#protest until the very earth answers you calls

[stereodaydreams]

Safe & Sound

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader, 2.3k (18+, smut, oral(f!reciving), pnv sex, established relationships, use of baby/baby girl, no y/n, smidge of angst)

Notes: I write for another fandom in a different blog and couldn’t help but jump on the Miguel train. 💛✨

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18+

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Nueva York’s metro moves like a metal bullet tearing into a lavender and yellow sunrise. Birds break out into the skies, traveling from one tree to the next. Steam rises from vents as those waking rush to heat their homes, covering the streets and taxis in a man made fog. The thick mist drifts past cafes where open signs have just flipped and welcome bells ring. But high up on the 76th floor of a condominium, two bodies intertwine beneath warm sheets, too far to be awoken by the commotion.

Miguel’s legs drape over the edge of a bed, bare feet caught in strips of golden sunlight. It’s a king sized bed and somehow he manages to spill out of it, especially when he bullies his way over into your side, broad shoulders blotting out the sun and keeping you in the shadows where your sleep remains undisturbed.

There’s a wide gap from where his side of the bed should be. No matter how many times you tease him about a hostile takeover of what little domain you have of the king sized mattress, Miguel finds a way to fit himself around you. Your bare skin is warm and soft against his. You smell like a blend of your body wash, the pile of bed sheets, and a little like him and it drives him fucking wild. He’ll take whatever time he can have pressed up against you because... well.

Being Spider-Man is more demanding than a full time job. Try as hard as he might, there are nights where his superhero duties don’t end in a timely fashion and you sleep alone with a hand on his pillow. He tells you it’s because no one else can do what he does and… well, it’s half of the truth.

“I’m the one and only Spider-Man,” he laments to you. “The city needs me.”

“You have to come back in one piece. Promise?” you ask as worry etches itself on your face and on your body.

Large fingers wrap around your chin and Miguel pulls you in for a chaste but sweet kiss. Brown eyes blink slowly and his cheeks wrinkle in a smile.

“Always,” Miguel answers.

While you know his big superhero secret identity, there’s another secret that’s he’s been keeping from you— a little white lie. Miguel O’Hara is the only Spider-Man of Earth-928 but he’s not the only Spider-Man. He’s seen alternate realities, other universes where he’s an ordinary man working at a lab while a teenager gets bit and becomes Spider-Man or one where he’s a bodybuilder turned movie star. The multiverse is vast and entertaining to pick apart until Miguel gets a peek of realities that make his stomach twist and drop.

The fortunate events which link you two together often leads to roads where one of you is doomed to an early grave. So he decides he doesn’t want to leave your lives up to chance. Everyday, he whittles at his algorithms, tinkers with new wrist tech, all in the hopes of containing the status quo of his reality.

Miguel’s confident. Statistically, there has to be a reality where it all ends well for you both and it very well may be this one.

He watches your chest rise and fall as you doze and slowly moves his arm from your waist to your wrist. His fingers idly trace a band of metal on your ring finger and he smiles to himself, turning his gaze to a matching gold band on his hand.

You’re his, as he is yours and you are here, alive and safe and—

Miguel buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Your back tenses as you wake, lungs inflating from a quick and deep inhale. With one eye open, you find the time on a wall clock and wince at the numbers you see.

“Mig…” you protest. It’s early, but not unreasonably so and you wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t your day off together. No superhero business, no work calls, just the two of you and a lazy morning. “Five more minutes. No… wait, half an hour.”

“Baby,” he purrs back in your ear.

You make a noise while burying your face into the pillow, your body twisting away from his grasp. Miguel laughs and exhales a warm breath that tickles the nape of your neck.

“Are you still tired?” he asks, voice low and laced with desire.

You know that tone and if his wandering hands slipping from your waist to your backside are any kind of indicator, Miguel won’t be letting you slumber for much longer. You can’t help it. Your back arches to his touch, lips parting in a half moan.

“Mhmm,” you mumble, your face digging into cotton as you nod. “Can’t wake up m’too sleepy.”

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back. You’re lucky he finds you cute. Miguel’s palm grips your butt and gives it a small squeeze before the weight behind you dips as he shuffles his large body further down the bed. His hands engulf your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls them apart. You’ve no choice but to reorient yourself onto your back, following his movement down your thighs.

“Mig, what are you up to?” You eye him warily with a lazy smile tugging at your lips. Your vision blurs as your eyelids threaten to shut.

He lays a kiss on your inner thigh. Bright red tints the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and replace the soft brown.

“Do you need help waking up?” At your nod, he continues, “That’s what I’m up to.”

He smirks, fangs catching the light of the morning sun and it’s gone once his face dips lower. His tongue drags along the seam of your sex, dipping between your folds for a quick taste. Miguel lets out a rumbling sound, pushing his face in deeper to breathe you in. Your fingers work their way into his hair but your grip is loose, a sleepy sort of pawing at his head. Still half awake, your thighs are slack, tensing only as his tongue rises and reaches a hard nub of nerves.

“Mig…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s my baby. Come here.”

A hand wraps around your back and lifts your hips up for him while thick fingers prod at your cunt. Miguel wraps his lips around your clit, licking flat, broad strokes as amber eyes watch you writhe and jolt beneath him.

“You don’t look so sleepy anymore,” he goads. You shake your head and he chuckles. “No?”

“Nuh uh-h. Oh god—”

He eases two fingers in knuckle deep, groaning at how wet they get. Pumping them in slowly, Miguel curls them around sensitive nerves, feeling you clench down on his hand. It’s easy to lose yourself to the feel of your husband’s mouth on you and the stretch of his fingers pounding into you, but you eventually notice something’s off.

You can feel him grinning while he licks and swirls his tongue around your swollen nub, hands beginning to slow to a halt. His fingers pull almost all the way out you, causing your eyes to finally open and a noise of protest leaves your lips.

“Mig—” you begin, swallowing down a hiccupy moan. “Miguel, please.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Wicked as ever, his tongue moves at unrelenting speeds. Heat flares from your abdomen, thighs twitching out of your control. Between you and him, there’s a damp mess between your legs as Miguel bullies your clit. Your hips try to chase his fingers as they leave you for good, desperate to clench around something, anything. You let out a sob when he stops to press a kiss to your clit.

“Babe!” you cry out, pulling harshly at his hair.

His face rises just enough for you to spot how drenched his chin is. A pink tongue darts around his lips and he smirks.

“You want it, baby girl?” His voice takes on a rougher quality as he challenges you. Large fingers push at your cunt, almost in but not quite. “Work for it.”

Your limbs are still heavy from sleep but the need to feel Miguel makes you roll your hips until you feel yourself push down and squeeze around his fingers. He doesn’t move though, grins wider while he watches you fuck yourself on his hand.

“Isn’t that better?” Miguel asks like he doesn’t know the answer. The hand on your back slips away, flattening onto the bed as he rises above you. You’re too busy trying to follow his other hand to realize he’s right by your head, wide shoulders blotting out the morning sun.

Breath hot and heavy, he snarls in your ear, “Does it feel good when you listen?”

“Mhmm!”

You cling to him, clumsily grabbing his arms as an anchor. Between gasps and moans, his name is a chant on your lips, drawing him closer.

Miguel’s an odd entity. Without the mask, he’s soft with you, cracks smiles throughout the day and fills your ears with loving whispers of devotion. He’s not demanding of you in the way that he is with his team of superheroes at his beck and call. You’ve overheard him being prickly and impatient when things don’t go to his plans, seen him bare his teeth in anger. But never at you.

In here, where the sheets are silken, the atmosphere a little lighter, a little slower… Miguel’s a different man.

“You’re so close… I can feel it,” he growls out. He places a hand on your hip to still your twisting form and it’s infuriating how little effort he uses to hold you like a limp doll. With slick sounds, his fingers slide in and out of you, dragging across taut nerves. “Not yet, baby girl. Not yet.”

“Mig, please. I need you. I need…”

“Hmm?” He lays a kiss on your cheek, lips lifting in a smirk. Miguel wanders down, repeating his hummed reply, kissing your jaw and nipping at your neck. “Say it again.”

You whine and rake your nails across the broad expanse of his shoulders, drawing red lines on sun-kissed skin. “Need you in me, Miguel.”

Your words seep through his skin and into his bones. Every fiber of him aches for you. He’s the king of edging himself, of self control as he fights to ignore the throbbing twitch of his cock. You call to him once more, needy and desperate for him, and Miguel’s done. His hips rut forward, seeking your soaked cunt and he finds it, the fat head of him nudging at your entrance.

He groans out your name, head hung forward and his hands splaying around your face. The sheets strain from his claws retracting and returning and all you see in his eyes are red. Miguel’s shoulders push into the backs of your knees as he hinges forward, forcing your thighs further open for him. There’s mumbled Spanish flowing past his lips as he claims you slowly, your husband taking his sweet time filling you up.

“Fuck, sweet girl. My wife. So fucking tight for me,” he groans.

The pace he sets is fast and devastatingly deep. Miguel reaches spots that makes you incoherent, makes your head toss back as you spew whatever your fucked out mind can give him. It’s messy, rough and he fucks you like you’d never break. And you never do. You always give him what he needs and knowing that brings him to his knees.

Red eyes find you in the waves of passion and Miguel’s looking at you as though this moment is finite. He’s never going to tell you about the other you’s— can’t let you know the statistics which haunt him daily.

Instead, Miguel devours your every moan, lips crushing yours so he can taste you as you tremble. You’re impossibly tight around him, muscles clamping down on him and skin slick with sweat. Your nails mark his back and shoulders, smaller fingers winding into his curls and tugging hard. He can feel you falling off the edge and leans into it, all too happy to chase the end with you.

His hand works its way between you, firm thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. There’s no reprieve from the cascade of sensations he’s building. Miguel chases your climax until you come around him with a cry of his name.

“Yes, baby girl. Fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

Hips rutting faster, cock pushing you towards hypersensitivity, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you in close. His back muscles seize beneath your hands as he comes with a groan. Miguel’s muttering your name in a breathy chant, hips slowing to a roll as more of his thick spend fills you.

His nose bumps yours, eyes brimming with warmth and fondness. It should feel dirty and hot with how wet it sounds between your legs but you don’t hear it when Miguel murmurs in your ear.

“Still sleepy?” he coos.

You grab at his cheeks and squeeze, receiving an eye roll on his part. He’s handsome but stubborn, your husband.

“Mig…” you laugh. “Can’t feel my bones after that.”

He nuzzles your cheek and hums an acknowledgment. You’re warm, still clinging to him in more than one way. Outside, the sky’s turned blue as the sun finds its way through the windows, shining brightly on your skin. Beads of sweat caught on your neck and chest glitter in the light. He’s never seen anything as beautiful as you.

