#And chose to kneel their head and commit

[kakusu-shipping]

I think me and you might have two different pictures regarding the pig reader. I was picturing the most ever “Fuck it. we ball” bitch on the planet. That reader that I'm imagining couldn't win and then immediately went for The Silly To survive. 

Probably not realistic at all. It is a bit more of an OC character with a second personal narrative. Maybe a bit of a Mary Sue? I don't know, I just think it's interesting.

As Someone having a battle of wills against the Luca Blight over how much Miserable Non-sexual pet play that they would do without him even saying a damn word is the kind of dark comedy I can get behind. Are you determined enough? How much of a good actor are you to act like an obedient little piggy? How long can you last holding yourself together? How much can you take and still know that you are a human deep inside? How much do you have to bury to survive? How long can this act last before you get consumed? Or can you be clever enough to get yourself out without revealing yourself to be smarter than you should? All you know is that you should never stand up and absorb as much as you can and try to keep yourself as sane as possible. you will get through this. This Little Piggy has a life worth fighting for. (((What's got to be done to make this work? How are you going to appeal to him?)))) You're not going to come out of this unscathed but you're going to come out of this No Matter What. 

(((This thought probably came from How I Probably cuz I really can't comprehend somebody doing for any amount of time In this particular scenario involving Luca blight Without Either being absolute batshit insane or completely cracked out in deceit and determination.  (To be fair being pathetic is totally an option but man does anyone want to be that pathetic?)))

Am I honestly asking for an unconventional badass reader in this situation? Yes actually. Can we split this in two versions cuz I think both are very valid. Mind breaking with agony due to a great fear of death versus strong-willed piggy with no shame, willing to do anything. (((Not to say that the reader in the mind breaks the Submissive Pig thing can't be strong nor is incredibly valid, of course. any reader got to be to last this long but man is that such a nearly inconceivable dark spot to even think about let alone wright geez. I like to explore all angles still )))

I actually think we're very much on the same page with this reader's strength, anon. Where you are on the outside and seeing the inherent hilarity of the situation, I'm simply writing it from the perspective of Luca Blight projecting onto the reader.

To him you are lowly. To bow your head and eat whatever scraps he's willing to give you. To oink and squeal and stare with empty eyes. To do anything, even give up your pride, to survive. He sees what he wants to see with you, a pathetic thing desperate to live, like himself all those years ago captured by a city state. It is the way of being human, a way he's long sense abandoned. He finds humor in seeing it on full display.

But you're right, the reader is strong. They made a choice and they stick by it and they are strong for it. How long are they willing to bow their head, to be treated as an animal, to be looked down upon and shamed. They don't feel that shame but it is there, in the pitying eyes of Jowy Atreides, in the mocking laugh of Rowd, in the way the Windamiers refuse to acknowledge them. It's there, it is not felt but it is there and it is known.

The one thing I've yet to wrap my head around is the reader's feelings for Luca. You'd expect resentment, hatred, for the man who burned your village and murdered your friends and family and now owns you like a personal pet. Who laughs at you and yells at you and threatens you with a sword daily before once again collapsing into hysterics upon looking at your face.

Perhaps it's pity, to be so near Luca Blight, like no one has ever been before, is to see the little things, to hear the fear crack in his voice before he raises it louder while speaking to himself in his chamber. To see him loose sleep, to skip meals, to randomly burst into rage unfit for a king and destroy his chambers before collapsing into a fit of hysterical laughter amongst the destruction. You know something awful happened to him, that he may have lived like you are now once upon a time.

I think I've landed on indifference. Like how Luca cares naught for you, you care naught for Luca. You are his pig, a creature he keeps around for entertainment, and you stay for food and the warmth of his bed and safety so long as you stay as you are. This is the exchange. It is one of chance, of happen stance, anyone could have been here in his room resting on a pillow by his feet. But it's you. Oh so stubborn you.

This little piggy has a life worth fighting for.

[sinfulspencer]

Safe place

Prompt: After working on a hard case, Spencer takes comfort in your body. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: angst, mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: friends with benefits dynamic, dom/sub dynamic, Sub!Spencer, Domme!Reader, dirty talking, praise kink, light hair pulling, titty sucking, breast play, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving), fingerfucking, rough sex as a coping mechanism, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie

Words: 4.6k

A.N.: Is it obvious that I have a thing for Sub Spencer? Also, a massive thank you to my friend @snixkers for beta reading this for me. This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's FWB challenge.

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I wasn’t surprised to find Spencer on the doorstep at midnight.

He was drenched in water and the look he had on his face was obvious: he needed something to ease his mind, to focus on someone else for a few hours. His mind was a whirlwind of something that he wasn’t going to explain to me and he needed a distraction; a good one, at last.

“Everything okay?” I dared to ask

Spencer shrugged and stepped inside, closing the door behind his back. “Not really, but I don’t want to talk.”

I knew exactly why he came to me, his eyes immediately shifting on what he wanted. His gaze was focused on my chest and I nodded my head: fooling around with Spencer didn't seem such a bad idea. I had an intense day as well, and an orgasm or two would’ve definitely helped me ease the tension clearly clinging to my bones and my joints.

Spencer took off his coat and hung it behind the main door, then he followed me in the living room. I was wearing a boring pyjama but Spencer didn’t seem to mind, he needed something else that required no clothes on. Despite our agreement to have a close friendship with benefits, sometimes we didn’t really need the friendship part - like that night. We didn’t need to talk, we just needed physical comfort.

And I was happy to provide that for Spencer, especially if it involved his mouth all over my neck and my breasts to ease the tension in my own body.

“Do you want me to…”

I pulled the small ribbon on my chest and Spencer nodded his head, helping me remove my shirt without speaking. I knew what he wanted, but I needed to know that he was ready for it and most importantly, he truly wanted it.

Spencer caressed my shoulders with both hands, kneeling on the floor between my thighs as I sat down on the couch but close to the edge. My chest was pressed to his and Spencer was happy to feel my breasts against his body, his mouth already nipping and licking the bruises he had left a few days before on my throat.

The love bites all over my skin were fading, but Spencer could still see them and create new ones that he’d dream about for the rest of week.

“Do you want to do it in this position?” I asked

Spencer shrugged, his hands now moving down to my exposed chest. I couldn’t care less about wearing a bra because I was not supposed to have guests, but Spencer appreciated my bare breasts. He didn’t want to waste time struggling to open up a bra.

Sighing, I brought both my hands behind his neck. Spencer was beautiful, I had no reason to deny that, but he was also so troubled, so upset; I didn’t blame him. His job was awful and he was constantly bombarded with horrific videos, images and information about the worst crimes that humanity could commit. 

And somehow, he chose me as his safe place.

Spencer decided to come and find me each time he didn’t feel good, each time he felt too good, each time he just needed someone to be there for him - whether in a physical or emotional way.

“Bedroom.” Spencer whispered

Following him where he wanted to spend the rest of the night, I laid down on the bed and it didn’t take long for Spencer to lay on top of me. He had undressed so quickly I barely registered it. And once he was on top of me, he left kisses all over my collarbones, nipping at my throat once again while his hands caressed my waist and then the outside of my thighs.

His fingers were gentle across my skin, just like his lips - feverish kisses were peppered down my chest. Spence had his eyes open the whole time and I could see the desire flash behind them when I placed my right hand behind his head. My fingers snuck through his soft hair and I tugged on it, forcing him to look back at him. .

The lustful gaze he gave me was enough to bring a smirk over my lips.

His body reacted to my harsh tug easily: his cock hardened against my inner thigh, and I moved my leg to give him some friction. Spencer bit his bottom lip and his grip on my thighs became tighter, as he dug his fingers into my skin.

“Go on, sweet boy. Do whatever you want.”

Spencer stared at me and nodded his head. “Can I?”

I hummed, pulling on his hair again. “I said that you can do whatever you want. Go on.”

A soft whimper fell from his lips, a sound that I play in my head over and over when I pleasure myself all alone. There was nothing better than to hear Spencer whimper, moan and whine because of me, of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt, of my body. It was enchanting to see how his body reacted to anything I gave him.

Propping myself on the plush pillows of my bed, I closed my eyes while Spencer struggled to set between my legs. He hooked his right arm underneath my waist to push my body against his. Spencer nuzzled his face against my chest and I ran my fingers through his curls, not wanting to hurt him any further. 

He deserved a motherly touch that night, a gentle caress on his face as he worshipped my chest with his mouth and his tongue. Spencer’s face was pressed to my chest and I bit my bottom lip when I felt his teeth sink into the soft skin between my breasts, leaving the first mark of the night.

“You’ve been so stressed lately, sweet boy.” - I whispered, - “But now you’re safe with me in my arms, in my bed.”

Spencer dragged his tongue from the bruise forming on my skin down to my right breast and I hummed softly, moving my eyes down to his face. He knew that I enjoyed having my breasts played with and what was better than giving someone physical pleasure while, in return, receiving both physical and emotional pleasure?

Spencer was a whore for my touch, but also from my voice and the honey-coated words that fell from my lips each time we were together. He loved when I sweet-talk to him after a tough case and that was exactly what I was going to do. 

“I have missed you so much today.” - I added, - “I’ve thought about you all day, how tired you must’ve been but now you’re with me. And that makes me so happy, sweet boy.”

The sound of my voice seemed to soothe Spencer, though the lust was clear in his actions. 

“Did you miss me, Spencer? Did you think about me?” I asked

Spencer nodded his head, his lips never leaving my skin. “All the time. Think about you, your tits, your cunt, how good you taste.”

It wasn’t strange to hear him use bad words, but it was endearing. Spencer was always so sensible, so delicate in the way he spoke but with me he just couldn’t care less. He was direct, dirty, disgustingly exciting and that turned me on more than I could explain.

“Oh, so desperate for me, sweet boy.”

Spencer smiled against my skin. “You know it.”

I fixed his hair when a curl attempted to fall down on his forehead and I sighed, waiting for Spencer to give in to his own desire. He was always careful when it came to me, terrified that he’d go too far and I appreciated that. When I opened my eyes, however, I saw an eagerness that almost left me breathless. 

Spencer was burning with a flaming desire. 

“What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

His lips quivered. “Can you.. please..”

Spencer pawed at my left hand and placed it upon my own breast. He was eager to have me in his mouth, but I had to offer myself to him and not the other way around. Spencer liked the image of me offering my body to him and I wasn’t going to complain; that image was exciting for me, too. 

Pressing my left hand underneath my right breast, I offered my chest to Spencer’s and his lips quickly closed around my nipple. His tongue rolled all over it, focusing on the tip before he started to suck on it slowly, lazily, gently. His face was pressed to your chest and his other hand was clinging to your waist now, still digging his fingers into your skin. 

He was clinging to your body like it was an anchor and he was lost at sea. 

“There you go, sweet boy. You always make me feel so good.” I reminded him

Spencer glanced up at me, but didn’t answer. He didn’t want to because that meant his mouth would’ve pulled away from where it was and he couldn’t have that. Oh no. Soft whimpers came from him as I closed my eyes again, enjoying the warmth of his tongue now pressing against my nipple.

The pleasure was slowly biting me from the insides, but I stayed quiet. It was a struggle to focus on his own desire, but I made it happen. I wanted Spencer to enjoy himself before ordering him to fuck me however he pleased to forget the miserable days we both had. 

Spencer rolled his hips against my leg and I felt his cock pressing to my inner thigh, leaving a trail of wetness across my skin. 

“Are you happy now, sweet boy?”

Spencer mumbled something. “Missed your tits.” 

I chuckled, running my fingers through his curls again. “Hm, I can feel that.”

He went quiet again after that to focus on the pleasure that sucking my tits and touching me all over gave him. Spencer used his other hand to massage my other breast and I moaned softly, guiding his mouth exactly where I wanted him to be. 

“Nobody can do this better than me, sweet boy. You know that.” I whispered

Spencer nodded his head, sucking on my right nipple before he pulled away and went to give his attention to the other one. A string of spit snapped back on his chin and he looked up at me, his cheeks bright red. 

