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godmadeaterribleerror · 8 days ago

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Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You and Sam try something new to help Dean with the Mark of Cain. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!

Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on A03!

“This looks kind of stupid,” you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that don’t sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.

“It’s not just stupid,” Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-“

He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.

“No moving, or you’ll make me have to start over. And none of us,” Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. “Want that.”

“Does it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Can’t we just put him in the shower?“

Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. “That is not how magic works, Samuel. We’re already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.”

“Clean of soul-“

“That wee little bellhop.” Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. “Only dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.”

“What.” Dean’s head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. “What do you mean, her breasts-“

“I mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.” Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. “Men.”

“Who the fuck was looking at her tits-“

“The bellhop, Dearie, keep up-”

“Can you just do the spell, Rowena?” You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. “Now?”

Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.

You bump Sam’s shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.” Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. “Rowena’s the best in the game, and we’re only stretching a few of the ingredients. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of you believe that, but you’re also running out of options. You’ve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean can’t keep killing people. It’s killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and you’re not stupid enough to trust her, but you’re also desperate enough to make a deal with her. She’ll do a spell to make Dean’s bloodlust refocus—make it more about things that make him happy, and less about murder—and you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.

If it works, it’s a win for everyone. Rowena doesn’t get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.

Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. “Hair.”

“What-“

“Hair, lass. The spell needs your hair.”

“Sam’s hair?” You frown. “Or my hair?”

“Preferably, both.”

You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice low—inaudible to Dean—as he mutters, “Why our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-“

“The bellhop is of no significance to Dean’s life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Mark’s corruption,” Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. “Hair.”

Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but you’re a little slower. You’re not someone Dean loves. You’re someone Dean cares about, but you’re not Sam. You don’t belong on the spell’s weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. He’d resisted this, you’d said please, and he’d caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didn’t want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot lately—Sam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through this—and it’s getting exhausting.

But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesn’t work, you can just start over and only use Sam’s hair. He has a lot of it to spare, he’ll be fine.

When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. He’d insisted on wearing his clothing in the pool—jeans, boots, flannel and all—he’s cross-legged in the water, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He still looks good. There’s an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever he’ll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until you’re wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and he’s not a burden, and if this doesn’t work, you’re going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think you’d look up at him under your lashes and he’d see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his hands—big and rough and so carefully skilled—would touch you-

“Be honest with me, Sweetheart.”

His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he won’t notice. “What?”

“Be honest,” he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesn’t look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.

“Yeah, okay. What-“

“This is dumb.”

You huff a soft, dry laugh. “It’s a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.”

“No spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Well, you’re not a witch.” You shrug. “And think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, that’s fun.”

“Bought my ass.”Dean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you and Sam stole this thing.”

“It was like, $40.” You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. “I am not paying that much for some plastic.”

“Even for a spell to save my damned soul?” Dean’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.

“You’re not damned, Dean.”

He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that it’s time to figure out what the Mark wants.

So now, in an old, dusty bar, Dean’s smiling. He hasn’t really, really smiled in a few months, and it’s incredible to see.

It aches a little that he’s smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where he’s leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from movies—he’s told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboy—but there’s a pretty strong chance it’s just Dean. It’s how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.

He’s hasn’t been Dean like that in a while, though. It’s been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but you’ve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean who’s managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when he’s in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. It’s why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why you’re facing the door in the booth—Dean always faces the door—and why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Dean’s smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isn’t you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Your attention turns to Sam—who’s looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcome—and you give him a flat glare. “What am I supposedto say to that.”

“Um, the truth? I think?” Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. “Hey!” He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. “That hurt-“

“Don’t look at him.” You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. “He needs this.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.”

“I don’t…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s weird. I read the spell-“

“Of course you read the spell-“

“Shut up, I always read the spells, it’s safer. And this one,” Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. “This one’s odd.”

“Oh no,” your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. “An odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.”

“This is why I wish you would just talk to him.” Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. “You get mean when things like this happen. And I don’t think it would be as horrible as you’ve decided it would be.”

You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. “That is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.”

He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. “I think that’s the worst case for Dean. You’d win custody.”

“Fair.” You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. “I do have a higher rate of income.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam frowns. “You make exactly what he does. Nothing.”

“Wrong. I’m a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that, we’ll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.” He makes a mock face of disgust. “We’ll die here.”

You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, “kiss ass.”

Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.

You really miss Dean. He’s just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want him—your Dean, the one that’s a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man you’ve ever known—back. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.

You look back to him in the bar—you can’t really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowd—and for a second you could’ve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasn’t because you’re something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now he’s antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowena’s terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.

You’ll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, you’ll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, you’ll just help Dean, and he won’t have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, it’s what you’ve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe he’ll turn his attention to me, and maybe he won’t, but no matter what I’ll have helped Dean.

It’s not like he doesn’t help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But that’s why you want to help.

And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but it’s helping Dean, so you’ll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when he’s better.

——————

Dean is really, really conflicted. It’s ripping him in half, because he knows he’s supposed to be polite to chicks—like the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesn’t deserve to hear—but her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesn’t want her.

Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didn’t feel like it anymore. Dean’s not great with words—he’s great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not words—and even he gets that bloodlust really isn’t the correct word for wanting something in a way that’s clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. It’s still a craving, it’s still insatiable, but it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s driving Dean to things he couldn’t really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so he’d driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didn’t have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.

Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldn’t come back. The not-bloodlust—that wasn’t a good term for it either, he’d need to come up with a better, catchier one later—had tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.

And that’s where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasn’t there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam weren’t any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldn’t keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didn’t deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.

The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyone—Dean wasn’t special—but the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Dean’s body.

That’s what won the conflict. He wouldn’t have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbye—she’d be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and weren’t overtly craving their best friends in the bar—and almost ran back to Her and Sam.

She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. “You’re back.”

“Well done, sweetheart, I am back.” Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.

“Did you, um,” She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. “Did you strike out?”

“Nah, just hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. He’d still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Sam’s voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. “Do you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-“

“Workin’ now. I feel good.” Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.

“Good?”

Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. “Real good,” he says Her name through his mouthful—crumbs falling out of his mouth—and she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He can’t hold it. He’s not even supposed to be talking right now—that was the deal he’d made with himself—so holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and that’s the last thing Dean wants to do. He’s freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.

Dean’s usually really good at making Her smile. He’s proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.

She’s not smiling now. She’s tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.

“You’re good.” She repeats his words slowly, but it doesn’t sound like she believes them. “And you think the spell worked.”

“Did work.” Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. “Don’t think it did, I know it did.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.

“Hey!” Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. “What the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-”

“It’s distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-“

“It did work. I don’t want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-“ He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Look, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.”

Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grin—all teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, I’m not going to kill anyone—but Sam’s attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tired—Dean still needs to make her smile—but she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.

“If he’s really good,” Sam’s pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. They’re a team, he’s allowed to hear this stuff. “We should get back to Kansas tonight. It’s not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-“

“I know,” She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesn’t smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. “Do you want to finish that, or-“

“Gimme three-“

“Chew, Dean.”

He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.

“Holy crap, dude.“ Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. “That was really fast, even for you.”

Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. “Don’t blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.”

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until She’s on her feet and they can follow Sam together.

“Not-bloodlust is a bad name,” She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. “What about, uh, what’s the opposite of blood?”

“Dunno.” Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. “Water? Waterlust?”

That gets him a small, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s my lust.”

“It is.” She meets Dean’s eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like she’s trying to find something on Dean’s face he doesn’t know how to get for her. “And if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.”

“Betterlust?“

“Starts with B,” Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. “Fun to say. Makes sense, too, you’re lusting after better stuff.”

Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good name—better than not-bloodlust—and he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.

“Betterlust it is, Sweetheart.” He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, I’m a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because I’m a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.

End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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watsittoyah · 5 months ago

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The Devil's Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 2) Fear Is Only A Four Letter Word

(Song: All Mine By Plaza)

Warning: Mutual masturbation, Mentions of suicide, Rough oral sex (male receiving), Self pleasure, back door eating (HE EATING GOOD TONIGHT LADIES!)

I can feel my mothers tears on my face as she hugs me.

“Mother I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I smell her burning flesh instantly and I want to vomit. When her now lifeless body falls against me, I see the figure who took her from me.

The figure was always Zen, but this time it’s…

“Qimir.” I wake up with a jolt and I’m no longer tied up in ropes. Instead I’m in a bed under a soft quilt.

I mentally curse my body because that means Qimir had to had touch me to get me into this bed.

A missed kill opportunity.

I go to get up, but I pause because I feel eyes on me.

I think fast about a weapon and he must’ve known what I was thinking because he says something that makes my skin crawl.

“You know looking for weapons won’t help you. I can always take it from you.” I cut my eyes at him. “So you want to come close to me or should I just come to you? Because the moment I get a weapon I’m going to-” He raises his hand to me and I become lifted in the air.

My throat is now in his hand and he looks me deep into my eyes. “Such a deadly little flower.” I can’t move. I can barely move my fingers and toes.

Of course he’s a force user.

“I hate you.” I hiss at him. “You hate me now, but you’ll learn to think otherwise, little flower…you know you talk in your sleep. Did your mother-”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER! SHUT UP!” I scream as I try to force my body to move. He looks at me with a smile crawling across his lips.

“You see you have this…” He squeezes my throat tighter, cutting off my air a bit. “…look in your eyes. It says you want to murder me. But that’s going to be difficult since I have the upper hand here.”

I start to feel my left side and before he can notice I bring my hand up and rake my nails across his face. He drops me instantly and I take a deep breathe.

I then take off running.

I’ll kill him and then I’ll get out of here.

First I need to find an exit, then maybe I can lure him out and then handle him.

I take a left and I can smell him not too far behind me.

He’s fucking gaining on me.

I take a right and halt around a corner. I press myself firmly against the wall and listen out for him. “You can’t run far, Akasha. I won’t let you leave this place. You’re not leaving me….” I heard him say as he stalks down the hall looking for me.

Once the coast is clear I take off down the hall in the opposite direction. I feel cold air drifting in from a room so I run inside and I see the light from outside.

I run faster and just when I feel like I have my freedom…

…I see that we’re on a high cliff.

I stop short and I see nothing but rocks and water as far as I could see. My legs give up from under me and I fall to my knees. I don’t even care that they’ll bruise.

I…I can’t stay here. I need to escape, I need to get my freedom back.

Before I know it, I’m walking down the halls, thinking about what I can do. How I can get off this fucking island.

How do I get this crazy son of a bitch to let me go?

You play the role he wants, tell him all he needs to hear and when the coast is clear, find a safe exit and slit his throat from ear to ear.

I smile to myself as I walk back to the bedroom and I make sure I play my roll well.

Don’t give in too easily, he will be suspicious. Be the cat in this mouse trap, Akasha.

I kneel in the middle of the room with my eyes closed listening for his panicked footsteps. His scent makes it to me before his presence does. I then hear him enter the room and I remain still.

“Look at my little flower, rooted where she belongs.” He says standing in front of me. I open my eyes and look at him, pretending I’m bored.

“Oh, you’re back?” He narrows his eyes at me and he grabs me by my upper arm. “Ouch!” I fake to him. He seems to like my plea because he squeezes harder. “I need to show you something. But you need to promise me you won’t try to run off again. Because if you do, I will leave you with a permanent scar on this intoxicating body of yours.” He says as he drags me off.

I give just enough resistance to make him think I’m going to fight him, but I follow along side him.

••••

Once we’re outside, I take in my surroundings and Qimir’s grip on my arm loosens but only by a fraction. “I am going to teach you how to concur your fear. But first you must address it.”

He lets me go and while he keeps his eyes on me, he goes into a bag that was outside and he pulls out a different light saber. I take a step back from him and he stands in front of me.

He points the handle my direction, motioning me to take it. But I don’t move a muscle. “Akasha, take it.” I shake my head. “No.” I tell him, not looking away from the light saber.

Suddenly I’m back into the bad place. I’m watching as the Jedi slaughter everyone and I’m trying my best to help mother escape.

Children’s lives were being snuffed out. Men are being brought to their knees. The few women we had left…all begging for mercy.

And what breaks my people apart is the slash and stabs of light sabers brought on by monsters who say they are the good guys.

When I blink, I’m not there. I have to remind myself that I am in the present and that I can’t get hurt. I live on for my people. I live on so I can get revenge for them.

Qimir, takes the Saber and puts it in my hand but I jerk away and snatch my hands back. “No! What are you trying to prove? I’m weak because of this stupid weapon? You win!” I yell at him.

“No, I’m showing you that you’re stronger than your demons. This fear? It hold you back from your full potential. Now take it!” He thrusts the saber into my hands and in an angered rush I snap on him.

I point the saber to his chest, in hopes that it will light up and kill him. But when I see his eyes soften, I get frustrated. I can’t help but go to hit him with my bare hands. He moves quick as he sees what I’m about to do.

He keeps my hands on the saber handle and he looks me in my eyes, with sadness.

I want to scratch his eyes out, how dare he look at me like that?

“Do you feel that, Akasha?” He squeezes my hands tightly and I want to scream. I want to throw a tantrum. He’s looking at me with pity. I’ll show him pity.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger…fear, loss…desire.” When he says desire he looks down at my lips and then back up into my eyes. “T…that’s the path to the dark side.” I tell him, smelling his want and need.

Don’t lost focus, keep the anger. Keep the hate and make sure you attack. I tell myself.

He’s pitying you.

Don’t let him win.

“Semantics.” He says in a whisper. “What do you desire in this very moment, Akasha? Revenge for your people? Taking my life? Or deep down you have the desire to unlock your potential, in a way that I know is a guarantee?”

He flicks the saber from my grasp and it clatters to the ground.

His arousal is unmistakable as it’s starting to suffocate me.

The urge to bite him is strong.