“Breakfast?” he offers.

“Shower,” you insist and twist your hips to remind him of the stickiness which coats both your bodies.

“Mmm. But I like you like this,” Miguel teases. He rolls his hips, cock still hard and buried deep, eliciting a moan from your lips. “So full of me, baby.”

“I like it, too,” you answer and squeeze his cheek again.

Miguel smiles as if he’s a man unburdened. Here in Spiderman 2099’s universe, you’re safe and sound.

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp HCs: SO wearing Another Suitor's clothes

How do they react when their s/o borrows clothes from another suitor?

Suitors: Theo, Isaac, Shakespeare, Drake

Theo

Oh no no no no no no no no. Cut. Stop.

He knows Y/N is not wearing that playboy's jacket.

When the dealer comes across his hondje one evening tucked safely in Arthur's jacket, one could see the author's lifespan dwindling with every passing minute that she wore it.

"What...the hell is this?"

Said author even saw fit to tease him about it, resulting in being chased around the mansion by his best friend/ future killer, until Vincent had to rescue Arthur from certain death and Y/N returned his jacket to him for his safety.

The reason she was wearing it in the first place? Arthur had left it when he was going out and Y/N kept it for him until she saw him again and, because she was busy all day, she had no desire to carry it around that whole time. So she put it on until she found the owner, only for Arthur to insist she kept it on for the rest of the day, because, in his words, she looks simply adorable.

No, that didn't make him feel better. His hondje should not be wearing any another man's clothing, let alone Arthur's.

End of story, no discussion, not up for debate.

And he lets her know that when he scolds her later, unplacated by her defensive answer of it not being a big deal.

This of course, results in him pinching her soft cheek as she squealed in protest.

"The next time I catch you wearing another man's clothes, you'll get a lot more than this."

The implications of his words are not lost on the woman.

Y/N's scowl was overshadowed by the blush spreading across her face.

Isaac

When Isaac was faced with the sight of Y/N fully dressed in Napoleon's soldier uniform, he wasn't sure what to feel.

He wasn't even sure how to call attention to it, sputtering a little when he saw her at first.

"What...what on earth are you wearing?"

When he did manage to bring himself to ask her, Y/N had answered that Napoleon had offered to let her wear it after she asked out of curiosity.

He wasn't entirely certain how he felt about that. He supposed there was no harm meant by it but still...

He wouldn't bring it up after that, and would try to put it out of his mind, but as she wore it the whole day, he couldn't help sneaking slightly sullen looks in her direction. She looked engulfed in the clothing...almost like she was engulfed in Napoleon.

No, not a pleasant line of thought at all.

When the two of them are finally alone by the end of the day, he plucked his courage and turned towards her with a huffy, but very embarrassed face as he cut off her sentence.

"I...don't like it much when you wear another man's clothes. Please refrain from doing so in future."

He said it all in one breath, his cheeks red, his face set in a frown he hoped was serious, as his beloved gaped back at him, blinking rapidly in confusion.

It was after all, a very random switch of topics. She hadn't even been aware that it was even bothering him. But she had to respect how vocal he was being in that moment, especially because open communication wasn't his forte.

"I know I sound childish but...it's just the way I feel..."

He locked eyes with her upon saying this, making her heart skip a beat.

As if she really needed another reason to fall for Isaac...

Shakespeare

Oh...oh this could be a problem.

When his mismatched eyes land on Vincent's scarf coiled around his muse...?

He is none too pleased.

The only reason she was wearing it, come to find out, was because Vincent had asked her to wear it, because he wanted to paint the pattern and needed her as a mannequin of sorts.

Then he allowed her to keep it for the remainder of the day as thanks and since she was comfortable in it, here she was.

Will stared back at her with an unreadable expression as she explained, not speaking until she was finished.

Once she is, he gives a perfectly calm smile, saying that it suited her. The smile made her a little bit...chilly though...

And he brought no more attention to it...but at some point, Y/N noticed she is missing the scarf.

She completed lost her mind trying to find the item and when neither she and the oh so innocent Shakespeare couldn't find it, she went home to Vincent, dejected and preparing to tell him she lost it...

Only to find Vincent wearing it.

The scarf might not have been lost anymore, but she certainly.

Shakespeare for his part, only smiled and answered her puzzled look with-

"Perhaps the scarf found itself longing for it's owner and thus made haste back where it belongeth....which is not upon the shoulders of my love..."

He's a scary one, that man. Y/N shuddered slightly as she gave her beloved a nervous laugh.

Drake

His fawn prancing around in another man's clothes? No.

Why Y/N had Galileo's cloak draped over her bare shoulders while she waited for him at the university was completely beyond him.

When he had initially seen her, he had blinked multiple times, asking why she was wearing it, the answer being that she had been waiting for him to pick her up as they planned, but she had gotten a bit chilly because of her dress being off shoulder and Galileo had seen her and gave her his cloak while he went to teach a class.

An innocent enough answer...but he still didn't like it. The surprise faded away from Drake's face as his expression went flat, sending a chill down his lover's spine.

Suddenly he smiled cheerfully, after being silent for a beat.

"Say, little fawn, why don't you let me hold Galileo's cloak, and you can just cuddle with me instead?"

He said it with such a sweet, persuasive tone that Y/N didn't need to put much thought into shrugging off the cloak and trading it for the comfort of Drake's arms. She lay her head on his chest as she was wrapped in his warm embrace, his hand caressing the top of her head. He then pulled her head up to meet his suddenly serious aquamarine eyes.

"...It's just a cloak, but it's like he's laid claim to you. "

He smirked a little, almost rueful as he stroked her cheek.

"I won't hand over the privilege of protecting you to anyone. Even if its just from the cold."

The man is a pirate, through and through.

🌸

[witch-hazels-musings]

nepenthe

Warning: slight angst/ much comfort - sfw, domestic (unconditional love), character perspective | sending love to our sad boys 

character x GN reader | anthology

Includes: Childe, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya

Hope.

A dying concept. One withering away slowly, painfully, until nothing but the hollow truth is left behind. Hope is debilitating - so why not let it go?

Childe

Sounds. It’s always sounds that wake him. Soft rattles, distant shouts, blood-wrenching screams he’d wish would let him rest but, alas, he could never escape what destiny kept throwing at him. Childe’s steady, heavy breathing began to ease as he captured several in his lungs. It energized the body that itched to move so he stretched his limbs and arched his back until reality came back into clarity. 

The pillow he held was wet so he pushed it away and let his face fall on the bedsheets below. They smelled familiar, comfortable. So much so that he crawled his way to the source only to find nothing there for him to touch, to pull against him, to wrap his yearning arms around just so he could hear a gentle protest. His brows furrowed and he opened his eyes. 

How come you have left me. I told you not to, didn’t I? 

Pushing up on his arms, he collapsed on bent legs, his bare arm pushing into the mattress as he yawned and shook his head. Tufts of hair slapping about in an un-brushed mess. 

‘Let me help,’ he expected someone to say but none came, and he hated it. He felt an itch, an unease somewhere in his chest that nothing could satisfy. An elongated mirror reflected his displeasure back at him. 

Scanning the room, he searched for answers. A closet left unattended, a desk where he expected to see a figure bent over and working on something he didn’t understand, a hand on a hip as it stood in the doorway, waiting for him to get out of bed already. He found nothing except an unease and a clinging scent that had no owner. 

Frustrated, he crawled out of bed. The floor was warmed only by the sun spilling in through the windows. Even the house itself felt vacant. As he headed for the bedroom door, he heard something that made him pause and, just like a wish he would make as a kid, an angel appeared in his doorway. 

“O-Oh, hello sleepy,” you beamed, your hand filled with two cups of steaming liquid. You passed by him and he smelled it; the thing he was missing. “I’ll place your cup here while you get rea-aye! Childe!” 

He lifted you from the floor not caring that you protested. Like he’d done it countless times, he hoisted you up and over him so he could practically body-slam you onto the unmade bed. His arms closed, secure around your waist while you fought with the sheets to breathe. 

“Childe!” You struggled against him, shock and awe plastered on your very existence. 

“Sleep more.” 

“What do you mean sleep more?” He pushed you forward with powerful legs while his bare and muscular arms pulled you against his chest. Your back felt so comfortable he wondered why he woke up with a pillow instead of you. “Ch-” 

“--n’t call me that.” He mumbled against the back of your neck and draped a leg over your own. “You smell good.” 

He felt you shiver, it made his heart pound, “do I, Ajax?” 

“Yes,” he said with satisfaction in his heart but hunger everywhere else.  

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in. 

Hope. And it sounds like your name. 

--

Dainsleif 

His back ached so he adjusted. His legs felt tight so he uncrossed them. His hand felt empty so he reached for what should have been there. The panic in his heart rose slowly until his nails dug into the earth, void of what should have touched them. 

Dainsleif opened his eyes against his own better judgement. The sun in the leaves was brighter than he anticipated so he blocked it out with his hand. Birds sung above him, the leaves rustled gently. The world moved on but he felt stuck. 

A quiet keeper with nothing left to keep.

Curiously, he searched for signs of what was lost to him. A life he never imagined, a place unmeant for a being like him. This knowledge he knew but somewhere he refused to listen anymore, and now, now he wish he had. 

Pressure on his arm lingered, the weight of another pushed against him but his side was vacant, ready to be filled. Carefully, he lifted himself from the ground so he could wander, follow, or listen as he needed. The camp before him looked undisturbed. The barrier above him was still holding, the thick canvas rustling in the morning breeze. The fire just out of reach burned as if it had recently been lit, a kettle steaming above it. There were signs, signals. He just had to read them correctly. 

Pacing around the campsite, he noticed a set of footprints and set off in the direction they went. Dain wanted to run, wanted to sprint after them but their trail was so faint her might have missed a turn, a backtrack; one miss-step and he could become even more lost than he already was. 

A splash caught his attention and soon he reached the edge of the tree line that gave view to a babbling riverbed. There you were, standing at its bank with your hand in the stream and body perched on a rock. It appeared you were washing something, perhaps an old shirt that had wandered a journey far more dangerous than he’d ever wish upon it. He thought seeing you there would give him back the ability to breathe, but it didn’t. 

He stepped and you found him. 

“Dain, morning,” you called with a ring in your voice. The one he’d recognize above all else, the one he’d remember until all else faded. His. His one. 

When he drew close enough, he stood above you while you sat on the rock. Your hand wet from the cool river, arm exposed to the sunlight that had already started affecting your skin. He’d block it all out if he could. 

