of the correspondence with the florist, a blend of tulips, carnations, and baby’s breath all stark white in large bunches over the casket. Elain barely looked like herself, with the long-sleeved black dress seeming to drain her of life so much so that she seemed to rival the lifeless body of their father in the coffin at the front of the room. It didn’t help that Elain probably took his passing the hardest. Nesta, on the other hand, looked like she was in her element. Cold, sharp, all angles and precision. Her outfit looked like she was ready to go to a board meeting or an interview, all practicality and projecting that strong visage she held so deeply on to. Both sisters knew there were a lot of complicated feelings towards their father that were simmering just barely underneath the surface of that tailored coat and her a-line skirt, but nobody dared speak it. They just wanted to get through today and put it behind them. The three of them could unpack their own baggage at a later date.
Today Feyre was nervous for a couple of reasons - she’d never been very good at public speaking, and yet she was the one who was giving the eulogy. She heard the funeral officiant say her name, rising from her seat and moving to the front of the room like a ghost of herself, hands shaking slightly. Her hands smoothed out her dress anxiously, fingers moving to fiddle with the oversized sleeves of her long cardigan before she gripped the cistern. Her eulogy was true, but simple - he was a caring husband, a father who loved his daughters, a man who never quite recovered from his demons. The details of what she wrote were merely a haze in her mind as she read it off of the paper she had prepared. But that wasn’t the main reason she was nervous.
What really made her nervous today was the pair of piercing violet eyes looking straight at her from the very back of the room, feeling as if they were piercing her right in the gut.
He had shown up. She had been the one to invite him, after all, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her hadn’t wanted him to come simply to avoid having to talk to him at all. How do you pick back up where you left off with your best friend when you hadn’t talked to them in two years?
She already had to pace the apartment for an hour or so as she tried to send the text to him in the first place to let him know, to get the wording and the tone right, to hope to every god known to man that he still had the same number. To hope that he would come at all. She kept it clinical, at the end of the day.
“Hi there, Rhysand. I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to let you know that my dad passed away a few days ago.
The funeral is next week to the day at 11:00am if you’d like to attend and pay your respects. Prythian Funeral Home.
I hope you’re well.”
It was anxiety-inducing enough to have sent the text in the first place that she hadn’t even bothered to see if Rhys had replied. Instead, Feyre threw herself into funeral preparations - inviting all of her and her sisters’ close friends who had known him and any of his previous business associates he had left. It didn’t fill the room, but it made it feel less pathetic than just the three of them, and that’s all that mattered to them.
The whole time Feyre was up there, it was a pointed effort not to meet Rhys’ eyes. If she did, she felt like she was going to break. So her eyes kept flickering around the room. From Cassian to Amren, from Vassa to Lucien, to anyone but him. Him in his immaculate dress shirt and perfectly tailored trousers, his artfully arranged raven-black hair and his hands adorned in a smattering of silver bands he fiddled with out of the corner of her eye.
The rest of the service after that was a blur. Most people had cleared out of the funeral home to head to Elain’s for the wake - she had tried to offer to cook for everyone, but Feyre and Nesta insisted on catering as Elain had already done so much, was always doing so much. She was already letting Feyre live with her for the time being and it made her feel awful asking for much else. Feyre opted to linger behind, talking to almost each and every person who had come. She gathered up the flowers, made sure that they knew exactly which plot to bury him in - right with their mother - and that there was nothing else to be tended to. Really, she was using it as an escape and a moment to breathe. A moment to delay the inevitable.
And yet, Rhys had always had impeccable timing for better or worse. Today was no different.
He caught her sitting outside on the concrete steps of the funeral home, gazing listlessly into the near-empty parking lot. She didn’t turn to meet his eyes, couldn’t bear it, but was so acutely aware as he sat down on the steps with her. Rhys pressed his side into the wall, Feyre pressing into the railing, a gap that lingered heavily between them. Two years of self-imposed exile that she couldn’t help but feel ashamed about, and this is what it amounted to - two people who knew each other so deeply pretending like they barely knew anything anymore on the steps in a town they’d both called home. She could hear Rhys inhale, ready to break the silence, but she raced to go first. She was the one who had pushed him out in the first place, it was only fair that she had to be the one to try and let him back in.
“Thanks for coming today. You didn’t have to.” Feyre’s eyes were trained firmly on her hands folded into her lap. She could hear his breath hitch slightly, whether it was in relief or confusion or something else, she couldn’t tell.
“Of course I had to. Even if he wasn’t always the most… present person. He was still like a father to me. Still let me in his home, eat his food, stay over. It wouldn’t be right to miss it.” Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Feyre’s face and she could feel them practically burning a hole in her temple, her cheek, her eyes, everywhere she knew he was observing. Trying to get a read on her, trying to ask without being demanding.
“That… means a lot, Rhys. I know it’s been a while.”
A dry laugh escaped him. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s an understatement. But I can’t blame you for it.”
Feyre’s heart twisted in guilt and hurt at that. She deserved it - while he had been the one to kiss her, she had been the one to force that distance no matter how much she just wanted her best friend back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Rhys would have probably been in a similar way. A heavy sigh passed her lips, turning her head to finally face him properly after two long years apart. He was very much the same, yet different. The same slant of his jaw, the same expressions she had known since she was young. But he was slightly taller, hints of tattoos peeking out beneath the collar of his shirt, a mild weariness about him that wasn’t there before. Maybe it had been hidden by his confidence the last time she saw him. It didn’t matter now - all that mattered was that he had shown up.