I look away from his eyes and I stare at his lips, his tongue emerges and licks. I remember those lips suckling my clit, I remember his tongue worshiping my pussy.

My thighs clench with desire and I try to pull away but he pins me still with his hungered stare. He leans in close to my ear and he rubs his nose against my skin.

“I can smell how wet you are, Akasha. My desire, in this very moment is to bury my face between those delicious thick thighs of your and partake of that sweet pussy just like I did yesterday. Will you let me do that? Will you let me taste you again?”

A chill runs down my spine as I feel his cock pressed against my stomach. I choke back a moan as my clit throbs.

I want him to touch me.

Taste me.

I want him to lick me till my juices drip down his handsome face.

He flicks his tongue against my earlobe and I let out a small gasp. “Come with me, you haven’t bathed since yesterday and I’m sure you’d like that.” I’d like to sit on this man’s face, but before I could protest he tugs me along by my hands and makes me follow him.

We get to a calm little pond and he lets my hands go and starts walking towards the water.

I watch him pull off his shirt and on his back, I see an ugly scar. It practically took over seventy-five percent of his back. Curiosity bites and I want to know how he got it.

He looks back at me and his eyes travel up and down my body. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

That question, stalls all of my logical thinking and I start pulling off articles of clothing and I follow him into the water.

We’re both completely naked and the cool feeling of the water on my skin feels good to my tense muscles. I watch as he dunks his entire body into the water and I watch for him to break the surface.

Instead I feel his hands on my body and I almost jerk away from surprise, but I still my movements. “You have such pretty brown skin, little flower.” Qimir says as he holds me from behind.

He dips his head low and I feel his teeth graze against my neck. I feel his very erect cock brushing against my lower back and I bite my bottom lip as I reach around and grab a hold of him. He lets out a hiss as I stroke him slowly.

“Is this part of my training, Master?” I feel his muscles tense as I call him that and I know it pleases him by the way he leaves kisses against my neck.

“It’s definitely part of your training. Though I should punish you for running away from me.”

“But I did come back.” I challenge as I rub my thumb against the head of his cock. I hear a groan in his throat and I feel my clit throb. “You did come back to me, like a good girl. So I guess I can reward you a little and make this a lesson at the same time.”

He then cups my breasts and I let out a moan as he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I lean my head back against his chest and he takes the opportunity and sucks my neck. I feel a slight pinch and I know he’s left a mark. “You know one of the many reasons why I chose to keep you, little flower is because you’ve suffered loss. And you’re free from so many things…”

He pulls me back gently towards a large rock in the water and I follow. The water is now only covering up to his lower thigh and my higher thighs. He then leans me against the rock and cages me in with his arms.

I look from his eyes and down to his bare chest. My split tongue makes an appearance which causes him to suck in his breath. My eyes go further down and they widen.

I know what I was touching in the water but holy mother of Venus he’s huge. I look away but he stops me by holding me by my chin. “You were just touching it seconds ago, don’t be afraid of it now…this will be your reward amongst other things, little flower.” He guides my hand down to his hard cock and when I grip it he bites his bottom lip.

“I know I don’t need to teach you on how to pleasure someone, but I want to see how you pleasure yourself, show me what you do on those lonely nights.”

It’s like I’m under his spell, because I then guide my own hand down to my pussy. I rub my lips together and my eyes flutter closed. “No, no, no. I want to watch those pretty grey eyes while you pleasure the both of us.” He growls as he guides my hand up and down on his thick cock.

My eyes open wide when I see him hike up my legs so that I’m in front of him but spread more apart. As I pleasure myself I stroke him with a more firm grasp. “Just like that. Stroke me as if I’m inside of that pretty pussy of yours.” He moans as he watches my fingers rub my clit. I was watching myself stroke him and I see the bead of precum ball at the tip. I had the urge to use my tongues to lick it up and twirl it around the head.

When we both look up at each other he presses his full lips against mine and it gave me a chill. Because it felt like we were meant to kiss…to touch…to be intimate.

I’m as crazy as he is.

I twirl my tongues against his and he rocks his hips faster, as he stokes himself in my hand. I stop focusing on myself and I just use both of my hands to stoke him while rubbing the head against my pulsating clit.

He sucks my tongues and bites my bottom lip. I hear a suck when he releases my lips and I know they’re swollen from the assault.

Qimir’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels the tip slide inside of me. I start to go further but he stops me. “No, you ran from me earlier. You don’t get to feel my cock inside of you just yet. But don’t worry, I’ll let you cum this time. Now make yourself cum with just the tip of my cock. I want your juices dripping against this rock.” He holds my legs further apart and I let out a moan with some gibberish of my native tongue from the added pleasure.

I stroke him against my clit and I bite my lips, moaning, and internally wanting him inside of me. “Master…please just let me slide it in. I want your cock inside of my pussy. I want to make you feel good too.”

He allows only the head to go in again and then he stops. “If you hadn’t ran, Akasha I’d be balls deep inside of you. But you have to learn the consequences of your actions. Now let me watch you cum with just the tip.” He groans as he leans in and bites the same spot he had earlier on my neck.

“Fuck…” I moan as I stroke him faster between my pussy lips. “Mmm, that colorful language. I really like when you use your words to let me know you’re enjoying yourself….I might not have my cock inside of you right now. But it will be inside of you soon.” He licks my bottom lip and I rock my hips now, just to feel more friction.

I move my face and moan that I’m gonna come soon, which only makes him stoke against me faster. “Cum on the head of this cock, little flower. I need to watch you cum.” He moans against my open mouth.

I groan and whimper as I feel my lips clutch on the head of his cock. I stop and feel my juices drip down my lips and onto the shaft of his cock.

I try to catch my breath but he doesn’t give me a second of rest. He moves me up on the rock and flips me over so that my stomach was lying on the cold hard rock.

“Now I get my release.” The snakes in my stomach were tumbling and toiling around as I wait with anticipation of him, fucking me from behind. But instead I feel him move me to my knees and I feel his tongue lap up at my already sensitive clit.

“Ah…t…too much, master.” I moan as I claw at the rock. He gives a firm slap to my ass, before he parts it. “You can take it. I know you can.” He assaults me with his tongue on my clit and my back arches as I squirm trying to get away.

“There you go, running again. Now stay still.” He gives a firm order and my body, does what it’s told.

He slides his tongue inside of me and I feel his nose graze the bud of my ass, which causes me to groan in pleasure.

This bastard is going to ruin me before I can even slit his throat.

I move my hips but he slaps my parted ass, more firmly. “Don’t…move.” He says between licks. I let out a moan in response and feel him slurp and suck my lips.

Just when I think he’s about to let up, he grips my ass and he licks from the tip of my clit all the way to the bud of my ass.

The noise coming from my throat sounded animalistic.

He slips his tongue in and I look back at him. He had his eyes shut but I can tell he was in utter bliss. I feel his fingers stroking my inner walls and I jerk close to an orgasm.

If my nails could dig deeper into the rock I’m sure I would’ve broke chunks of it off.

“Master, Massssster I’m gonna come. I’m gonna-” He spits and slurps it up and I lose it.

I feel myself squirm and squirt all at the same time.

I don’t care that he said don’t move. I move my hips and I rub my ass and pussy in his face so I can ride out the orgasm.

He then holds me firmly still and he gives a hard suck to my aching clit. I jerk one more time and in an embarrassing motion, I hit my head on the rock and I pass out…

••••

I wake up to the smell of something in the air and I’m back in the bed when I open my eyes. The gears in my head start to spin when I realize, Qimir is either sleeping on some floor or chair. Or he’s sleeping in the very bed I’m in.

I quickly get out of the bed and I see I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. It comes just past my knees and yet I still feel exposed. I follow the smell and find him shirtless in what looks like a kitchen.

I look at the scar on his back and the curiosity comes back to my mind. How did he get that scar?

Who hurt him?

For a split second I feel anger in my stomach knowing someone had hurt him.

No, stop.

I don’t care that someone had hurt him. Right, I don’t care.

Yet, I walk a bit further and I reach out, letting my finger tips brush against him. His body tenses and when he turns, I see something menacing in his eyes. I snatch my hand back and he quickly switches.

“Someone’s finally awake. Are you hungry?” Before I can protest, my stomach gives me away. He gives a smirk at the sound motions for me to sit at the table. I hesitate slightly and he stares me down. “Akasha, sit.” He says in a gentle yet steady voice.

I go sit down and he brings over to me, a bowl of some sort of broth. I look at it questioning if I should eat it.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Qimir says as he pulls up a chair. “Are you sure?”

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been when I had you in the alleyway.” Fair point.

I stir the broth with the spoon provided and I bring it to my lips. I sniff the air and the broth doesn’t have any off odors. But you can mask a poison with other ingredients.

I bring the spoon to my lips and from the corner of my eye I see him, watching me. Waiting for me to taste. I let the liquid hit my tongues and I glance at him.

“It’s good.” I tell him as I take another spoon fool. The broth had chunks of meat in it as well as some grains.

He seems to relax after watching me eat and he begins to eat his meal as well.

We eat in silence for a while. The only sound you hear is just spoons scraping bowls and slurping from lips.

I glance at Qimir and I see him licking his spoon and lips. My brain stutters as I remember what those lips and tongue has done to me in the last twenty-four hours and the broth goes down the wrong way.

I choke on the broth and he gets up to help me. But I jerk away from him and I fall out my chair. I manage to choke down the broth and he was crouched down in front of me.

“Even after the intimate moments we had, and you’re still not willing to let me touch you.” He says with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I don’t trust you, Quimir. Is that even your real name?”

He nods and clenched his jaw. “You don’t trust me yet hours ago you trusted me enough to have my face buried in placed on your body intimately. This flower just gets more and more interesting. And as far as my name, I chose it so it’s my name.”

He cocks his head to the side as he stares at my neck. He gives a smirk and I raise my hands to the tender spot. “That mark I left…there’s no mistake that you belong to me. But I’m sure you’ll learn when I leave more marks on you.” He stands up and offers his hand to me but I ignore it and stand on my own.

I walk past him and sit down at the table, no longer hungry. Just feeling licked with anger.

“If you’re done eating then let’s get started on your first lesson. The lesson at hand is admitting your fear.” I feel as if ice cold water was poured over me and I feel exposed.

My eyes look around before anything else and I see he has a saber in his hand. I go to get up but he stops me with a look. “Sit still and don’t you fucking move.”

I don’t even look at him. My eyes on trained on the saber. “Why are you afraid of an object that has no power unless wielded? Why does fear have you by the throat like this, Akasha?”

Qimir walks around the table towards me but again I only stare at the saber. “If you want to kill me with the saber. Just do it. Stop taunting me.” I finally look up at him and he was gazing at me.

“The fight in your eyes lets me know you’re not hopeless. Now why are you afraid or a light saber? Did a Jedi do something to you?” I stare him, unanswering. “Your people?” My eye twitches and he gives a chuckle.

“Genocide is funny to you?” I narrow my eyes accusing him. “No, what’s funny is your anger gives you away. Clearly the Jedi have wronged you but they left such a deep scar on your life that fear has you by a choke hold. I want to help you break that fear.”

“Why? Why is this important to you?”

“Because, what I desire is a partner of equal standing. And I’ve looked for many years. You…you have the potential. But this fear is holding you back and I want to help. Will you let me?” He asks as he towers over me.

I swallow hard and I look down at the saber. “How can you help me? How can you help me heal these scars?” He lifts my chin so that I’m looking up at him. “Not heal them, embrace those scars. Come with me.” He tugs me up from my seat and he leads me to another room.

When we get to this room, I notice the walls have many scratch marks all over them. Qimir stops which makes me do the same as well. “You seem to fear the saber because you see it as a reminder of the terrible events in your life. But instead of freezing with fear, you should concentrate on using that fear to paralyze your enemies.”

I watch as he walks over to a metal box. My first thought is that he’s going to grab another saber, but instead he takes out a metal helmet. It looked homemade and had a creepy smile adoring it. “This is made of Cortosis. It destabilizes light sabers and…it’s also a device they would use on younglings.”

My eyes cut to him. “You were a Jedi?” He nods and I bare my teeth at him. “I knew something was wrong with you! You’re like them! You’re a murderer! Just like them!” I yell as I back away from him. He raises his hand and I get yanked over to him.

“I was a Jedi, and as far as a murderer, I only killed the people who wronged me. I was never on your planet when the erasing happened. I…am what they call, a Sith. I’m telling you all of this because I need you to trust me in order for this training to be a success, Akasha.”

He hands me the helmet and it has some weight to it.

I could smash him across his face, hit him over and over until his skull is caved in and I could be rid of him. But I can’t do that. I don’t even have a way off this island…which means he had to had brought me here on a ship.

But where is the ship?

“What do you want me to do with this? Eat it?” I ask in a sarcastic manner. He rolls his eyes at me and clears his throat. “Put it on, you need to refocus your mind and let yourself be one with the force.” I give him a scowl. “But I’m not force sensitive.”

He shakes his head. “Yes you are, Akasha. I had you under my control earlier but you had managed to get out of my hold. You were most likely force sensitive as a child but no one trained you. Now put the helmet on.”

“After I do, what will you do to me?” I ask as I look down at the frozen smiling face. “I won’t do anything that you won’t like. I promise.” I don’t trust him, but in order to get my way I need to play along. So I put the helmet on and it’s a bit claustrophobic. All I can really hear is my own breathing. “What now…Master?”

I can feel him behind me. Holding my hips in place as he presses his front to my back. “Now close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. You must not trust them. Breathe….connect with the force, Akasha. Think of those moments where you’ve had peace. Grasp those moments and use that to connect you.”

A thought bubbles up in my head. A thought I haven’t had since I was a little girl. It was the day my mother had gave me my youth marks.

