#what is left then? just a hollow doll that will probably be discarded the moment he is of no longer use?

[mizinthropy]

HELLO YES I TOTALLY AGREE THIS IS THE BEST GODDAMN TAKE ON LUKA i am going a little insane

8:48

Always thinking of my tags I did on that one post

(under tags cuz of abuse/mentioned distorted eating, and cannibalism for the lyrics in the second picture)

[writingstarling]

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat’s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

[stale-cheezit]

Dog Tags

 Summary: Tony holds a ball, and your boyfriend get’s a little distracted when he sees you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Word Count: 2,427

Warnings: there’s a lot of dialogue in this i’m sorry. swearing. smut. oral (male and female receiving) 

You pop your lips together as you finish applying your red lipstick, Bucky’s favorite shade. Tonight is the ball Tony has been planning for a while. No one really knows why, he just felt the need to throw a party.

You had the perfect dress, a strapless, sparkly navy blue dress with a slit up the left leg. You have on a new red lingerie that you bought just for tonight. A knock at the door brings you out of your thoughts,��“Y/N? Can I come in?” It’s Bucky

“One second! I’m still getting my dress on.” You quickly grab the dress off the hanger and slip it on, “You can come in now.” 

Moments later the door opens, Bucky’s jaw drops, “God doll...” He steps closer to you and puts his hands on your hips, “You look absolutely breath taking.” He whispers, kissing you gently. 

“Thank you, my love. You look quite dashing yourself,” You smile, “Mind helping me zip this up?” You turn around and pull your hair out of the way. 

“Of course.” Bucky zips your dress up for you and gives a light tap on your ass. 

“James.” You warn. 

“Oh pulling out the first name are we?” Bucky chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. 

“That I am,” You giggle, “Fuck I still need jewelry.” You go to your dresser and put on your rings, one being the promise ring Bucky gave you for Christmas this past year. While you’re rummaging through your necklaces trying to find one that will match, Bucky slips one around your neck. 

You look down at them, “Buck... Are these-” 

“My dog tags.” 

The metal is cold on your neck, “Bucky are you sure?” 

“They look gorgeous on you, doll. I wouldn’t want anyone else wearing them.” 

“Thank you, love. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Bucky kisses your head, “And you’re lucky we’re already late or I’d be pounding you into that mattress. I’ll save that for tonight.” He whispers.

Your eyes go wide and your breath gets caught in your throat. 

“Now let’s go before we’re any later that we already are.” 

Still in shock, you grab your navy stilettos and slip them on, grabbing Bucky’s hand and following him out of your room. 

The small comment remains in your head the entire way to where the party is being held. 

“Why is Tony doing this again?” Bucky asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. 

“Becuase “I’m Tony fucking Stark and I can do whatever the fuck I want,” as he put it.” You reply. 

After a thirty minute drive you arrive. Bucky holds the door open for you and the two of you walk in hand in hand. Wanda runs up to you as soon as she realizes you’re here. 

“Y/N! Finally!” Wanda hugs you, “You look hot!” 

“You look hotter! If i wasn’t taken I’d defiantly hit you up.” You wink and blow Wanda a kiss. 

“I’m right here.” Bucky sighs. 

“Bucky! Go talk to Stevie! I’m stealing yo girl.” Wanda grabs your hand and drags you to the bar. 

“There’s a lot more people than I expected.” You sigh, sitting on a stool next to Wanda. 

“I know. It’s very loud too.” 

“Who all do you think is here?” 

“All the Avengers, most of S.H.I.E.L.D. and probably random millionaires Tony knows.” 

“I’m already tired and I just got here.” You chuckle, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Me too girl, me too- OH MY GOD!” Wanda squeals, “Are those Bucky’s tags?” 

“They are. He gave them to me earlier.” You smile, holding the dog tags in your fingers. 

You and Wanda continue talking when two glasses of whiskey are sat in front of you. 

“Um we didn’t order these.” Wanda smiles. 

“They’re from the gentlemen over there.” The bartender motions to our left. 

“Ohh,” Wanda smiles, “Thank you.” 

“Well I’m not gonna turn down a free drink.” You smirk, taking a sip of the alcohol. 

“Me neither,” You and Wanda cheers your drinks, “I’m going to go find Vision. I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay, right? I can send Bucky your way if I see him.” 

“I’ll be fine. Go find your man.” You smile as Wanda walks off. A few moments later one of the men who ordered your drinks comes up to you. 

“Is this seat taken?” He asks. 

“No, go ahead.” You say, having no intention at all of speaking to the man. 

“How’s your night going, beautiful.” He asks, you turn your nose up in disgust. 

“Good, yours?” You say, trying to be polite. 

“Better now that I’m talking to you.” 

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink. A loud crash makes you turn your attention to your left, away from the man. You see that the bartender just dropped a bottle. 

What you didn’t see, was the man next to you slipping something in your drink. 

Your fingers wrap around the glass, you start to take a drink when-

“Y/N!” You let go of the glass and turn around to see Steve. 

“Oh hey Steve!” 

“Y/N come with me, I want to show you something.” Steve grabs your arm and pulls you to the dance floor, “Dance with me?” 

“Only if I don’t have to be the man this time.” You smile, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck, his hands rest on your hips. 

“Bucky’s in the bathroom, there’s a really long line so he asked me to come check on you. Then I saw that guy slip something in your drink.” 

Your eyes widen, “He what?” 

“When you looked away he roofied your drink.” Steve says, glancing back at the man. 

“That mother fucker.” You go to walk towards him to give him a piece of your mind when Steve’s grip on your waist tightens. 

“No. Tony’s taking care of him.” 

“We can’t tell Bucky, he’ll freak.” 

“Tony probably already notified him.” 

The two of you are silent for a minute, “Thank you Steve. You really saved my ass. God knows what would’ve happened.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” Steve smiles. 

The two of you continue dancing until Bucky approaches you, “Can I cut in?” 

“Of course. It was a pleasure dancing with you Miss L/N.” Steve kisses your knuckles. 

“Likewise Mr Rodgers.” You laugh and Steve walks away. 

Bucky kisses your knuckles, your arms wrap around his neck and his hands go on your waist. The two of you are much closer than you and Steve were. 

“Tony told me about that man.” 

You sigh, “Why do I have a feeling you did something.” 

“Because I did.” 

“Bucky...” 

“Tony and I just talked to him. And a couple punches. Fury fired him too.” 

“You satisfied?” You roll your eyes and smile. 

“Not really.” Bucky smirks and kisses you. 