“I wouldn’t want anybody else.” he replied

With his free hand, Spencer started to play with my right nipple while his mouth closed around my left one. His tongue began its torture, while his thumb and his index rolled and pinched my right nipple. 

“I know, I’m the only one who can take good care of you.” - I responded, struggling to hold back a moan when Spencer softly bit my nipple, - “Ah, ah. Careful.”

He nodded his head and gave me an apologetic look, before sucking on my nipple. Saliva was dripping down his chin and staining my chest, but I didn’t really care. All that mattered was that Spencer was happy, satisfied and horny. 

His tongue lapped my nipple over and over, before Spencer shifted to the other one. And again, he started his torture: he sucked, nipped, bit my nipple and caressed it with his tongue ‘til it was hard in his mouth. And it felt good, but it was also pure torture. 

“Nobody knows you the way I do, my sweet boy. So strong, so powerful, so smart outside but here in my bedroom…” - I smiled down at him, - “Here you are my helpless, eager to please and always needy for me sweet boy.”

Spencer whined and looked up at me, nodding eagerly - his eyes were full of lust and I knew that he was done with my breasts. He proved my point so easily as he pushed his body against mine again, his cock achingly pressing to my inner thigh.

“Let me take care of you.” - I stated, earning a positive response from him in the form of a moan, - “Lay back down for me, sweet boy.”

Rolling on top of him, Spencer laid down on the bed with his hands now clinging to my waist but his grip quickly slipped when I settled between his thighs. I needed to give him something more, I needed to pleasure him and also give pleasure to myself and I knew exactly how to do it.

From between Spencer’s thighs, I saw him close his eyes as he waited for whatever I was willing to give him. He was always so patient with him, so excited for a single touch from him. 

His naked body was glorious to look at and I felt blessed every single time he allowed me to see it. My hands travelled down his chest and they settled on his hips, while I admired his cock twitch under my gaze. It was hard and leaking, which prompted me to lean forward and take the tip in my mouth. 

Spencer hissed at the sensation and his eyes fluttered: he stared at me with his lips slightly parted and I smiled at him.

“What, sweet boy? Do you see something that you like?”

Spencer groaned in pleasure and fell back on the bed, his eyes now closed.. My fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and slowly I started to jerk him off while my tongue lavishly lapped at the tip. I was still resting back on my heels and focused my gaze on Spencer’s face, sucking his cock like I was meant to be doing.

There was nothing better than to please Spencer because the sounds he made just sent pleasure jolts straight between my thighs. It was enchanting to see Spencer react to the pleasure that I was bringing him with my mouth, with my touch, with my body. 

I flattened my tongue underneath the tip of his cock before I slowly pushed him inside of my mouth - inch after inch, I took him with the tears pricking in my eyes. Spencer released a strangled moan when he hit the back of my throat, feeling my cheeks close around his cock. Engulfed in the warmth of my mouth, Spencer snuck his fingers through my hair and pulled it so harshly that I almost cried. 

That felt so fucking good. 

Pulling away from his cock, spit coated my chin and I brushed the back of my hands on my cheeks to wipe the tears away.

“Did that feel good, sweet boy?” - I asked, my voice filled with delirious lust for him - “Did you like it when I took your pretty cock into my mouth?”

Spencer frantically nodded his head. “Hm, yes. Yes.”

He was staring at me with his lips parted and I gave him a small smile, before returning to focus all my attention on the most precious part of his body. His cock slid on my tongue and I sucked on it lightly, moaning softly when Spencer’s hand gripped my hair again. He didn’t pull my hair, but he was anchored to me as I moved my mouth up and down his shaft to slick it with my own spit. 

Spencer was a panting mess and I fucking loved it because it was all my fault. After all, he came to me for some comfort and I was bringing him more than that. 

“Stop, stop. Please.”

His voice caught me off guard and I quickly pulled away from him. My chin was covered in spit and my lips were red, bruised.

“Everything okay?”

Spencer nodded, breathing hard. “Need your cunt. Now. Please.”

Struggling to hold back a laugh, I nodded my head and moved to Spencer’s side. It was endearing to see Spencer completely out of his mind with lust - his hands roamed all over my body as soon as I was laying down on the bed and he could get on top of me, again. His mouth found its way to my neck and soon, his teeth sunk into my skin to leave marks that were making my knees tremble. 

 “Of course you need my cunt, sweet boy, but you have to prepare me first.”

Spencer didn’t waste any and he spat right between my thighs, on my cunt. It made me giggle: that was pure desperation to have me. Usually he took his time to finger me, to eat me out but that night he was just desperate to be inside of me. Collecting his own spit and the essence of my pleasure, he sunk two fingers inside of me and slowly scissored them to stretch me. It felt good, but what I needed the most was his cock - I was just as desperate as him.  

His mouth quickly attached to my nipple again and I gripped the bed sheets, whimpering.

“Fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer curled his fingers inside of me as he sucked on my nipple, torturing it with his warm tongue. I knew I was going to have little bite marks all around my nipples, but they were so worth it. 

My breath was rugged and I felt my chest tighten, a sign of my impending orgasm that I struggled to hold back. I placed my hand on his forearm and whispered to him to stop, which he immediately did. I didn’t want to come on his fingers, I didn’t want my pleasure to end there. 

I just wanted Spencer inside of me before I lost my mind.  

When Spencer pulled his hand away from my cunt, he used his fingers to smear my own wetness all over his cock. The sight was so erotic and dirty that I could’ve come if I wasn’t so desperate for Spencer’s cock. I needed someone to paint that scene for me so that I could hang it on the bedroom door. 

“Can I spend the night here?” Spencer asked

I nodded, not really wanting to kick him out after a good fuck. “Yes, of course.”

His lips twitched into a smile as he forced me to lay back down on the bed. His hands were gentle on my shoulders and when he leaned closer to my face, I was hoping that he’d kiss me but he didn’t. 

Another stupid rule that we set when we decided to become friends with benefits. 

I was starting to hate that fucking rule because Spencer’s lips were too pretty not to be kissed, nipped and sucked on. However, a kiss was definitely too intimate for me - especially if given during missionary or something. 

Weird, given the fact that I was allowing Spencer to be inside of me as deeply as he could, but that’s how we both felt with kisses. 

“Good. Then, I’ll wake you up with my tongue.”

Giggling, I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time sweet boy.”

Spencer positioned on top of me and with no hesitation, he slid his cock up and down my folds to gather more of my essence. I bit my tongue and stared at Spencer the whole time, admiring him - and he did the same. 

It felt like time had stopped every single time that our eyes met. 

But I couldn’t let myself go in such a way, so I forced myself to roll my hips and lift it high enough for Spencer to sink into me with no resistance. However, Spencer took his time to thrust inside - slowly, painfully slowly. Inch by inch, he filled me and I saw stars exploding right behind my eyes. 

Goosebumps rippled all over my arms and I released a strangled moan, throwing my head back when Spencer finally bottomed out. 

“I’ve missed your cunt, oh God.” Spencer whispered to me

Our lips were so close and I had to physically restrain myself from kissing him by scratching his back. My nails draw lines all over his skin and I didn’t really care if I made him bleed. I needed to calm down, to focus on the pleasure rather than the intimacy of the moment. 

I hated how each time we seemed to grow close to one another because feelings were extremely scary for both of us. I didn’t need to get caught up with them again.

Spencer melted against my body and he hid his face in the crook of my neck, slowly rutting inside of me. I closed my thighs around his waist and moaned softly, allowing Spencer to get all the pleasure that he could while also giving it to me - it felt wonderful to feel his teeth nipping at my throat and his curls tickling my skin. 

Despite his mouth pressed to my chest, I could still hear the low groans and grunts that came from Spencer. They were music to my ears. 

Spencer pressed me down onto the bed as he thrusted in and out of me, picking up his own pace. The position I was in, with my hips up in the air and Spencer kneeling between my thighs, was perfect - it had me tethering on the edge of pleasure and pain, a delicious limbo that I have learned to love with Spencer.

“God, sweet boy.. so good.” I whimpered

Spencer pulled away from my chest, leaving a trail of saliva between my breasts. He looked down at me as he kept thrusting in and out of me - a brutal, rapid pace that almost didn’t allow me to breathe right. I didn’t want to if it meant that Spencer was feeling all the pleasure that he could take from me. 

“You were made for me.”

I didn’t know if he was being serious or if it was just the haze of passion that blinded Spencer and made him dizzy, but it didn’t matter. His words were enough to bring me closer to the edge. Deep down, I was just like him - I basked in his praise, in the knowledge of my body being what gives Spencer pleasure. 

My whole body erupted with goosebumps and I dug my fingers into his back, whining his name over and over. Spencer had his right hand between my thighs, massaging my clit with the tip of his thumb, and his other hand on my knee. He was keeping me in place, watching me as I came undone underneath him. 

My orgasm hit me harder than I expected.

“Let me prove that to you, sweet boy.” I whispered in return to his words

Spencer knew exactly what I meant by that and his breath became uneven, his thrusts even harsher and violent. I didn’t want him to stop: the pleasure soon morphed into pain and I begged him for more. I started to roll my hips to match his rhythm, not caring that my whole body was shuddering with pain and pleasure at the same time. 

Every sensation was heightened, the pain was so strong that it quickly morphed again into a stinging pleasure that made it difficult for me to breathe right. 

“Come inside of me. Please.” I mumbled 

Spencer groaned at my words and soon, he was fucking me harder and harder into the mattress. His body towered on top of mine as he pushed down, almost crashing me against the soft mattress of my own bed. Spencer was hunched over me, his lips a little too close to mine as more moans and grunts fell from his mouth. 

I closed my thighs again around his waist, earning another whimper from him. He loved when I’d cage him against him, forcing him to fuck into me without pulling out - not even for a moment, not even for a second. Spencer kept whispering to me that he missed me, that he wanted to be with me every single night, that he couldn’t wait to come home and fuck me - and God, did that feel fucking amazing to hear. 

And when Spencer finally reached his release, I felt his warmth spill deep inside of me. I clung to his body with all the strength that remained in me and Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck, again. 

His hot breath caressed my skin as he came down from his high, slowly rutting into me to feel all the pleasure that he could. His body was warm on top of mine as I released my grip from him. 

I was trembling, still hazy from my own orgasm. It was always a struggle to come down from mine and Spencer’s activity. I barely realised that he walked out of my bedroom to grab something to clean me up. 

“Are you sure I can stay here for the night?”

Spencer handed me a warm washcloth and I cleaned myself up as best as I could.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He hesitated and I knew what was going through his mind, because it was the same thought that appeared in mine. I knew we had our agreement and the nights we spent in the same bed could be counted on a single hand, but still. 

“I don’t know. Maybe things can get… weird.” 

“They’ll get weird if we let them get weird.” I responded

Spencer nodded, running his fingers through his curls all messy. “Right.”

I decided to change the topic. “I hope you feel better now.”

“Much better. I needed this. I needed you tonight.” - Spencer said with a smile, standing next to my bed, - “I think our agreement might be the best I’ve ever made with someone.”

Chuckling, I got out of bed. “Hm, good. I’m glad you think so.”

Spencer followed me to the bathroom and we prepared for bed, though I felt his eyes burning on my skin the whole time. Exhaustion was written on both our faces and I craved my warm and bouncy mattress. I needed to lay down and rest my legs, my arms, every inch of my body.  

We returned to my bedroom and we laid together in silence. I didn’t want to break the quiet bubble between us, I was constantly worried of always saying the wrong thing - I didn’t want to scare Spencer off. I was staring at the ceiling when he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his mouth, leaving kisses all over my knuckles. 

“You’ve been strangely sweet today.”

“Is that so weird?” Spencer asked

I chuckled, turning to the side to face him. “Oh no, it’s not weird. I just wonder why.”

He pulled me closer to his body. ��I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Remember that you can always come here when you need me.” - I reminded him, laying my head on his chest, - “It’s a safe space.”