“Yeah, well… You weren’t the only one that fucked up that day. Don’t shoulder all of that on your own. God knows we’ve all made enough mistakes over the course of our lives, can’t keep beating yourself up for every slight you’ve made.” Not that it was going to stop her from beating herself up about it, but Rhys didn’t need to hear that part.
“I don’t know, I feel like I fucked up pretty bad. Lost my best friend a couple of years ago because I wanted to make things easier for her. Read the room wrong and ended up hurting her instead, it’s probably one of the biggest regrets I’ve ever had.” He turned his head to meet her gaze, eyes full of hurt and regret, yet an ever-present hope lingered behind them regardless. Feyre struggled to keep looking at him without faltering from nerves.
“What a coincidence, I lost my best friend a couple of years ago, too,” Feyre said, a dry chuckle escaping her. “I thought I knew exactly how my life should go and that he was a little bit insane. Pressure from my fiance didn’t help, so I iced him out and now I’m basically at rock bottom. I miss him a lot, but I don’t know if I can get him back. I hurt him pretty badly.”
“Feyre, I-”
“Rhys, if you’re about to apologise, I don’t want you to because you shouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to be friends or didn’t ever want to see me again after this-”
Before she could continue, Rhys’ hand darted out to grab a hold of both of her own, folded in her lap anxiously until he had bridged the gap between them.
“Feyre, I can’t imagine a world where we’re not in each other’s lives. Living through it was hell, and I’d rather die than experience that again.”
She could feel the dam of emotions she’d been holding inside of her heart begin to crack, tears welling up until they spilled over her cheeks and Rhysand was pulling her into his side, legs pressed together as they gave each other the first hug they’d shared in two whole years. Feyre’s arms squeezed around his waist like her life depended on it, his arms wrapped around hers like a comforting blanket. Like home.
“I missed you so fucking much, Rhys. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, if I’m not allowed to apologise right now, neither are you.” Amusement had snuck into Rhys’ voice, and despite her tears and sniffles she couldn’t help but laugh a little. As her head moved to his shoulder, he moved his own head to rest on hers. Relief and catharsis thrummed through her veins all the way through to her toes.
“God, we’re fucking idiots. I can’t believe we let this go on for so long.”
“Tell me about it. I have no fucking clue what you’ve even been up to for the past two years.”
Feyre broke from the hug, wiping at her eyes with a small frown on her face as she sat up. “Wait, not even from Mor or anybody else..?”
“Not a peep. You said you wanted space, so I tried to respect your privacy.”
She couldn’t help but wheeze dryly a little at that. “So you don’t know? NIce of you to be so chivalrous, but even I’m surprised this didn’t get back to you. Fucking hell, okay.”
Confusion contorted Rhys’s features. “Feyre, I can’t emphasise enough how much I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A tense moment of silence passed between them, Feyre taking a breath as she let the pause hang in the air for just a moment.
“...Tamlin and I split up. Probably about six months ago, now. Wasn’t exactly amicable to say the least.”
His hand came to rest on her shoulder softly. “Oh Feyre, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be sad about it. I know how much everyone else couldn’t stand him.”
“I mean… Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. Run me through the past two years, tell me how this happened. We have a lot to catch up on anyway, right?”
“That's true. Were you after the full spiel or the summarised version?” She laughed slightly as she turned to him with a small smile. It was nice to be able to sit with him again, feeling at ease for the first time in a long while.
“Whatever you're willing to give me.”
“Well,” Feyre started dramatically, placing her hand over his on his knee. “About six months after we saw each other last, Tamlin and I ended up moving to Seattle so he could do… Business bullshit, I don't know. He very deliberately never involved me in the brewery stuff more than I needed to be, which was usually just as a pretty little toy. I mean, at the time I felt so special, y'know? All these trips, the move, the dresses. Really, it was the smaller things that got me - the food, the comfort. Things that I had to work for before. He told me so many wonderful things and that I was soooo perfect, so it was easy enough to fall into.
“It was kind of a whole ‘boiling a frog’ situation. He would make me feel so safe and loved before slowly coaxing me to do different stuff. Tamlin certainly didn't like me talking to you before all of this.”
“Of course, it's hard not to be intimidated by all this latent natural charm.” Rhys postured, fussing with his collar in a flair of dramatics that made the both of them giggle like they were back to being kids again.
“Of course! But, haha, he definitely wasn't enthused. So he let up for a bit after that. But soon it was getting me to dress up a little more each and every day, even when I was ducking out to get groceries or something. Phasing out things that we had in the pantry or the fridge - snacks would go missing, judging looks, shit like that. Then about a year ago we moved. It got worse after that.
“Literally the only people I knew after we moved were Tamlin and Lucien. Even Lucien didn't wanna be around him more than he had to by the end of things because it was getting unbearable. He could dress how he wanted, eat how he wanted, act how he wanted. He'd be perfectly content. But the minute I questioned things, it was like a fucking heel turn. Sometimes asking who he was on the phone with prompted him to start blaming all his problems on me. Telling me I was nothing but a piece of shit who made him feel depressed and awful. Every time I stepped out of line in his eyes he just got… angrier. Never hit me or anything, but fuck, I think he got close some days.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder tug her in close once more - the warm tears spilled reluctantly down her cheeks, though she'd be lying if she said she was surprised she was crying about it. The only other person who had heard about it until now was the therapist Lucien and her sisters had all pitched in to get her a few sessions with - she didn’t end up sticking with them, though. Not that Feyre hadn’t appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t feel quite ready. But with Rhys? She couldn’t help but spill her guts bare. She gently wiped at her eyes, taking a heavy breath before resuming.