I remember the day. I was both excited and anxious. I had asked the great grandmother about how the process is done. And she told me that I was suppose to drink a warm liquid that would have me in a limbo state, and then the great grandmother would take red ink, a poking stick and a stone and give me my youth marks.

I still remember my mother holding my hand when the first poke pierced my skin. I winced in pain and my mother said, I must be strong like our people. I need to be brave like my father and cunning like my ancestors.

“Look at you…” I hear Qimir’s voice and that’s when the memory fades. When I come back to the present, I see that I’m holding the saber, but not only that, everything in the room is floating in the air.

I gasp and that’s when everything falls to the floor. I toss the saber down and I take the helmet off. “What are you doing? You were doing amazing, Akasha.”

“I feel sic-” I feel a slight pound to my head and I drop down. But before I can fall completely, Qimir scoops me up in his arms. “Sorry there little flower, I should’ve warned you that you’d feel a bit nauseous after your first time. But you made me proud. Which means you get rewarded greatly.” He leans down and he kisses my temple. He carried me in his outs and walks out of the room, I look back at the saber and helmet and feel…a warm sensation.

Is it because I don’t feel well?

Because he said he was proud of me?

Or because I was able to tap into the force?

Yeah, I don’t feel well. I’ll go with that logic.

••••

After much rest and odd dreams about the force, I was woken up feeling this empty feeling in my gut. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

I crawl out of bed and feel that the side next to me was cold.

Where is he?

I feel my bare feet patting against the cold floor and I hear drilling. I follow the sound and when I find where it’s coming from I see Qimir drilling something onto the helmet.

He senses me because he stops and looks over at me. “Did I wake you?” He asks as he sets his drill down. “No, I was just wondering what you were doing since you weren’t lying next to me.”

He looks down at my bare thighs and the back at me. “I couldn’t sleep, and even if I could, I wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you…you’re too much of a distraction.”

“So where do you sleep? If not in the bed with me?” I ask out of pure curiosity. He looks around and then back at me.

“In here. I have a cot in the corner.” He motions with his chin and I look over to see the cot. It looks uncomfortable and old.

I make a face.

“That can’t be good for your back.” I look back at him and he’s just staring at me like he wants to eat me…out.

“Careful little flower, you sound like you care about me.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, which causes my chest to push up. His eyes, go right to there and I feel…hot.

“I’m just saying, that can’t be good for your back…speaking of that. How did you get that scar?”

The moment I mention the scar he seems to give off a dark murderous aura. Even I take a small step back.

“…My…Master, gave this to me after she threw me away.” His jaw was clench but I see it in his eyes. The anger and hurt. “So she stabbed you in the back.” I say remembering how big and ugly the scar looks.

I get a slight irritation in my chest hearing that a woman had hurt him.

“Among other things. Yes.” He then goes silent and the room just seems suffocating. So I speak.

“These…scars.” I touch my face and give a sad smile. “Are my youth scars as well as my warrior scars. They were painful, but I adore them.”

“Are you saying I should adore this scar on my back?” He snaps at me. “No, I’m saying my scars have a story. And so does yours. I have plenty of scars you haven’t seen that shows I’ve tried to take my own life….” I pull down the shirt and point to the faint scar on my neck.

“When my people were slaughtered and I was left. I got scared. I got scared and lonely and I remember…I grabbed a chair. I grabbed a chair and I grabbed my old baby blanket. I had cut it up finely and I just kept tying the pieces together until the knots were tight enough. I remember praying to whatever god or entity out there that I could join my people after taking my life. And when I kicked the chair from under me-”

Qimir was up in an instant. I flinch thinking he was going to hit me but instead he pulls me into a hug. “Stop-stop talking about that memory. When you talk about it, you look helpless and that makes my chest hurt, because I can’t stop that for you. I can’t protect you.” He looks down at me and he looks at my neck. He leans down and he kisses the faint scar.

“Don’t ever do this again. I’ll lose my mind if you took yourself away from this planet…from this time period…from me.” He embraces me again, and I feel…warm.

This feeling is foreign to me and I don’t want it to stop. But I can’t allow him to get to me. I can’t allow him to win.

I shrug him off and back up a bit. “What are you working on?” I ask, just to change the subject. He looks back over towards the helmet.

“I’m just adding some new additions to the helmet. It’ll help when you’re wearing it and keep the force in you stable.”

He’s thinking about me.

He’s considering how I felt sick after using the force in that magnitude.

This, this is too much. I need to leave this room or something. I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Oh! I’m…I’m just gonna go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.” I go to leave but he keeps me still by getting a grip of my shirt. “You’re never a bother to me, Akasha. Actually, how are you feeling? I meant to ask you that.”

He gently pulls me closer to him and I swallow hard because he’s giving me a look that tells me, I’m going to be on my back with my legs spread wide open.

“I’m fine. I got plenty of sleep so, I’m fine now.” He looks at my lips and then he trails his thumb against my bottom lip. “So, if you’re fine and you had plenty of sleep, then why do you need to get back to bed?”

“I…uh.”

He walks forward which makes me walk backwards. Until my legs bump against something cool.

My hand touches it and it feels smooth to the touch, like metal or a mirror.

“Little flower, you aren’t trying to avoid me are you?” I shake my head. “No, I figured you didn’t want a distraction so I would just leave you alone.”

“It’s too late for that now isn’t it. You come in here, with this shirt on and your thighs out for display. Imagine if we had company. I’d have to kill them for looking at you. For looking at what’s mine.” He leans me against the metal like wall and he brushes his lips against my neck. This time with lust behind it.

“A…are you sure you don’t want to finish up on the helmet?” I ask, knowing he sure as fuck doesn’t want to do that.

“Why would I do that, when I have a delicious snack in front of me? I think I deserve a break, and I do recall saying I’d give you a reward…”

To watch this man get on his knees and push my legs apart, should be illegal. But he does just that and he lifts my left leg and place it on his shoulders. He looks up at me and while we keep eye contact, he bites and sucks my inner thigh, causing me to hiss in pleasure.

“Now I’ll leave marks that no one but you and I can see.” He says as he trails his tongue against the now bruised mark.

“Lean against the wall for balance, little flower.” I do as I’m told and he hikes me up so that both of my legs are on his shoulders.

I hear him lick and my hands go to his hair. I throw my head back against the mirror, I buck my hips as I feel his tongue does circles around my clit.

His hand then reaches under the shirt I’m wearing and he gets a hold of my right breast. My nipples feel as hard as rocks as I feel him pinch one.

“Qimir…Master, please don’t stop…” I moan out as rock my hips and rub my pussy deep in his face.

I hear him slurp and lap up my pussy and when I finally look down, he was flicking his tongue quickly up and down my slit.

“Mmmm, you’re…such a lovely distraction. Especially with this fucking sweet little pussy. I feel him insert two fingers inside of me and when he does a come here motion, I start stuttering like a madwoman.

He continues to do the come here motion as well as sucking and licking my clit and I quickly without warning cream on his face.

I watch his eyes roll back as he deeply licks me out. I was practically gripping his hair when I came and when I finally catch my breathe, I let go and he has beautiful just fucked hair.

Has be always been this…pretty?

He kisses my left then right inner thigh and then he kisses my pussy lips before letting me down on wobbly legs.

As he stands up, I see the erection he has poking in his pants. I lean in without thinking and I stand on tippy toe, kissing him, tasting myself on his tongue and I twirl with his.

He pulls back but only after I bite and pull his bottom lip. “Mmm where are my manners. A lady as tired as you are shouldn’t be on their feet like this. I think you should rest off of those pretty feet and kneel for me.” He says as I see him rubbing his cock in his pants.

I lower myself on my knees, but he stops me and moves so I mirror him. I look up at him and he leans down and rubs this thumb on my bottom lip. I open my mouth and I suck his thumb, causing a groan to come from him.

“You are so beautiful, Akasha. Such beauty as yours, would make anyone do whatever to make you happy. I would kill for you if it put a smile on your face. I would break someone’s neck for you, it it meant I could have you look at me like this all the time. I’d slit their throat for you. I would cut them open and offer their heart to you just to show you how dedicated I am for your happiness.”

My stomach flutters hearing him say that and I watched as he pulls his pants down. I bite my bottom lip looking at his cock and he strokes it while looking at me.

“You know from the moment I met you, and seen your tongues, I’ve wanted my cock in your mouth. I want to know how that feels, little flower. Can you do that for me? Show me what those pretty tongues can do.” He steps out of his pants and steps closer to me.

I inhale his scent and it makes me moan as I lean forward. I flick my tongues on the head of his cock and he lets a hiss escape his lips. I take the head into my mouth and Qimir lets out a soft moan, while holding the back of my head.

“You’re so good to me, little flower. So, so good.” He does slow and deep thrusts and I feel a tingle in the back of my throat.

“You know why…I’m standing like-oh fuck don’t stop sucking…just like that….You know why I’m standing right here, lit…little flower? So you can watch yourself in the mirror, while you take my cock down your throat.”

I glance over and sure enough we’re facing the mirror. It was a great turn on to see myself on my knees, taking him. I look back up and he slides out of my mouth.

“I’m going to go faster, but I just wanted to warn you, okay little flower?” He asks permission. I grant him that and he smiles. “Good girl, now open.” I open my mouth and he spits in it then slides his cock back in my mouth.

He starts thrusting deeper and faster which tickles my gag reflex. I try to push back but he takes my arms and keeps them up with on of his hands.

“No…hands, little flower. Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.” I start to choke a little but he doesn’t stop. He grips my hair and he fucks my throat deeper. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and he smirks.

“I know you can take this. I know you can take all of it down this pretty little throat of yours. And if not, then I’ll train your throat so…so it can only take my cock. F..fuck. Just like that. Swallow this cock like your life depends on it, Akasha.” He moans as he bucks his hips.

I try my best not to gag, so that he will be happy. Pleasing him seems to be my main focus and I want to make him happy.

When he finally pulls out, a trail of drool and precum drips from my lips. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks while stroking himself faster as he whimpers. “No, master. Keep go-” He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence as he enter my mouth once again.

This time I relax my throat as he face fucks me. I look in the mirror and what I see makes my juices drip onto the floor. Qimir’s muscles were flexed, his veins were pulsing and his facial expressions were blissful.

“My cock….belongs in your throat, Akasha. Don’t you think so?” He asks as he looks at me, thrusting and fucking. I nod, and I gag causing his cock to jump. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner, I feel his thick cum shoot down my throat. He groans for me to swallow every last drop and just like his good little flower, I obey.

I milk him and he bites his bottom lip looking down at me. He lets my hair and hands go and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him

and we kiss, tasting each other in each others mouths.

“You did so good, Akasha. Keep that up and I’ll become addicted to you.” He whispers sleepily. I begin to reply but a yawn cuts me off.

“How about, we get to bed.” I nod and look over at the cot but he shakes his head. “I think we both deserve to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight. And besides, I want you close.”

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter.

Wait, no. I don’t want it to flutter.

What is Qimir doing to me?

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shanastoryteller · 11 months ago

Note

Happy holidays! Dealers choice?

a continuation of 1

The young Lord de Bois returns with the same uptight lord as before and a young dark skinned man who’s grinning like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen. They disappear into the blacksmith’s home along with several other men and Mrs. Cole, who’s husband’s been dead for thirty years and who apparently remembers a time two lords past when things were handled differently.

They don’t emerge for the rest of the day, candles bright in the cracks of the shutters to show that they’re working through the night. It’s almost noon the next morning when the village assembles to hear what’s been decided

Merlin still isn’t allowed to look, but he sneaks glances anyway. He wishes he could get a better look at Lord de Bois, but there are several people in his way, almost deliberately keeping him from view. He wonders what his mother promised them to get them to do that.

“My father,” Lord de Bois sighs, “has decided that if I’m old enough to complain about how things are handled then I’m old enough to handle them myself. Ealdor is now under my purview and authority, which means we’re going to have to turn a profit here if it kills me.”

Great. How does he expect to do that here? He might as well just execute people now if he’s planning on starving them slowly. He’d seemed to know better, before, but now that it’s his neck on the line he’s apparently a lot less sympathetic.

“And it might,” says a new voice, probably the dark skinned man Lord de Bois has brought along.

“Shut up, Elyan,” Lord de Bois says, just for a moment reminding Merlin that they’re nearly the same age. “We’ve worked up a new plan for mining for ore and replanting the fields – the soil’s exhausted and it’s all too far from the river. We’re going to have to set up an irrigation system as well.”

They know that. They’ve always known that. It’s just that there’s nothing to be done about when the time lost to start again would mean they lose out on a whole season of crops, since the ground is too cold to do much of anything in the winter and they don’t have the people do any of that and get food in and out of the ground.

There’s stirrings of discontent and it’s Will, of course, who shouts, “Who’s going to be doing all that? We need to eat ourselves, not waste time feeding you too!”

“You little,” hisses the lord from before and there’s again the sound of a sword being drawn.

“Enough, Gregory,” Lord se Bois snaps before addressing them. “Unfortunately, I am now required to put my money where my mouth is. I’ll be covering your taxes this year to the king and providing grain to make up for the lost food while we work out these changes. Your debt now is not to the king, but to me. I’ll be coming back frequently to check on your progress.”

Merlin pinches himself, sure he’s dreaming. Who does this? It’s crazy. It’s ridiculous.

It might actually work.

“You can’t just let them take and get nothing in return,” Gregory says angrily. “Don’t be stupid about this.”

“Too late for that,” Elyan says. “Why don’t you take someone to work at the castle? Their wages can be put to the town’s debt.”

Lord de Bois sighs. “Why would I take someone useful from here when I’m trying to get all this done?”

“Take someone useless, then,” Elyan suggests.

Oh no.

“Alright then. Who here is useless?” he calls out, clearly mocking.