Spencer pressed a kiss on top of my head. “Your cunt is my safe space.”

I went quiet for a moment, not knowing if I could laugh. Spencer was dead serious, or at least his tone was. And when I look up at him, he had that usual annoying smug smirk that made my knees tremble every fucking time.

I bursted out laughing. “You’re disgusting.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Well…”

“But you’re a good fuck so you’re excused.” I added

I leaned my head back on his chest and took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of his body flushed to mine. Spencer ran his fingers through my hair and soon enough, I drifted off to sleep. 

Spencer considered my body his safe space, but he was mine as well. 

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[intothedysphoria]

Billy discovered the Roman centurion lying on the floor of a public bathroom just outside New Jersey. Then he was almost stabbed.

It was Halloween so Billy assumed he was just drunk and really committed to the bit. He made quite a dashing Roman solider, with strong arms and calves Billy could definitely see himself getting behind (or kneeling for in a similar situation). After the fourth attempt to talk ending in loud angry Latin, Billy thought there was something else going on. Something bigger.

Walking into the nearest hospital after the centurion promptly collapsed, Billy found that the guy had absolutely no medical records, no birth certificate, no drivers licence and no passport. He continued to yell at anyone and everyone in the ER reception and promptly fell into the revolving doors.

Well, it seemed like Billy had accidentally gained a pet Roman for the foreseeable future. Great. At least he wasn’t as tentacle-y as the mind flayer had been.

Steve, as Billy had nicknamed him, was a piece of work. He made no attempt to communicate with Billy until the second week of them living together. Then he just pointed insistently at the grapes in the fruit bowl, like he expected Billy to feed them to him. Billy just chose to roll his eyes and let Steve throw a tantrum in the kitchen.

By the third week, Billy was starting to feel like the worlds worst Catholic for understanding absolutely not one word of Latin. Argyle had retained some knowledge and Billy found out that most of what Steve talked about was either his horse, his toga or his sword, which Billy had locked up in a cabinet.

He was also quite possibly the most flirtatious man Billy had ever met, and Billy had spent his late teens roaming the clubs of WeHo. Constantly squeezing Billy’s biceps or trying to climb into his lap. Billy couldn’t exactly say he was mad at it. He’d been having a pretty impressive dry spell apart from fast and disappointing hookups. Still, there was a part of him that felt guilty.

Steve could have a wife back in 2 AD or whenever he came from. Boyfriend. Whatever. It was a pretty weird fear to be having considering how consistently Steve had been coming into him but it stayed. Lingering in his brain. Like concrete.

Billy’s best and most exaggerated sign language didn’t help shit. Steve just briefly looked confused and then went straight back to flirting with him. Hard. That was a pretty good sign of what Steve wanted.

Then Billy made a mistake.

Steve had actually said Billy’s name for the first time. He’d been trying to learn English, if somewhat rudimentary and Billy liked to think, for him. There’d just been such a surge of emotion rushing through his head that he ran up, clasped Steve’s face and then they were kissing.

Then they slept together.

Shit.

It was really good but Billy had no idea where to go from here. Steve obviously thought they were a thing but how to clarify what thing exactly Steve thought they were when Steve hadn’t mastered much past, yes, no and pretty much every swear word?

But then he found himself looking over at Steve’s sleeping face, body wedged between Billy’s arms, and found that he couldn’t really make himself care that much.

Steve liked him. He liked Steve. Why worry?

They’d be fine

@hephaestn @bigdumbbambieyes I promised I’d tag you in my first ficlet after deactivating intothedysphoria, I hope you like it!

[st-dorothy-minority]

There was a small area on one of the wings that appeared undamaged, and Alastor sensually ran his fingertip over it. The involuntary, soft moan he received in response was all the confirmation he needed. 

This was Lucifer truly stripped bare. His angelic wings were the most sacred part of his body, the part of him that he deliberately chose to conceal even when he was fully nude to keep others from laying their hands on them – except for when he was in the presence of someone he trusted his vulnerability with. The seraphim may have repeatedly raped his body, but that was nothing compared to the depraved sin they committed when they ravaged his wings.  

Alastor all at once grasped the power being bestowed upon him by the fallen angel.

“No improvement, I’m afraid,” he at length confirmed apologetically. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the other man when he saw the silent tears wet his clownish cheeks. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No….I don’t think I can handle that right now,” he replied tremulously. 

“I commend your decision.”

Kneeling in front of the devil, Alastor laid out his tools between them and observed as Lucifer knelt as well and languidly took each one of them at a time in his hands and infused them with temporary angelic power. 

“This will make it possible for them to cut through,” Lucifer reiterated quietly. “Part of me wonders if I’ve gone crazy by entrusting you with these. They’ll easily destroy any demon, overlord or not.”

“I think we’ve been through enough together at this point to have you trust me, don’t you?”

Lucifer met Alastor’s charismatic gaze with his own bewildered one before giving a shy smile. “Yeah, I guess so….Considering why you’re here in Hell, I suppose I should be grateful to have access to your expertise. I don’t know who else I’d feel comfortable doing this….”

“You’re in my very capable hands, your majesty. Nothing to fear.”

As Lucifer set the last knife down, he drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing to fear,” he echoed in a whisper. 

Alastor got to his feet and extended a hand to pull Lucifer up to stand. Rather than proceeding right away to the cushioned table, Lucifer remained rooted to the spot with his head bowed. It was understandable; this was a momentous decision he was making, and the significance of this moment was not lost on Alastor. He was bearing witness to an angel willingly choosing to sever his wings and everything they represented, the magic and flight they allotted him, the symbol of a being who had served God himself. Their beauty may have been lost the day the seraphim desecrated them, but their meaning had remained. 

“Sorry,” Lucifer mumbled after a minute, embarrassed. 

“Take your time. I’ve no other engagements tonight other than to be of service to you, my king.”

Lucifer smiled and lifted his head. “I don’t know why you keep insisting on addressing me so fancily.”

“What can I say? I’ve come to respect you and think you deserve more acknowledgement with your title.”

“Makes me feel bad for not knowing anything about you when we first met,” he said with a laugh. 

Alastor chuckled and his grin widened. “Would you say you know me better now?”

They locked eyes with one another, and Lucifer could feel butterflies stirring in his stomach that were becoming a more familiar occurrence whenever he was around the radio demon.

[kamisatomay018]

Was it worth it?

Zhongli x fem! Reader

Warnings: angst with no comfort, mentions of character death, reader has guizhong’s power and title

Look who’s back after ages with some heartbreaking angst-

Such a beautiful place, Dihua Marsh was..a place where you had so many wonderful memories. A place that contained the most beautiful and pure glaze lillies which were born from your power, from your happiness. Dihua Marsh, the very place you had met your beloved, your mate for life, your eternal lover Rex Lapis. Oh how you both spent countless nights walking hand in hand amongst fireflies that illuminated the dark sky. You can never once forget how serene the times were when he would lay his head on your lap while you sang for him in your melodious voice, watching the glaze ilies bloom and shimmer due to how pure your love was for the man in your embrace. And of course, the happiest day of your life when he knelt down on one knee, holding a beautiful cor lapis ring that he crafted for you himself, shimmering brighter than any star as he asked you to be his wife, making tears of how spill from your eyes as the only answer to this question was Yes, Yes in every world.

But oh how time plays her cruel game, snatching away everything we hold dear in just the blink of an eye. Now here you were, the ethereal and beloved Goddess of Dust, kneeling down on her knees, being punished for a crime she never committed. Blood trickled down from your chest to the ground, staining the glaze lilies and turning them to dust. The serenity of Dihua Marsh had now turned into horrors of war and blood, and most of all- betrayal.

There you were, the ethereal and beloved Goddess of Dust, kneeling in front of her very lover, her very mate, and her very executioner. Those golden eyes that once shone with pure and never ending love when they gazed into your very own were now filled with anger and hatred, blinded by the lies that he had been fed. His mighty spear that had slain so much evil and defeated so many monsters now pierced through your heart, taking away your life second after second while you struggled to breathe. Not even an ounce of pity was visible on his face, never once did his weapon hesitate or tremble as it tore through your skin, never once did his words falter or stutter as they accused you of betraying the people you loved so dearly, of betraying the man to whom you had pledged your heart and soul, the man whom you loved more than you loved anything else in this world.

Gasping through the excruciating pain, you looked up at him, eyes full of tears when you realised that the man in front of you was indeed Rex Lapis, but he was not your husband, he was not the man who swore to destroy the heavens for you. How pitiful, you thought, that the God Of Contracts had lied, for it didn’t even take the heavens but a few mere mortals to make him betray you and take the very life he swore to always protect.

But even as he tore through your heart and soul, taking your life away from you, you could not hate him. After all, your love was selfless. If taking your life would satiate him and bring him victory, then so be it. If he chose to believe his people over you, then you would not resist, your life was his to take. But as your life now almost slipped away from your grasp, you suddenly felt so afraid, afraid of death, afraid of suddenly ceasing to exist. And even though he was standing here in front of you, his eyes emotionless and devoid of any sort of pity as he watched you bleed and die so slowly, your hand still clad with the golden ring of your union weakly reached out to him..

“My love…will you hold my hand? I- I feel afraid..”

Perhaps you thought that he would show some mercy to you, not as your husband but at least as your god, but to your disbelief and anguish, he only scoffed, pushing the spear deeper within your heart making you cry out in agony and fall completely on the ground. Oh those beautiful golden eyes that once would show so much concern if you would get the slightest injury now did not even blink as you lay there, bleeding and dying because of him.

“Your audacity knows no bounds Goddess of Dust. First, you betray My people, and now you beg for My pity? Unbelievable. You ought to know that those who break the contract, shall face the wrath of the rock. You…shall never be forgiven for your betrayal.”

Even more tears escaped from your eyes at his words, but you looked up at him, your body screaming in agony but your eyes defiant, your once beautiful face now adorned with a sad smile.

“So you still believe that I betrayed..you? Then my beloved Deus Auri, heed my words…”

“You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.”

And as you spoke these words, you breathed your last, welcoming the darkness of the abyss of death, letting it consume your soul. There he stood, watching as the the woman whom he would embrace every night dissipated into dust, the once ethereal Dihua Marsh dying with her. Every single glaze lily wilted and faded away along with its creator. The land turned barren, the glorious green trees withered away. All that remained was Rex Lapis, standing at the very place where he had met his mate, and now killed her.

As every speck of dust now surrounded the God, he fell onto the ground, not understanding why his soul ached in pain, even though he had done as he was supposed to as the God of Geo. Didn’t he do the right thing? Wasn’t..Killing his beloved his duty to his people?

Dihua Marsh..a place that held so many memories for Zhongli, memories that tormented every fibre of his being as he too eroded away, piece by piece with time. How long had it been? 2000 years…since the very moment he committed the biggest sin of all; taking the life of his mate, refusing to believe her and letting those foolish mortals achieve their goal. Zhongli fell to the ground on his knees, just like how you had, tears escaping his eyes. How could he be so cruel? How could he not believe the woman who had been with him all his life? How could he break the pledge he had made with his very soul, and kill her instead of protecting her?

He still remembers her cries of pain, her melodious voice that once sang for him begging him to stop and just hear her out. But he did not do that; blinded by anger and betrayal, he committed the most heinous crime. He had been the one to break their contract, not her. Those who break the contract, shall face the wrath of the rock. These had been the words that he spoke ever so eloquently that day, and now look at the irony, here he was, paying the price. His eternal punishment was to learn the truth, to learn of just how wrong he had been, and how his mistake can never be fixed. His punishment was to spend every single day of his long and endless life alone and in misery, watching every night in his nightmares how he killed you with his own hands.

There zhongli sat, now having given away his godhood and pretending to live as a mortal, amongst the barren lands of Dihua Marsh where he had so many cherished memories, but all of them were overshadowed by his greatest mistake.

As he sat there kneeling on the ground, crying in agony, he heard that melodious voice once more, the voice that lived forever in his heart. “Was it worth it, Rex Lapis?” He looked up in horror, watching as no one was around. But he knew he heard your voice, he was sure of it. “What..my love..”