“Hey, I’m almost -- Dain?” He leaned in, his hand flush against the spring-touched stone and he captured what he knew he shouldn’t with lips that had known no other for centuries. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Diluc 

It took a while for his senses to return. For the pull of sleep to fall away from him like frost on morning leaves. His breathing shifted from steady, slow movements to deliberate ones, ones that filled his ears as if to rouse him more. Diluc could feel it all. The bedsheets beneath him, the silken one against his stomach. His hand as it rose and fell on his bare chest, twitching fingers spurring to life. He adjusted in the down-pillow and became washed in a scent so powerful it opened his eyes. 

He expected to find you there. Resting peacefully at his side. Perhaps you would face him and he could take in your radiance, or you’d have your back to him so he could be gifted with a place for his tender kiss. It was likely you’d already be awake, a book in your hand or document to review. Hair out of place but oh so perfect. He expected to see you, turning to him with a smile he’d recognize and a voice that called his name. You weren’t, and his heart ached because of it. 

Diluc rose from the bed. Strong arms flexing to keep him up-right as he scanned the room in search of something to ease his unsteady nerves. There was nothing except for the lingering knowledge you were once here. 

A shirt draped over the back of a chair. Items you’d picked out in the city strewn across the dresser her gave up trying to keep clear. The bathroom door left ajar but the wafting remnants of shampoo spilled from inside. He rubbed the back of his head, let his hands run across his tired face before they fell in between the legs he’d walk for miles on just to see you one more time. 

The world is still, but he is not. 

Diluc adjusted his shirt; memories of your fingers buttoning it closed, of your hand running down his chest. They made him smile and he shook his head in the mirror at what a man he’d become. The belt around his waist tightened, the engravement on the leather made him pause when his thumb ran over it. A gift from you. Practical, personal, something to carry you with him no matter where he wandered. You were always protecting him, in more ways than one. When he reached for his tie, he flung it around his neck knowing he didn’t need to see to put it on, and made his way down the hall. 

Maid’s bowed in respect, attendants continue on their duties while he searched, meandered; he was lost. 

A gentle melody spilled from the kitchen, drew him in. It was empty save for one soul who reeled him in like a fish accepting they’d been caught. His hands reached for their hips, his chin settled against them and elicited a laugh that filled his heart more than anything ever had.   

“Goodmorning, handsome,” you hummed, head turning to press a kiss to his lonely cheek. He replied with one of his own to your upper shoulder. “I made coffee, want some?” 

“In a minute,” Diluc spun you to face him, let his forehead rest against your own, breathed in what he was missing from his bed. 

“I love you too,” you professed as you adjusted his skewed tie while he waited for yesterday to fade so he could welcome in today. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Kaeya

The night comes unexpectedly. Each and every time he falls without knowing - perhaps it’s on purpose that goes until he forgets. Is it hard to face the truth Mr. Calvary Captain? He’s uncertain but there is one thing he knows. 

His dreams have come again. Those dreams that leave a bitter taste in his mouth until he finds something sweet to drown them out. His own twisted sense of curative measures that never last long. Licking his lips makes him grimace so he reaches for what clears his senses. 

A scared hand extends across silken sheets, searches, yearns for the warmth that should be there but finds only cold. In a flash his eyes open as if seeing will confirm that what holds him together hasn’t really left him, not yet, please not yet. What he see’s brings him no comfort; tense fingers gripping the nothingness that’s seeped in once again. He raises his head, moves to the other side of the bed. Traces, only traces are what’s left. 

Kaeya feels his heart plummet into his stomach. It stops, it all stops, and in the early morning a familiar feeling creeps back in. 

Once the abandoned child, always abandoned. 

Kaeya tears the sheets away from his legs, the cool air hits his skin: his chest, his thighs, his arms and back. He can feel the cold as much as he has command of it. A noise from behind him pulls his attention. The open window whistling as if to mock his nerves so he quickly moves to quiet it. 

His eyes adjust and start to see life where it should be. A bag dropped to the floor, contents spilling out as they often are. A jacket, a hat, it’s all where it should be but their owner is missing and he needs to see - needs to be where that heart beats. Needs to feel the gentle hand that cups his face, the one that takes his with them, the one that cares for him as much as he does them.

A noise from beyond the closed door reminds him there is still a chance so he makes his way there and hopes what lies beyond can chase away the thoughts creeping in. 

A kettle whistles, a voice floats down to meet him so when he reaches the end of the hall and sees the figure who should be at his side standing alone in the half-lit kitchen; he wonders why it’s still so hard to breathe. To ease the pain in his chest that was left by an empty side of the bed. 

When you turn to him, as if you knew he was there all alone, the face you show him is one of love and with open arms you welcome him home. 

“Morning. It’s still a bit early, did I wake you?” you say, unbeknownst to the turmoil he awoke too. You moved to the island counter, hand pressing onto the marble while the other extended to him. He swallowed. 

“And here I thought you were being loud on purpose,” he pushed through, attempting to hold onto the tease that kept him afloat all these years, “what, did you miss me?” 

“So what If I did. I’m allowed,” you played back and he was happy for it. 

He grabbed your lower back, pulling you to him as he breathed desperately, oh so desperately, across your lips, “show me how much.” 

“You first,” you hum. 

So he did. With a kiss that bent your back and brought you close to him, he showed you just how near he was to losing himself to the feeling. All his life he’s given in to the will of others but now he wishes to give it all to you; only you, as long as you are here and he can know the warmth that comes from your touch - even for a moment. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

nepenthe :: a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow 

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hey there.... I'm been literally drowning on college projects and all that stuff, and I'm very stressed....like stressed and sleep deprived asf (and I look more like a vampire with how pale I got, even if I'm naturally fair skinned)

I need a emotional support firetruck hubby, who would remove me from that situation for a well deserved "me-time", and no.... I'm not talking about the lemony kind of, but more of a "I'm gonna draw you a bath and pamper you so much and make you take a nap of 8+ h... whatever you want it or not darling"

I need a purring firetruck hubby that runs like a furnace and dotes on me, cause I at the limit and I refuse to stop....either holo or mass displaced with fem s/o, pls....thanks you very much

I can definitely handle that, anon! I've never written mass displaced bots before but let's give it a try! I hope this helps you relax!!

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

Your perception had become little more than a blur of books, notes, and the blinding glow of your laptop, with the occasional sip of a highly caffeinated beverage to keep you conscious. There wasn't a force on Earth that could tear you away from your work, not even the biological need to sleep, no matter how loudly your body called out for it. Adjusting yourself on your uncomfortable desk chair, (which had been chosen specifically to keep sleep at bay), you tried to soothe your aching head with promises of a nap once this particular batch of work was finished. Whenever that would be...

Quite without warning, a solid pair of arms scooped you up like a cat, pulling you from your chair leaving you to flail against a metal frame until you were adjusted bridal style over two solid servos.

"Heatwave!" you cried as scattered papers fluttered about the room, clinging to his mass shifted form as adrenaline surged through your body. Getting more settled in his grasp and securing an arm behind his helm, you allowed your heart to slow it's hammering against your ribs with a sigh before your nonexistent patience snapped and you got quite huffy about the intrusion. "What are you doing?!"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked, catching you off guard. Looking quite unaffected by your displeasure, he made no move to set you down, not that you had much of a will to fight him.

"No?" you answered honestly, vaguely recalling the clock showing some ridiculous late hour the last time you'd looked. "But it doesn't matter, I need to work-"

"You need to sleep, babe." he interrupted firmly, lifting you closer to his chassis as he maneuvered his pedes over the plentiful papers that had been scattered across the floor. The movement stirred up a weak burst of defiance in you, and you looked back towards your desk as he walked to the door, the sight of your ample remaining work summoning what little energy you had left to resist.

"I don't have time..." you protested weakly, hoping he would look past his stubborn, protective nature and just let you have this. There was simply so much you needed to get done, and the thought of going through the hoops required for an extension made you want to just deal with the lack of sleep. Being in his arms made it hard to care about much of anything, however, especially with the natural warmth of his armor soaking into your stiff muscles...

"I wasn't asking." Heatwave said with protective firmness, holding your head closer to his helm so he could speak in a soothing purr. Having your ear against his chest allowed you to hear the hum of his spark, and it was so unbelievably relaxing your traitorous eyes nearly drifted shut in an instant.

"I'll have to ask the board for more time, and there's no guarantee they'd give it to me." you said, offering one final token of resistance as he walked down the hallway and approached your bedroom. It was the one the two of you shared when he was mass displaced, and the thought of snuggling with your big, handsome fire truck all but eliminated your desire to resist his efforts. The world felt so far off and unimportant as he opened the door to your dark bedroom...

"Don't worry about that, I've got it handled." he said with a small chuckle, sounding quite proud of whatever he'd set up on your behalf. Brief musings as to what he planned on pulling faded when he laid you down on the massive, plush berth that had been designed to comfortably hold the both of you. Sinking face first into the bedding, you welcomed the calming touch of his hand on your back, smiling softly as he traced it up and down your aching spine. "Now; no more fussing..."

His voice faded as he slid his digits up to your shoulders, where he found the muscles rigid and sore from countless hours of stressful hunching.

"Pit, you're tense as a steel rod. How long were you bent over that desk?" he asked as he sat down on the berth with you. Blinking blearily, you tried to reply, but were cut off when his thick digits began to massage into all the places causing you pain. Having his warm, solid touch rubbing soothing circles over your back was all you needed to finally relax for real, and a soft sigh of satisfaction told him to continue.

"Take it easy now, babe." he soothed as unconsciousness came over you like a welcome blanket, your lips curling up in a smile as he pampered you to sleep. "I've got ya..."

[thegreenleavesofspring]

d'you mind elaborating on your ghost-beliefs? I'm curious (no pressure if you don't want to, or feel free to dm me if you'd prefer)

I would be THRILLED.

I am going to preface this with a criticism of Protestant leaders at large, specifically in the Western cultures: they have, by and large, entirely ceded the spiritual battleground to Satan in order to concentrate on capitulating more completely in the physical realm.

Further disclaimer: I was raised in the school of thought of "Ghosts are not real, you are delusional or seeing demons". I believed this wholeheartedly until I was in my twenties and started seeing them. This confounded me badly; I tried denial for a bit but once spirits figure out you can see them they don't really... leave you alone. I was then terrified I was losing either my mind or, worse, my faith, so I went a-hunting through the Bible, trying to reconcile what I'd been taught with the reality I could no longer deny.

Nowhere does the Bible say ghosts don't exist. In fact it comes right out and says that they do, once, and assumes their reality in other places.

The Witch of Endor summoned Samuel's ghost. (It should be noted that he was resting and at peace and was summoned, which makes him... not precisely a ghost as I see them but also, yes. A spirit of the dead.)