Merlin’s ears burn as he feels the weight of far too many people’s gazes. It’s not his fault! His magic just makes things – complicated.

“Wow,” Lord de Bois says, laughter running through his voice. “Move aside then. Show me this useless person.”

His mother tenses at his side as people shift and then Merlin is staring down at a pair leather boots that are probably worth more than everything he’s ever touched combined.

“Who’re you, then?”

He’s not supposed to move or speak or look at anyone, but surely his mother can’t expect him to ignore a lord. “Merlin.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Merlin.” He snaps his head up and is immediately caught up in the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen. “Are you useless?”

His face burns and he shrugs.

“He’s young, my lord,” his mother says carefully, and Merlin can’t help but feel guilty over the way her voice wavers.

Lord de Bois’s face softens. “You’re his mother, then?”

She dips into a curtsy. “Hunith, if it pleases my lord.”

“Hunith,” he says, “don’t worry. He’ll be fine at the castle. Being my servant isn’t that difficult.”

His what?

“Your servant?” Gregory sputters. “Every time your uncle assigns you one, you fire them for incompetence!”

“Well,” Lord de Bois says, “then he’ll at least be in good company.”

Elyan walks over and claps Merlin in the arm hard enough that he stumbles. “Good luck.”

Lord de Bois rolls his eyes and Merlin considers how his he should really be careful what he wishes for.

He’s going to get plenty of chances to look at Lord de Bois, apparently.

His mother lectures him over and over again about keeping his magic to himself, about how they’ll try and control him and abuse him and turn it into something terrible and dangerous if they know what he can do. He really can’t do much of anything, but he nods and agrees and lets her kiss his face.

They don’t have a horse to spare, so he rides with Elyan. Gregory takes the lead, angrily muttering to himself the whole time and Elyan leans over and whispers to Lord de Bois, “We could just make him walk back. He might run out of steam by then.”

“We’re not going to get that lucky,” he sighs.

The ride is shorter than Merlin had feared, which is good because he’s not used to riding. They enter the city just after nightfall and they pull the gates open as soon as they catch sigh of them. Several people brighten and wave when they see Elyan and Lord de Bois, although they duck away from Gregory.

There’s an actual castle. Merlin is being taken to a real castle. It feels fake and he’s walking inside one.

“ARTHUR!” a high pitched, childish voice yells out as the sound of small feet come running.

“Excuse me, my lord,” Gregory says, beating a hasty retreat.

“Is he running from a little girl?” Merlin asks, too surprised to keep silent like he’s supposed to.

“She doesn’t put up with him like we do,” Elyan answers.

What?

“Arthur! You’re back!” shouts a girl who can’t be older than six with brown eyes and curly brown hair.

Lord de Bois scoops her up in his arms. “I told you I would be.”

“You lie,” she says promptly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Merlin finds himself pinned by her narrowed eyes and understands Gregory a little better. “Who’s this?”

Lord de Bois – Arthur, apparently, since now there’s more than one Lord de Bois to keep track of – says, “This is Merlin. He’s going to be my servant. Merlin, this is my cousin, Amabel de Bois.”

Before Merlin can figure out how to greet a child lady, she says, “Hi Merlin. I’m a witch.”

Uh.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Stop telling people that.” Merlin relaxes. “You’re going to be a sorceress, but only if you study very hard and listen to your mother. You don’t think she became a high priestess without listening to her tutors, do you?”

Merlin tries very hard to not make any sort of expression at all.

“Yes,” Amabel says promptly.

Arthur makes a face. “Well, maybe, I wouldn’t put it past her, but you have to listen. You haven’t even stabbed any of them with a sword, I don’t know why you’re going through so many.”

“She lit the last one on fire,” Elyan says. “Honestly, between the two of you it’s a shock that any of them are willing to step foot in the castle.”

He shrugs. “Well, my aunt and uncle are very scary. Dad’s not, but that’s what he has them for.”

This is so much worse than he’d feared. Keeping his magic a secret among a bunch of nobles was going to be bad enough, but a high priestess? And a kid training to be a sorceress?

Merlin has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #girl-reading2 #merlin

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authorred · 2 months ago

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Die With A Smile | Li Shen/Zayne x gn!Reader | Love and Deepspace

➺ Preface: After a particularly bad run-in with a wanderer, you're left essentially dying on site. You know this will not bode over well for a certain doctor-friend of yours, so you force yourself up and onwards. Both you and Zayne have to reconcile the fact that you almost died without seeing each other for almost a month.

➺ I know I already posted a song-fic for this song but goddammit I keep seeing edits for this shit on my fyp and I love this song so mf much that I can't myself ( I also have an unhealthy obsession with Zayne ).

Maybe I'll do a Sylus version??? However the hell I'll do that.

→ Song

Warning(s): Mentions of extensive wounds, blood

Oh god, Zayne is going to kill me.

Your skin is warm and sticky; a disconcerting feeling. What remains of your clothes is glued to your skin in blood and sweat, most of it yours. You don't know why, but for some reason, Wanderers love to dick with you as if you're a hot commodity. You were just trying to do your job as a Deepspace Hunter, which you succeeded at technically, but, now your injuries are catching up to you.

You're starting to feel lightheaded and stumbling on your feet. You don't know if you've broken any bones, but all you know is that every part of your body hurts and trying to blink takes all of your energy.

Goddammit, if Zayne sees me he's going to be so mad. Or sad. Or both. I didn't even text him today--I should've texted him.

You stumble from the remains of where the protocore field emerged. You can feel the warmth of your blood spilling down your leg and flooding your boots. It’s an absolutely unnerving sensation. You have to find a way to the hospital. You need to get help. You can’t die. Not like this. Not before you see Zayne.

You were going to kill him. No, not kill, perhaps that’s too far. But you were going to scold him, chastise him like a worried mother. Zayne has been pushing himself again, not taking breaks or sleeping for more than five hours. He’s been using the on-call rooms in Akso or sleeping in his office. He doesn’t know why he does this. Perhaps he’s stressed because you haven’t texted him in several days and he’s unknowing to your severe injuries. It’s a way to cope. Because if he didn’t, he’d go mad.

So why.

Why?

Why is he staring at several paramedics rolling you into the hospital, covered in blood and unconscious? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Being reckless? Risking your life? Again?

He stands there, rooted to the linoleum, watching you be rolled into the OR for emergency surgery. He doesn’t know what’s wrong—eyeballing it he could tell you’re suffering from many lacerations. But what if there’s more? What if your heart is giving out?

It’s not until the hospital begins to settle again that he’s able to move. Swallowing thickly and moving like a ghost back to where he’s needed.

Hours pass—two hours, specifically. Zayne stands in your hospital room staring at your sleeping figure. Covered in bandages and bruises alike, his eyes are filled with trepidation belying fear and concern. The pain you must’ve went through to trek all the way to Akso Hospital—the amount of blood you lost. Too stubborn for your own good. He can’t linger, he has other duties to attend to. But he wants to—gods, he wants to.

Stepping up to the side of your bed, his hand reaches out. His fingertips brush against the palm of your hand, gently trailing them up your wrist and arm. Featherlight touches to prove you’re here, alive, breathing. His virescent eyes comb up and down your body. “How reckless,” he whispers. “And here I thought you were simply lost with no reception.”

No response, as he expected.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Zayne retracts his hand and places it back in his coat pocket. With one last lingering look, he turns and walks away from your hospital bed. He has work to finish, and you’re stabilized and alive. At least he’s assured in that regard. He can go on with the rest of his day without that aching, gnawing anxiety in his chest. It’s a relief, really.

When you wake up, you have no idea where you are at first. You’re completely disoriented and lost. You vaguely remember trying to navigate your way through a town on the outskirts of Linkon, and then after that, the memories are fuzzy.

You look to your side, your vision severely blurred. You can see a person sitting in the chair next to your bed, resting. You recognize the shape of their body immediately. “Zayne?” Comes your hoarse, weak voice. Even that’s enough to rouse him from his sleep—or maybe he wasn’t even fully asleep in the first place.

Zayne sits up straight when he sees you’re awake before standing. “Y/n,” he says, almost in surprise. “You’re awake. With the amount of sedatives in your body, you should still be asleep.”

“I can’t move my body,” you chuckle softly, but it sounds like a sad whimper instead. “Maybe that’s where they went. . .”

Zayne sighs at your attempt of jokes in your state. “Should I ask what happened this time?”

“I think you know.”

Zayne gazes down at you, his eyes slightly narrowed in worry. “You’re too reckless. Please, put some value on your life before we’re unable to fix you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. “But you don’t seem the best either. I can still see those dark circles even through my fucked up vision. You’ve been overworking again, haven’t you?”

Zayne shifts like a kid getting caught before looking away, “I take naps during the day so I can be productive at night. And I’ve been eating well and hydrating. Truly, it’s not that bad.”

“Those dark circles say otherwise.”

A moment passes before Zayne looks at you again. “You were too close this time,” he says. “Your life was in a precarious position. You’re lucky we had the personnel available.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I know. I—I’ll be honest, I didn’t think. . . I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Zayne’s expression drops suddenly, but he lets you talk.

“All I remember thinking is that I needed to get to a hospital, to get help, because if I didn’t, I’d regret it. Regret not texting you, seeing you. I wanted to see you one more time, at least.”

Zayne’s face twitches, and he resists the urge to reach out and touch you. You need space. Your body needs time to heal. “I see,” he replies softly. “Is that what gave you strength to crawl to the doors of the hospital?”

“Yes,” you nod softly. “At least, if I died here, I’d be near you. And that’s enough for me.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything immediately. “I would be. . . in pain if you died,” he says quietly, doing best to articulate his feelings without coming off as too much. “I would miss you greatly. Agonizingly.”

“Tomorrow is never promised,” you say, gazing at him with such affection and favor he feels lightheaded from holding your gaze. “But if I die—if I die next to you, with you. . . I wouldn’t change a thing. I would die happy and content. Knowing you’re there.”

Zayne swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down under his black dress shirt. “I believe it would be best if we promised each other. . . to not push ourselves too far.”

You chuckle softly, “Maybe. But whatever the case, I’m just happy you’re here.”

You add, “And when the day comes I do die, I’ll gladly die with a smile if you’re with me.”

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sukunas-wife · 11 months ago

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YOU NEED TO MAKE MORE DAD!SUKUNA😭 It’s just soo good!!!, I’m literally obsessed with Dad!sukuna🫶🏻

lol here’s a little snippet to start the day, in other words I had a domestic dream 🥺🤍

Jujutsu Teacher Sukuna AU

Somewhere in another time line Sukuna became a not so dedicated teacher at Jujutsu high school still after having turned himself into a curse, even 1000 years he landed a spot on the higher up’s board it hilarious when they try to execute someone and he completely disagrees.

They learned quickly is Sukuna disapproves of their actions agree with arrimen Sukuna. Don’t go behind his back and try to do it either. He’s not afraid to kill everyone and replace the entire board of Higher Ups

Then one year he met you, you came in from the sister school to be teacher. Usually he tried not to mess with staff they only last so long anyways. But maybe it was that time he saw you banging your head in the drink machine because you used your last bills to buy a drink and it got stuck. Or maybe it was that time Gojo and Toji surprisingly decided to team up against you and you managed to hold your own.

It was when YOU started to pursUE HIM he became really intrigued. At first he became annoyed because not to far behind the corner he could hear the snickering and “Oh she’s really doing it!” “She’s a brave woman to try and flirt with him…” “What are you idiots do- oh, this could be interesting.” “shhh, I can’t hear what he’s saying!”

You didn’t notice when he flicked his wrist, but you did hear your coworkers panic and the rushed steps. Looking back confused you were more confused when you looked back at Sukuna and he was leaning forward getting face to face with you before squishing your face in one of his hands. “You do understand you proud Jujutsu Sorcerers don’t live very long, so give me one good reason you want my attention.”

You wanted to badly to look away from those demanding red eyes, to pull away and breath the God given air, instead here you were getting dazed off his musk and cologne. Feeling his warm hand squish your face, nails lightly pressing against your skin. Smash- swallowing you had one chance to do this right. Don’t stutter, don’t fear, breath, don’t rush, don’t show him WEAKNESS.

“I J- ahem” ah.. I messed up already, “Wait let me restart- Okay I’m ready, I’m not gonna stand here and promise happiness smiles and endless love, praise and worship. I’m not gonna lie to your face and tell you everything you want to hear and pretend it’s all sunshine and rainbows. When I go on a mission I’m not gonna say I promise to always come back that would be a fools move. But at least in my last moments I’d have to privilege to remember you and all those wise words you used to tell me like. “Dumbass that’s why you keep more than two dollars in your wallet.” Or “Living to please others and dying with regrets if no helping everyone is vain, Live to please yourself at least in your final moments you’ll have some sense of fulfillment.” So like it or not I’m here to please myself if you say No and tell me to fuck off and send me on my way. I won’t regret having asking. If you say yes, well I won’t lie I wouldn’t really know what to do or say I came in expected to be rejected and humbled.” Finally your eyes left his, you were oblivious to stare he had. He wasn’t completely amused but he wasn’t bored of your words either. “Look at me.” You did, “you didn’t bore me entirely with your little … speech so I’ll give you one opportunity. Sunday, I have an early mission, meet me here at 4 in the morning and I’ll tell you with me. After I finish you can have the rest of my day or until I get bored.”

He didn’t get bored… it turned out you amused him so much more when you weren’t surrounded be suits.

And that’s how you ended up here.