He heard your voice scoff cruelly, just as he had all those millennia ago. “Your love? No Morax, I am not your love. I am gone, gone for good. What you hear now is the last piece of my consciousness that has remained trapped in this place, waiting for the day you would find the truth and come back here.”

“No please..forgive me my heart..I should have believed you..I should have never hurt you..Please, I am so sorry.” He spoke, head lowered in remorse as he himself realised how pathetic he sounded.

“Your apology is meaningless to me. Oh Morax..I loved you so dearly, even now, I cannot bring myself to hate you. But now, you must face your punishment. And perhaps, one day when your soul erodes into nothingness, you will get the chance to see me again. Farewell Morax, I will pray that you never see me again.”

And just like that, you were gone. But this time, not even your consciousness remained. And all Zhongli could do was sit there, broken and eroding, living the fate he had now carved out for himself.

[siorca]

tf: one

Originally this was supposed to be just some starsky fluff but then my brain was like “what if starscream was like megatonus’ weird cat” and I’ve been picking at this for two weeks

—

Prima watched the exchange just outside of the light of the holomap. There weren’t many that were willing to go toe-to-toe with Megatronus, least of all the comparably tiny Cybertronians that Primus had created after the Thirteen. Starscream had proven himself to purposely go against the grain, always willing to argue, with a perpetual scowl on his face.

Many of the Primes did not like Starscream, unamused by his foul temper. Although it was unbecoming of a Prime, Prima had a strong belief that some of his comrades believed that as a Prime was the extension of the will of Primus, Cybertronians should temper themselves with humility.

Prima held no such archaic notions. Privately, he enjoyed how strong willed Starscream was. His tenacity represented the best of his species. It was thrilling to see him go head on with some of the more stubborn members of the Primacy. Starscream held no fear. It was endearing.

Vicious and determined, he had a strong need to protect his homeland, combined with a ruthless talent for violence. It made him a sight to behold on the battlefield. As High Guard Commander, he held invaluable intel on the morale among his fellow Cybertronians and unique insight into the movements of the Quintesson fleet. He had long ago proven himself to Prima to be a truly invaluable ally.

It helped, too, that Megatronus was very fond of him. As he took up most of the duties of directing the High Guard, he often took the brunt of Starscream’s ire. Even despite, or perhaps because of this, they had a mutual, sacred bond, that extended even beyond the battlefield. Megatronus had found a kindred spirit. It warmed Prima’s spark; so stubborn Megatronus was in who he chose to spend his free time with and how reserved he could be.

Prima watched Megatronus kneel next to Starscream near the holomap. Although the strongest and the largest of the Primes, he preferred not to intimidate nor loom. Megatronus’ razor sharp optics behind his mask watched the commander as he talked, as if trying to commit every small detail to memory. It was very charming, watching fearsome, strong, stoic Megatronus, bend to the whims of this tiny, ferocious warrior

The war room was mostly empty. The bulk of the planning for their next battle had already been finished - a minor skirmish a few cycles out that will hopefully help with one of their major supply routes. Most of the Primes and Guard advisors had already retired. While Starscream was often persnickety about war plans, his wings belied his hidden anxieties about the welfare of his unit. Despite how much he tried to hide it under abrasiveness, he cared deeply for his people. Megatronus understood this more than anyone.

Behind Prima stood Solus, a silent guardian, her mighty hammer tucked safely between her pedes. A fool would think she was bored, but the tight grip she kept on her handle ensured that she was a ready warrior. Solus was Megatronus’ closest companion, next to Prima. Master weaponsmith that she was, Solus enjoyed fostering her new forges onto Megatronus, and he, in return, loved to use them.

At the center of the chamber, Alpha Trion laid sentry over the control panel, subtly tweaking with the controls to give the illusion that he was needed. He often played peacekeeper, remaining a soothing neutral party when disagreements arose. There was a cool detachment in his stance, but the subtle twinkle in his optics belied how equally entertained he was by the encounter.

Megatronus and Starscream’s hushed whispers echoed harshly in the large chambers, creating a pleasant buzz of background noise. So lulled as he was by the hissing drone that Prima did not notice the quiet signal of an entrance ping.

“I apologize, Commander, but perhaps we should save some of your grievances for another time,” said Alpha Trion, gently, bemused. “Our resupply team has returned.”

Coming through the entrance was Skyfire, a mech who often volunteered for the extended supply runs. He was enormous for his station, but only came up to Prima’s shoulder on a good day. Prima knew him as a quiet and unassuming bot, far different from his compatriots in the High Guard. His bright white plating was scuffed and dirty, showcasing his long and dangerous mission.

“Good tidings, your Excellencies.” He bowed politely once fully absconded into the room. Prima offered his own nod in return, followed by the other Primes. Skyfire’s optics flickered down; small, warm smile on his face. “Hello Starscream.”

Starscream paused in his tirade, frozen, the sudden silence abrupt and off putting. His optics brightened, helm tilted as he appraised the newcomer. Then, in an impressive display of speed and agility, he flew across the room, burrowing into the heavy plating of Skyfire’s chest. If Prima were not a forged warrior, he would have flinched at the sudden flurry of movement.

Skyfire’s cheeks turned bright blue, haloed by his white plating. His hands migrated to the quivering edges of Starscream’s wings, instant and rhythmic, like they were always meant to be there, soothing the anxious lines. A full body melt against his plating was his reward.

Prima felt a lick of disapproval at the blatant public display of affection. Unfortunately, Starscream had a love for the spectacle and Skyfire was not a particularly confrontational mech.

Prima could not begrudge them too much. Skyfire was one of the few mechs who knew how to maneuver Starscream personality quirks. Buried deep, Prima was immensely grateful for Skyfire’s intrusion.

“Perhaps it would be best to reconvene for the cycle,” said Prima, letting all the authority of the leader of the Primes seep into his voice. Skyfire’s hands leapt away from Starscream as if burned, clutching them at his side. He met Prima’s optics with a not quite guilty expression. Starscream made no indication that he had heard him. “Skyfire, I shall receive your report by tomorrow’s mid-cycle, yes?”

Skyfire’s helm bowed, looking much too sheepish and contrite. His arms wound around Starscream’s shoulders to steer him out, though it was wholly unnecessary with the way Starscream so successfully dug his claws into him.

In the aftermath, Prima heard Solus’ quiet, muffled snickers. She came up to stand at Prima’s shoulder, her hammer swinging haphazardly at her side. “It is a blessing that he is such a fine warrior.” She patted his arm, consolingly.

Prima allowed himself a small smirk. “I suppose so, my lady.”

She smiled. “I shall see you tomorrow mid-cycle, then.” Turning to leave, she beckoned over her shoulder, “Megatronus, I shall see you for sparring early-cycle. Safe travels, Alpha Trion.”

“Safe travels,” echoed Alpha Trion. He continued to fiddle with his map, his eyes carefully tracing the pot-marked scars of enemy territory carved into the pre-rendered surface of Cybertron. He too, made his departure shortly after.

Prima’s optics flickered to Megatronus. He had returned to his full height, what little that could be see of his face forlorn, abandoned and lonely in the middle of the room without his companion, no doubt mourning their specific form of bonding.

Prima made his way over to Megatronus, patting his chest armor affectionately. “Have faith, Megatronus. There will be other arguments.”

Megatronus hummed, reaching up to grasp Prima’s servo, properly engulfing his hand in his massive purple claws. “I would hope so.”

Prima laughed lightly. “Well, my spark, I know you will be looking forward to that.”

[dangerous-disposition]

MAKE ME WRITE: SNIPPET!!

So y'all chose the Strap Collection and sloppy seconds, and I multiplied the votes by 10 and aimed for word count rather than number of sentences, so like... here is 1150 words of pure smut, you're welcome. Somehow the fic is not even close to done like I thought I would actually finish this shit.

Anyway.

Very NSFT nonsense under the cut.

Eddie sobbed as Steve worked his hole, turning his face into the pillow to muffle himself.

“None of that, baby,” Steve scolded gently, reaching up with his other hand to grab his chin, pulling his face out of the pillow. “Let me hear you.”

“Steve,” Eddie whined, grabbing Steve’s wrist with both hands, not to pull his hand away from his jaw, but as if to ground himself. He was rocking his hips back against Steve’s hand, shifting his hips to get some stimulation on his prostate, but Steve deliberately avoided it.

“The only time I want you to come is with my cock buried as deep as you can take it,” Steve practically purred in Eddie’s ear, his hand sliding down from his chin to rest over his bobby Adam’s apple.

“Oh, fuck me, Steve, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” Eddie pleaded, straining his throat against Steve’s palm, as if begging him to squeeze.

That was definitely something Steve would revisit when they had a chance to actually discuss the finer details of their intimacy. Lowering his hand back to Eddie’s chest, Steve played with one of his nipples again, tugging the barbell until Eddie was crying out into the dark bedroom.

With a low sound, Steve rolled until he had Eddie pinned beneath him, still three fingers deep in his used hole. Eddie, the perfect angel he was, immediately spread his legs as wide as he could. When Steve sat up to look down at him, Eddie got his knees under him and arched his back, presenting his ass for Steve with a wanton sound.

“Should pump another load into you,” Steve mused, smirking at the babbled pleas that followed that statement. “You’d like that, huh? For me to fuck you’re pretty hole, breed it again, make you properly sloppy, huh?”

“Please, Stevie, please, want it so bad,” Eddie gasped when Steve spread his fingers, testing the tightness of his hole.

“Want what, Eddie?” Steve asked, watching Eddie rock his hips up, fucking himself on Steve’s fingers. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Want your cock, any cock I don’t care, just wanna feel it,” Eddie gasped, looking over his shoulder with heated, wild eyes. “Wanna be fucked ‘til I can’t think, wanna be used and bred so bad, please.”

With a low groan, Steve withdrew his fingers and rolled Eddie onto his back, swallowing Eddie’s protest in a hungry kiss, muffling his pleas with his tongue. When he pulled away, Steve let his eyes travel over Eddie’s body, committing the image of him—blushing, spread out beneath him, all pale skin and dark tattoos—to memory.

“Stay put,” Steve said, stooping to kiss Eddie’s slack mouth one more time before he got up to grab a cock and his harness.

Since they had already fucked that night, and he wasn’t gentle the first time, Steve went with one of the cocks that almost looked like a tentacle. It was thinner than the one they used earlier, but it was longer and made of a softer material. It wasn’t small by any stretch of the word, but it also wasn’t huge. Eddie would definitely still feel it, nice and deep.

Making quick work of preparing the cum-tube, Steve stepped back into the bedroom to find Eddie on his knees again, a towel spread underneath him.

“I told you to stay put,” Steve scolded, smacking Eddie’s hip lightly. The man seemed to startle, looking up at Steve in confusion.

“I did,” he said, actually sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

Steve shook his head and before Eddie could even open his mouth to question it, Steve manhandled him onto his back again. Kneeling between pale, tattooed thighs, Steve sighed happily as Eddie blinked up at him.

“Perfect,” Steve hummed, hooking his hands under Eddie’s knees to push his legs up and out, lifting his ass and exposing his slick, glistening hole. “Absolutely gorgeous,” Steve added breathlessly.

“Shut up,” Eddie gasped, his voice muffled, and when Steve looked up at his face again he frowned at the way Eddie was covering it with both hands.

“Hands on the headboard, Eddie,” Steve said firmly, and his stomach fluttered with the way Eddie immediately did as he was told. “No hiding that face from me, and if I call you gorgeous, or pretty, or perfect, you either say thank you or nothing at all, got it?”

At that, Eddie blinked up at him before nodding jerkily. “Okay, thank you, Stevie,” Eddie gasped breathlessly.

“Perfect, just like that. Do you think you need more lube—?” Steve started and Eddie frantically shook his head.

“No, just—please, Steve, need it now. Your cock, please,” Eddie gasped, and Steve looked down to see the way Eddie’s loose hole clenched around nothing.