“Anyways, uh… Finally got sick of it a little while after trying to cover up some of the mirrors in the house. I wasn’t painting or drawing anymore, he said that it was a dumb hobby and that it was beneath me. Didn’t have any hobbies anymore, really. No job, either. My entire wardrobe was full of these designer labels and uncomfortable dresses - piles of heels and bags and accessories. Gaudy, flashy jewelry as far as the eye could see. I was so gaunt, I didn’t have any life left in me. I dressed how he wanted, looked how he wanted, talked how he wanted, ate how he wanted. Thought how he wanted me to as well, that I wasn’t worth anything unless I was by his side,” She scoffed slightly, looking up at the sky a little as her head came to rest on Rhysand’s shoulder.
“But I had a kind of lucid moment where I was covering up those mirrors, not wanting to even be here anymore where I was just like, what am I even doing here? I was in such a gilded fucking cage and so sick of it. Tamlin was on one of his rare solo trips at the time so I just… left. Texted Lucien - he’d seen me deteriorating for a while and tried to get me to see things differently before, but it was hard when I was so isolated, y’know? He helped me get all my shit out. Left Tamlin with nothing but a note and that ugly fucking ring. Blocked him on everything. Let Nesta and Elain know, and the rest is history. Been living with Elain back in Prythian since, teaching nighttime painting classes and working as a cashier to try and save up enough money to move out.” Feyre sniffled a little before putting a big smile on her face and turning to Rhys, bringing her hands under her chin to frame it in an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere. If she didn’t try to take it at least a little less seriously, then she was just going to get in her head about the whole situation all over again, and that’s the last thing she wanted. Not when she had come so far already.
“Shit, Feyre… Can’t say I can beat that in terms of a one-eighty.” Rhys smiled at her slightly, a smidge of sadness mixed with a dose of pride in his stare. She let out a little laugh in turn.
“Hey, go big or go home, right?”
“You never did anything half-assed, that’s for sure.” Rhys took her hand resting upon his knee into both of his, squeezing gently. “I’m just glad you’re happier. That you’re safe. We have plenty of time for all of that ‘I told you so’ type of shit later.”
Feyre simply rolled her eyes, nudging his side with her own. “Thanks, Rhys. But what about you? I can’t just dump all of the ways my life temporarily turned into a tire fire only to not hear about you in return.”
Rhys shuffled a little uncomfortably beside her - he always had trouble when the focus shifted to him in anything more than a surface level, necessary capacity. It was his turn to sigh heavily, looking down at the ground. His head tilted to rest on top of hers, like not a second had passed between when they had been thick as thieves up to now.
“Well, it’s kind of weird. I mean, I’ve done a lot but at the same time not a lot has changed. I’m still close with everybody, especially Cass and Az, but I know that wouldn’t surprise anybody.”
Feyre chuckled slightly. “Well duh, you guys are brothers at this point. It’d be weirder if you weren’t still close.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the two paused for a moment. There was a sentence unspoken between them that they both knew deep in their bones, hanging in the air like a sword of Damocles - it wouldn’t have been as weird as when the two of them stopped talking. But neither of them needed to tell the other that. That fact was as true as the sky being blue or the grass being green. Rhys broke the tension first, not wanting to linger on it any longer than the two of them had to.
“I ended up leaving Prythian about a year ago, though. Dad had died - he hadn’t been in good health for a while, so nobody was surprised. I finally fully inherited the business instead of just being a figurehead beneath him, but I never really had any interest in it. I did well in my business degree but it just… never quite clicked with me the way I think he hoped it would. It wasn’t exactly a huge emotional loss to me when he went. Ended up selling the whole thing and moving to New York, actually.”
“Makes sense - you always struck me as a city guy.”
“What can I say? I have very particular taste.” The two chuckled in tandem, the warmth of it rumbling through Feyre’s throat and chest.
“But anyway, I actually ended up putting my degree to use and started my own business. I picked up tailoring and design from Mom way back when and I always enjoyed it, so why not, right? It felt good - feels good - to still have that connection to her. Started out just selling stuff online before I moved into some actual brick and mortar stores. There’s not a lot, but they’re going well at least.”
Feyre sat up, surprise and delight written all over her face at the news. “Holy shit, that’s amazing Rhys! I’m so proud of you - ‘not much has changed’ my ass! You’re like a big business mogul now.”
Rhys raised his eyebrows at her. “Feyre, I’m literally just a small business owner.”
“Yeah, now, but you’ve always been ambitious. You’re gonna be some thriving CEO type in no time.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Archeron.” Rhys smirked, mussing up Feyre’s hair a little while taking care to make sure the silver rings he wore didn’t catch in the strands. She didn’t hesitate to mess his own hair up in return, mock offense spreading over his features before melting into a laugh.
“But seriously, I meant it when I said not much has changed, in a way. I live in a new place now and I’ve got a business going, but I still talk to the same people. I don’t go out much, I’m a pretty big homebody unless it’s for any of our inner circle. It all feels so… the same. But not, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” With that, Feyre pushed up and off of the stairs, brushing down the back of her dress and cardigan to neaten them up as she stood. She turned to Rhys, reaching a hand out to help him up. It was a handy excuse to touch him again anyway, to feel some of the closeness she had been missing for so long.