“Yuji don’t say something stupid love can’t protect anyone.” Nobara rolled her eyes, “Yuh huh, your words can’t hurt me because my mom and dad’s love protects me.” He puffed his chest out crossing his arms and smiling with closed eyes, missing the book Nobara was throwing at him. A solid sound was made, Yuji was wide eyed, the all to familiar wrist holding the heavy book just in front of his face, “Careful Miss.Kugisaki it’d be a shame if you caught extra missions for disabling another student from completing his own.” Yuji smiled proudly, “See, protected.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Get to class Fushiguro was on your ass last time for being late to class.” He nodded his head at Yuji who just smiled sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, “Alright.” Of course the Trio ran past you greeting you with “Hi Mrs.Sukuna!” Good morning Mom!” “Morning Y/n Senpai.” You watched them all keep running until your husband stood next to you offering you the Coffee Cup he had been drinking. You were distracted by one thing “Why do you have our photo album?” Sukuna felt his eye twitch, “Damn brat.” Was all he mumbled tucking it under his shoulder, “Your son believes your love protects him.”

You laughed, “OUR son believes OUR love for him protects him. Considering your holding that book Im assuming Kugisaki tried to throw it at him or you were reminiscing on that time you had to save them from a Special Grade ambush and when you had to carry them all out Yuji was sniffling how he knew he could count on you to be there for him.”

He looked away, “Higher ups are lucky I only wiped out half of them.” You rested your head on his shoulder pulling the album from him. “Aaww this is Yuji’s baby album” you cooed seeing the picture of Sukuna holding Yuji next to a bouquet of “It’s a Boy!” Balloons. In the background you could see the blur of Geto smacking Gojo on the back of the head.

Sukuna is secure as a man and father 🥹

So it’s not a surprise to you when you come home late from the school and find true form Sukuna threatening to break the sofa under his weight coddling 15yo Yuji 🥹

As much of a brute people have him to be, Yuji might be his only son, and he might call him brat and roll his eyes a lot. But he’d be damned if he were truly a bad dad. In a whispered conversation he told you about everything that happened on Yuji’s mission. How the mission was purposely miss graded and they basically walked into a special grade curses domain. Sukuna had no doubt in his mind that if wouldn’t have been the one over seeing their mission the first years wouldn’t have walked back out alive.

Yuji was alright the entire ride but when he got home he broke down crying, speechless gasping for air. That’s when Sukuna pick him up carrying him over the sofa, coddling Yuji wasn’t as easy now that they were almost the same height, so he turned to his true form. And let Yuji cry, scream and hold onto him. Rubbing his back, holding his head against his shoulder, just talking to him to comfort him. “Do you remember that time we went to the park, and you wondered off to far chasing a duck.” Yuji nodded still sniffling, “Your mom was scared shitless when she couldn’t find you.” He laughed and Yuji laughed lightly, “y.. yeah I remember I jumped into the pond and then you and mom started screaming and then jumped in…” sukuna laughed louder, “Y/n was so mad but she couldn’t stay mad when she saw you with that little duck.” He patted Yuji’s back resting his chin on his head. Soon Yuji fell asleep.

It led you to find him this state. You asked him to go lay him in his bed, he did. He came to help you make some comfort food, it was hilarious when you asked if he could use dismantle on vegetables and it turned out he could. Now over the table in the wall is a sign that says “Malevolent Kitchen.”

The house that night was filled with the soft sounds of cooking, you and your husband talking about whatever came to mind. The Golden pot boiling with whatever broth you made. Sukuna was fighting the rice cooker while you tempura fried some shrimp and rolled some noodles to cook

It was well past 9 when you heard Yuji coming, both of you turning to see him walking yawning and rubbing his eyes. Bare feet padding along the kitchen floor. “Come sit down Yu you gotta be hungry.” you fixed him a large bowl of noodles with Tempura shrimp. On the side were the massive Onigiri Sukuna had made, he even tried to use the nori stamp to put little faces on them. More often than not they have 4 little crooked eyes that looked mad but it squeezed your heart how he laughed to himself saying “Yuji’s going to love these.”

He did, you watched as he bit into it rice sticking to his face. “These are good dad what did you fill them with?” “Nitamago we forgot to pack em for lunch so.. improvise I guess.” You both sat down with Yuji talking and eating. Just enjoying the free time you had together before Sukuna would go commit another crime against the higher ups 🤍🤍

Yeah 🥹

Im here 10-1 in the morning 🤍 It took all day to type this out 😭😭

Also a lot of my co workers walked out today 🥹 it was rough

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

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moosesarecute · 4 months ago

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Part 5: The Shadows Sing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7

“You’re joking,” you said the second you walked inside your cabin.

It had been a month and you were hoping that this annoying male had forgotten about your embarrassing bargain.

A month where you had done your best to ignore the tight tug in your chest. The screams for him to come back.

Your head yelled for you to keep a long distance from him, but your heart told you something else.

Lucky for you your head won, for now.

So you made a bargain because you needed to know that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately for you, he already proved himself smarter than you and found a loophole.

Of course he decides to turn up on the day you’re the most exhausted and the least prepared to protect yourself.

Azriel just shrugged.

You walked further into your cabin and laid the three birds you had hunted on the table.

“You hunted them yourself?” Azriel asked.

He was still standing as far away from you as possible.

“Yeah,” you answered and slumped down on your chair.

“Rough day?” He then asked.

He confused you. He told you he was curious, but then he just asked you pointless questions about yourself.

It didn’t make sense. He definitely had a secret plan.

“Yeah,” you replied.

You had phantom in your left leg. It had started in the morning and had only gotten worse and worse. In the end of your hunt you had been struggling to walk.

So you had to go home early, because you had pain in the foot that was detached from your body. It felt quite stupid.

“What happened to your leg?” Azriel asked. He looked at you with almost caring eyes, but you knew he had to be acting.

You thought for a second how to answer the question without telling too much, but still being truthful.

“When I first started hunting I wanted to prove myself,” you started. You fickled with your hands as you spoke and your gaze was lowered. “I went for the animal with the biggest reward, a naga. It attacked and I lost my leg.”

He nodded and started to move towards you. You did your best to sit still and not flee.

He was so tall, it freaked you out.

And his wings! They were huge!

Even as a kid, you hadn’t seen bigger wings. You had to admit that it scared you.

He must have noticed your fear, because the next thing he did was to tuck his wings tightly together. Your chest bloomed with comfort when he did.

He stopped and leaned back on the table.

“You controlled a naga on the battlefield against Hybern,” he stated. He looked at you with a curious look. “How did you do that?”

Shit.

You hadn’t realized anyone saw that. It had been risky. It was the most dangerous thing you had ever let your shadows do.

You took a deep breath.

“I prayed,” you answered.

It was technically the truth. When you realized how many people on your side the naga would kill, you had let your shadows out of your grip and prayed for help.

Help to control them.

Help to save as many as possible.

For Hybern to lose.

Lucky for you, someone listened and helped you steer the naga with your shadows.

Azriel looked like he was thinking a lot. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and he stared directly at you.

His hazel eyes were like heaven. They looked so kind and safe. Like they would embrace you and hold you until everything was alright. They would help you. They would protect you.

You really wanted someone to protect you.

Azriel let out a sigh and that pulled you from your train of thoughts.

“You can just admit that you are a shadowsinger,” he told you.

You decided to ignore him.

“Can I ask you questions?” You asked him.

Where the courage came from, you didn’t know, but you felt your chest burn when you thought about how little you knew about him.

This male that randomly decided to take a part in your life, was a big mystery.

“I guess,” he answered. “But I can’t promise I’ll answer them all.”

He looked so confident. It made you feel less confident.

You took a deep breath.

“How old are you?” You firstly asked.

“500 and something,” he answered.

You nodded and tried to press down the surprise you felt. If he was over 500 years he probably fought in the first war as well as the more recent one.

It wasn’t hard to believe that he had mastered the act of being a shadowsinger with that much experience.

“Why are you curious about me?” You asked him next.

You still didn’t know why he wanted to ask you questions and so why he spent his questions getting to know you and for the most part not interrogate you.

He spent some time thinking about an answer to your question.

“The naga on the battlefield has been on my mind lately,” he explained. “I saw you steering the naga, so I thought you might have something to learn me.”

Something to learn him? About what? Did he see your shadows on the battlefield? You were in deep shit. He was for sure manipulating you into admitting that you’re a shadowsinger. You couldn’t let him know. Couldn’t let anyone know.

He must have sensed your anxiety growing, because he slowly moved further away from you. He kept acting like you could trust him! You felt yourself wanting to trust him.

“Any exciting dinner plans?” He asked.

That broke your patience.

“What do you want? Just tell me, okay? I’m sick of you pretending like you’re the nicest guy ever,” you basically yelled at him.

Frown grew on his face. Didn’t spend time thinking before he answered.

“If you think I’m acting like the nicest guy ever, then you haven’t met very many nice guys,” he said with a straightforward tone. “I’ve been drawn towards you ever since I saw you for the first time. I don’t know why, but I have. I’ve been the only shadowsinger alive for the last 400 years. I’m sure you know how lonely it can feel.”

You did.

You had for all your years with your shadows felt self conscious that the only creatures that ever wanted to have something with you to do, was shadows.

You also had no idea how to control said shadows. To be honest, they were a pain in your ass and made your life harder.

The way Azriel spoke made your heart melt. He thought about you ever since you’d met the first time. You had been thinking about him too, even though you refused to admit it.

But still your brain had the lead. He could be tricking you. He could be much more dangerous than he looks. You should tread carefully.

“I don’t have any dinner plans,” you said.

Azriel’s graze wandered from you towards the three birds on the table.

“They’re not for me,” you said. “I hunt and get money for the animals I kill or catch.”

“Good paying?” He asked.

“It varies a lot,” you answered honestly.

He nodded.

“I’ve spent two minutes today,” he stated. “I still have two more. I’ll take them a different day.”

You just nodded at him.

He shadow walked away.

You let your shadows go after you had made sure he was actually gone.

And just to make the rough day you had even worse, they were absolutely furious at you.

The first thing they did was to pull your hair and your ears. Then they started to yell at you. All of them at once.

“We want to be with mate!”

“Our mate too!”

“Friends!”

“Where are they?”

“They aren’t safe!” You yelled back. You slammed your fist into the table. “I can’t trust them! WE can’t trust them! So stop talking like they’re the most important creatures in the world!”

But deep down you felt yourself wanting them to be here and get to know both Azriel and his shadows well enough to call them friends…if not more.

The hood in front of your face felt suffocating and the binds on your hands got tighter and tighter each week you had to go before her.

Amarantha

You were leaded the same direction you always were. You had gotten the same doze faebane you always did, but something felt different. You just didn’t know what.

Suddenly you were stopped and the hood was pulled away.

The room was dark, but you still spent some time getting used to the light.

“What do you have for me?” She asked. Her voice was calm and icy, her eyes the same. They stared into your soul.

��A stag, ma’am,” you answered with your head bowed and your gaze lowered.

“Breathe,” you heard inside your head. “It’s going to be alright.”

The way the High Lord spoke made you understand that she was in a faul mood.

“That’s it?” She asked sounding almost bored.

“Yes, ma’am,” you answered. “It’s a particular rough winter.”

You tried to reason with her, but it didn’t work in your favor.

You were pushed to your hands and knees. Your head touched the ground.

“I’m responsible for food for my subjects. Are you saying that I don’t do my job?”

“No, ma’am! Not at all,” you answered, your voice was shaky with fear.

“Scream when it’s natural,” you heard and not even seconds later you felt the whip hit your back, right on the scars from your wings.

However, you didn’t feel any pain.

You knew the High Lord of Night was helping you.

You let out a little scream. And for each whiplash you screamed a little louder. Putting on your best act.

You woke up shaking and sweating.

You hated when the time under her rule haunted your dreams. You hated how weak it made you feel and how humiliating it was.

Just stood up from bed, deciding to drop breakfast and go straight out to the forest to hunt. You needed a distraction.

You had just finished putting on your leathers when you heard a knock on the door.

Your heart started to beat faster. No one ever visited you without you knowing. For example, you knew that Hazel would come visit later and that you would hunt together. She would knock, but it was too early for her. Something had to be really wrong.

“I know you’re in there,” you heard Azriel say from the other side of the door.

Your heart calmed for a second.

It was just Azriel. He was back! He wanted to see you again so soon.

But then you realized that Azriel stood outside your cabin where everyone could see him. If anyone did, you were dead.

You hid your shadows as you rushed to open the door. Before Azriel could even mutter a greeting, you had pulled him into your cabin by his wrist and closed the door behind you.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, still holding onto his wrist. “Or anything? An animal?”

You were freaking out. Your chest tightened and your hands started to tremble.

“Nobody saw me,” he answered. “I promise.”

You just shock your head. You didn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe him. The anxiety spread throughout your body. You couldn’t breathe.

He slowly pulled his wrist out of your hand and leaded you towards your tree stump.

“Sit,” he said. “And take a few deep breaths. You’ll pass out if you continue like that.”

You had no choice but to do as he said. He crunched down before you, his hands resting on your knees.

“Good girl,” he said. “Once more deep breath. You’re okay. No one saw me. I used my shadows. I’m a spy, I know how to sneak around.”

If you were in your right mind, you probably would have picked up the important information he told you, but you were too consumed by remembering how to breathe.

Azriel just stayed before you and waited for you to get better.

“Why are you back so soon?” You asked him. Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. You had your head and eyes pointed to the ground, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt.

“I brought you some food,” he answered.

You raised your head and looked directly into his caring hazel eyes. He looked quite handsome.

“What?”

“I brought you breakfast,” he said again.

“Why?” You asked him.

It was like he cared for you?

“You’re way too thin,” he stated. “I also might have gone through your cupboards when you were out yesterday.”

Your cupboards were empty. They always were. You never had enough food to fill them. The food would be gone within a couple of eyes anyway.

Azriel moved toward a bag he had brought. He lifted it and sat it on the table. He then pulled out apples, grapes and bananas, as well as bread, cold oatmeal porridge and some brown stuff in a rectangular shape.