The night goes on. You dance mostly with Nat and Wanda, but you steal quiet a few dances with Bucky, another with Steve, and one with Tony. You don’t drink anymore, aside from a few drinks you took from Bucky’s glass. Almost everyone is drunk or at least tipsy. Aside from you, and the two super soldiers as alcohol doesn’t affect them. 

You’ve spent half the night pulling your dress up so it doesn’t fall. Stupid strapless dresses. Bucky’s been eyeing you all night. You’ve made it a point to rub your ass against him as much as possible, as well as swaying your hips a lot more when dancing. 

“Hey baby.” You kiss his jaw. 

“Hey doll.” 

“I love youuuuu.” You smile, kissing his temple. 

“I love you too, babydoll.” Bucky’s grip on his drink tightens. 

You kiss his jaw again, this time biting him gently. 

“I think it’s time to go home, doll.” He says grabbing your hand and leading you outside. You don’t protest, following him. 

“Buck I’m in heels! I’m gonna fall.” You huff. Bucky stops and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. 

The car ride to the compound was silent, aside from Bucky tapping his foot, or the occasional kiss. 

When the car stops, Bucky opens the door for you. As soon as you get out of the car he shuts the door, and picks you back up. 

“Buckyyyyy.” You groan. Bucky sits you back down once you’re in the elevator. 

“You’ve been a very bad girl.” He growls, pinning you against the wall. 

“I’m sorryyy,” You drag out the word, “It’s hard not to tease when you were staring at me all night.” 

“It’s hard not to stare when you’re literally the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His lips connect to your neck. The elevator dings and the doors open. Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you towards your room. Once the door is shut he attacks your lips and face with kisses. 

You kick off your heels and moan at the feeling of flat ground. Bucky’s hands unzip your dress, the fabric falls off your body and pools around your feet. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything when he sees the red lingerie. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, looking up with big e/c eyes. 

“You look stunning, as always. As much as i love it, I need it off you. Now.” 

You lock eyes with him as one hand reaches behind your back and unclasps the bra, letting it drop to the ground. Bucky’s lips attach to your nipple, his hand kneading the other. You moan as he softly bites your nipple. 

“I was gonna take it slow with you tonight, fuck you slow and gentle until you’re begging me to fuck you rough and fast. But with the way you acted tonight, and the way you looked in that dress...” Bucky leads you to the bed and pushes you down. His lips kiss up your neck and stop at your ear, “I’m going to completely destroy you.” He growls, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it on the floor. 

You feel butterflies in your core, “Please..” 

Bucky presses a finger to your clothed core, earning a quiet gasp. You open your legs wider. Bucky pulls your panties off. Skilled fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Get on your knees, doll.” 

You quickly get up and sink to your knees. Immediately taking off his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down. His erection springs free. You lick your lips and press a kiss to the tip, a low groan leaves Bucky’s throat. Your eyes meet his as you sink your mouth around all of him. Bucky pushes your hair out of your face and holds it for you. 

You hollow your cheeks and swirl your tongue around his length, bobbing your head up and down. 

“F-Fuck. You’re doing so good babydoll.” 

You fiddle with his balls as you continue to deep throat him, your eyes start to water a bit. You pull your mouth off him and look up to meet his eyes, your lips red and swollen. 

Bucky helps you up and kisses you, “You’re such a good girl for me.” He lays you on the bed and parts your legs, leaving sloppy kisses up your thighs. His eyes meet yours and he stops over your pussy, wanting to make sure you’re still okay with this. You nod, and he licks up your slick. A loud moan leaves your lips as he quickly laps at your folds. 

“Fuck... Bucky as much as I love you and your sinful mouth I need you inside me.” 

Bucky stops his motions, “Hands and knees.” He mutters, grabbing a condom out of the drawer and rolling it onto his cock. You get on your hands and knees, sticking your ass up in the air. Your wetness dripping out of you. “Are you ready?” He asks, lining up with your entrance. 

“Fuck yes.” 

He slowly slides into you, you moan at the feeling of him filling you up, but he slides completely out. As you go to protest he snaps his length back inside you. A small scream leaves your lips. Your face pressed into the mattress as he pounds inside you at an ungodly pace. Low grunts come from Bucky. His cock twitching inside you as he slams his hips to meet yours. 

His thumb reaches down to speedily rub circles on your clit, and his hand places a hard slap on your ass. 

“Bucky!” You moan, the combination of him pounding into you and his fingers stimulating your clit bring you to the edge fast, “I-I’m gonna cum.” 

“Go ahead baby.” He says, quickening his fingers on your clit. You moan loudly into the mattress, your hands gripping the sheets as your orgasm rushes through you. Goosebumps appear on your skin and your legs begin to shake as you come down from the mind blowing orgasm. Bucky slowly slides out of you. 

“Buck wait you didn’t finish.” You say, sitting up on your knees. 

“I know.” He says, sitting at the headboard. He motions for you to sit on his lap. You straddle him, putting your arms around his neck. He brushes his lips against yours as you sink down onto him. You gasp as he fills you up.

Slowly you start to bounce on him, rolling your hips slightly. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you quicken your pace. You reach one hand down to rub your clit again, slamming your lips against Bucky’s. He takes your wrist and pulls it off your clit, you groan against his lips. His fingers replace yours and his hips snap up unintentionally. 

Your second orgasm comes faster than you expected it to. Your motions become sloppy as you get closer and closer to release. Bucky holds your hips and helps you ride out the orgasm. All your movements stop as shockwaves burst through you. Your pussy clenches around Bucky and as you come down from your high he hits his own orgasm. 

Strings of profanities leave his lips as he cums inside the condom. The two of you sit in silence, breathing heavily. 

“You look so good above me, with my dog tags around your neck.” Bucky smirks, looking at the dog tags that sit above your breasts. 

“Guess I’ll have to ride you more often then.” You smirk, kissing him. 

“I guess so.” Bucky mutters, against your lips. 

Your phone goes off, you glance at the nightstand to see a text from Steve. 

Stevie: Let me know when you two are done up there. I don’t want to be anymore traumatized than I was when I got home. Please use protection.

[hoodoo12]

Rawed

This was written as a trade for the fantastically talented @clairjohnson, who’s simply an all around awesome person.  NSFW, Movie Beetlejuice/f!reader. Nasty garbage man warning tinged with dub con sex.

“Tasty little snack.”

You jumped. The voice came from behind you, from a corner you’d just passed that you were sure was empty. Laughter bounced around you. “Even wearin’ a skirt, like you’re lookin’ for someone to just come along and slip a hand--or something better--right under your clothes.”