The disciples believed the risen Jesus was a ghost. They were reproved for their lack of faith in His words, but never were they reproved for believing in ghosts. In fact Jesus encouraged Thomas' belief by telling Thomas to touch him to prove His physical presence.

The dead got up and walked around during the Crucifixion (and I'd really like more details about that but alas.)

When Peter was released from prison, the disciples believed it was his 'angel' (or ghost?)

1 Corinthians 12:10 (that whole chapter is fantastic and also not widely taught)

So that's that. Biblical support.

Now how in blazes are ghosts possible when it says once for man to die and then the judgment?

This one I had to tumble around in my mind for a bit and I finally came to the conclusion that the answer lies in: Man is made in God's image. I've always heard this taught as body shape when it's taught at all, but I think that's not the whole picture.

I think human beings are triune the same way God is triune. In our case, here on earth, that takes the form of physical body/flesh - soul (which goes on to the eternal reward after the death of the body - and what I call the spirit, for lack of a better word - the mind, personality, and memories of the person; what makes us, us. This is what - as far as I can tell; mind you, I can see them, I don't ask a lot of questions - this is what lingers when the body dies and the soul moves on to be with God, or not.

I will add that the dead are meant to rest (sleep, as the Bible calls it). They want to. They're meant to. There's not really any such thing as a 'vengeful ghost' - those are demons masquerading. Ghosts look terrifying and feel terrifying and most the ones I've met have been shatteringly polite and apologetic and just want to rest, please.

Anyway yeah. Ghosts are real and angels are real and demons are real and I've met very, very few people who aren't a mass of confusion if not outright denial. And I wouldn't be surprised if I just lost half my followers with this but I'll admit it's good to be able to break silence at last.

PS: I'm not a witch or possessed. I have been Exorcised and everything. 🙄 I'm just using the gift God gave me.

[daimonpriestess]

On The Edge

A/N: This partly came from a dream I had with Asmodeus.

Warnings: Smut, D/S Play, Brat Kink, Oral.

"I leave her to her own devices for 2 minuetes..." Asmodeus muttered to himself while watching Liliana from afar.

At first watching her get into a fight with a very human looking female (but wasn't) amused him. Despite what she may think he did enjoy watching her fight. Especially some of those moves she pulled off.

But he drew the line at food fights & slurs. Liliana was not in the human world after all, she was in Hell, specifically King Asmodeus's domain.

"Well time to intervene." Asmodeus sighed.

Suddenly the demon king was in between the two of them to break it up. In his incubus form with his wings out, Asmodeus was large & imposing while yes still very attractive.

"This isn't the way I normally enjoy being between two women." The King of Lust murmured.

Liliana was surprised to see him but knew better than to argue as he grabbed her around the waist and flew off.

They arrived at Asmodeus's lair by the beach. Once inside Asmodeus changed forms again, this time into his goetia form, partly at least.

Tall (but nowhere near as large as he really was) with short white hair, a long goatee on his thin face, he wore a tall intimidating black crown. A long black cloak clasped around his shoulders with fur at the collar.

Asmodeus had already set Liliana down once they arrived, he had not looked at her still a bit upset. "You really should have acted with a bit more decorum my dear."

"I was only defending Mikael." Liliana answered a bit annoyed. Referring to her husband on earth.

King Asmodeus turned to look at her then, "Mikael doesn't need you to defend him. Besides you are not his down here, you are mine. A queen act like it."

Irritated, her inner Lilith coming out Liliana almost said she belonged to no one. Then realized how bratty & obstinate that sounded, not to mention immature, she didn't.

Asmodeus quirked an eyebrow at her with a knowing smirk. Then turned to sit on his large throne.

Appearing nonchalant, he looked at his long nails as he said, "I found the initial fight amusing I will admit. But throwing cake into her face and calling her a fat pig, I found less so. That is amusing when the rabble or lesser humans do it yes. But you are beneath that." Asmodeus looked at Liliana as he said, "We deal with our problems in private."

At that Asmodeus crooked a finger, geaustering for Liliana to come and sit on the throne with him. Preferably on his lap, as he grabbed her to him.

Liliana didn't mind as this is what they did, she was used to it. What she wasn't used to was the demons who had suddenly showed up. One's she didn't recognize.

Liliana leaned into her king then. "wait if your going to be in a meeting shouldn't I go?" She asked low, eyeing the demons who grinned at her a bit too lasciviously.

"Nonsense. We've done this before." Asmodeus reminded her, whispering in her ear. "Besides they're not going to see anything." He murmured as he trailed one hand slowly up her thigh and underneath her long skirt.

Liliana tried not to react, but she didn't have thousands of years of experience schooling her face to appear unaffected like he did.

As soon as Az's fingers touched that sweet spot between her legs, Liliana's eyes fluttered closed. Asmodeus noticed of course he did. But he didn't stop, as soon as he started playing with her root chakra Liliana almost came right then, but suddenly Asmodeus stopped, Lili started to protest until she heard him growl in warning.

"Ah not this time. You weren't very good earlier my dear. What makes you think you get a reward..." He growled in her ear, giving it a light nibble.

Then he went back to the business like nothing had happened. Or rather what continued to happen, for a good hour...

Liliana could barely focus once the meeting was over, she was glad they didn't have to walk far or at all really.

But she was still sexually frustrated and that was putting her in a mood. Asmodeus wasn't helping as smirked at her, knowing full well what he was doing.

Lilian knew this denial was a form of punishment. Yet despite her neediness or maybe because of it, Liliana couldn't resist saying impulsilvy. as she walked in front of him, "I could always get Lucifer to give me-"

Her words were cut off, when Asmodeus suddenly grabbed Liliana by the back of the neck, not too harshly but enough to make her pause from walking away.

"what? attention? I doubt if Luci knew how you acted he'd give you what you wanted either, especially if I told him not too." Asmodeus growled in her ear, pulling her head back by her hair. "Now I was going to give you what you wanted eventually..." He trailed off, wrapping his now around her neck, the other gripping her waist once they were in the bed chambers.

"But not if my princess is going to be such a brat." He whispered in her ear, his voice going even deeper in warning and of course lust.

Liliana let out a whimper at the feeling of his body so close to hers. His energy enveloping them like a heated blanket as he gave her a deep kiss.

That was really all it took for Liliana to give in, any semblance of independence or abstinence crumbling, as she turned into him, his hand still around her neck but it loosened as she murmured around his lips. "I'm sorry My King. I shouldn't have acted out."

Asmodeus knew Liliana was only apologizing so he'd give her release. But he softened his hold on her, as he put both hands on the sides of her face, giving her a gentle kiss.

The demon king wasn't letting her off that easy though. Once they parted, Asmodeus looked down at her, his amber eyes flashing with dark intentions, as he gave her a wicked grin. "No you shouldn't have." He replied, letting her go.

Then he walked over to the bed, undoing his cloak as he sat on the edge of the bed, now nude. Smirking he gestured for Liliana to come closer. "I can think of a way you can make it up to me."

Liliana knew too as she eyed his now hard member standing at attention her own eyes lighting up. But before she could move any closer, Asmodeus stopped her with a look, gesturing that he wanted her to take her dress off.

Lili did, slowly giving him a show. To reveal a pale pink lace bra & matching underwear. The deep rumble that reverberated through the room was enough to tell her that he appreciated the view.

Asmodeus crooked a finger towards her, indicating he wanted her closer and on her knees. "You know what to do." he said, his tone dismissive. But Liliana knew it was just because she had been a brat and brats don't get special treatment, not until after.

Asmodeus leaned back, the only bit of comfort was a stroke of her hair as she went down. She took him in deep as she licked the length of him.

"Faster." Her demon king ordered with a growl as he pushed her head down further down. Knowing she wouldn't gag since they were on the astral.

Liliana did as she was told, using her hand as well, Asmodeus gripping her hair. With one last stroke her let out a deep groan as came down her throat. Ordering her to swallow, she did. "Good girl." Asmodeus praised her.

Then with a devilish grin said, "But we're not done yet." As he gripped her chin, making her rise up. Asmodeus stood up as well, towering over her.

He made her sit on the bed this time. "Next time I want you in nothing but this, dancing for me." Asmodeus told her, touching her bra as indication. "For now though I know my princess has been waiting for me to take the edge off." He let out a chuckle at his own joke.

Liliana nodded eagerly at that. "Yes sir please."

"Open." Asmodeus didn't need to tell her twice, as Liliana happily obliged.

"Is this what you've been wanting my dear?" He asked rhetorically, he dragged his nails up thighs then, moving her thong to the side, slowly slipping a finger inside. Az let out an appreciative "Mmm." at realizing how wet she was.

"I'd say so." He remarked. Once he felt her shudder he stopped. Liliana gave him a pleading look. But Asmodeus wasn't done toying with her first. "So sensitive. Your punishments not over yet pet. But...I'll let you have this one." He replied with a dark laugh.

"Thank you, Master." She all but gasped as he plunged two fingers back in.

"Oh don't thank me quite yet." Asmodeus commented as he brought her quickly. "That was one." He said with a grin.

Liliana's eyes widened at the implication. Asmodeus wasn't going to deny or edge her, he was going to overstimulate her instead. not knowing which was worse or better, she started to shake her head.

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow at that, looking down at her. "No? Ok I'll just go then." He made a show of leaving until Liliana grabbed his arm. "No, please Master I need you."

Asmodeus turned back around, smirking as he leaned into her. "Oh trust me darling, I know." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver. "tonight you shall have me, but be careful what you wish for this is going to be a long night."

Asmodeus knew she wanted him to fuck her and he would. But there was a smell that had been driving him crazy between her legs and he wanted a taste.

"But first I must taste you dear." That was all that needed to be said, as the king kneeled down before his queen.

Gripping her hips, as he devoured her. Slow at first, delving his tongue deep into her, reaching further than normal human tongue. Then he gave her nub quick light kitten licks. Knowing that the light touches drove her crazy.

His eyes seemed to glow as he stretched her with his fingers. that with his tongue was enough to send her over the edge as she came a second time. Asmodeus wasn't done though, as he held her down and proceed to suck out another orgasm a Liliana's head fell back and spots colored her vision. It was a good thing she didn't pass out.

Asmodeus let up then, but only gave her a couple minuetes reprieve before he grabbed her, flipping her over. "We're not done yet." He growled, licking her neck as snapped her bra off.

Asmodeus gripped her breasts, his large cock already hard again. "Please fuck me My King." Liliana whimpered, despite having cum 3 times she still needed him to properly fuck her.

No love making tonight, not with how she had acted. But she loved it and her king knew it.