He brought you so much, it was like he was worried. He cared for you?

“I thought we could have overnight oats. You can choose what toppings you want to use,” he started to explain. “And then chocolate for a little dessert.”

You weren’t sure when your mouth opened, but you soon felt some drool escape. You wipes it away and immediately closed your mouth.

“You’ve tasted chocolate before, right?” He asked and looked quite concerned.

You just shook your head.

“Grapes?”

“No”

“Overnight oats?”

“No”

It was his turn to gape at you.

“Hopefully, you’ll love it,” he said looking at you with a spark in his eyes.

“So the squirrel just took your apple?” You asked him trying to hold back your laughter.

“It did indeed just take it,” he answered with an embarrassed smile.

Throughout what had been the most delicious meal of your life, you had started to talk.

First about you never having tasted chocolate, which you soon realized might be the best thing in the world and also a good ice breaker.

Then about how you manage to build your cabin.

Then about how your prosthetic foot work.

And in the end about Azriel and his life. He told a particularly funny story where he and his brother had stolen an apple each from a tree and a squirrel had stolen it from him not even seconds later.

You were both about to burst into laughter when you for the second time today heard the terrifying sound of someone knocking on your door.

Your head whipped towards your door. Hazel weren’t supposed to arrive for a couple of more hours. Someone definitely had seen Azriel on his way to visit you.

They would kill you.

Maybe if you’re lucky it’s just Hazel that arrived early. You had to make sure that Azriel didn’t make a sound. No one could know he was there.

Unfortunately for you, you were too late.

“Who’s-“

You didn’t have time to think about your actions.

He started to speak and you needed to stop him, quick.

You didn’t even realize what you did before it was too late.

You met his shocked eyes.

His mouth was shut and covered by your shadows.

You had let them loose, in front of someone else. Someone who was basically a stranger.

As you rushed out the door and met Hazel on the other side, you knew you had just changed your life forever.

And you were sure it wasn’t a good change.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x shadowsinger!reader

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deltaharrington · 1 year ago

Text

NEVER AGAIN

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Fem!Routledge!Reader

SUMMARY: JJ nearly gets himself killed, and you aren’t the normal sunshine everyone knows you as.

WARNINGS: A little angsty, short, fluffy ending.

HOW DID YOU GET HERE? You weren’t even sure. The last thing you thought you’d be doing was hopping off of JJ’s bike and into Topper Thorntons truck.

“What is he doing?” Sarah asked and you shrugged, anger beginning to bubble inside of you.

He had been so different. So different since you got back home to the OBX. He was more distant than before.

You and JJ had always been close. He was drawn to you because of your nice nature. He didn’t think you had a mean bone in your body. None of the Pogues did.

John B, your brother, had lived with you your whole life and he knew you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Even in the stressful situations the Pogues put themselves through, you remained positive.

That was about to change.

You looked up and watched as a crash occurred on the overhead pass above you. Right where JJ had just been.

His bike flew off the side of the overpass and you scrambled to get out of the car, it not even being stopped yet.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed and backed away as you watched the cops from above.

You fell to your knees and began to cry, Sarah moving up behind you to comfort you.

“I wish— I could say I did that on purpose” You heard from behind you. Your neck nearly broke with how fast you turned around.

It was JJ. He was alive.

“But…” He began “That was the gnarliest power slide I’ve ever done” He said and laughed a bit.

That’s when your anger boiled over.

“What the fuck, JJ?” You exclaimed, catching everyone off guard. They had never seen you angry before.

“You fucking asshole! You could have gotten hurt! Not to mention the fact that you’ve been practically ignoring me since we got back!” You said and rushed towards him, shoving him aggressively.

JJ stumbled a bit, his eyes wide in shock. He never knew you were feeling this way. He thought pushing you away would save himself from hurt.

“Sweetheart-“ He began, but you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes.

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, JJ” You said and moved as far away from him as possible. “I can’t believe you right now”

“M’not riding in the same car as him, Topper” You said and the kook nodded.

“I-uh, can he sit in the bed?” He asked and you nodded.

JJ didn’t say anything, he just rode in the back.

After the disappointment of not finding the cross. The Pogues and Topper all went their separate ways. However, JJ followed you.

“Y/n, you’re gonna walk home alone?” He asked and you didn’t answer, assuming he’d follow.

“Hey- you got to talk, now let me” He said and you continued to walk.

“Dammit, Y/n! Stop!” He screamed and you froze, not expecting him to yell at you.

He caught up to you and stood directly in front so you couldn’t continue walking.

“I pushed myself away because I was scared” He admitted “Your brother- he noticed the way we had gotten close and he told me to stay away, so I listened” He explained.

“It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made” He added “I thought that pushing you away would save me the huff of losing you and my best friend”

“I love you, Y/n, and I’m sorry I scared you back there.” He finished and met your teary eyes.

“JJ…” You trailed off and rushed to him, pulling him into a hug. “I love you too- I didn’t mean to get that angry”

“Sweetheart, you had every right to be mad, I fucked up.” He said and pulled back.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and you nodded, ghosting your lips over his before connecting them.

Your lips moved in sync before you needed air, pulling away. “Please don’t scare me like that again” You said and he nodded his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A/N: YAY! This was short, but sweet!!

#outer banks #x y/n #obx netflix #outer banks x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #rafe cameron #john b x reader #john booker routledge

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lackadaisicallizard · 1 year ago

Text

Sundays

Growing up, Regulus hated Sundays.

Sundays were mornings spent in church, pretending to the world that they were a perfect family. Sundays were stuffy clothes and tight ties wrapped around throats spouting nothing but lies about the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

Sundays were carefully coordinated games disguised as family lunches, the entire extended family coming together to outdo each other in just how well they were doing. Sundays were masterclasses in manipulation, lies and deceit.

But now, fifteen years later on the most ordinary of all days, Regulus can hear voices coming from the kitchen.

“I think that’s enough eggs, Haz, why don’t you add more flour now?”

“How much do I need to add?”

“I have no idea, just pour until it looks right.”

Sliding on his slippers, Regulus makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene in front of him.

“How’s it going there?” His husband peers into the mixing bowl that seems to have more eggs in it than any hen could feasibly lay in a year.

“The flour won’t come out of the bag,” Harry says with a frown.

“Try banging on the end of it,” James suggests and before Regulus can even consider stepping in to stop him, their son does just that. He is far too much like his father for his own good sometimes.

Flour ends up everywhere.

“Papa’s going to kill me,” Harry groans through a layer of white dust.

“Papa doesn’t have to know,” James says, “you finish the batter and I’ll clean it up.”

Harry stirs it, a puff of flour rising into the air. “I think it may be beyond saving now, Dad.”

“J’en ai marre,” their heads whip around at the sound of Regulus’ voice, both faces a similar mask of concern. “You two are useless.”

He steps into the kitchen now, holding out his hand for the bowl, which Harry passes him with a guilty expression. “I love you?”

Regulus’ own expression softens completely at that and he places the bowl on the counter before holding out his arms for his son. Harry moves into them without hesitation, being pulled into a warm embrace and leaning into his father. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” Regulus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s soft curls before pulling back and looking at him in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can get flour all over my kitchen though, compris?”

“Oui papa, désolé. We were just trying to make you breakfast in bed.”

“It’s true,” James cuts in, a smile pulling up the corner of his lips, “we know you’ve had a long week so we thought we’d make some pancakes.”

Regulus smiles back, he can’t help himself. “I’m not sure which one of you thought you could pull that off considering the great scrambled egg fiasco last month.”

“Those eggs were delicious and you know it!”

“I had to go to the store for more and make them myself.”

“… my comment still stands,” James says with a grin and Regulus rolls his eyes at his husband.

“Harry, go and fetch the chocolate chips from the cupboard and I’ll attempt to salvage this.”

Harry disappears into the pantry and as Regulus starts to decanter as much flour as he can from the very floury bowl, he feels arms wrap around him from behind.

“I’m sorry about the flour,” James’ voice is low in his ear.

Regulus hums. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

A soft chuckle followed by lips against his hair. “I’m also sorry for ruining your Sunday, love. I know it’s the first day you’ve had off in a while.”

But the thing is, he hasn’t.

Because Regulus knows what a bad Sunday feels like. They’re ingrained into his brain.

But this right here? Making far too much batter to even out the mountain of flour that he can’t salvage from the bowl. Allowing his son to add almost an entire bag of chocolate chips to the mixture. Watching his husband smother a tower of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. Cleaning up an incredibly messy kitchen together as a family after they’ve done.

Well, this is what Sundays are now. They’re not perfect, or proper, or in the least bit civilised.

And he loves every one.

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus raising harry #jegulus dads #I'm obsessed with them

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tsukasalvr · 1 year ago

Note

Idk if your requests are open or not AAHH! But if they are:

(Possible TW in my request for mentions of depression, anxiety, commiting di3 joke)

Could you do a reader with bad depression and anixety. And maybe one day reader makes a joke about 0ffing themself and then they dont show up to school for a few days

Characters I would prefer(from TBHK): Kou, Teru, Hanako, Akane(boy)

You can add more if you like! :)

Im sorry its not very specific, this is my first time requesting something

Also sorry i know topics like these are difficult for some people <3

depressed!reader who makes su*cidal jokes

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Characters: Kou Minamoto, Teru Minamoto, Hanako, Akane Aoi

Warnings: I don’t proofread, depressed reader, mention of suicide

A/n: just got broken up w by my pookie wookie☹️💔

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Kou Minamoto

Is immediately put off by what you’re saying and is immediately concerned, and gets even more concerned once you get together and just stares nervously at you while stuttering, not knowing what to say

“That’s so embarrassing, if that were me I would kill myself no doubt! Being so stupid like that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself!” You casually said while looking at a post on your phone.

“O-oh… umm…” Kou is at a loss for words sometimes and tries to brush it off by moving onto something happier to distract you from thoughts like those

When you make a joke that’s one day too far he genuinely seems so much more concerned and ask if you’re okay. He gets so worried about you that it’s best not to make jokes like that near him.

If you don’t show up the next day, he gets worried and is immediately trying to leave school early even though he knows Teru will berate him later for it, he needs to see you’re okay and when he arrives to your house and sees you are, he’s very serious about not making jokes like those again and is invites you to his house more often to distract yourself and is willing to help you get help

Teru Minamoto

Gives you a nervous smile when you joke about suicide and even when you you’re dating he still gives you an obvious fake smile to not hurt your feelings. He knows that outright saying that if you need someone talk to talk to can be annoying sometimes so he’ll try to subtly let you know he’s there

Whether it’s from talking about a topic of a documentary of a tragic life of some celebrity and all they needed help to having Kou telk you that you’re part of the family and that you can tell them anything when you’re over at their house

“I can’t stop messing this up! God I really should’ve taken those pills when I had the chance, what the hell!” You said angrily at the fact you couldn’t get the string through the small hole in the needle.

Teru could only smile at you, he never says anything to your ‘jokes’, but then he stops and just goes to frowning hoping that you’re not being serious

When you don’t show up the next day, he’s not super worried and just assumes you’re late but sends you messages. But after a few hours the messages become more frequent and by the end of the school day he’s running to your house scared. When he sees you’re alright, he’s pissed and says enough is enough and he’s not taking anymore jokes and is instead going to help you

Hanako

He might laugh at your jokes, but it’s only so he doesn’t worry you. He’s not an unfamiliar when it comes to stuff like this and he knows you might now want to talk about it right away so he’s fine with trying to take it slow

On the inside though, his ghostly heart is scared that you’re it joking and you’re actually being serious. He can’t bear the thought of you dying—and especially dying this way so he keeps a close eye on you and has Kou and Yashiro even make sure that you’re doing okay

“God, I’m so stupid and useless” you say with a laugh as you look at your test result and shove the paper back in your bag

Hanako stares at you, and lets out a laugh that’s believe enough. He’s conflicted on what he should do, should he ask how you’re doing? What if you lie to him? Would you even want to talk to him?

It seems as if his worries have come true when you didn’t show up to school the next day and asks if Yashiro or Kou have seen you at all and to message you on those weird electronic things. Yashiro only agrees to go to your house when Hanako asked because she too was worried about you. Hanako waits impatiently the next day and sees you and you tell him you were just feeling sick. If he could, then Hanako would definitely cry and basically forces you to promise to tell him if anything is wrong with a scared and worried expression on his face

Akane Aoi

You’re the most precious person in his life so he takes everything very serious when it comes to you. A paper cut? He’s getting ready to call an ambulance for you and is frantically asking you if you’re okay.

So joking about such topics near him immediately alarms him and hea on full protective mode with asking if you’re joking or not. He takes everything you say seriously, he cares about you a lot so to see you laugh about it, hurts him a little

“What if I jump out this window right now? I really do want to do this test!” You whined and looked over at the window that was right next to where you were sitting.

Akane had a prominent frown on his face, he knew you weren’t exactly mentally okay and you’re jokes were becoming more and more frequent

He’s on full panic mode when you don’t show up to school the next day and the worst possible outcomes are immediately coming to mind. He hopes he’s wrong and is blowing up your phone and is willing to mess up his perfect attendance streak for you, he’ll fix it later. But when he sees you overslept and your phone died because wig wasn’t charged, he’s disappointed. He knew it was getting worse if you dying was what came to mind when you didn’t show up so he pledges to help you

#tbhk x y/n #tbhk x reader #jshk x y/n #jshk x reader #minamoto kou x reader #kou minamoto x reader #kou x reader #teru x reader #teru minamoto x reader #hanako x you #hanako x y/n #hanako kun x reader #hanako x reader #amane yugi x reader #amane x reader #aoi akane x reader #akane aoi x reader #akane x reader

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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

Text

October 1st

Pegging, Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.2k.