You knew you shouldn’t acknowledge the words, shouldn’t acknowledge the truth behind those words, but that didn’t suppress your shudder.

That gravel-filled laughter came closer, filled your ear, like a scouring pad brushed lightly across your skin. It made you shudder again and reflexively, you smoothed down the fabric stretched across your thighs, as if you expected someone to do exactly what was suggested.

You continued through the house. No further laughter or disembodied voice followed you, and you relaxed. Your heels tapped loudly as you walked down the hall unmolested. You turned, and suddenly he was there, waiting in the living room. Your hand went to your throat.

“Trying to avoid me, babes?” “What? No, no, I was--”

In a flash, between less than a blink of an eye, he was right in front of you, staring down at you, smiling ferally. The smell of him: fresh turned dirt, damp clothing, the base note of mild mustiness filled your nose like his laughter had filled your ear. He had a way of seeping in any little crack he could find. “You were what? Hmm? Getting dolled up, trying to sneak out, trying to leave and meet up with someone--”

He interrupted you, you interrupted him. “I wasn’t!” His smile, already rictus, widened. “That’s right. You weren’t.” He grabbed you then, quick as a thought. His nails weren’t broken but they were strong and they dug uncomfortably into your upper arms. You gasped. “Gonna prove it, baby.”

It could have been a question but was more of an order. Again you gasped, and for a second you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you, but he didn’t. Instead, one of his hands snaked under your blouse, rucking it up over your bra. Your bra itself followed, pushed haphazardly and slightly painfully over your tits. His other hand, instead of slipping to your back and snapping the closure of your bra to give you some relief from the awkward position he’d put it in, worked at the tiny zipper of your skirt. It was too delicate to handle his ham fisted attempts to undo it, so with a frustrated snarl he simply hooked his fingers under the waistband of it and forced it down over your hips. A seam popped and tore. It was just as painful as what he’d done up top, but you didn’t complain. You knew better than to complain. When it made it passed the widest part of you, it fell easily, pooling at your feet. Caught on your heels, it left you half-bared in front of him, with your wrinkled shirt and thin panties. Under his heavy, lusty gaze, you automatically draped a hand over your chest, and the other twitched towards your pubic area. That wasn’t the best idea. He cocked an eyebrow at your audacity and licked his lower lip with his pale tongue. “No,” was all his said, and your hands jumped away like you’d been stung. His hand took the one at your groin’s place. You weren’t sure if you were flushed or if it was just that he was room temperature, but he felt chilly as he cupped your pussy. He gave it a bit of a squeeze, and despite yourself, you groaned a little. It’d be nicer if he’d pushed his hand under the cotton of your panties too, so there was no barrier between you and him, but he seemed content that you were frustrated. Your panties were thin enough that he was able to slip his longest finger between your folds. You groaned again, and he jerked his hand away. He scrutinized you, nodded to himself, and took a step back to work his belt buckle open. When he caught you staring, he stopped. Reaching for you, he caught your chin and applied pressure on it till your jaw opened a little. He slipped his thumb inside. You had no clue where his hand had been and the taste was nothing more than mold, but you closed your lips on the digit anyway. “You know what I want.” With his thumb crooked on your tongue, you lifted your eyes to his and nodded. “Then squat. This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.” Immediately you kicked away your discarded skirt and dropped as he said. reaching for his half-undone belt and fly. He didn’t help at all, which you expected. The zipper was stiff with what you hoped was dirt, and when you finally were able to open his trousers his pale cock sprang free. No underwear for him, even if the corpse he’d pilfered his favorite suit from had been wearing any. 

You pushed his trousers to the tops of his knees, and after steadying yourself--the heels made that a little easier, as well as kept you more level with his groin--you leaned in to catch the head of his cock in your mouth. His fingers twisted into your hair and pulled your head back to look up at him before you managed to so much as lick him. “I want your legs spread. No touching yourself. And this better be the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten, baby,” he told you, brooking no argument. “Wet and sloppy. I want to hear you moan with my cock in your mouth. I want you to gag.”

His tight grip precluded you from actually managing to nod your understanding. Instead, the moment he loosened his fingers, you opened your mouth and moved forward, finally taking him between your lips as you continued to keep your eyes locked on his. You kept your eyes open, even though it took you a moment to get used to the chill of his skin and the slightly sour taste of his flesh. His cock was thick enough that you had to flatten your tongue and relax your jaw to pull him further in. Inconsiderately he popped his hips forward, which you expected and had time to prepare for by holding your breath.

The unlubricated skin of his cock dragged a little more than you’d have preferred, and when he pulled back out, you took a second to release him entirely. Being out of the warm heat of your mouth unexpectedly made his head, which had lolled back at the initial first thrust, snap back down to you. His lips twisted in a scowl, but when you heavily licked up the underside of his shaft, giving him a thick coating of spit then immediately took him in again without further hesitation--and without further resistance--he gave a low moan of approval. With that, you did as he asked. Wet and sloppy, because you didn’t give yourself time to swallow any spit. Gagging, because his cock not only filled your mouth with girth but because when you pushed yourself to your limits and your nose was buried in the rat’s nest of pubic hair at the base of his cock, it was just to the point of making you retch. He, of course, always wanted a little bit more, and never tried to stop fucking your face. That slight hip movement plus his hand tangled into your hair gave him more of the gag he wanted, and you had to pull off him to gasp for breath as he chuckled. Still, you went back to it before you’d caught your breath completely. That earned you a startled cry of delight. You blew him hard and fast, alternating suction and depth. Spit coated your chin, and dripped down your neck. You decided he’d probably rather have your tits completely exposed and managed to unsnap your bra and shimmy out of it and your shirt. Drool made its way to your chest.

When you were able, when you were on an outward pull and not flush with his groin, you looked up at him. Many times he was looking down at you, his eyes half closed, looking deeper set in their dark hollows; when he wasn’t his head was tipped back and you got to see his throat work as he swallowed around the moans and softly muttered words that didn’t quite make it to your ears. Before long, your eyes watered; your jaw ached; your lungs burned; your legs trembled. The noises he made hitched higher, with a more urgent note to them. At one point, when you had pulled out enough to only have the head of his cock between your lips, he yanked back on your hair. “Look at me,” he growled, and you lifted your eyes once again. He gazed down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Your mascara is ruined. You’ve soaked us both in drool. My cock looks so good in your mouth, baby--you like this, baby?”