"So needy Princess." Was Asmodeus's only remark as without warning he rammed into her, again good thing they were on the astral and she was already very wet.

Despite it not hurting (for either of them) like it would have, Lili still let out a loud cry at the feeling. Asmodeus stopped then, not wanting to actually hurt her. "You alright darling?" He asked, a hand on her back.

"I'm fine sir. It just surprised me." Liliana replied, nodding for her demon spouse to continue.

Asmodeus continued thrusting into her then, long strokes as he let her feel every inch of him. He continued until she came two more times. Noticing her whimpers and how over sensitive she was, Asmodeus decided she needed a break, from that area anyway.

As he pulled out saying, "I think your ass is feeling neglected don't you?" Liliana could only nod in agreement.

Noticing her daze, Asmodeus smacked her ass sharply. "You're not giving up on me now are you?"

Liliana shook her head. "No sir, I want you to change it up."

"Good. I'll give you spankings later." He promised.

As he warmed her up with a finger then slowly stuck his cock in. Liliana let out a gasp at the feeling, gripping the sheets. But again it didn't hurt like normal. So she began to relax and let him work himself into her ass.

Slowly at first then faster and harder. Ordering her to rub her clit as he did so. Liliana lost track of how many times she had cum before he finally did. The King of Djinn had promised a long night and delivered .

Once the highs had subsided, Asmodeus slowly pulled out and cleaned them both up. Asmodeus went to lay at the head of the bed, carrying Liliana along to him.

"Spent my dear?" He grinned down at her limp, relaxed body.

"More than." Liliana murmered.

"Well maybe that will teach you not to take matters into your own hands next time." Asmodeus told her.

Liliana only nodded with a wry smile. But they both knew she tended to let her anger get the best of her and need a reminder but not anytime soon.

Asmodeus simply kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back as he said softly. "I love you my Liliana. Get some sleep."

"I love you too My King." Liliana murmured back as she closed her eyes and let his warmth lull her to sleep.

As a flute played in the distance.

[wesleyhill]

On “Things Above”

A homily on Colossians 3:1-4 preached at the Cathedral Church of the Advent, Birmingham, Alabama on the Friday after the second Sunday in Lent 2023

Yesterday I spoke to you from the third chapter of St. Paul’s letter to the Colossian Christians in which he tells them: “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.”

I wonder how you think about that exhortation. What exactly is Paul asking believers to do? What does it mean to have your mind focused on heavenly realities, rather than this-worldly ones? A hymn that we used to sing in the church of my childhood spoke of “the things of earth [growing] strangely dim” in heaven’s overwhelming, eclipsing light.

But has that ever really been your experience? For myself, as soon as I start trying to tear my gaze away from my house, my family, my job, my concrete experiences in this life and attempt to focus on God and heaven and eternity, I can quickly experience one of two things. The first one is sheer confusion: a kind of blank, inscrutable screen.

Cicero, the famous Roman statesman who died a half century before the birth of Christ, tells a story in his treatise On the Nature of the Gods of the tyrant Hiero who demands that the lyric poet Simonides tell him about what it means for the gods to exist. Simonides begs for a couple of days to come up with an answer. When the two days pass and Hiero asks, “Well?” Simonides responds by asking for two more days. And this keeps going until finally Simonides confesses, “The longer I think about it, the murkier the answer seems.” And Cicero, the one telling the story, concludes that the nature of the gods — who or what and how they are, if they are — is a “very obscure question.”

The Protestant Reformer John Calvin, commenting on this story from Cicero, says that as soon as we begin to try to use our imaginations or instincts to picture God, we will “hold nothing certain or solid or clear, but [will] be so attached to confused principles as to worship an unknown God.”

But this experience of a blank, gray, faceless god can easily transition into a second experience, and that is the experience of fear. Onto the gray canvas there can start to seep, Rorshach-inkblot-like, disturbing images of a God who is cruel, vindictive, mercurial, capricious. Not just God as cosmic Santa Claus but God, as C. S. Lewis said he experienced him in the wake of losing his wife to cancer, as cosmic Sadist. God as not just obscure, but terrifying. Not just as One to be baffled by, but One to flee from.

Here, I think, it’s vital to read Paul’s exhortation in context: “Seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”

Notice: Paul isn’t urging us to try to cultivate some vague, ethereal kind of heavenly mindedness. He’s directing us to think about a particular person — “Christ,” the Messiah, Jesus, the one who died and is now alive with the one he called “Father,” who will come back and heal and restore us and the whole world. It's as if Paul is saying, “When I tell you to think about heaven, I’m telling you to think about that Jewish man named Jesus, who is now alive again and always lives to intercede for you.”

Paul spells it out in more detail in the great poetic passage with which he kicks off the whole letter:

He [Jesus] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers — all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

To “set your mind on things above,” rather than on earthly things, is to think about Jesus. And not just to think about Jesus in some general way but to allow the life of Jesus to affect and shape and define the way you think about God.

This is — we need to recognize — a claim that should sound more shocking to us than it probably does. Rowan Williams reminds us:

Paul is roughly the same age as Jesus, perhaps a few years younger; and twenty or so years after Jesus’ execution, Paul is saying that this person, his contemporary, somebody who was well known to people Paul knew well, is the image of God — that in him, as he just as startlingly puts it 1 Corinthians 1.24, is the power and wisdom of God; or that — as he says in 2 Corinthians 4.4-6 — in his face shines the glory of God, what the Jews called the shekhinah, the blinding radiance of God’s presence. In Hebrew Scripture, this presence is described as radiating so powerfully that it throws people to the ground; it’s like a dense fog of light that you can’t breathe in and you can’t stand in… And that glory, that stifling intensity of presence in holy places, is what you see and sense if you look at Jesus, so Paul claims: a strong claim, to put it mildly. Imagine for a moment what a leap of imagination would be involved in thinking of someone of your own generation and background in terms like that.

There are, it seems, two directions we could go at this point. One would be to think through what it might mean to say about a first-century Jewish man, whom we Christians believe to be now alive forever, never to die again — what it might mean to say that in this one individual human person “all the fullness of deity was pleased to dwell.” That would be to ask the question of “Christology,” the Christian understanding of the person of Jesus of Nazareth as God’s Messiah.

But the other direction travels from the ground up, so to speak: What does it mean now to talk about God (to “set our minds on heavenly things”) if we say that this particular human life and death and resurrection, the existence of the man Jesus from his birth to his exaltation to the right hand of the Father in heaven, tells us the true meaning and essence of what it means to be God?

How would it change the way you think about God, the way you pray, the way you worship and seek to obey God, the way you try to put God’s commands into practice in your Christian life, if you really believed that God is knowable ultimately, finally, climactically in Jesus?

The late Reformed theologian T. F. Torrance worked as a chaplain during World War II. One day on a battlefield in Italy, a dying soldier, only twenty years old, grasped Torrance’s arm and said, “Padre, is God really like Jesus?”

Isn’t that a terribly poignant question? And isn’t it also, ultimately, the question of life? Is the God whom I’m about to meet face to face, the One who made me and will judge me and determine my ultimate fate — is that God really going to turn out to be the compassionate Father Jesus said he is and showed him to be in his healings and his pronouncements of forgiveness and his assurance of mercy? Or am I going to find some more sinister character lurking behind the curtain of Jesus’ life and ministry?

Torrance said it was the great privilege of his life to have spent the rest of his theological career spelling out the answer he gave to the dying soldier on the battlefield that day: Yes. Yes. God is like Jesus.

There is… no God behind the back of Jesus Christ, but only this God whose face we see in the face of the Lord Jesus. There is no deus absconditus, no dark inscrutable God, no arbitrary Deity of whom we can know nothing but before whom we can only tremble as our guilty conscience paints harsh streaks upon his face. No, there are no dark spots in God of which we need to be afraid… There is only the one God who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ in such a way that there is perfect consistency and fidelity between what he reveals of the Father and what the Father is in his unchangeable reality… God really is like Jesus, for there is no other God than he who became man in Jesus and he whom God affirms himself to be and always will be in Jesus.

Or as Archbishop Michael Ramsey once put it much more concisely: “God is Christlike; and in God there is no unChristlikeness at all.”

Jesus is, as Paul says in Colossians, the image of the God we cannot see. He is the perfect self-interpretation of God. He is the face of God turned toward us in love.

So, friends, set your minds on things above, not on earthly things — earthly idols, false images, distorted pictures of God. Seek the things that are above, where Jesus Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.

To him be the glory, forever and ever.

Amen.

[disinfernus]

TIME: Beginning of the year SETTING: Wicked's Rest, Gatlin Fields, Robertson Family Homestead WARNINGS: Implied murder SUMMARY: A tall, dark, and mysterious stranger visits a man involved with the 'mining accident'. They want answers.

Midnight. 

Darkness engulfed corridor after corridor. The house wasn’t large by any means, but it was comfortable. Windows littered each floor, although the curtains were drawn to keep privacy in - they also kept moonlight from getting in. Those living within its walls were fast asleep. From what was gathered, there were four of them, but the head of the household was the target.

The night after that shocking accident in the mines was a quiet one. Sure, the cleanup was ongoing but it was a wonder the homeowner was able to rest easy that night. While they weren’t physically down with the rest of the bumbling crew, it seemed they were partly responsible for it to begin with. They managed to escape such a grizzly demise, one that so perfectly fit the crime. They and the rest of them were responsible for the death that started to pour from the very earth itself. The death that caused absolute ruin to the kingdom beneath.

Like the rest of the house, the master bedroom was silent. Its main door opened freely, revealing the pitch dark hallway beyond. A heaviness settled into the air which alerted the family dog. Bark after bark came to no avail, even as the creature stepped out from the shadows. It looked like any other man, though tall and thin and wore a dark suit upon its body. Black, shoulder length hair was tied back with a black, silk ribbon. Atop its long, straight nose sat a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses. 

Well, the humans were certainly awake now.

Amidst the protests and gasps, the creature made no expression, but procured from within its jacket pocket a dirty, crumpled piece of yellowed paper that looked as if it’d been trampled. An order slip relating to the last job in the mines, the most recent death wish, with his name on it. It hadn’t been difficult to locate such a man or to get into his house.

It wouldn’t be difficult to kill him, either.

“Henry.. Robertson,” came the rich voice. It made no move towards the man and wife, though it continued to hold out the paper at arms’ length.

“Y-yeah? What the fuck do you want? How the hell did you get in my home?,” came the questions. They were all the same, weren’t they? Humans. They thought they owned everything, that they were the top predators. They had no idea that the darkness was there first, before even the creation of life on the planet itself. The shadows were primordial and they would be eternal.