Warnings: Pegging; established relationship; praise kink; anal fingering (m receiving); anal sex (m receiving); fellatio; use of sex toys; sub!Copia; soft dom!Reader (but you’re still a little mean to him); gender neutral!reader (but reader does have a vulva); mild humiliation kink; hella fluffy because Copia deserves the world; premature ejaculation; overstimulation; tears; happy ending.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

It didn’t take much to get him all worked up. Depending on the kind of day he’d had, it could just even be a look that got Copia ready and waiting for you to do whatever you wanted. He was an easy mother fucker, especially for the right mother - or rather - person.

Which is how he ended up spread-eagle on his bed, one of his pillows in his mouth as your fingers went deep inside his tight hole. His cock was rock hard and bounced a little every time you touched a sensitive spot and made his hips buck. Although his eyes remained tightly closed and that was something you couldn’t abide by. Not only was he keeping his desperate whimpers to a minimum, he refused to let you see the needy look on his face. You tutted and removed your fingers from him.

Immediately, his lids opened in terror and his gaze snapped to you. “No! Per favore! Don’t stop, ti scongiuro!” In his need, he sat up and began peppering kisses all over your face. “Amore mio, per favore non fermarti. I need more, please.”

“But your eyes were closed, baby.” You responded, your tone somewhat condescending especially for a man twice your age. “You were quiet. I didn’t think you were enjoying it.”

His kisses became more ferocious but his hands were clinging onto your neck. “Non è vero! It’s not true. I love it. Ti amo. Please, dolcezza. Please give me more.” This was so far from the Papa you’d grown to know - this was exactly how the Cardinal acted. Touch starved and desperate. Yet here was the head of the Satanic Church fumbling his words and begging for release.

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. While he was still sat up a little, you moved your hand sneakily towards his hole and began rubbing over it once more. This earned you a loud yet surprised moan. With a little extra lube, you slid a third finger in and felt one of his hands clasp your forearm. He wasn’t whimpering as much, but he was breathing heavily, as though he were trying to stave off an impending orgasm.

Taunting your Papa was the most fun thing to do, especially when he was all spread out in front of you at your complete and total mercy. He didn’t expect anything from you, especially when you were knuckle deep inside of him. So when you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cock from base to tip, he screamed and bucked again. “Merda.” He whined. “What are you try-trying to do to your Papa? Do you want to kill me, dolcezza?”

You chuckled a small, evil laugh before responding. “Of course not, Papa. But when you look so deliciously tempting, I can’t help myself.” Finding that spot inside of him now that you had three fingers working at him was easy. Combine that with what your mouth was doing and he was convinced he was going to have a heart attack. Your mouth, now quiet had taken the entire head of his cock into your mouth, and was gently sucking on it.

“Amore mio, if you keep doing this Papa will not last.”

You removed your lips from him and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do!”

“In my mouth?”

He shook his head so you stopped moving your fingers. “NO!” He replied when he realised what you were doing. You continued your ministrations, rewarding him for his words.

“On my fingers?”

“No, dolcezza, please.”

“Well, where would you like to cum, Papa?” Calling him Papa while he was submitting to you felt criminal. Papa was for the strongest of leaders, Papa was for the leaders who bent others into submission. Papa wasn’t for the shy, clumsy and awkward men who willingly spread themselves for their partners. But here yours was - ready, willing, waiting, and humiliated beyond satisfaction.

“Non farmi dire questo.” His hands now were covering his face in embarrassment.

“I can’t make you feel good if you don’t tell me where you want to cum.”

He muffled something only his hands caught. So you gently prized them apart gently with your free hand to see his bright red face, and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Tell me, my love. Where do you want to cum?”

He took in a deep breath. “On your cock!” He exclaimed quickly.

“Good boy.” Your praise affected him more than he would like to say, but his hole clenched around your fingers as it registered in his brain. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

“Sì.”

You kissed his lips softly before pulling your fingers out of him. He whined into your mouth at the lost of you, and as you tried to break the kiss he kept following you. He was clingier than usual. “I won’t go far, precious. I promise.” You said when your lips were finally free.

He chased you to the edge of the bed and watched you strap yourself into the harness. His hands were aching to get hold of you again, but knew he needed to be patient for you. You went to the bedside drawer and pulled out one of the dildos you’d both selected online months prior, and his eyes were completely fixated on it as you attached it to the harness. It wasn’t overwhelmingly big, but big enough that it would stretch him out more than your fingers would.

Knowing how clingy he was feeling, you went straight back to him and immediately wrapped him in your arms, his head falling on your chest. His hands gripped your waist tightly as he took in your scent. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He said.

“Do you think you can lube it up for me?” He nodded and leaned across to the bedside table to grab the lube and poured some onto the toy. “Make sure you get it nice and wet for me, yeah?”

He nodded again. Both of you were transfixed by his hand touching the dildo, wrapping around it and spreading the lube up and down as though he were stroking a real cock. You were both silent as you listened to the squelching of the liquid in between his hands as he rubbed, losing his mind to the thought of it finally entering him. As soon as he thought it was ready, he nodded and lay back eagerly. His legs spread once again, and you watched him deposit the leftover lubricant into his waiting and stretched hole. You waited until his hand was removed before you climbed over him.

You kissed his sensitive neck, and travelled all the way up to his mouth, where you gave him a deep and gentle kiss - another touch that made him whimper. He bucked up one final time, and groaned at the feeling of his cock rubbing against yours.

“I’m ready, amore mio. Per favore. I need it.”

You lined yourself up with his waiting hole. “Tell me when you need to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

As you breached his walls, his mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. You were slow with your movements, almost maddeningly so, and his hands flew to your biceps and gripped tightly. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, a lot more loudly than he intended.

You stopped. “Are you okay?”

He could barely breathe. “It feels incredible.” He propped himself up enough to reach your cheeks and began kissing you again. “More. More, please.”

You obliged and continued to push into him until the dildo was all the way inside him. He kept kissing you as you paused, waiting for him to get accustomed to the feeling. He, on the other hand, had different ideas. As he was kissing you, he also began to slowly rock up and down, feeling your cock move inside of him. “I take it you want me to move, hm?”

“Please!” He begged.

And so, you did. Gently at first so you didn’t hurt him, but as his moans became louder, you understood he was ready for a bit more handling. So, your thrusts got faster and faster.

Until you watched him spasm beneath you, his breath knocked out of him and his mouth wide open. You looked between you to where you were connected, and watched as the remains of his seed spilled out of him. Much faster than both of you had hoped, but he was so worked up you were surprised he lasted that long.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated that over and over again, tears forming in his eyes from his overwhelming emotions.

You were still inside him. “Can you give me one more, Copia?”

He seemed shocked at the sudden use of his name. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, amore mio. I can give you one more.”

“Good boy.”

He keened at your praise but hissed when you pulled out. You were gentle, tentative, but you wanted to wreck him a little more. So, when you were sure he could take it, you didn’t hold back.

His grip on your arm returned but this time much harder, fingernails digging in and holding on for dear life. Your thrusts were almost brutal, but you knew he was living for it. Each one punctuated with his sounds - whether they were outright overstimulated screams, chokes, or even the sound of his hole sucking the toy back in. He was practically singing. Your moans would occasionally join the cacophony of sounds, not because you were feeling particularly good, but because you knew he appreciated them.

You stopped once more to pull out and hear his groans of disappointment. “I want you to ride me,” you told him, “let me see you take my cock.”

Copia gulped but nodded. He had never allowed himself to be so exposed before, and he certainly had never been the top in this position. He felt himself getting shy again, and if it wasn’t you he wouldn’t even attempt it. With a hiss, he climbed onto you and lowered himself down. His cock was red and angry, and dried cum stained his stomach from his first orgasm and had been forgotten about until just then. He looked positively sinful, sweaty and blushing red.

In order to help him find a rhythm, you held onto his hands and pinned your elbows to the bed, giving him the leverage he needed to work his hips over the dildo, expletives in Italian being mumbled in between his whimpers. Once he found a rhythm and forgot how exposed he was, he let your hands go and began bouncing on his own, using you to get himself off. Your hands were now free, and one clutched onto his bouncing cock and begin to stroke it.

“Tell me how you feel, Papa.”

“Si se-sente bene.”

“Bene?” Your voice was back to condescending. “Only bene? Poor Papa, struggling to pull a decent sentence together.”

“I-”

“You’re so tight and desperate for cock, aren’t you, Papa?” He nodded emphatically. “Do you feel good riding me like this? Taking me for your own pleasure?”

“Dolcezza, per favore!”

“What, Papa? What do you want?”

“I need more.”

“More what?”

“Y-your hand… please.” You stopped stroking his cock. “No! You can’t do this - your - Your hand, stroke my cock, please!” Your hand gripped him again. “Tighter, please.” You obliged now that he was using his words. “Merda! F-feels good. So good. I can’t stop.” He was riding you harder now, his own words egging him on and sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Do you want to cum, Papa?”

“Sì.”

“Cum for me, Papa. Cum all over me.”

Sure enough, his second orgasm spilled from him. His hips twitched erratically as he covered you in his seed, gasping for air as though he was suffocating. He couldn’t make any noise even if he wanted to - he couldn’t even hear you talking him through it. All he could feel was your tight hand wrapped around his sensitivity and still pumping him until he was completely spent. Not to mention the dildo still in his hole, keeping still while he wiggled and providing him with aftershocks that could bring his sanity crumbling down. He collapsed onto you, completely unable to move himself, and it fell upon you to make him come back to reality.

You stroked his hair and kept talking him through it, waiting until his ears stopped ringing enough to listen to your instructions. Eventually, he came to, and lay on his side after he’d painfully dragged himself off of you and waited for you to remove the harness and come back.

His eyes were closed from exhaustion and he jumped in surprise when he felt your hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry, I have to clean you up.”

“Va bene. Grazie, amore mio.” His voice was weak, but there was a lazy smile on his face.

As soon as you were finished, you came back to bed and wrapped him in your arms. “You were so good for me, Copia.”

He moved his head level to you. “You’re always good to me.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #copia #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #kinktober 2023

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bless-my-demons · 1 year ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Oh god the FLUFF

Notes: I did this one a little different, I tried sort of a true dual POV and it’s got me fucked up y’all-goddamn. Don’t ask me where the fuck this came from because I have no thoughts, head fucking empty. I just - I can’t, just read it.

Word Count: 1287

Series Masterlist

• March 28th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

I give up.

Striding from my locker, I interrupt Jasper and his conversation with Alice, pushing him towards the familiar small alcove below the stairs.

I breathe heavily, working up the nerve to ask him what’s been on my mind for an ungodly amount of time. Fuck me, I just miss him so damn much.

“Can I kiss you?” I’m weak, weak for needing him so badly after such a short amount of time, I can’t even look anywhere else than the middle of his chest as I make my request.

He surges forward after a heavy beat of silence once I finish my question, he cages me against the wall, “Be mine.”

His words snatch the oxygen from my body, I glance up to his eyes, “What?”

“Come over this weekend,” his gaze is intense - staring into my very soul, “Let me apologize for the last six months. Give me a shot, darlin’.”

“Okay-” I don’t even finish my answer before he moves to grant my wish.

Oh god.

His lips lay themselves upon mine and I swear time stops. It’s a cliche, but everything else in my life no longer exists aside from his lips on mine. Cold and firm, but gentle and steady. A perfect match, non-dominating or in a hurry, but taking his time. As if he were memorizing the pressure, the taste, the way my own lips moved against his.

As if he were coaxing my soul out into the open, to bask in the warm sun that is his love.

Our mouths slotted perfectly together, familiar, the way my body clicked with his. My arms wind themselves around his neck and he kisses me deeper, more - I need more. Two magnets drawn together, two pieces of torn cloth restitched to be whole again, two halves meant to find their place in each other. I move, tilting my head and he responds in kind, an equal in every way despite our differing mortality.

I almost didn’t get this. This-this summation of feelings and butterflies an-and everything between us that’s built up. The lead weight in my stomach from this realization threatens to yank me from the cloud nine his kiss firmly perched me on.

Tears, fat and heavy roll down my cheeks as I grip his shirt desperately and he pulls away just far enough to inspect my face.

“Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” My eyes remain closed, unable to meet his gaze.

“To what?” I can hear the crinkle in his brow just from his voice.

“To kiss you again.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath and I know my words cut deep.

I open my eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” his turn for his eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” My lips ghost over his as I whisper my question, the addiction having taken root. “Can you handle it now?”

A shuddering breath exits his mouth and his eyes snap open, a rare display of my effect on the vampire. “No.”

The answer zaps through me, but he stops me before I could pull away. “No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl pushes to the surface, giving away his flustered state. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Jasper

Fuck me, her mouth is pure sin.

I could lose myself in those lips and never care about resurfacing ever again. Everything she does, from how she tilts her chin to welcome me further, to how her body yields to mine and forms against me, it’s heaven. The burning in my throat is secondary to the pure bliss her kiss envelopes me with.

Not to mention her fucking emotions.

Need, happiness, hunger, relief, contentment. They just keep coming, one after the other and I swear it inflates my chest with a happiness of my own, like a thousand butterflies trapped inside the cage of my ribs.

Love.

It feels like two ribbons entwining, dancing in sync, twisting in ways that create a beautiful tangled mess not soon to be unwound.

Love?

This one is different, I’ve felt love before - it’s shines from Esme’s face on a daily basis, it seeps from the smile lines around Carlisle’s mouth, and it passes through me with every one of Emmett’s hugs. But this? This love? This love is flowing straight from her heart into mine, breathing life into something long cold and dead. This love is meant only for me, only to be shared between mates, this kind of love is meant to be secreted away and only examined in moments of vulnerability between two like souls.

I love her and she loves me.