“As you wish, baby,” Steve sighed, reaching down to position his cock before pushing, sliding inside to the hilt with one relentless thrust.

Eddie arched off the bed with a hiss, his eyes screwed shut as he whimpered. Steve watched him pant and writhe, his eyes taking in every movement hungrily, every new patch of skin Eddie’s blush crawled to.

“So beautiful like this, Eds,” Steve said thickly, shifting his hips back before thrusting back in.

“Like what?” Eddie asked around a whimper, his eyes rolling back at the shifting length inside him, and Steve tsked.

“What’d I say, Eddie?” he asked, and he smiled fondly down at the adorable furrow of Eddie’s brow. Speeding up his movements a bit, Steve asked, “What do you say when I say nice things about you?”

Eddie shuddered, almost grimacing, before he whispered, “Thank you, Steve.”

“That’s it, Eds,” Steve praised, relishing in the way Eddie shivered. “To answer your question, you’re especially beautiful when you’re like this; stuffed full of my cock and leaking precum all over yourself.”

Eddie shuddered and nodded. “Thank you, Steve,” he gasped out again, his fingers curling around the headboard tightly. “Fuck, it’s so deep,” Eddie sobbed when Steve bottomed out and just ground against him.

“Yeah it is, baby, you take it so nice, too, like you’re made for my cock,” Steve said, basking in the shudder that pulled from Eddie. “Can’t wait to fill you up again.”

Eddie sobbed, throwing his head back and meeting Steve’s thrusts. “Please,” Eddie begged, his cock untouched and weeping against his own stomach.

“Wanna pump you full of my cum and plug you up someday,” Steve sighed, speeding up his thrusts as Eddie’s eyes fluttered. Steve groaned, practically growled, “Keep you nice and loose, full and wet. Maybe I can come by your shop, bend you over one of your benches and fuck your sweet hole until you’re crying, huh?”

Tears were already gathering on Eddie’s lashes, his mouth hanging open with his panting, whimpering breaths. He was truly the most beautiful person Steve had ever seen, that much he knew with absolute certainty.

Mini taglist bc I know y'all have Reacted to sloppy seconds stuff in the past: @scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @mylilplanet @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @delta-piscium @stobinesque @scoops-stevie @xenon-demon

[deathmetalunicorn1]

...

I have this fanmade roster in my mind where its Athena vs Joan of Arc are one of the fighters and Im having trouble on imagining how their fight will go.. pls help me mother😭😭

I gotchu baby!

-Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare and handicrafts. A warrior goddess born from Zeus after splitting his head open, born fully grown, and becoming the patron goddess of heroes.

-However, despite her wisdom and honor as a warrior, she was very vain, much like Aphrodite, as their feud, along with Hera, caused a massive battle on earth that cost so many lives, all over who was the most beautiful.

-Despite portraying herself as a goddess of justice, portraying the civilized side of war and combat, and being a virgin goddess who would take disrespect from nobody, she was not without her cruelty, like many of the other Greek gods.

-Many know of one of the most feared legends in history, Medusa, who was a priestess for Athena, watching over one of her temples and Poseidon raped her, defiling not only Medusa but the temple as well. However, instead of defending her priestess and punishing the god who committed the crime, Athena chose the easy way out, as she didn’t want to have to fight her uncle on this. Athena chose to change her priestess into a monster, snakes for hair and a gaze that would turn anyone into stone, causing everyone to shun her, blaming Medusa as if it were her fault that she was raped by a god.

-Athena’s heart hammered in her chest as she adjusted her helm, her grip tightening on her spear and her shield with Medusa’s head on it, covered by a white cloth, as she entered the arena, hearing the cheers of the gods around her, a cocky smile on her face, as if she knew she was already the winner.

-Joan of Arc, the daughter of a French farmer, who rose to become the hero of France, following the words of god and several of his angels to save France from England.

-She was raised with little, learning to appreciate what she had, and as she grew into the hero of France, she remained humbled, praying for those who fell in battle, helping those who had less than she did.

-There was no trace of arrogance in the young girl, who died at the age of nineteen, as she lived and died as a child of god, even as she was burning at the stake at the hands of the English who declared her a heretic.

-Joan was more solemn, kneeling to pray to whoever would listen that she would win, to save humanity. She no longer prayed to God, as he wasn’t there to accept her when she ascended to Valhalla, moving onto his next pawn now that she had died and was now useless to spread his name and faith on earth.

-Her faith was greatly shaken, horrified to learn how cruel the gods truly were, finding out the truth that those beings that so many prayed for, treated them as mere toys, not caring if they broke, if they died.

-Joan spent her time in Valhalla training, continuing down the path of a warrior, not to fight, but to protect others, to defend those who can’t fight back.

-Joan lifted her shield, which was her Valkyrie partner, Brunnhilde herself, a shining golden shield that was as tall as she was, and a sword in her other hand, donned with matching golden armor and a winged helm, similar to the ones the Valkyries wore. Brunnhilde, in the form of a spirit, appeared beside the young French woman, “I will protect you, so you can protect humanity.”

-The humans did their best to drown out the gods, cheering loudly for the heroine as she walked out to Heimdall’s introduction, holding her head even, eyes sharp and focused.

-Athena approved of this appointment, giving her a nod out of respect, knowing that this girl was a true warrior, fighting for others. However, this was a competition, and Athena doesn’t lose battles, ever.

-The match started and Athena lifted her spear to the sky before slamming the blunt end down to the ground, causing a shockwave to ripple through the arena, “Human- state your reasoning to fight!”

-Joan was fully ready to charge in, but paused, hearing the question and she spoke, holding her head high, having no fear, “I fight to protect those who are unable to defend themselves. And I fight to expose the cruelty you gods force upon humanity, rather than protecting them, as they all worship you for.”

-The humans all cheered loudly, rallying behind the warrior as Athena sneered, getting called out by the humans, finding it disrespectful, “Watch your mouth- young one. Someone should teach you some respect!”

-Joan lifted her sword and shield, holding them both as if they were feather-light, “I speak only the truth. Is that something else you gods do- punish those who you know are right, just to save your own egos?”

-Many gods jeered at the human, while others looked rather sheepish, as she was speaking the truth, and the humans were shouting their own anger, shouting the same to the gods, asking them why they were so cruel.

-Athena charged instantly, rage taking over and she leapt up to attack from above and her spear came down on Joan’s shield, Brunnhilde, who instantly smirked, and instantly the spear shattered, included the bladed tip.

-Joan then stunned all by slashing with her own blade, giving Athena only a moment to block, getting blown back head over heels, stunning everyone in the arena.

-Athena was quickly on her feet as Joan shifted her posture to charge, a glare in her eyes as Athena was gawking, now finding herself without a weapon, and her anger only grew as Joan threw her own sword down, to make it a fair fight, showing her own honor as a warrior.

-Athena immediately charged, going for the sword, “Never throw your weapon away until you have won your match- stupid girl!”

-Joan charged, hiding behind her shield, turning herself into a battering ram and slammed hard into the goddess, blowing her back, “If you had been paying attention to King Leonidas’ match, you would know that a shield is just a strong of a weapon!”

-She grabbed the sword and tossed it into the moat surrounding the arena, getting rid of it as Athena laughed like she had won, “Oh believe me, girl, I know that more than anyone!”

-Shouts of concern filled the arena as she removed the white cloth covering Medusa’s eyes and Joan had only a moment to duck behind her shield, avoiding the gaze.

-The arena was protected, so those in the audience didn’t have to worry about being turned to stone, and Heimdall was wearing dark sunglasses, to protect himself.

-Athena went on the assault, attacking Joan who could only protect and dodge, getting kicked hard, as she couldn’t open her eyes at the risk of being turned to stone.

-Joan’s shield fell from her hands as Athena turned her own shield and bashed the side of Joan’s face, knocking her helmet off and busting her open, causing blood to drip down over her left eye.

-Not having a shield, Joan had no choice but to keep her eyes tightly closed, putting her arms up to her face, blocking the harsh hits as Athena was laughing loudly, chipping away at Joan, “You could have never hoped to beat me- you silly little human!! Open your eyes and I’ll spare you by giving you a quick death!!”

-Joan was panicking, her mind racing on what to do, before she heard a new voice in her head, ‘Grab me!’ as Athena went to bash her again, Joan’s hands shot out and grabbed the sides of Athena’s shield, stopping it.

-Athena smirked, “That’s right, take your own life into your hands and open your eyes!” Joan wasn’t scared for some reason, ‘Take me in your hands- give me my revenge!’

-Many were shouting for Joan, not wanting her to lose and Athena gasped as Joan did indeed open her eyes, but nothing happened, she remained as normal, panting harshly in pain, eyes narrowed slightly.

-Joan leg swept Athena, keeping her shield and she turned the shield around, showing Athena that Medusa had her eyes tightly shut, sparing the young woman from a stony fate.

-Athena panicked, holding her hands up, immediately changing her tune, pleading for mercy before Joan spoke, as she knew the legend of Medusa, “She will decide your fate!”

-Medusa opened her mouth and an unearthly scream came from her lips as she opened her eyes and Athena shrieked as she was slowly turned to stone, looking up at Joan, begging her for help.

-Medusa then spoke once more to the young French girl, ‘Place me in her embrace and break her. This will set my soul free. Thank you, Joan.’

-Joan did as she was asked, placing the shield in Athena’s embrace, Medusa facing Athena’s chest before grabbing her own shield, Brunnhilde and walked over to the statue and raised her shield and broke the goddess into pieces, and her shield evaporated alongside her, freeing Medusa.

-Heimdall was gawking in shock as Joan turned as the crowd went wild, seeing such a wonderful match, cheering for Joan who smiled softly before her vision went blurry and she fell to her knees.

-Brunnhilde didn’t allow her to fall to the ground, returning to normal and holding the young woman to her chest, “You’ve done it, Joan. Rest now.” Joan nodded softly, slowly falling asleep as Brunnhilde carried her princess style backstage to be patched up, a sense of relief filling her as humanity was one step closer to salvation.

[hoexist]

In another life, where I entered the seminary and became a priest, I would have spent this evening taking confessions. I would have prayed solemnly, given kind words, issued penances, smelled the wood and the candles and the stale incense as I sat in the semi darkness, eyes closed, slowly getting warmer. And when that sweet angel, my last confessor, finally arrives, my eyes will only open when I hear her kneel, smell her through the confessional screen.

"Bless me father for I have sinned, it's been one week since my last confession."

"Let us pray. Tell me your sins, child."

"Father, I confess to the sin of lust, and to adultery. I have -" Her voice catches.

"What have you done?"

"Sir I... I have long desired someone. I have prayed over this desire for many months, asking God to take it from me. And so far I had met God's test with strength. But I - last week, I went to him. I confessed my lust, my sin. And together we gave in."

"You allowed him to take you?"

"Yes. We took each other, Father."

A long silence. I sigh heavily, disappointed, pushing the silence into tight, twisted tension.

"This is a most grave sin, as I'm sure you're aware. Grave sins require serious penance."

Her breaths can be heard now. "Yes Father. I will accept anything you chose to give me."

"Tell me, when you committed your adultery, was there evidence left on your body?"

"Yes Father."

"For your penance, you are to pray a novena. For nice days, you will come to the church in the evenings and together we will pray for your forgiveness. Because you hid your sinful desire from God and the world, you must not be allowed to conceal anything further. You will pray your novena naked as Eve before the fall, and like her you shall become free of all sin."

I can practically taste her by now. Her breathing is hard, eyes wide enough that I can almost see them through the screen.

"Yes, I will. Thank you Father."

"Do you have any other obligations this evening?"

"Only you."

"Then we will begin tonight. Do you know your act of contrition?"

"Yes Father."

"Then let us pray."

And for the first time that day, I would pray in unison with a confessor, our voices layering and mixing.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins because of Your just punishments, but most of all because they offend You, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. Amen. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

Another silence as the Spirit passes between us, the seal of the sacrament settling.