Long fingers tensed around the piece of paper slightly but it still made no move. The couple had moved to one side, keeping the mattress between them and the intruder. Smart in certain situations, useless in this one. 

“What happened in the mines?” The question fell elongated from the creature’s lips; it sounded like a whisper but it fell heavily onto the wood flooring. “Do you know what is down there?” It asked stiffly before it stole a step forward. “Did you know what they would find? What you would take from me?” The voice, though even in volume, seemed to fill the entire bedroom.

The man sputtered in defense as his woman clung to his side. “N-no! No I don’t! They didn’t tell us a damn thing. You need to leave before I call the fucking cops!” His protests fell upon unbothered ears. It was completely possible that this buffoon didn’t have any idea as to what was down there or what would befall his men. It was completely possible that he was merely following orders. But those caverns and stretches of tunnel that they called home? Gone. They were all gone. Granted they were held captive for the last few decades until the tragic demise — but that wasn’t the point. Everything below the earth was theirs. It belonged to them. 

“I didn’t know what would happen!”

White teeth suddenly showed through the pale darkness.

“Is that right, children? Did your father truly not know?” The creature didn’t need to turn around to notice that both children were now awake and in the bedroom doorway, looking on with horror in their wide eyes. 

“Leave them alone! Don’t you dare touch them!” The overlapping cries from both parents and the canine were a bit too much - and then came the squeak from a smaller voice. “He didn’t know! Honest!”

The creature gave the younger humans an inquisitive look over its shoulder before it turned back to the adults in the room. Hidden behind its sunglasses sat the horror. Its brilliantly glowing eyes could procure madness in any living creature beyond its own ilk. It was a solid defense mechanism to scare those from the depths of its cave, or even to lure them in, but for now it would help exact revenge.

It lifted a free hand and pinched a corner of its glasses. “Useless, then.. Pity.” The room was then bathed in an eerie light as the heavily tinted sunglasses were pulled away completely from its long,  straight  nose.

[camlovesheroes]

King of Mischief (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1 (Feels Good to be King)

Word count: 4.8k

T/w: This chapter contains inexplicit implied smut, read at your own caution.

It was the fifth night of the annual Asgardian Ball, well, they called it a ball yet it was nothing an average person would perceive it to be. Instead of dangling chandeliers that illuminate a vestibule filled with lavishly dressed men and women it was a string of boring, lifeless, uneventful recurring dinners that lasted for a week. The agenda on the table? Who shall be Odin's successor to his powerful throne? Would it be Hela, the first-born? That was a no brainer, she had been banished by the King for years for her cruelty and despicable behavior. Would it be Loki? Tsk, the adopted son, the child that had been abandoned by his own father, the King of the Frost Giants; Laufey. There was no way he could ever be king. So it went down to the last of his children, Thor. The God of Thunder, who had been on a quest all the way in Midgard. Or some people might call, Earth.

The upheaval was present in the room after Odin had announced his decision to pass down his throne to his next of kin amidst the courteous dinner they were having. Why were you there in the middle of the ruckus? The answer is quite short and simple, you were married to the God of Mischief himself. While the commotion rose amongst the leaders of Asgard and its affiliated kingdoms, you were looking straight into Loki's eyes, his gaze sharp alike the blades he used in combat. He was squinting at you with an amused smirk on his face, one that spoke volumes regarding his menacing character. The man was enjoying the commotion as you remembered how you lost a bet to him just hours prior.

"I absolutely believe that the people would be calm and composed once His Royal Highness announces his departure from the throne. They are all noblemen after all." You raised your eyebrows as you walked down the hallway, Loki trailing behind you.

"And I'd have to disagree. Odin has never left the throne except for his periodic Odinsleep. Remind me why I have to attend this horrible dinner? For all I know I could be fooling around elsewhere instead of having to hear some old men discuss unimportant matters that do not relate to me in any way." Loki detested.

Turning around, you took a deep deep breath and took a step towards him.

"Because you are to be the one chosen as his successor Loki." It was annoying you that this man didn't want to come to the ball and accompany you. Especially the very night that he would be announced as Odin's heir to the throne. "Plus, I've spent the whole four nights answering the question of 'Where is Loki?' 'Why isn't he joining us?' 'How could he leave his wife alone in a room full of men?' It's making them speculate about our marriage."

Loki snorted, letting out that mischievous smirk of his upon hearing your explanation.

"I thought you didn't like being married to me? Why bother with speculation?" He raised a brow, he was taunting you, teasing you. 

"Yes, that is true. But unlike you, I'd prefer to have no gossip shared regarding us. As much as I dislike you, I am inclined to keep this position for myself and my country. Now please Loki, be there for the dinner my parents are expecting to see you." You stood tall, looking up at the male who was prominently taller than you.

"Alright.. If you insist, my dear princess." He held your hand, lifting it up to seemingly kiss it but before he did, he uttered a few words.

"But if I'm right and the people protest after the announcement, you'll have to abide by my instructions, listen to all of my orders until I am crowned as King." He wanted to play one of his little betting games with you.

"And if I'm correct?" You held your head up high proudly, confident that you would prove him wrong.

"Well it's all your call princess." Loki grinned sinisterly.

"Hmm.." You thought for a moment what the suitable reward for yourself shall be. "I'd be pleased if you would leave me alone and not tease me around the castle." You smiled back at him, your expression matching his.

"Very well. I believe we have ourselves a deal then?" He raised a brow.

"Yes." You simply replied.

"Good. I'll see you tonight princess." He finally kissed the back of your hand, his lips lingering a second longer before you pulled away.

Good grief, you lost, you should've known. It was never a good choice to be making a bet with the man who has a reputation of making sure he gets what he wants. You knew that he would be right but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part or maybe, it was because you didn't want to agree that he was right. Now, you were about to suffer the consequences; following his commands and enslaving yourself even more to him. 

The more you both stared into each others' eyes, the quieter the commotion had gotten. You felt like you were lulled into his pair of sparkling blue eyes and you could just look at them all day. Just before you could even be trapped in his eyes longer, Odin decided to silence the crowd.

"ENOUGH! I shall not have all of you misbehaving like this. I am stepping down as your King to make way for my heirs to lead. Now, take a seat and have some respect for yourselves and your future King." It was no longer protests that you heard coming from the guests but merely murmurs and whispers about who the future King might be. Some of the noblemen looked around to see if Thor was in the hall with them but to no avail. 

You braced yourself for the next line Odin was about to say, you predicted that reaction would be worse than when the King declared his leave from the throne. You correct your posture and wait for the next statement from your husband's adoptive father. "As I can see, many if not, all of you are curious as to who the next King of Asgard will be, so I'll explain the situation to all of you first. Clearly, Thor is not with us tonight and that is because he had made the final decision to marry a Midgardian and to stay on Midgard amongst the mortals. I am unbelievably upset over his choice but nevertheless I shall not forget that I do have another son eligible to become your next King. I am hoping and insisting that you give him a chance to lead this kingdom just as I did.."

Odin's head turned to glance at Loki who had already broken eye contact with you to look at his father. The man looked different, it was as if he had let his guard down as the King gave his small speech.

"Asgard, your new King is Loki Odinson." Your gaze softened over how defenseless Loki looked at that exact moment. The banquet went quiet after Odin's continuous surprising declarations. Hating the silence so much, you made up your mind that you shall handle the awkward situation by standing up and giving a speech of your own. As much as you despise Loki for his antics, he really was someone who cares a lot about Asgard, all he needed was a chance to prove himself to his family and his subjects. The legs of the chair creaked as it moved across the marble floor as you gulped and took a deep breath.

"I know you may think of my husband as someone who's daily life is full of deception, I know that all of you expected someone else to reign instead of him. But I am here to say that Loki Odinson is more than capable of being your King." You stood proud and brave as thousands of eyes were on you, including Loki's

"For the last several months of being his wife, he has been nothing but kind, amusing, and caring. In his own ways of course. And I have witnessed him taking charge too, I have seen him practicing for combat. I have seen him mingling with the commoners, those who are not lucky enough to be in this room with us. I have faith in him leading this kingdom. And if you just try to look past his cold, prideful demeanor." You averted your eyes to look at your husband.

"Maybe you'll see that all he needs is a chance." You could see that he was surprised at your actions and the rawness of your vocabulary. Your eyes turned to look at your parents and then to your in-laws. They were all equally as surprised to see what you have done. "Excuse me."

You walked out of the hall swiftly and went back to the comforts of your chambers.

It had been a week since your courageous speech relating to Loki being crowned the King of Asgard. You particularly aren’t one who runs away after making reckless gestures but with your parents, Odin, Frigga and importantly, Loki, being present amidst your speech, it embarrasses you. It embarrassed you since you recall vividly that you had made it clear that you despised being married to him. But you were grateful that he wasn’t around to tease you about it considering that he is now occupied with learning the protocols and whatnots on how to be a king. His coronation was set to be held in two weeks after the announcement which meant that you will be the Queen a week from now. Just when you thought you could be left alone and in peace, a young servant girl came to fetch you. “Your Highness, your husband is calling for you to join him in his chambers. He said that he wanted to spend some time with his future Queen.” The maiden bowed.

“I thought he was busy learning the lefts and rights of the kingdom with the King and his men?” You halted your actions of embroidering and looked over to the servant who stood in front of your door.

“Ah yes m’lady, but he has spare time now and he wishes to have you by his side. Oh, he also mentioned some kind of agreement between you two.” The girl mentioned.

Of course. Of course he didn’t forget that small deal you two have made. You prepared yourself for what he has in store for you once you step foot into his chambers. That man is a sneaky one for sure.

“I’ll be there shortly. By myself. Now off you go..” You dismissed the servant and put down your embroidery set before getting on your feet and heading for the prince’s chambers.

“You asked for me?” You spoke in a sarcastic tone as you entered Loki’s room. He was lounging on his sofa whilst throwing and catching his dagger in the air.

“There you are, I thought you were on your way to hide from me, wife.” He chuckled and sat up.

“Oh please, I’m not the type to run away when I lose a bet.” You rolled your eyes. “What do you want?”

“That’s not a proper way to speak to your future King would it? Let alone your husband.” He smirked. “Come, sit with me.” He patted the space next to him.

You sighed and put on a fake smile. “How may I be of service, good sir?” You took a seat next to him, making sure that there was still a little distance between the two of you in case he was up to no good.

“The reason I called for you, my dear Aurelia, is because I’d love to spend some time with you.” His explanation didn’t fool you one bit. There is no way that’s the only thing he wanted to do.

“Really? Knowing you, I wonder if you have any other tricks up your sleeve.” You questioned.