Sitting and talking with Rhys so casually felt like a puzzle piece she didn’t entirely realise had gone missing clicked back into place. Everything felt so right and comfortable - like her world had been spinning on a slightly wrong angle, only to be righted with a gentle touch again. He took the hand she offered as he stood up - not that he needed the help. Rhys looked down at her with something that Feyre couldn’t quite pick, something between reverence and relief. She would take either. It didn’t matter so long as they could be in each other’s lives again.
“C’mon, we should head to the wake. If we’re overly late, I think Nesta might lose it a little.” Feyre cocked her head in the direction of her car, a small black thing in the back corner of the parking lot.
“...As in, we go to the wake together?” He almost looked like a lost puppy as he posed the question. Feyre rolled her eyes with a little smile and dragged him by the arm towards her car.
“No shit. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you. I’m not gonna have you wasting money on an Uber when we could spend more time catching up on the way there. If I can’t spend my days beating myself up for shutting you out, then I can at least make the most of letting you back in.”
Rhys nodded almost dumbly as he climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at Feyre as the two buckled themselves into the car.
“...I’d really love that, Feyre. I’ve missed you too.”
The feeling that washed over Feyre’s bones was something that she didn’t think could ever be beat - that things would work out and be okay after all, in the end.
#feysand#rhysand x feyre archeron#fanfiction#rhysand#feyre archeron#acotar#acotar fanfiction#friends to lovers
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I think what makes gildedguy and the dragon of mar such an interesting and wonderful story to me is the intense emotional depth within it. It is, without a doubt, a tragedy - the main antagonist is tragic, he's a character you connect to personally before the end of the animation. He's a character you want to help, but is doomed by his existence and his past.
[spoilers and lots of disconnected thoughts below]
And he's a character who our MC tries to help - but gets refused every single time, from the day they meet to moments before Mar dies. Mar is a sympathetic character but has lost himself in his own evil, and refuses to accept that he could change for the better.
He isolates himself - and seems to accept Gildedguy into his life as a potential new friend. Maybe the only friend he's had in decades. The amount of time they spend together, and the amount of time Gildedguy spends trying to help this man, is really what makes Mar's end such a huge gut punch.
A lot of people are criticizing the ending of story 8 as Sable killing Mar "for no reason", which is not only tone deaf but also completely misreading the entire story presented to them. This story was never going to have a good ending, but with the story being told from Gildedguy's perspective, we were given a twinge of hope that maybe just maybe he could send Mar on the path to self-improvement.
Mar has been evil, and has been pillaging and killing people for probably decades at this point, what with how huge his gold hoard and skeleton collection is. He is too far gone, in the sense that he has resigned himself to the idea that he could never improve. Us, the viewers, having an idealistic approach at a story that could only end in pain and suffering for at least some individuals involved, gives us more expectation and more pain when the realization hits you:
You can't save everyone.
Some crimes are just too severe to be forgiven, and even if they aren't, some people are just too lost in their own self-hate to accept your help. Mar's crimes have overtaken him to the point that he can hardly exist, or even look at himself, without retreating inside the dragon that protects him and is his vessel of violence.
Having such little things - such tiny twinges of hope and beauty - set off such a deep evil in you that you resort to lashing out and violence, is a sign of someone filled with hurt, pain, and tragedy. It's a sign of someone who is past saving, despite how much you want to save them.
Gildedguy was the knight in shining armor, he spent four months building this massive machine to protect the people he cares about - Mar included. He opened himself up to this man, he tried to connect with him on a personal level in a moment of vulnerability, showing his face and trying to make himself seem like less of a threat.
And yet, even to the end, Mar still refused him, which led to his demise.
Gildedguy is a hopeful, whimsical person who wants to befriend and help just about everybody he comes across. He connected to Mar on a personal level the day they met, spending time together and sharing food. He could see a little of himself in Mar, they shared laughs and smiles, and a deep-seated regret and pain.
And he feared a little bit, for who and what Mar is.
But even still, he was willing to look past what he saw in himself, and continued being kind to Mar, in a rare act of genuine kindness that I doubt Mar has ever seen.
This leads well into how much Gildedguy tries to help his new friend throughout the story, and how tragic it is that Mar had to die. Gildedguy related to him, but not in a way that could save his friend. And despite how Gildedguy saw himself in Mar, the same could not be said for Mar seeing himself in Gildedguy.
Ultimately, that is why Mar could not and would not accept the help. He couldn't think of anyone else who'd really, truly be able to handle the evil and pain that he goes through and inflicts upon others. He has no hope for himself. He has no life or color.
He is just a broken, tired, dead-inside man who knows nothing else aside from the dragon he hides inside.
And Gildedguy slowly came to this realization as the story went on. He didn't know what Mar had done when first meeting him. But he came across the hoards of gold, the skeletons, the stolen treasure, and the people he's stolen away and doomed to death and saw just how much harm Mar has done to the world around him.
In the end, he resigned himself to the fact that Mar did not want to be saved, as much as Gildedguy wanted to save Mar.
He accepted his death, as painful as it was in the moment.