She gives a last shaky breath and stands from the wooden kneeler, not yet sore. The door of the confessional opens and closes, and I hear her deliberate steps towards the front of the church. I sit in the confessional for a while longer, praying, basking, knowing she is kneeling again.

After about 20 minutes, I stand and leave the confessional. The sight that greets me is sublime.

She is kneeling in the front right pew, just off the aisle. Her dress, something long and floral, is draped over the back of the pew. From the confessionals at the back of the church, I can only see the back of her head and shoulders. Visible on one shoulder is a vicious bite, a nasty circular bruise with a reddish patch in the center, just beginning to turn green at the edges. Her hair is twisted tightly into a clip at the back of her skull.

I walk slowly, deliberately up the aisle, wood heeled shoes echoing with each step. She does not move from her prostrated position, hands praying and head bowed. More of her back comes into view, and with it broken blood vessels from a flogging wrapping across her body. They extend all the way down her thighs, and I savor the sight as I stop to stand just next to her lowered head. Her eyes are closed.

Without saying anything, I'd kneel as if to genuflect and reach down behind her and stick two fingers in her wet, hot cunt. She's already soaked, wetness clinging to her public hair and beginning to dampen her thighs, as I know she has been since she left for confession.

She gasps, but her hands stay clasped and eyes stay closed.

"You know, penance is meant to be a punishment. You suffer, and through your suffering and the surrender of your pain to God, come to find redemption."

I twist my fingers, finding that electric spot that makes her weep, and now her eyes are open as she pants up at me.

"Please Father. Ah! I - please Father wash me clean of sin."

With my other hand I grab her hair and bring our faces together, air mingling.

"What am I to do with you? You confess, you complete your penance, you appear sincere and heartily sorry, and yet each week have more to confess. I'm beginning to think you're nothing but a dirty slut, a filthy thing only fit to be used for pleasure by your betters." I give her head a shake. "What do you think?"

"Yes sir, yes please I am a whore, I'm a lusting slut and I can't stop, please, please Father forgive me -"

I pull my fingers out and undo the clip already slipping from her hair to grab a better fistful of it, hauling her to her feet. The only things on her body are her shoes and a small scapular depicting St. Agnes of Rome around her neck. Patron saint of virgins. I love her sense of humor.

Holding her hair at waist level, she is forced to lean over and stumble as I drag her up the steps of the alter, to where the crucifix stands tall behind it. I push her to her knees in front of it.

"Stay. Look only at Him." I pointed to Jesus on the cross.

Obediently she sits, legs apart, staring up. I want to the vestibule, open a cabinet and remove a heavy wooden box. From it, I take two hanks of rope and a heavy scourge. I leave the steel cilice in the box for tonight.

Outside the vestibule she is still staring at the cross, having relaxed slightly.

"Stand."

She looks up at me and stands, mischievous smile brightening her face. I smile back, and with the hand not holding the rope and scourge, gently caress her cheek. She leans her face into my hand, and I kiss her gently, softly, slowly and deeply. She is so tender under my touch.

After a long while, I pull back. Her eyes flutter open, and watched as I draw my hand back and slap her, hard, across the same cheek I held. She nearly falls, but I grab her by the arm and quickly begin a simple single column tie.

"I did not tell you to look away from God." I reach up and tie the tail of the rope to an arm of the cross. "You will stare into the face of Our Lord as he was crucified and you will contemplate his suffering and death. I can only hope it will teach you some reverence." Her other wrist is now also tied to the cross and she stands in front of it, arms outstretched, mirroring and nearly embracing the bloody and tortured body of God.

"Thank you Father."

"Good girl." She whimpers.

Walking behind her, I begin to swing the scourge. She can hear it cutting through the air, and just once I bring it down with an almighty whack on the alter. I laugh cruelly as she jumps and gives a small scream.

I take a deep breath and smile at the ceiling, thanking God and Satan for delivering this lost lamb to me.

"Let us pray."

~ Fr. Marino

[kayhi808]

Return Home - 3

You've tried to balance out your register 3 times already, unable to focus with Bill sitting at the counter scrolling through his phone, working on emails if you had to make a guess. You keep casting sideway glances at him. You're so nervous having him here. How is it that Bill is back in your life? You hadn't spoken to him in 2 years until he surprisingly showed up yesterday, looking as handsome as you remembered. Only to emphasize the ache & emptiness in your soul.

In those 2 years apart, you learned to forgive him. You still couldn't bring yourself to see anyone else. You've been on a bunch of dates, but they weren't Billy. The pregnancy was definitely not planned. You weren't technically even in a committed relationship with him at the time. You weren't seeing anyone else, but you knew Bill was not the relationship type of guy. You felt there was something special between the 2 of you, but you were obviously mistaken when he disappeared on you.

You and Valerie finally finish up and it's just you and Bill on the sidewalk as you lock the door. "What do you feel like eating? What are you in the mood for?" His hand runs up & down your spine trying to relax you. Silence is your response. "If you're tired & really don't want to...I can take you home." Bill can't disguise the disappointment or hurt from his voice.

"M...maybe we can pick something up instead?"

Cheering up, "Yea, sure! Whatever you want. Do you want to come back to my place? Yours?"

"My place?"

"You got it."

*****

There's a Thai restaurant that the 2 of you used to visit around the corner from your place. You bring food back & dinner itself was pleasant. It was almost an unspoken agreement to keep things superficial & light, but there's an awkwardness that was never there when you were dating. Understandably so.

After helping with the dishes, Bill leans up against the counter & gulps the last of the beer in his bottle. You cock an eyebrow at him. "Thanks for agreeing to see me tonight."

"You didn't give me much of a choice," trying to joke about it, but you notice the frown lines across Bill's forehead. "I'm kidding. Tonight was nice."

He clears his throat, "I know you wouldn't talk to me before, but can I just get this off my chest, please?" You walk out into the living room, curling up in your favorite chair. Wrapping yourself in what's familiar to you. To make yourself feel safe.

Billy paces & rakes his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry. " He exhales. "The mission...I should have found a way to contact you before leaving. I was an asshole. I was selfish. It was a big deal for Anvil. A huge job. I didn't have to be a part of it, but I wanted to."

Hearing him say those words, shreds your heart. He chose a job over you & you suffered so much because of it. Of course you may have still lost Eden if he was here, but you wouldn't have been left with unanswered questions. He stops pacing & kneels in front of your chair. "It's the biggest mistake of my life. I don't regret anything more than that. If I could give anything to change the past...know that I would." He rests his head on your lap & you stiffen. "I've loved you since the first day I saw you, spinning around in my atrium, but I took you for granted. I wanted to believe that I was still in control of my life. That a huge part of it wasn't taken up by you. I should have told you I loved you and that I wanted to make you mine. I was obnoxious & conceited....and whatever else you can think up."

You rest your hand at the nape of his neck & you noticeably see his shoulders slump. "I forgive you Billy. I have for a while." There's a hitch in his breathing, but you continue. "We can't change the past & hating you, did nothing for me. It wasn't going to bring Eden back. It didn't make me feel better. It didn't make the hurt go away. I felt worse, in fact."

Billy raises his head & looks at you. "I love you, Y/N." His dark eyes intense, imploring you to believe him. The words he withheld from you 2 years ago, he so desperately wants you to believe now. "I've never stopped. I only gave you space because you were so angry. I thought that was what you wanted but not a day goes by...I love you, Y/N. I've been adrift since we ended. Seeing you yesterday, it felt like returning home. I need you. Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it."

"I don't know, Bill." He moves away but sit on the floor in front of you. "This...you are overwhelming. In the past 24hrs it feels like you invaded and took over my life."

Sadly, "That's not my intention."

"Isn't it?? You're a force of nature. You'll plow through anything and anyone to get your way. It's your drive. Your determination."

He gives you a soft smile. "I've also developed patience. If that's what you need me to be. I'll be patient." He's met with silence and he presses him palm against his eyes trying to compose himself. "Do you want me to beg?" Bill gets up on his knees.

"No!" The thought of this proud man begging brought you no joy.

"Angel, I have no pride when it comes to you."

You slide out of your chair and mirror him. Down on your knees. "Time. Give me time."

"Say you love me."

"Listen to me! I asked for time. You can't order me to say that!" You laugh and shake your head. The arrogance of this man!

Billy smiles at the sound of your laughter, "But you did love me. I felt it." He leans in to rest his forehead against yours. "I'll feel it again."

He pulls you to him, squeezing you tightly. You rest your head on his shoulder and let your body melt against his. Being in his arms truly feels like being home again. You missed this. There's no doubt in your mind that Billy will win you over. It's what you want, too. No one completed your soul like Billy Russo.

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

@k-marzolf - this was the last chapter of Return Home...if you're interested.☺️

[colleenmurphy]

"All you'll ever be is a scared voiceless little girl that was so easy to manipulate.."

The weavings of a former life, much like a dream wound their way through her mind's eye as she followed the footprints in the mud of tonight's hunt.

'So many damn similarities between them it sickens me.'

Jack o' Green held up a hand swiftly and nodded towards the left hand side and pointed toward a thicket of what looked like wild night blooming jasmine. A strained muffled huff from somewhere inside. The hounds swarmed the bushed attempted to flush Joel out but to no avail. The vines and over growth much too thick. Snapping and growling until Colleen nodded to her knave to send the dogs off. Once again she gripped her sword, heavy rings clanking against the hilt.

Petrus studied her for a moment and offered to ride on to flush him out. Her features held the same cold satisfaction of a sealed fate much like that night she watched her former husband's kingdom crumble beneath him. Leading a rebellion from the inside out she brought the winter court down and it's callous king to his knees, before she beheaded him. Watching as she gripped the reigns of her horse Petrus knew that this mortal stood no chance even if Benson were a religions man, no God could help him now. The glint of silver in the moonlight and the thunder of hooves before a shriek.

"Fuil le haghaidh fola!"

The plunging of the the sword swift and true made a sound unlike most of the court had heard before. Sitting silent atop their horses the court of the Grey Queen looked on. The mortal they had hunted for injuring one their own so badly it required six kingdoms best healers to set her to rights crawled out much like an injured rat and stared at them.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Do not call on someone who does not know you."

The point of her blade pointed directly at him kept the monster at bay as her Knave and Knight grabbed him to his feet once more. The gash in his shoulder bled black and wet in the moonlight.

"Kneel."

A nod towards Lord Thistledown and he looked towards the Lady of the Spring. Colleen had long known Helene, since they were tiny children. This monster had taken her and broken her in the worst of ways. Locking eyes with her best friend Colleen nodded and back in place was their stone wall of decorum of the Grey Court.

Benson wouldn't budge until Sir Jack sprang up seemingly out of nowhere and slashed Benson's Achilles heel bringing him partially down on a knee screaming in pain. This was the moment that she chose to swing, another tried and true defeat of a deserving target. A hot knife through butter was the only way she knew to put to the words the act she'd just committed for a second time in her long life. The head rolled towards Lord Thistledown's feet, he stopped it quickly and it was swept away into the shadows of some sort bag with the Lady of the Spring's court emblem stitched into it taken by one of the Hounds for safekeeping.

"On this night of the thinning of the veil we shall feast, dance, drink and be merry. The bane of our Lady of the Spring has been taken care of. Tonight we drink in your honor my dear friend."

Lord Petrus dismounted from his steed holding a torch crafted from cedar and pine burned bright as two of the Hounds, mirthful and blonde and the other dark and quiet took hold of Benson's unmoving remains tossing him onto a hasty pile of kindling where Petrus touched the flame to each of the four corners.

"What's done is done and it's all been for the greater good."

Anyone ( of the human variety ) walking through that particular piece of wooded acreage would find a large arch of flowers, delicate spring pastel blooms interwoven with delicate dogwoods grown only in the height of summer's flashing heat, and blood roses keeping the other more delicate blossoms safe from curious greedy fingers. Somewhere underneath you'll find that the moss and other deep green ground coverage takes the form of a body laying in what looks like a state of repose, none of them ever notice that it's missing a head.