He wasn’t as detached as he wanted to sound--his pale eyes had blown dark with arousal and he had no need to breathe but his mouth was open, his lips coated with a thin veneer of his own spit. Still, he cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. You nodded to the best of your ability and moaned, slipping your tongue around the head of his cock as you did. The extra stimulation from your tongue and the vibration made him groan a bit. “Good, that’s good, baby,” he praised, and rocked himself on the balls of his feet, just to slip a little in and out between your lips. His eyes darted down you, to your tits and stomach. Then they dropped to your legs, with your thighs still spread as he’d told you, not allowing for any friction or pressure on your pussy while you blew him.

“I bet that pussy is wishing it had some attention, isn’t it, sweets.” It was intoned more like an observation, not a question, but you nodded anyway. You ached down there, and wondered if he was just setting you up for disappointment by talking about it but planning on blowing his load in your mouth or on your tits. He’d pulled that nasty little trick before. “Better do something about it, then. Up.”

Gratefully you got to your feet. You wobbled a little on your heels, and made a motion to kick them off, but he told you to keep them on, and physically picked you up to spin you around. “Bend over, baby.” The only clothing left on you was your underwear and shoes. As you obeyed, bending at the waist, you felt your panties tighten over your pussy, showcasing it. Although they were shoulder width apart, you kept your legs straight and put your hands on your knees to help keep your balance. An appreciatative noise came from behind you, and before you could look back over your shoulder, his hands were at your ankles. His fingernails scratched up your legs, maybe not enough to break skin, but enough to leave stinging red trails after them. You steadied yourself as you felt him move closer and plant a kiss on the back of your thigh, and then his mouth was within a breath of your cotton-clad pussy. “You’re so fucking wet,” he announced, as if you didn’t know you’d soaked your panties.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to drag his tongue over the thin fabric on your pussy. You startled and almost fell forward, even as you moaned. Your precarious stance finally must have registered with him. He didn’t acknowledge it verbally, however; he simply picked you up again by the waist and carried you to the couch. Setting you down in roughly the same position you’d been in, now at least you had the support of the furniture to lean on for what you knew was coming next.

His fingers hooked under the elastic of your panties and pulled them over your ass and down your legs. He left them where they stayed, just above your knees, and instead of his mouth again, his fingers dipped to your pussy, slipping through your folds, orienting himself to where he needed to be even as you arched your back to try and get a little more stimulation out of him. He brushed over your clit twice more, making you moan. The blunt--and chillier--head of his cock replaced his fingers, collecting your wet along your pussy, before nudging into you. Once he started, like your mouth, he gave you little time to adjust. You gave an opened-mouthed cry as his cock stretched you open. It’d lost any heat it’d leeched from your mouth and felt cold filling you. You didn’t care. You reveled in it. His cock would warm again soon enough. After getting his bearings--he always paused after first shoving his cock into you from the spike of pleasure, not that he’d admit that--his hands kept a tight grip on your sides, and he fucked you roughly. He slipped out once, making both of you groan, and you helped resituate him, then kept your hand on your pussy, feeling his cock plunge into you. It was wet now, and the additional pressure on your clit was worth losing the support from that arm. His grunts were interspersed with random words and half-phrases: “Good girl”, and “take it”, but his favorite was just, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” repeated just under his breath. 

Each thrust made air burst from your lungs. You mewled and pressed your chest to the arm of the couch for more balance. Trying to angle yourself so he’d hit that magic spot inside you didn’t work out well, however; being both hobbled by the panties still around your knees and going up on your toes in your shoes made your feet slip. He’d also reached forward and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling your head back, which didn’t help your balance at all. You losing your footing made him growl through his explosive panting. He gave you a smart slap on your ass which stung more than it should have because of his ring, then, just as abruptly as he’d pushed into you, he pulled out. “Get up. I want to see your tits anyway,” he said as a half explanation. “Lay down.” A little dazed from the sudden feeling of emptiness in your pussy and the new order, you were slow to push yourself upright. Before you could turn and do as he said, you were bodily picked up again and put exactly in the position he wanted you: flat on your back on the couch cushions, angled so one leg draped off the side, knee bent at a ninety degree. Your high heels supported that limb. He shimmied your panties off the rest of the way. As he flicked you in the other calf so you’d open your leg widely, he bunched your panties in his other hand and shoved them into his trouser’s pocket--

“You’re still dressed?!” you exclaimed. It was more shrill than you’d mean it to be, but that was lazy, even for him. In the middle of wiping his thumb over his lower lip as he stared down at you splayed before him like a buffet, he glanced back up at your face. “You just can’t get enough this sexy body, can you baby?” he replied saucily, and even as you rolled your eyes his suit was thought into a heap on the floor. He stood before you in all his grub-pale, moldy glory. You rolled your eyes again but reached for him. He gladly fell on top of you but didn’t return the embrace; once again he found exactly where he wanted to be and rutted into you. With a solid base, his pace was even faster and snappier now, ramming into your cunt hard enough to make you squeak with each inward thrust. Even as he held himself up with rigid arms, you grabbed at him and pulled him down. His tepid torso against yours made goosebumps break out on you, but you were soon used to the temperature difference. The smell of damp earth easily became unnoticable, even when he buried his face into your neck and his hair was against your cheek. You clutched at him. Keeping him held tightly to you shifted his position just enough that his pubic bone pressed against your clit, sending sparks of increasing pleasure from your groin up into your stomach. Rougher treatment aside, that plus the delicious friction from his cock in your pussy had you tumbling towards orgasm at a pace that surprised even you. It wasn’t going to take much more. The points of his hips slammed into you mercilessly, he’d started up his “fuck fuck fuck” chant against your ear; you grabbed at his ass just in case he had the sadistic notion of stopping--you were almost there, almost there-- His teeth latched onto you, into the soft juncture between your neck and shoulder, giving you a sharp painful contrast to the bliss throughout the rest of your body. With your flesh between his teeth, he roared through his release, his hips juttering once, twice, then keeping his cock buried deep inside you as he came. Maybe it was just your imagination, but it was almost as if you could feel his cool come fill your cunt.

Despite the fact he’d done little to voluntarily help you along, the sensation of being filled, plus the heavy, now unrelenting pressure on your clit, and yes, even the ache from the bite pushed you over the edge. Ecstasy dragged you under. You cried out as you came until your voice was gone. Once you drifted back to reality, you had to untangle yourself from around him. You hadn’t even been aware you’d wrapped your legs around him, or that you’d grabbed him by the ass so hard your fingers felt stiff as you unclenched them.