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HERE'S THE OUTLINE ABOUT THIS BRAINWORM
i haven't rly thought of a name for my OC so i'm just gonna use the placeholder name jean for now [after Jean Vic. don't @ me on this]. he might not even end up french tho we'll see…… anyway he was a sailor (don't ask me for further details, it's blurry. it's Real blurry) and he just got back from a voyage but he was discharged from the navy.
what happened during the voyage was he got into a relationship with a higher ranking officer and they were close but was pursuing their relationship knowing that when they get to land they won't be able to continue it (not if the officer wanted to stay in his social circles) buuut it was kind of an open secret on the ship. then there was an Accident, in which the higher ranking officer died (yes i'm going down the dead lover cliche pathway--shhh it's for the plot later). so when the higher ups were looking into the death, they found out about their relationship, which is why the discharge from the navy [[listen. i think at this point france has decriminalized homosexuality but i have no clue what it's like in the navy. so i'm assuming it's the don't ask don't tell thing. so don't @ me on this. or do, i would Love to know if anyone knows]]
so heartbroken and out of a job jean found a job vacancy of being a stagehand at the opera house. his job would be way down below the stage or way up above stage, and the job requirements reminds him of finding his way on a ship, so he's doing just fine with this. he does his job well enough, keeps his head down, tries to be friendly when he can.
after a while of doing bits and pieces here and there and he's established himself, the new chief stagehand gives him the main job of maintaining the area on the mezzanine floor where joseph buquet was killed (i'm smooshing leroux canon and alw canon together here btw. canon is toy blocks for me to pick and choose) since a lot of stagehands avoid that place like a plague. it's not out of malice, it's just that they all realize that jean doesn't rly believe in superstitions or ghosts so they're all like why not? he's knows about the stories but since he doesn't believe in ghosts (and thinks that anything about phantom as an actual dude is an exaggeration of events to attract patrons) he's like eh, alright.
all this happens while jean suspects that he's definitely traumatized by the events that happened during his voyage, obviously. he knows of stories of what happens to people who's traumatized enough. at this point in time he's given in to talking out loud to his dead lover when he's alone, so this is how one day erik heard him through that trapdoor into his home (/torture chamber). when erik tries to scare him off by speaking to him in a disembodied voice, jean Naturally thought that his trauma has given him auditory hallucinations. he at first breaks down about this because he thought he was doing better mentally, but this is a sure sign he isn't doing that great actually.
erik, absolutely confused about this reaction, decides to show himself physically after some time, just to prove to jean that he's not Actually having auditory hallucinations. but jean first mistook him for a lost patron, and is like sir u can't be here without supervision?? and jean's worried he'd lose his job if someone catches a patron wandering down here with only jean watching him bc he sure as hell ain't qualified to give patrons a tour below stage. but erik would mysteriously disappear any time anyone comes close to them. cue a whole bunch of meetings like this bc erik's lonely and this man new to the opera thinks he's a patron and treats him like a normal man and he's been starved of company ever since christine left and the mob hunted him done and he stopped bothering the opera
so they get closer. jean's half worried that erik's a hallucination, since he disappears a lot and is never seen by anybody else but jean, but he seems so real……
they get to a point where erik tells jean of christine and they bond over having lost someone they loved. erik speaks longingly of his dreams of being married and having a wife to go on sunday walks with
at this time jean is a little (a Lot) in love with him and gets his heart shattered into pieces bc god damn it he wants a wife Of Course he'd want a Wife...........
and then somehow erik finds out that jean is in love with Someone and he asks about it (somehow feeling something like Rage and Something Else because jean? in love? WHO WOULD CAPTURE THIS MAN'S ATTENTION? WHO DARES? WHO DESERVES IT?) and jean is like its of no matter (because he thinks erik wouldn't reciprocate. he's not the exactly right gender)
then jean spends a long time thinking it over and realizes that even if erik doesn't return his feelings, erik seems like someone who would benefit from being told that in this world Someone does loves him, even if he [erik] doesn't love jean back. so he tells him and it takes a while to convince erik of it but then erik remembers that jean said his love for erik is "no matter" and goes batshit about it bc does this mean he doesn't matter to jean????
and jean tells erik that it does matter. it matters to him a lot. erik matters to him a lot. but he can't give erik what he wants, their relationship would not exactly be an open one. it would be some secret thing, at the very least half hidden from society. he won't impose that on erik when he knows erik wants his little walks in the park with his lover........ erik's showing the 404 error code.
anyways idk how it goes from here but they'll get together. i swear
#MAYBE I'LL GET AROUND TO ACTUALLY WRITING THIS BUT HM NO PROMMY#phantom of the opera#phantom of the opera oc#fic ideas
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Levi's Personal Sacrifice in Letting Erwin Go:
One thing that I think get lost in all the argument over whether Levi was "in love" with Erwin or not, is actually just how important Erwin was to Levi. There doesn't have to be any presence of romantic feeling between them to recognize this, and indeed, I think it actually does a great disservice to both of their characters, and the complexity of them, to saddle them with the definition, or to try and fit their actions and motivations through that lens. But particularly for Levi. Because one thing it does, when we try to frame Levi's choice to let Erwin die purely through a romantic lens, is it undermines the weight of that choice in relation to Levi's own ability to do the thing that most motivates him, that is, to help people.
It's not so much that Levi was losing the person he "loved", it was that he was losing the person who helped him to help others. Without Erwin, Levi didn't really know how to do that. He didn't know how to direct himself, didn't know what he could do, how best to utilize his strength for the benefit of people. That's the personal sacrifice Levi made. He was umoored without Erwin there to guide him. His sacrifice, then, was more than just letting go of a single friend, or losing the man he loved. It's tied up with how much Levi cares about everyone. Not just Erwin, but all people. Levi wanted to be able to help them, in the best way he could, and Erwin gave him that ability. But he sacrificed that to end Erwin's suffering. That's why I'll never understand people who call Levi's choice selfish. It was the opposite of selfish. Levi gave up his own sense of place in the world by letting Erwin die. He lost the map that Erwin provided to him, showing him the way to help. And I think the significance of that can only be understood when one understands how it's helping people which drives Levi above all else.