[fourgods-nobrakes]

So in the comments on Blessed with Security (mind the tags), @caiusmajor brought up what an effective recruiting video they'd made, and one thing led to another and eventually I was sitting there chinhandsing at two OCs who'd gone renegade for kink reasons so they could be happy together. Today I couldn't get them out of my head so I wrote a ficlet nobody asked for about them settling in with their new allies.

This isn't the muster for a Crusade, not yet, but it's part of the planning and reviewing forces. That part's familiar enough. The unfamiliar part is the hulking, ominous, almost living bulk of the Vengeful Spirit around them, the greasy taste of the warp lingering everywhere, the gruesome livery on the black armor of their comrades. 

Alekos and Patrokar's own armor is stripped of all its old signs of rank, the aquilas on their chests cracked and tarnished, the plates of their armor painted an uninterrupted flat black. They haven't earned any new honors—if that's even the word to use here—since they met the heretics they've fallen in with. Alekos pulls on Patrokar's leash until the chain is taut, as if that could reassure them both.

The doors slide open before them and they step through into the sepulchral gloom of Lupercal's Court. Alekos' hearts are pounding. Verrhast has said they're part of the warband after they proved themselves on that last raid, but part of him still expects to be a gruesome sacrifice.

Monstrous creatures in deformed terminator armor, presumably the infamous Bringers of Despair, stand guard around the edges of the room. The hair on Alekos' nape prickles at the awareness of them.

But they're overshadowed immediately as another man steps forward into the light, his archaic terminator armor baroquely ornamented, his right arm bearing a power claw too big for any normal Astartes to wield, his scarred face proud and terrible. His presence is dizzying in its power, in its threat. "Verrhast," says Abaddon the Despoiler, his voice a rumbling growl even without vox amplification. "Good to see you again." He reaches out with his left hand, and Verrhast clasps his wrist in greeting.

"My brother," Verrhast says. "My Warmaster."

That seems to be the cue for the officers of the warband to salute; Alekos and Patrokar follow suit. There's a twinge of guilt in Alekos' gut but he doesn't let it get the best of him. They've already committed to this. They chose to be selfish, to live for each other instead of dying for the purity of the Imperium.

The Despoiler and Verrhast talk for a few minutes about what they've done recently, what the warband might expect for the next Crusade—only in the most general terms, nothing resembling a real briefing yet—and then the Despoiler's gaze sweeps over the rest of Verrhast's men, catching individuals' eyes and acknowledging them in a way that reminds Alekos of the Chapter Master reviewing honored troops. Then he looks over in Alekos and Patrokar's direction.

"And these are your new recruits?"

"They are." Verrhast turns toward them. "Can't believe what a good recruiting pitch that pict feed is."

"Desires that have no release build up an impressive amount of pressure," the Despoiler says. He paces toward them, slow and deliberate. His inhuman gold eyes flicker between them, taking in the leash, seeming to read everything about them in the lines of their faces and their defaced armor. "You're Alekos?"

"I am," Alekos says. "Lord," he adds, unsure what the correct style is but very sure he shouldn't omit one entirely. He's meeting the eyes of the Despoiler, the Warmaster of Chaos. The Archenemy. Who smiles at him, gently amused and only incidentally dangerous. Alekos struggles against the instinct that tells him to kneel, and at his side Patrokar gives in to it.

"I'm flattered that you would leave my uncle's service to join our brotherhood here, but I confess I'm curious. What would you say drives you?"

The room is as quiet as possible given the presence of a dozen active suits of power armor. Alekos measures his words. "My bond with my oath-brother," he says quietly. "We were taught obedience, but when the Inquisition threatened him, I found the lesson no longer stuck." Patrokar reaches up to rest a hand on his, and he clasps it in his own.

"Brotherhood is a powerful bond," the Despoiler says approvingly; he, who is infamous through the galaxy as the avatar of cruelty and the rejection of loyalty. "I hope your newly found brothers will merit a share in that devotion." He looks down at Patrokar then. The Talon that has slain demigods coaxes Patrokar's chin up gently; Alekos makes himself stay still. "And you. Found a man you'd follow through hell and heresy, have you?"

"Yes, lord." There's not a second of hesitation, and Alekos' hearts feel warm.

The Despoiler nods; Alekos can't read his expression. "Then watch his back with everything you have."

"Yes, lord," Patrokar says fiercely, his back straightening.

The Despoiler turns away. "That's introductions taken care of," he says to the rest of the warband. "Now let's talk about how you're going to bleed the Corpse God's dogs."

[0perfectimperfections0]

Reborn: Part 5

The dolls didn't say anything in greeting. There was a tense silence in the air that none of them seemed keen on breaking. Sensing their caution, the man walked forward, pretending not to notice how they stepped back in fear. The older gentleman kneeled down before them, one arm resting on his knee and the other outstretched toward Mandy. "May I?"

She was about to deny him with a sharp word, but Nolan put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Only for inspection. I want him back when you're done," she demanded. The man nodded, and she then relinquished her hold on Lou to place him gently in the man's hand.

Lou was handled with more care than Mandy chose to acknowledge. The man gently tilted Lou's head to either side. He looked back to the dolls. "He went through the recycling to do this?" They nodded. He sighed, running a hand down his mouth.

"Ruined all of my work," the younger male growled. He was still leaning back against the desk, arms crossed.

"I'm a little more concerned over the fact he was willing to commit suicide," the older man's voice had a sharp undertone to it. "You're supposed to be monitoring his mental state, Greyson."

"The inputs read as fine on the computer," Greyson brushed off the accusatory tone. "It was being stupid, that's all."

"His name is Louis, and I highly doubt the readings have come out perfect. How has he been responding to the environment?"

"It is a doll and the same as always. It wants to disobey orders by going near that portal after I told it not to."

Nolan noticed Lou beginning to stir. The effects were wearing off. "S-Sir?" He called out meekly. The others looked at Nolan and then at Lou, seeing his head move from side to side drowsily.

The man didn't hear him. "Disobey orders? You make it sound like a crime! If he wants to go near the portal, let him. I don't see a problem with it."

"It states clearly in the rulebook-"

"You and that stupid rulebook, Greyson! You're micromanaging him is what you're doing! If he's going to be stuck in that Institute, let him at least have the freedom to do what he wants."

"It wants to leave, Henry! Why do you think it killed itself! The freedom I do give it, it uses to spite me!"

"It sounds to me like he's trying to escape you," Henry said lowly. There was a shift in his hand, and he looked down to see Lou had awoken, wide heterochromatic eyes staring at Greyson. Lou's breathing had picked up speed again, and he attempted to scramble back on Henry's hand. Henry cupped his other hand around Lou's back. "It's alright, Louis-"

"He's scared," Nolan reached his arms up toward Henry, "let us try and calm him down." The man seemed a bit pained at that. The fact that he was scaring Lou as well. Carefully, he lowered his hand, and Nolan slid his arms beneath Lou's legs and back to pick him up. Blue and brown eyes still stared at Greyson, waiting for the man to do something. "Hey," Nolan leaned to catch Lou's gaze, "you're okay." He lowered his voice then, "We won't let him do anything to you, I promise."

"He's afraid of you," Henry stood to face Greyson eye-to-eye.

"It shouldn't be feeling anything in the first place. Another problem I plan on fixing today." His blue eyes landed on Lou again and the doll tensed in Nolan's arms. Ox and Wage moved to stand in front of them protectively.

"You're not laying a hand on him. I'll do the procedure. He needs to be calm during the ordeal, so he stays asleep."

"You don't have the guts to do what needs to be done," Greyson hissed.

"And you don't have the heart to do this humanely. Now get out."

The two stared each other down for a few heartbeats before Greyson straightened his suit and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Lou had started trembling in Nolan's arms. The brunette did his best to calm him down. Lou gripped the front of Nolan's shirt, voice quiet and watery. "P-Please...I d-don't wanna be here."

Nolan was beginning to have his own doubts about all of this. As endearing as Henry seemed to be toward Lou, knowing that the other man was still here didn't give him any peace of mind. They didn't have any other choice, though. "We have to," Nolan whispered back, "you'll die if we don't get you back the way you were."

"Then l-let me die, p-please!" Lou begged quietly. Tears had filled his eyes, trickling down freckled cheeks.

Nolan shook his head, face pinched in pain, "You know I can't let that happen."

"Y-Yes, you can," Lou looked down where he was desperately clinging onto Nolan's shirt. "Y-You won't even know I'm gone! Think of--of everything I did to you--to everyone! It'll be for the good of everyone that I'm gone-"

"Lou, stop it!" Nolan whispered harshly. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let that happen. It doesn't matter what you've done. None of that deserves death, you hear me? I don't know what the man's done to you to feel this way, but I want to fix it. I want to help you-"

"If you want to help me," Lou let out a shaky breath, "then let me die."

[angrenwen]

"

But most end up here, in the poor quarter, like me. There are always jobs that nobody else wants to do. We cook and we clean, we tend the parks and animals, we carry away waste and repair what is damaged, we tend the children who are hidden away. We find acceptance among our own kind. Children abandoned by their families are taken in by those who share their flaw, and taught to manage. For some, that’s enough.

For others, like me, the injustice rankles. We are called the lowest among the low, those of us who commit crimes. It is a crime to burn the house of a man who smothers a child born sightless. It is a crime to steal paint from a rich artist to teach a child born in the Poor Quarter to use her gift. It is a crime to poison the flowers in a park, leaving an ugly brown scar in the park to remind them of the invisible scar in their perfect city.

And it is a serious crime, the worst of all, to pray to the god imprisoned under the city.

We didn’t even know how to pray. Nobody in the city did. But traders come for the city’s beautiful goods. Those of us who are strong and work as porters asked them what it is like. How it’s done. In case, we said, we do it accidentally, not knowing.

Different traders said different things. Some prayed with their hands on the floor, others with hands raised above their heads. Some sang, or chanted, others made no sound aloud. Some danced, others simply closed their eyes. But there were things they all did. Call on the god by their name, pay honour to them in your heart, and believe. And when we told one, a man we trusted, a holy and pious man who hated the city, that we did not know the God’s name, he told us something else. The names of gods change, over time. If we all used the same name, if we all believed, it would give our forgotten god a name again. Give it power.

But he warned us, choose the name carefully. Words have power, and names have more, and the wrong name could do terrible harm.

We discussed it for a long time. We do not know anything about this god, about their name or their nature. In the end, we settled on the name ‘Azad’, for the outcome we desired for both the god and ourselves.

For more than forty years I have prayed to Azad, at sunset and at sunrise. I chose those times because they are times of transition and change. I pray in silence, fearing to be overheard, as most of us do. But I call the name in my heart. I tell the god ‘I have faith in you’. I tell it ‘I am a fellow prisoner. I will fight for you, please fight for me’. I tell it ‘we, the hurt and abandoned and neglected, are searching for you’.

And I commit my crimes. I show this city full of smug, self-satisfied, happy people that paradise is not paradise if it is not for everyone. I show them that some of us are still angry, still suffering. They may not care, but they can’t forget.

On this day, I rise before dawn, as I always do. I drink my clean water, and eat my good bread, that is not what I want but only what I am permitted to have. I roll up my pallet, and put on my clothing. And then I turn to my small, high window, where the sky is brightening into day, and I kneel down on the matting that covers my floor. I sit on my heels, and cross my arms across my chest, hands resting on my own shoulders, and in my heart I call the name of my god, the imprisoned god, the suffering god, the god who is a prisoner of the city.

And when I finish praying, in the moment that dawn becomes day, there is a terrible sound that is not a sound at all, a sound I hear in my mind, not my ears. It is the sound of chains rending.

And while I am shaking from the shock of that sound, the floor shakes under me, as if the ground itself has moved.

I am not the only one who runs outside. When I push out of my room, I join a flood of people running, down the hall and down the stairs, out into the street. I hear screams, and weeping, and the ground continues to shake under us.