He pulled away with a smirk, before leaning back in--not to kiss you, although your lips parted in anticipation, but to lick the spot he’d bitten you. Like the rest of him, his tongue was cool and maybe he hadn’t meant it that way, but it soothed your shoulder a little. Then he pulled back and away and out of you. Unstoppered, a gush of wet fell from your pussy. That caught his eye, and he paused to pull his fingers through your pussy again and the come dripping out of you. Slickened, he even rubbed your borderline overly sensitive clit for a second, making you jerk and cry out again, but you weren’t sure if he was deliberately trying to pleasure you or not. As your panting slowed, your brow furrowed, trying to understand what he was doing with the come he’d collected on his fingers. You never could guess what might be going through his mind--

Instead of shoving his wet fingers into your mouth or licking them himself, he simply wiped them dry on your leg, from your inner thigh to your knee. “What’re you doing--gross! Beetlejuice!” you exclaimed, sitting up to get out of his reach. “Easy on the ‘B’ word there,” he replied but without much malice, dropping beside you on the couch. You got up, found the piles of discarded clothing, and seriously thought about using his suit to wipe yourself clean. But you knew he wouldn’t care and wouldn’t clean it off, and you actually didn’t know what might already be on it, so you opted for your own blouse. Once the majority of the wet was gone, leaving only a thin, drying residue behind, you turned to find him staring at you with open appreciation on his face. You hadn’t meant to give him a show as you bent to wipe yourself up, but apparently you did. Finally you kicked off your heels and joined him on the couch, plopping down without invitation on your back so your head was on his leg, looking up at him. With a glance down at you, he put one hand over the mark he’d given you. Like his tongue, the cool touch was soothing. He was smoking, of course, as he tended to do after sex, as if he could still have a nicotine addiction. You watched his lips close around the end of the cigarette. After he took a drag, you made an inarticulate noise to indicate you wanted some too, and he held it to your mouth for you, instead of passing it. You pulled on it, holding the bitter smoke in your lungs for a moment. Letting it out, you gazed up at him. He was sated and lazy after a romp like that, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. “You know, there doesn’t have to be all the pretense,” you said. He cocked an eyebrow and he looked down at you without dropping his chin. “The whole, ‘you’re dressed up for someone else, I’ll show you you’re mine’ schtick,” you elaborated. “I’m happy to wear whatever you want, just for you.” He snorted, blowing smoke out his nose as he replied, “Don’t I fuckin’ know it, baby. I do all that possessive stuff to get you goin’. You love it. If I was sticky sweet, you wouldn’t know how to take it. Prob’ly think I was an imposter and kick me out.” Hearing the faint teasing amusement in his tone, you returned his snort but it was more like laughter. You also turned your head to bite his stomach, which made him fold in the middle. That made you laugh harder, and you spent the rest of the evening passing the cigarette back and forth and idly lounging. 

fin!

[ladynuwanda]

Whatever Souls Are Made Of (Michael LangdonXMallory AU) - Chapter 3

A/N: I know it’s been 84 years, guys... y’know, life happens. I hope someone is still interested in this story... I’m still as excited to tell it as I was all those months ago!! =)

Warnings: Angsty. And, I don’t know, maybe revisiting the previous chapters would be a good idea...

Word Count: 3,4K

Lady Fiona had returned to the Heights in time to celebrate Beltane that year, and it was very unusual for the Supreme to grace the Coven with her presence for one of the Sabbats. Most Covens would count their Supreme as a sort of mother figure to all the other witches, a nurturing and guiding presence. But that was not the case with Lady Fiona. She brought an overwhelming sense of uneasiness with herself. The entire Coven seemed nervous, and even a little jumpy, whenever the Supreme was in the Manor.

But Lady Fiona’s presence wasn’t the only source of uneasiness in that Summer, far from it. Zoe and Madison had always had a complicated relationship, equal parts “sisterly love” and “sibling rivalry”. But one thing was undeniable: the girls were very close. Even though there were times when what seemed to keep them together was mutual hatred, Zoe felt Madison’s absence more than anyone else, when the latter disappeared by late Spring. Most of the other witches were convinced Madison had run away on a whim, probably eloped with her most recent lover, whoever that might be. But Zoe could smell a rat from the start, and she wasn’t going to rest until she found Madison’s whereabouts.

By the time Summer was fully upon the land, the only two people in the Manor who were not sharing the sense of uneasiness, caused both by Lady Fiona’s presence and Madison’s disappearance, were Mallory and Michael. But that’s not the only thing they were oblivious of. The Beltane rites were not just an initiation ritual for the witches, it also gave the Goddess’s Consort full ruling power over the land, as the Sacred King. Which meant Michael’s powers only grew since the Sabbat. Not that any of the two young lovers would care, or even notice. They were simply too distracted by their own feelings, and their newly found physical intimacy, to care about anything but each other. But one person did realise the shift in the power balance that was happening in the Coven, and that person was Lady Meade.

She could tell Michael was becoming more powerful with each passing day, on every training session. Not only his abilities were growing, but the boy seemed more capable of controlling them. He was getting more comfortable in his own skin, owning everything he could be and everything he could do. He was starting to not feel so unworthy of Mallory anymore. He could finally begin to consider himself her equal. And the more intense Lady Mead’s lessons became, more eager he was to learn.

It became clear that something about that Summer was simply not right, when Lady Fiona died unexpectedly and apparently of natural causes. The Supreme had been gravely ill for some time when it happened, but for some reason she had kept it a secret from the entire Coven, including her own daughter. Cordelia was forced to put her own grief aside to take care of the Coven she was now responsible for, since Lady Fiona had died without announcing her successor. Nobody knew who the next Supreme was supposed to be.

Nobody but Michael. He was just surprised that no one else seemed to have noticed something that, to him, felt so obvious. Or the even more obvious connection between the sudden death of the Supreme, and the fact that for the first time in centuries the Coven had been left without proper leadership. But while Cordelia, Myrtle and Misty were busy trying to get the Coven prepared for the trials of the Seven Wonders, that would point them in the direction of the Next Supreme, Zoe Benson seemed lost in her own world, trying to find whatever she could about Madison’s disappearance. It became clear for Michael that what Zoe had been investigating was simply another thread closely entwined on the web of mystery that covered the Manor that Summer.