“No really. I called you here to take advantage of that bet we made a week ago and.. Also to thank you.” He nodded, he kept an arrogant expression on his face but you knew that it was because he didn’t want to seem weak in front of you.

“Hm. You’re very welcome. Anything else you’d like to share?” You raised your eyebrow curiously.

“Nothing I deem is important to share but, I do have a question.” He turned his torso to face you properly.

“Why did you feel the need to stand up for me that evening?” You could totally sense that he wasn’t expecting you to do such a thing, especially for him.

“Well..” You took a long pause but decided to give him the safest answer you could think of. “A wife’s got to do what a wife’s got to do.” You nonchalantly shrugged.

Loki looked at you for what felt like an eternity until he chose to pull you into his embrace.

“The wedding arrangement that our parents had made wasn’t a mistake. You really are suitable to be my queen.” He pulled away to cup your face. “Intelligent, brave, calm. You are one remarkable woman. Just what Asgard needs in a queen.” He gazed into your eyes.

“Everybody knows that. This marriage will prove to be fruitful for both of our kingdoms. Asgard gets an amazing King and Queen while Oralf is provided with protection and power.” You smirked.

“Now Loki, it seems like you are starting to fall for me. What is up with that?” You brought your face closer to him.

“I’m starting to wonder the same with you. I’m curious, tell me, are you falling in love with me, pet?” He smirked back.

You closed the remaining gap between your faces, noses nudging against each other and you whisper.

“As if..” And with that, you push him away.

Loki grinned, he enjoyed the push and pull that you’ve provided in the relationship. At first, you and him had established that your bond was just one that is strictly business. Being married for the sake of the betterment of both Asgard and Oralf. But as time went by, your affiliation bloomed from hating each other’s guts to being tolerant with each other. It’s not impossible if one day you two would grow to love one another, more than merely friends.

“Alright husband, if you do not have anything else to tell me, do excuse me, I’m going back to my chambers.” You stood up, ready to head off to your room again yet you were stopped by the male with his hand holding on to your wrist.

“I didn’t say you were excused, pet. Now come sit back down with me.” He tugged you, not forcefully but rather gently to sit closer to him. No matter how harsh of a person he could be or how maddening his ego and arrogance is, he would always make sure that he didn’t cross any lines with you. In the end, you are his future Queen and after the incidence during the ball, his attraction to you seems to strengthen.

“We’ve been married for half a year already, Aurelia. Yet, we haven’t spent even a single night together in the same bed. Don’t you think it’s about time that we move into a chamber together?”

It was true, though, at the same time, Loki had always been trying to get you into his bed. Who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, poise yet feisty princess from the kingdom of Oralf who possesses wisdom and knowledge of the multiverse, many wished to obtain the ability to understand such a complex idea of the universes but that proficiency could only be found amongst the royals of Oralf.

You leaned onto the sofa. “Perhaps I haven’t been clear about wanting to have space and privacy for myself. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to meddle with your sneaky little endeavors with the maidens you bring back to your room.” 

“You’re jealous..” He made an observation.

“I’m not. I just do not like hearing noises coming from obnoxious women while you play around with them.” You answered in a relaxed manner.

“I’m sure the same noises would come out of those lips too if I went down on you.” He gave you a lopsided grin.

“And that is if you’d ever get to lay your hands on me.” You taunted him.

“The question is not ‘if’ but ‘when’, darling.” He tilted his head to have a better look at you and you turned to look at his face. It would be a lie to say that you do not want him, he’s quite handsome; sharp features and a beautiful pair of baby blue orbs. He had a certain charm to him, one that may be deemed irresistible to some people.

“If you act right, as a King. Then maybe sooner or later you’ll be able to lure me into your bed. But for now, as long as you’re still a prince, I am not moving into your chambers, let alone be in the same bed as you.” You made it precise that he will get his dreams realized. However, until then, you shall sleep separately, in your own chambers.

Staring into his eyes, you gave a sly smile before kissing him softly to which he reciprocated. The kiss escalated fast, your lips moving in sync as you straddled him. His hands moved up to caress your thighs, hiking your dress up with it. The last time you two had kissed was the day you were officiated by Odin and goodness it felt so good to finally be able to make out with him again.

You were the first one to pull away despite wanting to continue. Loki had always teased you in various ways and it was time for you to do the same to him.

“That’s to motivate you to be a great King. I can’t wait to see you prove yourself.” You pecked him once more before leaving him high and dry but much more driven than before.

“Aurelia, you little minx.” Loki smiled in disbelief as he saw you make your exit from his room.

Finally, the day had come for Loki’s coronation, days prior to the event, you and Loki had spent some more time together just to bond. The meetups were tamer than what had happened in his chambers. You read books together in the library, trained with blades for fun, walked through the royal garden and met up with the locals. It is safe to say that having you by his side was slowly changing the perception of Asgardians towards him, they were much more relaxed, welcoming and friendly to your husband.

Not just that, both you and Loki’s perception had changed for the better. He learnt new things about you and you got to know him better, you found out things that he likes and dislikes. The God didn’t like it when someone mentions his brother Thor and compares the two of them. You knew he didn’t like when his father criticizes the way he does things but you try to defend him whenever you can. You realized his passion for knives and blades when you saw him playing with them, that is when you chose to spar with him and learn how to fight with blades. You loved the way he focuses so much when he reads and you began to read the books that he likes, trying to grapple with how his mind works through his readings.

You were dressed elegantly, in gold and emerald green, Loki’s colors. The palace and its surroundings were also covered in similar colors and shades. You had personally worked together with decorators and workers to make sure that the coronation day went well and represented the future king accordingly. It was a smart decision to spend the past few days around him since you were able to pick up bits and pieces of what Loki’s preferences were in terms of food, entertainment and many more. You made sure everything was perfect and up to standard for your husband’s special day. The flowers that embellished the stairs and the vases in the palace were all handpicked by you. Hellebores, golden Daylilies and burgundy black Dahlias, those were the main flowers of choice. You even decorated your hair with them.

All the people in Asgard had gathered to witness the open ceremony of Loki’s coronation, everyone was dressed up, some weren’t looking as happy as the others. It was normal for any leader, you could never impress every single person there is no matter what you do and achieve. Some of your people were present too, they were all cheering for you and Loki; incredibly excited to see their princess crowned as the Queen of Asgard. With you being a queen, Oralf will be more powerful and successful than before.

After getting primped up with your accessories and makeup, you went to Loki’s chambers, accompanied by your handmaidens and servants. Inhaling deeply, you knocked on the door and called out for the man. “Loki? Are you ready? We should get going now.”

Upon hearing your call, he immediately answered and opened his door. “Yes, I am ready. Are- wow...:” He exclaimed quietly after setting his eyes on you. He loved seeing you all dressed up, notably when you wore his colors. “You look.. Ravishing..” His eyes scanned all over you, he adored how the dress just accentuates your figure, the way the design was reminiscent of his own clothing and the tiara, the distinguished tiara that graces the top of your head. It looked so much like his headpiece, with golden horns that weren’t as big as his.

“Thank you.. I thought I’d honor you in little details in my ensemble. Do you like it?” You gave him a small smile. “Yes, absolutely. And these.. Little horns.” He touched the points of them and huffed out excitedly as if his breath was taken away. The male was pleased, he took pride in seeing you dressed that way. It stroked his ego in a way since it would be apparent to everyone that you were his, his queen, his eternal companion.

“I’m glad you like it, shall we go?” You invited him to move along, or else you two would be late, and you do not want to be late. Loki offered his arm to you, to which you took. It felt like your wedding day all over again, though this time you were enjoying it, delighted even. 

Arriving at the altar, the crowd began cheering and throwing flowers to the two of you, your walk towards Odin and Frigga was accompanied by the Asgardian orchestra. You saw your parents, they looked happy as ever, proud that their only daughter was about to be crowned as a queen.

Now standing before God King Odin himself, you gave a curtsy to both him and Frigga as a symbol of respect and honor. The ceremony began by having you and Loki read out your recognitions and oaths to Asgard, promises to forever protect and rule with respect and civility. Next, you two were anointed by Odin and Frigga using the royal scepter that shall be inherited by Loki, the glowing blue orb at its point was a powerful stone called the Tesseract.

Afterwards, Odin had declared that all of Asgard and its inhabitants, living and not, were all for Loki and you to control and take care of. Then came the last part of the ceremony, the moment that every Asgardian and Oralfian had been waiting for, the crowning process. Both of you were crowned simultaneously, side by side for everyone to see. Odin crowning Loki as the new King of Asgard and Frigga crowning you as Queen.

“Asgard, I hereby declare, Loki Odinson as your new King and Aurelia Lerrosdottir, his Queen.” Odin called aloud and the crowd subsequently began to cheer and applaud.

You smiled brightly, looking at your subjects, Asgardian and Oralfian alike. Turning to look at your husband, you put your hand atop of his, squeezing it a bit; a sign of encouragement. He looked gloriously happy, although he knew that his father descended his throne to him without a choice, he was glad that he could finally show him that he is able to lead Asgard and be the son that Odin could take pride in.

What came after the ceremony was an enormous celebration, lots of Asgardian mead were poured, countless amounts of meat were served together with delightful desserts and pastries. Cheery music was playing in the background and each person was enjoying themselves. You and Loki sat at a raised platform, being presented with mouthwatering dishes and cuisines.

It all felt surreal to you. Thor was also there with Jane, his Midgardian lover, he was joyous for Loki. Being a king was never in his plans and now that he had met Jane, the only thing he could think of was to live a normal, mundane life with her back on Earth. That certainly didn’t please Odin but he couldn’t be ruling over Asgard forever and with his Odinsleep, he could be putting Asgard in a vulnerable state and concurrently his life too.

“A toast to my brother who had always dreamt of ruling Asgard. I never knew you’d be willing to share this position with your wife but here you are! I wish you all the best in your endeavors and remain steadfast during challenging times. I believe you can be a phenomenal leader for this nation. To Loki!” Thor stood up and gave a little speech for his younger brother.

Following your promise to him, you were now sitting in front of your vanity mirror inside of Loki’s chambers. You were about to take off your gold headpiece when your husband placed his hand on yours. “Let me.”

He carefully took off the tiara for you and proceeded to place his hands on your shoulders while staring at your reflections in the mirror. “Look at us, the new King and Queen of Asgard. From now on, I want you to hold your head up high, walk with confidence, and OWN the title, my queen.” He squeezed your shoulders gently. “I know I’ve told you this the whole day, but you look captivating. You’ve knocked the air out of my lungs.” You smiled back at him before standing up to brush his raven locks back with your fingers.