Further down the street, I see a group of the deaf speaking in gestures to one another. From the little I can see, I know that they, too, heard the sound. The first sound they have ever heard was the sound of liberation. First one person, then another, turns to run down the narrow streets. Towards the center of the city. Towards the Citadel.

It's not only the poor who run. Half the city seems to be there, when I arrive, crowding into the great plaza, and all the wide streets leading to it. They are screaming, wailing, crying out to the Council and the Magistrates who rule us for protection from this terror.

And then I see the great crack that forms in the hill behind the Citadel, and I shout too. “Azad!” I call at the top of my lungs. “Azad, Azad!”

Other voices near me pick up the cry. I hear sound crest in other places, and know I was not the only one to see what was happening. Every group of voices comes together, and we join in a single chant that seems to vibrate in my very bones. “Azad! Azad! Azad!”

Something emerges from the crack, clutching at the ground. Whether it is a hand or a claw or something else, I can’t tell, it’s too far and my eyes are no longer young. But I can see it, and I raise my voice again. So many of us are calling now. I always thought there were only a few of us, the discontented, the believers, but there are thousands of voices filling the air. And not only voices – I see hands raised over the crowd, making a sign over and over again. Those who cannot speak cry out to the god in their own way.

Azad, we cry as one.

Freedom.

How this will end, I do not know. Will our city still stand? Will we live? There is no way to know.

But we chose this. We chose not to live in a false paradise. We chose not to be grateful for the crumbs we are given so that others can enjoy their feast. We chose not to live by draining the life from an enslaved creature.

Whether we live or die, whether Azad lives or dies, it will be in freedom. 

Note: Yes, I have read ‘The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas’ and it was a) brilliant, and b) entirely inadequate. Don’t walk away from the city. Burn the fucking city DOWN."

Deep Water Prompt #2226

Our city ran on the power of an imprisoned god. We were not allowed to pray to him, but some of the desperate still tried.

[matthew621]

The Truth Is.

The truth is I still get lonely At times when laughter filled the room A painful echo resonating the words "They are happy when you're not around" The voices that torture knowing none can hear it but me

The truth is I still get envious When the softness of his voice envelops the surroundings only it was not meant to calm me but for another the lingering thoughts that maybe I do not deserve his serene voice

The truth is I still get angry A feeling that I tend to invite when things don't go my way Blood rushing through my head, immobilizing my rational thoughts The feeling of rage that covers the love I have nurtured for quite a while

The truth is I still get impatient The thought of how things seem to favor everybody but me Doubt creeping in as I continue to ask the question when? When will it be my turn?

The truth is I still get insecure For every woman who has embraced the flaws and scars they have Insecurity is creeping in like a beast tearing every piece of acceptance I have within me I ran as I chased the reflection of the person I wished and longed to be

The truth is I still feel jealous When I feel like I am enough, the world drops its bomb on me Whisper and echo of voices telling me "There is someone better than you." The question of how long it will take before the man I love gets stolen by another woman

The truth is I still sin A hypocrisy I tend to embrace every inch of my being questioning the real reason why he chose me That his blood was shed for a person like me who still sin

The truth is I don't know why Why had he saved me from eternal separation and why He had to be the sin that I cannot resist and I don't know why but he still chose to save me

The truth is I am not perfect For even if I was created in the image of God Sin has stained my very being from the beginning and I know it will be a form of pride if I say I was blameless because I am not.

Because I am not near to being righteous And if God's glory comes down to meet me right now I will vanish like I never existed For my very being does not deserve His presence

The truth is I am nothing without Him My life will lose its meaning the world would not make sense and I would have never felt the guilt for every action that does not equate to His kindness

The truth is I am still a work in progress A fire within me awakened that day that you hold me dear save me from the den and embrace me as I weep For I know I had run away home and you have waited for so long

The truth is no one can ever love me like you do The calmness in your voice stopped every storm in my head A love that does not get tired, You are sufficient You are the wind that rocks me as I slowly surrender life's baggage

The truth is I am a sinner clothed with his righteousness A savior crucified on the cross, spotless, blameless, guilty for the sins he didn't commit The lamb of God died and was resurrected He said in his words, "It is finished"

The truth is I would stumble and fall People will throw stones at me as they laugh, dare me to call on the God who changed me They will see me as a failure but He will remain He will remain spotless, pure and perfect He will remain as a shepherd, a carpenter, a perfect sacrifice

The truth is I will still feel this negative feeling Weep as I kneel and ask forgiveness for these things was not meant for me to keep Genuine forgiveness as he ran to pick me up Glued me piece by piece and call me His Friend

The truth is He is enough Enough to stop the madness in my heart, his hands reaching out to me saying "I am all that you need." His perfect timing, his perfect will, enough for darkness to flee in my thoughts Lights engulf my body as I now understand why I had to wait

Why I had to get lonely, for in my loneliness I sought the Lord and found love in His presence Why I had to be envious, for in my envy I had focused my eyes on his warmth, not on man, and followed a path that led to Him

Why I had to feel angry, for in my anger I appreciated what He had done in the cross For His wrath is greater than mine but salvation was his response Why I had to be impatient, for my impatience I understood the value of trust for my every step is built with trusting God

Why I had to feel insecure, for my uncertainty I had found the fullness of my being to the Lord His companionship took me to greater heights

Why I had to be jealous, for God is a jealous God He showed me the intensity of how we tend to disregard him and cling to other things I no longer detest his jealousy, I recognize that I am his possession.

Why I had to sin, for in my transgression I can come boldly to Him and humbly ask for his aid To change me, to mold me, to walk the path he intended me to be

The truth is I am unworthy The world has cursed me, I was born carrying an inheritance of sin But He died to overcome the world, The truth is He is the only way, the only truth, and the only life I can come to the Father because the truth is I have been saved by my Savior Jesus Christ.

[lshark-cs]

Iron God Chapter 30 [Xigon]

The moon was brighter that night than Xigon had ever remembered it, and from the lightningfisher's back, he felt as if he could almost touch it. The cold light gleamed on his serpentine mask. One hand loosened around Yayaba's neck spines. She noticed and made a sound like a sneer.

He adjusted his grip. "Focus, Yaya."

Flying with Yayaba was the only way he could make the trek, given his disability. Unfortunately, that meant they were stuck together with plenty of time to judge one another for every little slip-up. Yaya withheld her words as usual but criticized him no less. At his request for her to focus, she folded her wings and plunged.

His black ceremonial cloak whipped back in the wall of wind. Xigon flattened himself against her body, tipping his head up just enough to see the ground rushing toward them. Yayaba threw her wings back out at the last possible second before landing gently near the foot of a tree so massive it dwarfed even the lightningfisher.

"Right on time." Qila extended an arm to help him down.

Yayaba hissed and flicked her tail around, catching Xigon as he dismounted. He only gave Qila's arm a tap. "As if I'm ever late for important business."

The old woman nodded behind her stag mask, then turned to the young ones. Kolo was the only one unmasked, and she stood in the center of their huddle, looking smaller than ever before. Xigon thought she might be nervous, at least until she pushed Azvalath and Channei out of the way to stand in front of him and Qila.

Jai-Lag squeaked like a day-old kitten. Azvalath did a poor job of concealing his laugh with a cough. "Quiet," Xigon ordered, then looked down at Kolo.

She lowered her black hood. He beckoned her closer, but she held her hand up to stop him. "One moment."

He and Qila exchanged a look, but before either of them could ask about it, Ido came running from behind them. He had Dakko in his arms. "Sorry, we fell behind. Dakko got..."

"It's all right," said Qila. "We're glad you two chose to join us. We would have understood if you wanted to stay behind."

Ido dropped to his knees, panting. Lalek bent down to help the boys up. Xigon turned his attention back to Kolo. Her heat radiated like a tiny sun. Like the Iron God himself.

Finally, she approached the masters. "Kneel," Xigon told her.

Kolo sank to one knee. The others gathered closer, watching with bated breath. No one dared speak. She stared up at them, unflinching as Xigon produced the ceremonial sword.

Qila's voice broke the silence. "We stand tonight in the shade of the eldest tree." Her tone was calm and steady. "Gathered to witness the second ascension of our sister under the Iron God's eye."

Kolo stayed silent and motionless. Xigon tried to do the same as he prepared himself mentally for what he was about to do. The sword had never felt heavier in his hands.

"Kolo." Qila turned to face the one kneeling before them. "You did not come to us willingly, but from this moment onward, your fate belongs to you. Do you choose the path of a Styzian disciple?"

"Yes." Kolo stared dead ahead, as if to challenge the notion that she should be afraid.

"Do you accept yourself as a hand of the Iron God?" the old woman asked.

"Yes." If she had any doubt, it did not show.

"This world belongs not to any one of us, but to all who live. Do you concur?"

"I do," said Kolo.

Qila paused, almost seeming apprehensive before she asked the final question. "Do you commit your mind and heart to openness?"

"Yes." Kolo answered with confidence – or at least an illusion of it – then bowed her head.

"Then you are ready." Xigon stepped forth. Everyone else seemed frozen like flies in amber, caught at some strange moment for all eternity. "Hear me now, great progenitor – should your child stray, take her hand. Lead her gently to the darkest shore." He broke into a cold sweat as he gave her last rites. It was a grim acknowledgement of an all too possible outcome. He raised the sword high, steeling his nerves. "Your mercy is not lost to us."

The swing had all his strength behind it.

            There was a collective gasp as his sword fell...

            ...and Kolo caught it in her phantom hands before it could meet her flesh.

            Xigon gawked beneath his mask, utterly speechless. What was happening? No one had ever broken the ritual. No one had ever defied them at this critical moment. No one.

Kolo stood up and grabbed the blade in the hand everyone could see. Her eyes were ablaze with red light and hellish determination. "If you really look at me and see your god," she growled. "Then maybe you should be the one kneeling for a change, Master."

    He clenched his jaw and glanced at Qila. She stared back at him, and he could tell that for once, they were thinking and feeling the exact same thing. The old woman's hand went to a pocket in her robe and she pulled out her puppet.

    Xigon's heart hammered. A razor edge of anger crept into his voice. "Know your place, Kolo." He tried to pull the sword back and swing again, but she would not let him move.

    "I know my place." Kolo's lips quirked. "Let me show you."

    Her head snapped up to glare at Qila's shadowy apparition as it lurched toward her. Without moving a muscle, Kolo ripped off its lanky dark limbs. It was like a cruel child dismembering an insect. Qila yelled at the bewildered onlookers. "Get back, all of you!"

    An invisible hand knocked Xigon back. He fell with a thud and his mask flew off. Sword clutched tight in his hands, he sat up, taking deep snarling breaths. He ignored his pain and got back to his feet. Kolo's heat scalded his vision. He gave the sword another ferocious swing.

    "Master Xigon, no!" Azvalath screamed.

    The plea broke his focus for an instant, but an instant was all Kolo needed.

    She threw him back like a rag doll. He hit a bulging root of the great tree. One of his lenses cracked on impact. Xigon gripped the hilt in white knuckles. He looked up just in time to see Qila's shadow puppet blasted to bits.

    Xigon pushed himself up. Through the web of cracks, he found Kolo. It wasn't difficult when she was lightning-bright in comparison to everyone else. He stood up tall and took slow, deliberate steps. His rage was laid bare for all to see.

    He found her heart and tried to silence it.

    When nothing happened, his anger began to melt into confusion.

    Her heart kept beating steadily in spite of his influence. He couldn't fathom why. Even with his goggles broken, it should have worked. He knew she wasn't immune to his power. But her heart would not yield.

    Kolo did seem to notice something amiss. She put a hand on her chest, but showed no signs of weakening as she approached. Xigon's eyes were wide and baffled by the time she stood in front of him. "Impossible."

    "Kneel," she commanded.

    Equal parts humiliated and awestruck, he obeyed.

    "I'll be needing that." Kolo snatched the sword from him. "Thanks."

    Then she turned to face the rest of the group. She held the sword up high, triumphant. "From this moment forward, my fate belongs to me, and me alone!"

Kolo looked back at Xigon over her shoulder, chuckled, and then ran herself through.