With Mallory as the intermediary agent, Michael used his own powers to help Zoe find Madison. For everyone’s horror the young witch’s body had been in Spalding’s room all this time, hidden among a most unsettling collection of porcelain dolls. Madison Montgomery’s corpse was grotesquely dressed in a doll’s frock. Her hollowed cheeks, already in stage of decay, were painted in rouge, in a horrendous imitation of life-like blush. Both Michael and Kyle were merciless in carrying their former mentor downstairs to be interrogated by the Coven’s impromptu leading counsil.

It took more than Miss Cordelia’s gentle persuasion to make Spalding confess for all his sins. They had to use the combined magic of Zoe and Mallory, as well as of Michael himself, to loosen the man’s tongue. But in the end, the quivering ruin of a man admitted that he had known about Lady Fiona’s illness, and her dread to be overrun by a younger witch. It has been said, since the dawn of times, that when a new Supreme starts to flower, the old Supreme begins to fade. Fiona saw too much of herself in Madison, she was convinced the girl was to be the Next Supreme. Lady Fiona’s plan was to restore her own strength by getting rid of the threat of replacement, and she had Spalding’s aid to get it done. He had accepted as much for his undying love for the Supreme, as for the promise that Madison’s discarded body would be his to do as he willed.

The Coven stood in petrified horror as Spalding shared his dark tale, but no one was more horrified than Michael. Spalding and Fiona had destroyed Madison’s life for assuming she would be the next Supreme, what would they have done to his sweet Mallory if they knew what he knew? He didn’t assume anything, he knew she was the Next Supreme. Michael felt the cold embrace of the purest fear at the thought of seeing Mallory in Madison’s place, that sent shivers down his spine and all the way to his fingertips. Before he had time to process what he was feeling, his entire body was shaking, but with blind rage. And his enemy was standing right there in that room, held down by Kyle Spencer’s iron-grip, and showing absolutely no remorse.

With one wave of Michael’s hand, Spalding was free from Kyle’s grasp, and thrown across the room, colliding violently against the wall. The strain of using his powers was obvious to anyone who would look at Michael in that moment. But to Mallory the most surprising thing about it was that it seemed a lot less like an effort than it had the last time she had seen it, during the incident with Lady Mead’s dogs. Michael held Spalding against the wall from distance, slowly raising his hand and lifting the man’s feet from the ground.

In her terror, Mallory couldn’t stop asking herself what the contents of Lady Mead’s so-called lessons had been. While with a delicate movement of his index finger, Michael sent Spalding’s body up the wall, hitting the man’s head agains the ceiling with a sickening smashing sound, Mallory was still trying to understand when it was that her sweet lover had become so cold and cruel... and so frighteningly efficient at it.

Michael’s mind, however, was focused on something else. Because, even though Spalding hadn’t said a word after he finished his dark tale concerning the fate of Madison Montgomery, he was speaking loud and clear in thoughts that Michael could hear. Spalding read Michael’s explosion of anger correctly, he knew the boy would stop at nothing to keep his precious Mallory safe. Spalding’s eyes fell on Mallory’s terrified face for a second and Michael felt a shiver down his own spine at the knowing expression in the older man’s features. “So this is the Next Supreme...”, Spalding was thinking turning his attention back to Michael, “... your bonnie lass, of all people!”, the man laughed showing teeth smeared with the blood that had been dripping from his nose, and Michael couldn’t take it anymore. With a flick of his fingers Spalding’s neck snapped broken and his limp, lifeless body fell to the floor.

The Silence the followed was deafening.

“What the Hell are you all staring at?”, it was Lady Mead’s voice what broke it, “somebody has to clean this mess before the ghost of this wretched man appears... you know what to do, son”, she added with a nod to Michael. Still shaking with the aftermath of murder, feeling red hot tears stinging his eyes, Michael took a deep breath to steady himself and snapped his fingers. Spalding’s body was immediately consumed by a strange heatless fire and disappeared. “It’s done.”, Michael said in a low, firm, voice to everyone and no one in particular.

It was Cordelia who had the presence of mind to speak among the chaos. And it was Lady Mead she spoke to, asking the older woman what she was doing in the Manor, and why at that precise moment. Lady Mead calmly replied that Cordelia knew very well why she was there. She had come for the boy. Cordelia spoke to the lady in sharp tones that were most unusual for someone so mild mannered as she was. Cordelia said she would sooner take her own life and put an end to the entire Coven by her own hands, if she was not able to protect Michael from the evil influence of the She-Devil in front of her. “You will vacate the Grange immediately. You will leave the grounds tonight, and in the morning I don’t want to find any trace that you were ever there.”

Michael wanted to confront Cordelia for the way she was treating his mentor, the only person who has ever seen true potential in him, and worked hard to teach him everything she could. But one look into Mallory’s eyes and his protests died in his throat. His Bonnie Lass, as Spalding had referred to her, was livid with terror looking at Michael with her eyes wide in fear and pleading, her tears begged him to tell her that things were not as they seemed, that he was not this devilish creature she had in front of her. Capable of killing with such cold-hearted power and ease, showing no remorse.

For Mallory, more than anything else, to take the look of fear from those beloved eyes, he would not stand up for Lady Mead while she was being cast away from the Grounds. He wanted to put Mallory’s heart at ease when he agreed to wait alone in one of the students’ dormitories, while the impromptu counsil would get together to decide what was to be done next. With the Coven. With the next Supreme. With Kyle as “the new Spalding”. With the crimes that had been committed by those who were no longer alive to answer for them. And with Michael. How does one solve a problem like Michael?

Cordelia made it clear that for reasons that should remain secret, Michael needed to be eliminated. The people involved in the hideous murder of Madison Montgomery were already dead, and Zoe wanted to discuss the possibility of bringing her friend back with the help of Misty Day. But Michael was too powerful and too unpredictable to stay in the Coven. And whatever his grandmother had told Fiona, and Fiona told Cordelia, simply meant it was not safe to let the boy go out in the world, either. Specially not under the care of someone like Lady Mead.

It broke Misty’s heart to think about Mallory and how she would feel when she learned about the Coven’s decision. Misty was the closest witness to the blossoming of their love, and she felt particularly miserable thinking about the star-crossed lovers. Because Misty knew that the true nature of her relationship with Miss Cordelia would be frowned upon in the Coven, since the very notion of the existence of such feelings had been all but prohibited by Lady Fiona. She knew what it was like to love someone everyone around you thinks you shouldn’t. But she couldn’t imagine how Mallory would feel when facing the imminent destruction of her beloved one, and by the hands of her so-called sisters.