And by letting Erwin go, Levi also sacrificed his ability to cope with the choice of others to give themselves up to something not worth their lives.
After the time skip, after Eren betrays them all, particularly following the Yeagerists takeover of the island, we see Levi begin to express regret and uncertainty regarding Eren, particularly in relation to his previous decision to protect Eren over the lives of his other comrades, and more specifically still, those other comrades own decision to give their lives for Eren's, believing Eren was the key to their dreams being realized. That is, humanity's victory over the Titans.
Levi realizes, upon hearing about the Yeagerists coup, that all those lives that were sacrificed to protect and keep Eren alive were lost in vain. That they died for nothing, and Levi's anguished despair over this realization is rooted in the fact that, for him, there's nothing worse than that. To see life wasted for no reason. And that comes back, as it always does, to how much Levi values life.
I think that's why Levi is so unhappy at the end of the story, because he sees that none of it turned out to be worth the lives his comrades gave. That's a devastating realization. Levi, in his monologue during the final battle, refers to it as being "their dream", not his, which is why I always talk about Levi fighting for his comrades, more than some utopian future. He fought for "their dream" because it's what they chose to give their lives for. But because Levi sees life as inherently valuable, indeed, as the most precious thing there is, the only way he could ever believe the cause they gave their lives for was worth it was if the cause itself was equal to those lives. A "stupidly idealistic world", meaning an impossibly idealistic world. A world beyond any actual realm of possibility. He supported their dream and tried to make it a reality for them, not for the dream itself, which is something I've spoken about before, too. For Levi, it was always about people, and their lives, and it was the cause they fought for that needed to prove its worth to them, not the other way around.
How this ties into what Levi actually personally sacrificed by letting Erwin die is that, I think in many ways, Erwin's presence in Levi's life, and particularly, Levi's belief in Erwin, is what helped Levi to cope with so many people giving their lives up to a cause that, deep down, I don't think Levi ever, truly believed in.
Erwin was really Levi's guiding light. Levi wanted to help people, but he didn't really know how. Erwin showed him how, by telling Levi to fight for the dreams of the Scouts of the Survey Corps, and by extension, to fight for humanity. He gave Levi an outlet to use his great strength to help people, something Levi had been searching for before ever coming above ground. He convinced Levi that he had a vision of something beyond Levi's own, limited view of the world, that he knew something Levi didn't know, and it was because of that belief in Erwin's greater vision, that Levi chose to trust him and believe in his guidance in fighting for and supporting the dreams of his comrades, even as Levi himself continued harbor doubt and uncertainty as to that causes worth.
He really believed that Erwin could see some great possibility that he couldn't, is the thing, some truly better world, and he trusted in that, in what Erwin was seeing.
And so I think Levi pushed aside his own doubts about the possibility of a better world because of that trust, because of how strong his belief in Erwin was, with how much he, as he always said, "trusted in Erwin's judgement".
Once more, the sadness in Levi at the end, I think, is him realizing he was right all along, his inner feeling was right, and that "stupidly idealistic world" that they all gave their lives for was only ever a dream, not a real possibility. Which also means Erwin's great vision was wrong. There never was any better world. There never was any cause that was worth the lives of Levi's comrades. The way things turned out only proved that. They all died for something better, but in the end, nothing better came. Yes, the Titan curse was gone, and a tentative peace emerged, but the cost was too high and the world was in shambles. It wasn't a better world at all.
Again, Levi says their lives (meaning the lives of his comrades) would only have been worth a "stupidly idealistic world". I think it was always a struggle for Levi to let his comrades die and sacrifice themselves for an ideology. I think it was always a struggle for Levi to push down his own instinct to save lives to allow them to pursue that dream. He couldn't stop them from sacrificing themselves, because it was what they wanted, it was their choice, is was what they believed in, and so the best he could do was support that, and try to make their dream a reality. And, again, I think the way Levi was able to cope with that, to cope with his inability to interfere with or stop his comrades from dying for a ideology, was by trusting in Erwin to get them there, with his great vision, with his far-reaching gaze and his superior judgement. If Erwin said it was possible, then maybe it really was, because Erwin could see something Levi couldn't. Erwin was "superior" to him.
The tragic irony for Levi was, it was him who was right all along.
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Can't Forget To Love You.
Desc: Azure, Alastor’s darling wife, died tragically and suddenly one night from tuberculosis. Ever since then, Alastor had become ruthless in his killings. Finally, he meets his end and hopes the pain from losing his bird would end, only for it to hurt tenfold when he wakes up in Hell with Azure nowhere to be found. Almost a century later, his thoughts are once again captivated by her essence just as an Angel falls and decides to help Charlie out with her dream.
TW: cannon type violence, death, angst, Azure is a fallen angel, Azure is secretly unhinged, emotional Alastor, Alastor in denial, Azure doesn’t realize Alastor was her Alastor at first, Azure falls because she defends her husband against Adam and Sera. Eventual smut, cursing, both Alastor and Azure try to beat around the bush, Alastor tries to protect her by pushing her away.
Taglist: @redfoxwritesstuff @blobin456drawz
LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
DM TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST.
Chapter tw: Cursing maybe? Emotions, suggestive towards the end, but only a tiny bit, the usual angst.
Chapter 5: I'm Learning, I Promise.
Azure was restless, her heart ached once again, missing the man she still couldn’t name. Charlie had been wracking her own brain trying to come up with ideas for exercises to help with her amnesia, and Husk had been trying to help her remember different drinks.