The thought rocks me to my core and I cup the back of her head as she leans back a little, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

A wetness begins to trickle down her cheeks and it startles me from the trance of her delicious mouth, tears?

I pull back far enough to catch the tear tracks from her tightly closed lids, “Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” She trails off, still hiding those gorgeous eyes from me.

“To what?” I furrow my brow, not quite following.

“To kiss you again.”

I inhale quickly to try and soften the blow her words deal straight to my chest. She’s yearned for this moment for months, just like I have.

She finally opens her eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” it’s my turn for my eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” Her lips ghost over my own as she whispers her question, stealing the very thoughts from my brain. “Can you handle it now?”

I exhale a shuddering breath before my eyes snap open, “No.”

“No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl erupts before I could stop it, frustration at my own thoughts bubbling up. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Will this girl ever learn that she controls me? That I bend to her? She has me wrapped securely around her delicate little pinky and she has no idea.

“I need to hunt before this weekend, but I will pick you up Saturday morning at your house.” I promise her, my nose gently rubbing against hers in a soothing motion.

“Okay.” Her breathless reply damn-near brings me to my knees.

“Darlin’?” I question her, slightly amused.

“Hmm?” Her eyes are closed, her emotions are just emanating absolute bliss.

“We still have half a school day to get through.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, her or myself.

“I’m not sure you can convince me to go.” Fuck.

“Darlin’, you gotta help me out here.” I scratch the base of her skull lightly to get her attention and it was definitely the wrong thing to do, her grip tightens on my shirt and her bliss burns a little heavier, almost suffocating me.

“Now why would I do that when I could just kiss you again?” Her eyes crack open, but I’m already in motion.

How could I argue with logic like that? My lips are on hers again before that beautiful pink mouth could part even a fraction.

Love, oh I could get used to this.

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #bless-my-demons #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

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rhiannonsknife · 7 days ago

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Just wanted to maybe request an addition to the Stockholm!Rhiannon and raise you Yandere!Rhiannon.

Rhiannon, who kidnapped you not because you witnessed a murder but because she needs you. Maybe she wants you to watch her kill someone, maybe it gives her a rush?

She keeps you tied up, and maybe one day you call her crazy, or say that she needs help and she gets so angry that she kills someone and then blames you for it? Convincing you to stay because it's all your fault that she killed that innocent person and look at what you've done to her.

I love your writing so so much, could I maybe be 🍁 anon?

— warnings: yandere!rhiannon. she’s insane in this one, guys. kidnapping. canon typical violence. obsessive!rhiannon.

rhiannon didn’t kidnap you out of revenge or because you witnessed something you weren’t supposed to -she kidnapped you because you’re hers. in her mind, it’s not even a question of morality; it’s a mere necessity. she didn’t even have a proper reason to take you, except her growing obsession. you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, bumping into her at night, after one of her kills. you couldn’t have known, the blood hidden under her rain coat.

there was no reasons that would justify the fact that she had to have you that night, only the adrenaline from the kill and the need to be yours the way you’re hers already.

she keeps you tied up at first, but not in the garage where she keeps most of her victims (you’re not a victim to her, after all). somewhere personal, somewhere that feels like her. she wants you to associate your surroundings with her presence. she tries her bedroom, at first, but the way you stay up half the night, exhausting yourself by banging the back of your head against the bed frame to make some noise soon pisses her off too much to keep you there. so, she settles for the living room instead.

when she does untie you (on good days), she’s extra vigilant, watching your every move. you can feel her eyes boring into your back no matter where you are; whether she has ran you a bath to clean yourself up or allowed you to move through the space because you stopped feeling your legs from all the sitting.

after a while of your unwilling stay (she refuses to call it what it really is.), rhiannon starts introduce you to her violent nature, not just as an observer but as an accomplice in her mind. she wants you to watch her “work” because it’s the ultimate expression of who she is.

by then, you’ve obviously put two and two together and realized that she’s the killer on the loose that everyone’s been looking for. you’ve also noticed that she really seems to have some fucked up kind of soft spot for you: in all the time you’ve been here, rhiannon has not once laid hands on you (except for when she first took you). she’s been surprisingly gentle, instead.

that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she returns home to you exhilarated, her clothes stained with blood, her breath heavy. she smiles wide, kneeling in front of you to explain in graphic detail how much she enjoyed it. “i did it for you. doesn’t that mean something?”

the first time you try to ignore it entirely, to draw your eyes away from the crimson that’s staining her clothes and is still dripping from her hands when she runs them through your hair. yet, when it becomes a frequent occurrence that she confesses her kills to you, you can’t hold it together forever.

the first time you call rhiannon crazy, her expression freezes, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. she doesn’t lash out at you immediately, but later that night, she returns with blood on her hands all over again -more than usual.

“you did this,” she accuses, her voice trembling with faux heartbreak. “you made me feel like i wasn’t enough, and i needed to prove myself. don’t you see? this is all your fault”

it’s the first, yet by far not the last time rhiannon does this: she plays the victim often, lamenting how “difficult” you’re making things. she tries to convince you that the outside world could never compare to all that she’s capable of doing for you.

“you’ve seen what i’m capable of. do you think anyone else would protect you like that?” she asks while serving you dinner she’s cooked.

through all of her madness, that soft spot for you is still palpable: she’ll sit beside you while you sleep, stroking your hair, whispering how much you mean to her or surprise you with gifts she’s stolen from her victims -a necklace, a watch, something she thinks will make you feel special. “look what i got for you. do you like it? say you like it”

if you ever dare to defy her, though, she becomes cold and calculating. she might isolate you for hours or days, refusing to speak to you while you remain tied up, just to make you beg for her attention. on the flip side, when you comply or show her even the slightest kindness, she becomes overwhelmingly affectionate, showering you with praise. “see? that’s how it’s supposed to be. just us”

any mention of someone else, anyone who isn’t part of this imaginary ‘us’ rhiannon has created (whether a friend, family member, or stranger) sends her into a jealous spiral. “why are you thinking about them when i’m right here? what do they have that i don’t?” she’ll start making veiled threats about cutting off any potential ties you have to the outside world. “if they cared so much, they’d already be looking for you!”

at this point you’ve learned to tread carefully, where a single wrong word can send her spiraling into either rage or despair. and yet, as she crouches in front of you after another kill, her eyes wide with the kind of devotion that suffocates, you feel something snap inside you.

“why are you doing this?” the question tumbles out of you before you can stop it.

rhiannon’s lips part, surprise flashing across her face. clearly, she hadn’t expected you to speak. then, she leans in a little closer, her breath warm against your face.

“because you’re mine,” she says simply, her smile curling into something sharp, like this is the most logical conclusion. “you’ll see that eventually. you have to”

as she brushes her bloodstained fingers down your cheek, the realization sinks in that she’s not just convincing you. she’s convincing herself of this, too.

#rhiannon lewis Ღ #🍁 anon #rhiannon lewis x reader #rhiannon lewis x you #sweetpea

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jamiethebee · 6 months ago

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(In which I spiral down a rabbit hole with Midoriya that has little to do with @codenamesazanka 's original post that started this (x). FYI I sorta separated Deku/Izuku to indicate Deku as the hero and Izuku as the person outside of heroics.)

I started thinking about this post again (see the link above) and how Deku doesn’t really understand that non-perfect or sanitized victims exist AND still need to be saved and not by destruction. (The "maybe killing someone does save them" thing is a great way to assuage guilt but it's a stupid copout.) Deku (hero) and more importantly Izuku (person) doesn’t really understand that though because he WAS a “perfect” victim. Midoriya stayed quiet and inconspicuous and didn’t make a fuss about the bullying or discrimination he faced, he just kept his head down and hoped that something would change without any real effort on his part. And if he had died as a result from the bullying he would’ve been hailed as an unfortunate victim (of who? or what? Don’t worry - isn’t his death so tragic? oh well now on to our next news story -), so any critique of society and the individuals who reinforce the status quo don’t actually have to do anything. I know there’s more nuance here and lot of cultural things happening with this all but I’m not gonna dig into that right now.

Moving on! Quite frankly the boy didn’t live long enough to get out of his childish mindset and get some “righteous" anger at the wrongdoings and failings of society. All Might came along when he was still starry eyed and hopeful to lift Midoriya out of the trajectory of his life and Izuku never had any time to get to the point where he comes to terms with the hurt caused society’s rejection of his self and get angry about it. As such, he can’t understand the league. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that he's missing that understanding because for him it worked out - he got the attention and support to be able to escape the circumstances of his birth/quirklessness and to leave the box (deku) that society shoved him in. Twice and Toga never had that support – they both lived how they needed to in order to survive in a world not meant for them until they broke down. (Maybe that's why Vigilante Deku AUs were so popular back in the day - they speedran Midoriya past the hopeful kid stage and to a point where a lot of the fanbase was in their own lives - seeing the issues in the world and wanting to affect change.)

Izuku, for all that he claims to want to connect to the villains, hasn’t given enough thought or empathy to understand how continuing to live a life where you don’t fit in with society can be deeply hurtful as well as the emotional repercussions of having unchangeable parts about yourself be reviled. This isn’t to say Izuku had it easy - of course Izuku went through hardships but.... there’s a big difference between living through stuff as a kid and finding a way out of it vs living through that, growing up, maturing, and in turn looking critically at society. But I can’t bring myself to fault Midoriya for those exact reasons because he's just a kid. He doesn’t have the perspective to see outside of himself – at least not for the villains. Because that seems to be too far of a stretch for him? But Todoroki was close enough to Izuku’s mindset for him to help back in the sports festival arc. I also acknowledge that he's a teenager and IS capable of critical thinking, but from what we've seen, his schools have never actually made the students examine the world they live in - which is a different skill from quirk analysis or historical or literary analysis or the various writing exercises that students go through.

(Believe me – you can have the brightest kid but, most of the time, unless you point out the shortcomings of their mindsets, it won’t occur to them to look further. (Not necessarily assuming that they’re wrong, but rather that their consideration of life is not as expansive as it should be. Especially for a kid wanting to be the greatest hero and save everyone.) For example: many abled bodied people don’t realize how inaccessible places can be until someone brings it up to them or they find themselves in that situation (like a temporary crutch or wheelchair). It’s through no fault of the able bodied person that they weren’t aware enough to consider it in the first place, but what they do once they realize physical accessibility is an issue, is on them.) Back to the point – hero society never calls attention to it’s own shortcomings despite the proof quite obviously existing and the people within society don’t seem to spare much thought either. The adults who have seen more of these instances are then of course more culpable in this than the kids who haven't.

So, Midoriya was also failed by society (cough all might cough) as well, but he chose the hero path - to save people. We see him starting to consider the deeper issues in his talk with Uraraka, and the few times he “tries” to talk to various villains shows that he is aware enough of underlying issues - which makes it his duty as a hero to do something about it. In that way, he is at fault. He chose a profession to devote his life to that should require this of him. And through his hero work, Midoriya has seen the problems in society and yet he’s chosen to turn away from them (and by problems/them I’m referring to the villains “too far gone to save” and the issues they represent).

(Sorry Midoriya, but considering we’re nearing the end and you haven’t shown any growth in this area….. I am faulting you for metaphorically pushing your head in the sand. I do want to be wrong though. I really want the kid to prove me wrong.)

And he’s able to turn away from them guilt free, in part, because he’s gotten the proverbial thumbs up by his classmates that it’s ok and that they’ll just be better and be model minority heroes and that will fix the problem! Because they’re positive representation! Or something? If you can put your mind to it that will fix things! Just try harder! Again, very idealistic but they are kids, so it comes with the territory. (Horikoshi didn’t have to make them unquestionably right in that approach though. Toga and Uraraka coming together for the win! The Shoji and Spinner match up not so much.)

Overall, there’s something about how Deku still fit into society's boxes in an acceptable way and never truly faced what existing outside of "acceptability" was like. Don’t get me wrong it’s tough to live in the mha world as a quirkless person and of course it has its problems and restrictions, but that’s still a box that society provides for, even if the society in question doesn’t like it.

And I'm not saying that Izuku had to live through a terrible life to understand the villains! Just that, he has the capacity to look outside himself and be empathetic, but the application of it is lacking, despite knowing there’s problems, despite having LIVED with some of those problems. Extrapolate, boy!!!! You don't need empathy to reach out to others but the whole compassionate/kind Midoriya thing has been touted since the beginning! So I want to see it!

(Not sure how much sense this will make to people, but there’s a maturity that comes about with either time or certain circumstances that can be hard to grasp unless you’ve lived through it. And quite frankly, Midoriya hasn’t. He went from a perfect/acceptable victim to the top tier of society (heroes).)

(Basically: Midoriya never **matured in the restrictive environment he grew up in and can't emotionally connect with the league who did, because of that. Instead he seems to have internalized the "if they were better" or "if they were truly good" then there wouldn't be a problem because just look at his classmater!, so villains being villains is their own fault and no one else is culpable.)

**centers on the idea that someone starts off as hopeful in regards to their discriminated position in life and over time matures to understand how society supports that discrimination and come to terms with the hurt that it's caused them personally (and in this case to fight back against it)

also, if you made it this far, i'm just having a fun time reading codenamesazanka's posts about the latest chapters

#my hero academia #bnha #the bee talks #i promise i have nothing against midoriya! but there's a lot of build up with him that's gone nowhere currently....#having thoughts! having so many thoughts!#honestly i just feel bad for horikoshi. from what i gather he didn't want mha to drag on this long or it took a different direction #and he's been working on it for so many years. i don't fault him! it's his story! but i can still have a fun time analyzing it #ok i've stared at this for too long. i'm posting it and heading out #mmm is midoriya letting his own life experiences cloud his judgement of the villains? perhaps!#i would love to sit those kids down and make them learn how to reflect (in the academic sense)

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