Misty excused herself from Zoe, promising the younger witch that they would discuss the plans to bring Madison back on the next day, after the Michael Problem had been solved. She went straight to where she knew Mallory could be found: the old room they shared when Mallory first arrived at the manor, the one where they received Michael’s nightly visits, more often than not. All things combined, made her realise that the most appropriated person to communicate the Council’s decision to Mallory was Misty herself.

Mallory was on the window-sit, looking at the Manor’s grounds and seemed lost in thought. When she looked at Misty there was no hope in those beautiful, wide eyes. But no desperation either. Mallory knew what the sentence was before Misty’d said anything. But she knew there was something more to Cordelia’s decision, something no one would tell Mallory, of course. Misty dealt with the situation the only way she knew how, opening her own arms wide, and offering Mallory some kind of consolation. Mallory’s composed face broke, and she threw herself into Misty’s arms, crying copiously.

“I failed him, Misty... I should have told him what I really thought of Lady Mead and her relationship with him... now he’s lost. He’s lost and it’s all my fault!!”

“You can’t possibly mean that... what he did was atrocious, and he must answer for that.”

“But he did answer! Whatever atrocity he might have done was in answer to their atrocious acts...”

“Those matters should be taken to the Coven, my dear, not dealt with in one’s own hands...”

“So whatever the Coven says, it’s the final word...”

“Don’t you trust you Coven, Mal? Your family? Your sisters?”

“I love the Coven! I love the grounds around the manor, and the air over this building and everything it touches, every life it changes, and every word that is said here...”

“So there you have it! What about your feelings towards Michael?”

“My love for the Coven is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Michael resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Misty, I am Michael! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don’t talk of our separation again: it is impracticable. He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

But Misty knew separation was precisely what fate had in store for Mallory and Michael. Maybe not the abrupt separation of death, but he would have to leave if he wanted to survive. But what could possibly make him leave the Manor, when even the threat of imminent death wasn’t enough to persuade Michael to leave his beloved girl behind. The answer, Misty though, seemed to be the crying girl in front of her. Mallory would have to tell him to leave, but that wouldn’t be enough, he’d want to stay with her for as long as he could. Unless he was convinced she didn’t love him. Mallory would have to lie to Michael. To save him.

Misty shared her plan with Mallory, the young witch understood immediately that it was her only chance to keep Michael alive. She listened with wide-eyed interest, but Misty thought she could almost hear the hollow sound of the girl’s heart breaking. And soon it would be Michael’s. Those two hearts that now were beating as one would be shattered to pieces on the same night. Getting inside the room where Michael was spending the night was the easy part. It wouldn’t take much more than a simple Concilium spell to convince Kyle Spencer to let her in. The part that made Mallory’s blood freeze in her veins came after she had crossed the treshold.

The man she found inside the room was simply her Michael as she’d always known him, not the murderous monster she had expected. He ran to her with a sigh of relief and held her in a loving embrace. That only made everything even more difficult. Mallory wished she could stop time, so that they could hold each other and stay safe together forever. She buried her nose on the curve of his neck and inhaled deeply, the sweet and earthy scent of the man she loved, and it almost ruined her resolve completely. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, but if she didn’t do what she had to, she’d be forced to live in a world where he was not even alive. That thought gave her perspective of the importance of what she was doing there, and the strength to go on.

“Im sorry, I’m so sorry I lost control!”, he whispered urgently in her ear, “I was just so terrified when I thought their next victim could be you”, he added between quick kisses, “I just wanted to protect you, I meant no harm to the Coven, I’m not dangerous... You ought to make them see that!!”, he looked deep into her eyes at that point, holding both her hands in his. Mallory believed him, his words spoke directly to her heart, but she knew it wouldn’t suffice for Miss Cordelia and the Coven. It took every inch of Mallory’s will to keep her own voice steady when she added in an ice-cold tone “It’s too late, Michael”.

She couldn’t stop now, she had to say everything she had agreed to with Misty. She kept telling herself it was the only way to save him, “You don’t belong here, you never have...”, she wanted to fall on her knees and beg him to forget those words, but she kept going, “... all the time you’ve spent training with Lady Mead was proof of that. You should leave with her, tonight. This was never your home”. Michael still tried to reason with her, through the veil of sadness that had fallen between them “The Coven might not have been my home, but you were. You are the only home I know, the only home I’ll ever need! Mallory, I...”.

But she cut him off “you cannot be taking promises made by children seriously...”

“Mallory, we are not children anymore...”, this conversation was making less sense to Michael by the minute.

“I needed your powers”, she had to turn away so he couldn’t see the pain on her face, “I needed you for the sacred rites...”

“We have been together outside the rites!!”, his heartbreak was growing into desperation now, “we have loved each other as man and woman, not just as the Goddess and her Consort...”

“Loved? That is a strong word!”, his own pain kept Michael from seeing how much it cost Mallory to say those words, “I said what I had to say to get you where I needed you... and you believed whatever you wanted to believe.”, part of her wished Michael could see through her lies and make her stop talking, but she knew there was no other way. “But now it’s dangerous for me to be associated with you...”, she gave a short and bitter chuckle, “it was already degrading before, but you had to go and make it worse...”, Mallory could hear Michael’s sobs and all she wanted to do was hold him in her arms and beg for his forgiveness, kiss him and tell him everything was going to be alright again, but she couldn’t, “... which is why you must leave tonight, with Lady Mead.”, she left the room before she’d lose her resolve, and throw herself at his feet and begged him to stay. And Michael would never be able to see, blinded by his own misery, how much her heartbreak and despair mirrored his.

Misty found Mallory later that night, she went back to the bedroom they had shared. Mallory was by the window, silente tears streaming down her face from those beautiful eyes, while she saw the love of her life disappearing into the night. She accepted the comfort of the arms Misty offered her, collapsing against the older witch’s body crying the pain out. “How can I live without my life, Misty? How can I love without my soul?”

Taglist: @blakewaterxx @ccodyfern @consultingsnowqueen @coollangdon @crossdressingpirate @hecohansen31 @kalam22 @kirchnvrs @lathraios @laying-with-the-devil @michael-langdon-appreciation @mvllorylvngdon @mytrash-mylife @no-need-for-rules @queen-of-quotes @rosegoldrichie @sophiegracejreylo @suspirateux @tayfinities @touch-in-the-night @wvntersldr @xavierplympton

[chalabrun]

little miss moppet, ch. 1/2

Word Count: 1,083 Pairing: Jareth/Sarah Williams Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: Jareth finally decides to show Sarah the contents of the box he hid under his bed. (Based on Labyrinth: The Coronation). A/N: If it isn’t obvious enough, I only ship Sareth as they exist in Pika la Cynique’s Girls Next Door and the manga sequel, Return to Labyrinth. I don’t ship them as they appear in the original movie for personal, probably obvious reasons.