Alastor was secretly a mess. Nobody had seen how many times he’d broken down since Azure had come to the hotel.
She was the woman he’d prayed for restlessly for almost a century, and yet when he manages to get her back she doesn’t even remember him.
A part of him thought this was an omen that he’d only ever be able to hurt her if she remembered. Hell, she only died from Tuberculosis because he was arrogant and put his work above being home with her. The stag felt like an utter fool, and he didn’t know if he even wanted the ex-angel to even remember him anymore.
Slowly, Charlie began to initiate more and more activities for the ex-angel to help with her memory.
Between trying different types of dancing, to art therapy, even music, and they’d barely made any headway. Until Husk decided to make a suggestion.
“Why not try cooking?” He asked, leaning against the couch that Azure leaned against. “We know her husband’s name starts with an ‘A’, so why not try somethin’ I’m sure she did for ‘em given it was the 20’s?” He finished by taking a sip of his booze.
Charlie beamed at him. “That’s actually a great idea, Husk!”
And that was how Azure found herself standing in the kitchen over a large pan of jambalaya, the spices flowing up and drowning her new senses in nothing but the savory scent of the meal she could just barely remember cooking and eating with her husband every friday night.
The hind closes her eyes, seeing flashes of her kitchen in life flashing beneath her eyelids. She blinked again, seeing her husband’s tight grin turning soft and genuine as he peers down at her, and when she blinks again she can see his eyes. Not just his eyes though, his whole face. From his fluffy brown hair and caramel skin, to the way his pouty lips flattened in his tight grin and then plumped up once more as his smile became genuine when he looked at Azure.
The ex-angel blinked again, tears swelling in her eyes as the scene changed to her wedding. Her husband wore a black and white pinstripe tux, Azure’s favorite flower; a black iris, was tucked into his breast pocket. The officiant of the wedding was her uncle, who happened to be a priest, and his aged brown eyes beamed at Azure as she stood next to her husband with the veil over her face. And then she’s brought out of the memory by Alastor.
“My dear, are you alright?” He asked, brushing his claws against her cheek gently. The hind nodded, brushing her tears away before pushing her hair out of her face.
“I’m fine, just really pushing myself to remember things.” She tells him, and he hums absently.
She notices his pupils dilate slightly while looking at her, before he clears his throat and turns, facing the pan of food. “Why, is that jambalaya??” He asked, his smile turning genuine as he turned to look at her with those same dilated eyes her husband would give her, except these eyes were like blood, not warm whiskey. The deja vu hits her, and Azure can’t help but compare Alastor’s face with her husband’s face. The overall structure was nearly identical, how could this demon be so similar to a man she’d been so utterly devoted to?
Later on, Azure had been getting ready for bed and was sitting at her vanity with her black silk thigh-length nightgown on, preening her wings, when Charlie knocked and opened her bedroom door.
“If you can’t sleep, Alastor is telling stories about the thirties.” She said, and Azure hummed, thinking for a moment before tossing her sweater over her nightgown and following Charlie down the stairs.
Once in the lobby, all of the residents were crowded around a large cushioned chair where Alastor sat, happily telling a story. Sir Pentious and Husk made room between them for Azure while Charlie sat next to her girlfriend.
The hind settled down, Nifty quickly curling into her arms like a toddler while Husk rested his head on her thigh. She held Nifty close and gently scratched one of Husk’s ears, otherwise giving her attention to the stag in front of them. Her white eyes peered into his red ones,
Once again, Alastor’s smile turned soft as he looked into her eyes, but this time they also roamed her figure before settling back on her own eyes with a heat he attempted to hide. Azure was too intelligent for her own good, and could read him like a book.
She barely knew him, yet could tell when he was upset, hoping for something, disappointed, in awe, or just downright hungry for touch.
The hind smiled and felt a blush crawl up to her face, burning her neck and she looked down only to see Husk grinning up at her mischievously. She wrinkled her nose at the bar-cat playfully.