( READ ON AO3 ]

“Oh, Sarah, back so soon?”

With midterms looming tall and high, it took Sarah a long moment to process what her roommate, Christine, had just said. Setting her backpack down by the couch, she regarded the blonde in bemusement. “Back so soon? Christine, I’ve been out at the library all day. I was studying with the other Wibsy members, remember?”

“You mean you weren’t rehearsing at the drama club? You had blonde hair and everything,” Christine said as she set the textbook she was reading aside, unfolding her legs from her perch on the couch.

“Wait, drama club? We don’t meet until next week, unless—ugh! Why do I have a feeling this has Jareth written all over it?” Sarah groaned as she collapsed on the couch, raking her hands through her hair. “Or glitter all over it, should I say?”

Christine placed her hands on her lap, looking contemplative. “You think it might be some spell gone wrong? Maybe it’s a shapeshifter, or some new tenant? We do have a lot of magic users in the building…” Christine said thoughtfully, pursing her lips worriedly.

“I’m going to go investigate. Might be a good break after all the cramming, anyways.”

“Good luck, Sarah! I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Suddenly, the mundane worry over her midterms suddenly melted into this newfound trepidation. Why was there some doppelganger wandering the apartment complex—or university campus—with blonde hair? Was it really even her? Feeling as though someone had walked on her grave, the near instant she emerged from her shared apartment with Christine did a frigid presence trail through the hall.

A statuesque, pale woman with a cool blue tint to her complexion, impossibly long silver hair, and frosty blue eyes in a regal dusty blue silk kimono stood out in the hallway, flanked by a two younger woman—one who was incredibly massive and the other thin as a wisp. Sarah stared on in odd fascination before the woman barked something that snapped her to attention.

“Moppet! Get over here! Hurry up or else we’ll be late to see Jareth!”

That alone caused the blood to curdle in her veins. Behind them did a girl who looked exactly like her, sans with blonde hair and a tanned complexion, stumble in behind with a bevy of suitcases balanced vicariously in her arms. Moppet. The very name her mother used to nickname her as a child. Something like indignation and aching disbelief welled in Sarah’s breast, unable to say anything.

Most of all, she felt hurt.

“Moppet? What—oh. Oh my. You must be her!” the woman exclaimed with a sinister glee as those frozen hues found Sarah, Moppet herself stock still as the brunette. “You must be the one my poor Jareth is so unfortunately enamored with! Oh, you poor thing, being so plagued by him. But, you don’t have to worry anymore because I’m here for my fiancé, you see.”

Sarah blinked at what Mizumi just said. “Wait, he’s…your fiancé?” she asked incredulously, feeling something bleak and hollow open up in her breast.

“Of course! What, did you really think an immortal as old has him has only ever been fixated on you? No, my dear, we were lovers before you ever came along. And with our most recent arrangement, that he lost mind you, I’ve come to collect,” Mizumi said with a note of giddiness, eyes practically chatoyant in their delight. “Have you seen him? The sooner we can leave this dump, the better!”

“That’s quite enough, Queen of Cups. Not another word to Sarah!”

Sarah didn’t know whether to feel guarded or threatened by the way Jareth circled his arms around her shoulders, practically able to feel his hackles raise. “Jareth—”

“That’s enough! You lost our bet, Jareth! You have no right to be schmoozing around with that little harlot!” Mizumi fumed tempestuously, stamping her slippered foot on the ground. “I made you an ablation that you couldn’t get to love you, and we had a deal! The Labyrinth and your heart are mine!”

“Oh, really! How silly of you to take my word for it, Mizumi,” Jareth scathed towards her, until his embrasure of Sarah was extricated from by the brunette herself.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on a second! Back up!” Sarah exclaimed as she slashed her palm between them. “What deal? Jareth why are you suddenly engaged to her? And why is there a girl who looks exactly like me? Talk, both of you!”

“Oh my, you really don’t know, do you? Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. His Majesty can never love anyone more than himself. Just as he’ll never be truly honest with you,” came Mizumi’s snake-like glee as she yanked Moppet by the bicep, the blonde yelping. Jareth stared, horrified, at the sight of her. As though he’d seen a ghost. “Wait, oh no. I have a much better idea! Moppet, would you be so kind as to tell dear little Sarah what really happened? Go on, he hurt you! He hurt you so much!”

Like a doll poised and wound up, only then did she finally begin speaking. “His Majesty made me after he lost you, because he coveted you. I was made from your dreams left behind in the Labyrinth, after you got your brother back. Lady Mizumi agreed to make me because he was despairing so much, despite breaking her heart ages before. Under one condition: I had to fall in love with him, or else she’d get his heart and his kingdom. So, he locked me away in a tower, coming every day and demanding that I fall in love with him. When I couldn’t, he discarded me in Junk City like refuse where I became the mayor’s slave. I suffered because of you, Sarah. I suffered because he couldn’t have you.”

Sarah shuddered after Moppet recounted her story, the ablation staring at her vacantly and disturbingly. Slowly, she inclined her head towards Jareth. “Jareth, is this true? Did you really make this girl just to force her to fall in love with you? Did you really abandon her when she didn’t reciprocate?”

“Sarah, please, that was a long time ago! Things are much different now—!”

“I get it!” Sarah shouted as she turned on her heel, full of fight. “You were different then! But—you couldn’t even tell me? You couldn’t tell me you fucked up?! You know, I thought we were finally getting somewhere, Jareth! I really thought you were opening up to me and really trying to change! For the better, but this—! Jareth, I don’t know if I can forgive this!” Sarah felt tears prickling in her eyes, hugging herself.

“Toby was on me, but this… You imprisoned a person, tried to make her love you all because of me! Jareth, do you even understand where I’m going with this?! Say you are!”

Jareth’s expression fell as his bangs hid his mismatched eyes, Sarah’s searching him desperately. “Say something, Jareth!”

“Sarah, I didn’t think she was still alive—” Jareth murmured weakly, abashed by her righteous anger. “I thought if it came to that, I could deal with her.”

“You stole part of me to just throw it away?! You treated this girl like dirt, Jareth. I— Stay away from me!” Sarah shouted as she bolted down the hall back to her apartment, not looking back.

She couldn’t stand to be around him right now. She didn’t know when she’d be able to again.