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tender as a bruise, sharper than a razor
wrap her tentacles around me like she'll never let me go
klaus' backstory arc just ended heho and it was revealed he used to be the lover of the goddess of storms and pirates... she had basically kidnapped him and imprisoned him into murder and piracy for 20 years and needless to say it greatly damaged him on every level <3 its okay he's been able to be normal for once since the start of the campaign thanks to the party aka his new found family
get urself a surrogate middle-aged father who can speedrun a forbidden romance in one minute and then immediately go to confront the darkest version/a corrupted version of himself, as well as his toxic lover as she tortures him -w-)b
details and just the lines hehe
#clerichs.png#my artwork#original character#original art#original illustration#digital art#digital painting#digital illustration#dnd character#oc#oc illustration#im so unnormal about him.#he got hurt soo badly in isolation... thats where all the scars in his ref came from </3#this portrait is of the one scar his goddess did not give him.... </3#tfw ur jealous sea goddess lover pits you against other pirates and sea monsters to fight for ur life and test ur devotion#and she promised to love you wholly only for u to realize she doesn't understand or know what love is#and only wanted it bc everyone else who had love seemed so happy and she wanted that too#so after she destroyed everything you loved (literally your entire world) she merely treats u as a possession for 20 years#and you don't know how to ask for love because you don't know how to love either so you resent her and everything and everyone#leading rage to build up within you and you willfully slaughtering so many things because you cant handle your emotions and pain#and after deflating and sinking into apathy a rogue priest manages to break ur exterior and touch you deeply enough to let you love again#and because of him you're able to begin breaking free of everything and you lose everything again but this time#this time you wake up in a crate of fish to outstretched hands and people who love you as family even after learning who you are/were#filling you with strength and willpower even as your goddess lover comes back swearing she loved you and loves you still#and she tortures you and threatens to take everything away again if you don't come back to her but because of your love for everyone#and their love for you youre able to hold fast long enough for them to break you out#his goddess made a copy of him by warping the body and soul of a naive young man in an attempt to replace him and fill the hole in her hear#he had to literally kill the darkest version of himself that hurt everyone and he laid him to rest... catharsis if ive ever seen it#as i said. im so normal about him <3 the guy i project onto the most ever#klaus lierstark
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#csa warning for tags#goddd being raped at 6ish and brutally bullied is a hell of a combination#i was the one kid in not only my grade but multiple above and below me as well that the boys would dare each other to 'ask out'#absolutely CONSTANTLY. like jesus#by the time i was raped i'd already been bullied pretty badly for a while. including being constantly told i was ugly by all the boys#which is like. a huge reason i was raped in the first place. i still dont know who it was but i can only assume he took advantage of me#being constantly bullied to abuse me. as child rapists so often do#but like i was always the one that would be 'asked out' as a dare bc why would any of them want to talk to me#it was so inconceivable that any of them could want to be near me let alone 'go out' with me. they didn't even bother trying to hide the way#they laughed. like they didn't try to hide it bc they knew no one would do anything#and this happening to me fucking constantly for years on end throughout my ENTIRE childhood. that fucks with you man#like i dont think its even possible for anyone to like being around me at all. let alone find me attractive#there's still never been a single person who's had a crush on me or whatever#like all my friends have stories about annoying boys having crushes on them when they were younger. and what does it say about me that im#the complete opposite. and like it's so stupid because who fucking cares what 10 year old boys thought in 2016 but it really really fucks#you up bad man. like if anyone ever does come to be attracted to me for whatever reason i dont think im ever going to be able to believe it#i'm always going to be waiting for the joke to end and them to start laughing. i'll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop#and the worst part of it all is that i fucking want to be raped again#being raped as a little kid is the only time anyone has ever wanted me. it's the only time i've ever been desired. and i dont even like sex#but it's just the only time anyone has ever loved me in a non parental way#like i have one crush story to all my friends'. and it was a grown man that raped me when i was little#and i want to be raped again so fucking badly not because i would enjoy it but because it would prove that someone actually fucking wants me#i want to be sexually harassed and not in the way i usually am. i want to be catcalled and have to be scared walking around alone#i want men to grope me and say disgusting things and rape me because then i would finally be fucking wanted#it would prove that i'm actually likeable in some capacity. that i still am#im so scared that now that im grown im just a lost cause. because i was only desirable when i was little. now im just nothing#and i know i shouldnt even care but its so fucking hard to shake. i just want someone to love me#and i love my mom so much but i want them to love me because they want to and not because they have to#rambles#vent
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SOOOOOO hard to go through everyday life trying to ignore the never-ending feeling that im just irreparably fucked up and therefore should just give up on everything
#this aint exactly s******* but it aint exactly not s******* either#anyways it gets even harder when i have to live under the same roof as my brother who is so much better than me in every single conceivable#and imaginable way possible like#and i knowwww a LOT of it comes down to us having relatively similar yet wildly different lives despite being 1.5y apart and having the sam#family our entire lives like he has gone through NOTHING and i mean not a single societal issue ive had to face and endure my entire life#he's a man im a woman. he's white im black. he's straight im gay. he's skinny ive always been 'overweight'. he's always been the good#christian kid ive always had issues w faith and religion. he's never been mentally ill i was clinically depressed for nearly 8yrs of my lif#we both lost the same parent and im the only one who got pathological grief and a personality disorder out of it. he's had a great job for#the last 7yrs that now pays him 20k+ every month ive only had 3 odd jobs my entire life and 2 of those my MOTHER had to give me so i would#have SOMETHING and ive never made over 1.6k monthly n my last job was minimum wage only#he's had like 4 relationships and is nearly engaged im so traumatized + emotionally unavailable ive only ever been on 1 date my entire life#he has a good relationship w every family member we have i have Issues w like half the family. he's always been an active member of our#church i can barely listen to like 4 traditional hymns before i start losing my mind and spiraling. i think the only two ways we're pretty#much equal like socially is that we're both able bodied cis and christians but still the cis and christian thing is debatable for previousl#stated reasons so like. do yall see how much better he is doing than me in every little last area in life and how he's always gotten the#long straw when it comes to Not having to deal w certain obstacles in life. n i know its like yea idk what it actually is like to be him an#he could not be doing all that well first of all shut up. second of all if it was 1 or 2 things i'd get it but it's literally EVERYTHING#and i know bc of said things n our v different lives it's unfair to me to compare the two of us but then it begs the question: WHY#WHY did i have to go through these things. WHY do i have to deal w this. WHY did i get the short straw literally every goddamn time#WHY did i have to get THIS life like WHYYYYY why ME GOD. why have I had to put up w all this bullshit for 24 fucking years!!!!!!!!! im TIRE#and this is not me hating or resenting him i know it's not his fault and he is so good to me#but still. why was i left with these things? to live like this?#so yes i guess i do envy him a little bit. who wouldn't#mari.txt#personal#tw negative#dl#btw i do NOT mean some identities are better than others. i mean he is better and is doing better than me in life partially bc he's never#had to deal w certain social issues and obstacles that come w oppressed identities.
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