“It’s been a long day, I’m sure you must be quite drained.” He gazed at you with passionate eyes despite being tired, he was driven to have you in his bed. He had been waiting for this exact moment ever since you two had that make out session.

“I am, but this would be the first night for us, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened a few days ago. Goodness, how you drive me mad.” Loki smirked and placed his hand on the side of your face, delicately stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“I am all yours to take my King. Although, I do have one request.” You muttered softly, placing your hand over his and kissing his wrist.

“What is it, pet? Tell me.. I won’t bite, unless you give me a reason to.” The way he stared down at you made you shudder. His blue eyes gazing at you piercingly yet fondly.

“Be gentle with me.. I know you may not be the type to do so.. Especially in bed. But I want to enjoy and make the moments last. Please?” You peeked up into his eyes. Loki could tell that you were a bit nervous to spend the night with him for the first time.

“How do you know how I am, especially in bed darling?” He teased you, making you flustered but before you could find the right words to answer his inquiry, he continued.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll go gentle on you, we don’t want anything to break do we? Especially with how nimble and delicate you are.” He smirked.

You scoffed. “So you think I’m weak?”

“No no.. Just with me, you are. Say it, say that I’m right.” He lifted your head by your chin, making you look at him.

“You’re neither. I’ll be soft when I need to and firm when the situation asks for it.” Loki chuckled in amusement.

“Smart girl..” He approvingly nodded. “Come..”

He held your hands and led you to his king-sized bed.

It is safe to say that that precise night was when your love story began to bloom and the story of your mighty reign began though something colossally horrible was about to destroy your monarchy, Asgard and the multiverse. Trouble is brewing.

Chapter 1 (smut scene)

Chapter 2

[pinkoptics]

Countryside AU

McShep | 737 words | G | AU-gust 2022

Soft Boys | Silly Boys

on AO3

What if evacuating to the alpha site and never being able to return to earth or Atlantis turned out to be the best thing ever for John and Rodney?

“Do you miss it?”

John doesn’t answer right away. He keeps looking up at the sky in a distant, unblinking sort of way. A long piece of grass hangs from his lips, his back resting against the solidity of the tree trunk behind him.

Not this had ever been his idea of perfection, anymore than it was John’s. Lounging in a meadow? For what was now an indeterminate amount of time? No. The old Rodney would have seen this as a moronic waste of productive hours. Moreover, even if the old Rodney had been game to try, he’d have been such a fidgety mess within 5 minutes, he’d have had to get up and do something. Even if all he could do was pace and work on his latest theory in his own head. Something that had happened all too often on diplomatic off-world missions until one of his teammates threatened various levels of bodily harm unless he sat down (“right the hell now” - John).

Not this had ever been his idea of perfection, anymore than it was John’s. Lounging in a meadow? For what was now an indeterminate amount of time? No. The old Rodney would have seen this as a moronic waste of productive hours. Moreover, even if the old Rodney had been game to try, he’d have been such a fidgety mess within 5 minutes, he’d have had to get up and do something. Even if all he could do was pace and work on his latest theory in his own head. Something that had happened all too often on diplomatic off-world missions until one of his teammates threatened various levels of bodily harm unless he sat down (“right the hell now” - John).

As if it was his fault that his brain worked at the speed of light — ideas, connections, innovations, solutions — all coming to him, all the time, no matter where he was or what he was doing. And, that wasn’t all that was going on up there. Oh no. There was the portion dedicated to worry, analyzing all the ways things could go wrong all the time. Of course, there was also all of his observations (“complaints” - Ronon), trivia, wit, etc., taking up what little mental space was left. His brain was busy. He was busy. So sue him if pacing helped. Also, how was he supposed to dump all of that out of his brain and just be… still? Improbable. Impossible. Or had been.

Life had been a lot different since the evacuation, since the Stargate had become inert.

Just as there wasn’t a lot of call for flying puddle jumpers that had no way of being re-charged (emergencies only), there wasn’t a lot of call for astrophysics on a brand new colony with nothing but the technology they’d been able to bring with them. New things, things old Rodney would never have imagined for himself, kept him busy — tilling the earth, building shelters, sanitizing water — until his mind was the most empty and still that it had ever been. Clear enough to finally see things he’d missed on Atlantis— John’s smiles and smirks that were for him alone, John’s teasing that was so obviously flirting, John’s eyes on him all the time.

“Sure. I miss it. Sometimes.”

“But?” It sounded like there was a but.

“But I have other things now. Things I didn’t have then.” The thumb that had been brushing Rodney’s collarbone moves up, brushes his cheekbone instead. Warmth having nothing to do with the sun unfurls in his chest.

“‘Other things,’ huh? Rodney-shaped things perhaps?”

John rolls his eyes in that theatrical way of his, but doesn’t stop cupping his cheek. “Yes, dumbass.”

Rodney sniffs. “Oh the sweet things you say to me. The romance! I’m overwhelmed! Watch while I faint like a southern belle from your pretty words.”

That gets him launched off John’s lap, something he almost protests, but very quickly John is on top of him, a comfortable, familiar weight pressing him into the soft grass.

“I’ll have you know I meant dumbass very affectionately.”

“Oh yes, it’s one of the universally acknowledged terms of endearment. Right up there between baby and darling.”

John adopts a falsetto. “Oh my darling, Rodney.” He drops lilting tone. “Better?”

“Yes, baby.”

John’s nose crinkles adorably. “Can we agree pet names are not our thing?”

“Unless they’re ‘dumbass’?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Fine. Kiss me dumbass.”

John grins one of those grins that are for Rodney alone. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The kiss is soft. Sweet. Slow. Gentle. Unhurried. Things they have time for without an ancient city constantly breaking down, without off-world missions going awry, without enemies trying to kill them every week.

They’ve lost some things. Yes. Things that were important to them both, but they’ve gain so much they didn’t have before.

He’s glad John sees it.

On AO3

*shoutout to the lovely @dedkake for screencap help

[p-taryn-dactyl]

Song of Medusa pt2

a/n: hello! this is the second, and very late, part to my Song of Medusa series!!

prompt: what if medusa had someone she loved?

word count: 2.3k

pairing(s): medusa x fem!oc warning(s): mentions of death; maybe some SA mentions; unknown narrator

There were a few moments of silence for the two women. But not for me, as I was laughing and rejoicing at the fact Elpida wasn’t a garden decoration. I waited for one of them to say something. I waited. And waited. What seemed like hours passed and I almost showed myself before Elpida broke the silence once more. 

“Why would, um, why would I be stone?” Medusa’s features once again were a copy of confusion and astonishment. 

“You truly do not know?” Elpida thought for a minute before shaking her head. 

“I thought that was obvious by my confusion.” I was once again reminded why I enjoy the presence of this mortal. Medusa took a deep breath, her chest stuttering. She was nervous. Elpida took a step forward, arm reached out in a comforting way but Medusa retreated. She seemed to be contemplating something. Her head turned towards the east side of the cave, her sight being blocked by the walls. But I knew what she was looking at. The Graveyard. My joy quickly receded. Medusa was just as human as the ones who tried to kill her and she understood the insult of an improper burial. 

“What is it?” Elpida’s voice was a whisper, so quiet that even my ears could barely register her words. She played with the frayed ends of her dress, her last connection to her home. Medusa waited for a moment before turning back to the maiden. When she made eye contact with Elpida, it was like a breath of fresh air. She finally could look into someone's eyes without fear of petrifying them. These eyes were beautiful. They’re the color of fresh spring dirt from which the beauty of Persephone’s return blossomed. They held curiosity in the form of golden strands, like stray flames from a fire. I held my breath in waiting. What would come next in the story of these two?

“As you have no way of getting off this island,” she paused and I saw what she was thinking. Until another hero comes on a ship, “You’ll need to know who I am.” 

Now you must understand, they never tell you how many soldiers came to behead Medusa. They only tell you of the one who succeeded. You could probably assume a couple hundred, I would have guessed the same. But then we would both be wrong. Soldiers calling themselves heroes came by the thousands. Whether it be a teenage boy avenging his father who faced the same fate or a man scorned by his people hoping for a victory to win their love back. So many lives lost. All for the sake of power. The trail to the Graveyard was a long one, even if Sarpedon wasn’t a particularly large island. I found myself growing weary watching Medusa lead the way for young Elpida, who watched the trail that was so often used. I saw as she memorized the plant life, the patterns the small animals made in the dirt as they ran in circles, chasing the daylight. Daylight that quickly started to trickle into midday. Elpida clutched her stomach as it growled. 

“Shh.” She whispered as if her stomach would listen to her. It did not. Medusa didn’t seem to notice as she continued on the path. Feeling pity for the girl, I focused on the roots growing deep in the earth. Soon small berry bunches were lining the pathway. Medusa frowned at the ground but nodded when Elpida asked if they were safe to eat. They continued on their way as Elpida, in a very ladylike manner, shoved the small fruits in her mouth, juice dribbling down her chin. Soon her stomach stopped it’s protest. They walked for about half of an hour until Medusa came to a cliff. Elpida, who was taking in the beautiful scenery, didn’t notice her leader had stopped and ran straight into Medusa’s back. 

“Sorry.” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Medusa didn’t answer, only continued to stare ahead. Elpida and I followed her gaze. Elpida gasped, her hand going to cover her mouth. Looking down, an expanse of land too large to be a part of this small island stretched out. But this unnatural sight was not the surprise. Bodies of stone littered the ground. Their bodies were mostly covered by white sand, contrasting the dark stone of their skin. The ones who had been there longest had vines covering their forms, small flowers peppering the greenery. What was most disturbing was the fact of the statue's faces. They never were covered by sand or plants. Their features were frozen in fear and their weapons protruded from the ground, still shining like the day they tried to kill Medusa. Elpida turned towards Medusa, thousands of questions for thousands of dead bodies. 

“What is this?” Medusa sat on the ground, curling her serpent like form underneath her.  Elpida sat next to her, crossing her legs in the soft grass. Her eyes focused on the Graveyard but her ears focused on the story Medusa had started to tell. She listened as Medusa talked about her past home, a temple of Athena. She listened in disgust as Medusa slowly told of Poseidon’s assault upon her. She glared at the sea, her heart closing against the god her mother so blindly followed. Medusa stopped speaking for a minute before telling Elpida of her punish- protection and banishment. Elpida put up a hand to pause Medusa in the middle of the woman telling her of the many soldiers. She gestured towards the Graveyard, towards the bodies frozen in time. 

“You did this?” Medusa sucked in a breath before nodding. She looked away from Elpida, not wanting to see fear and disgust in the beautiful girl's eyes. But if she hadn’t looked away, she would’ve seen worry and understanding. Elpida opened her mouth to speak again when Medusa said something that caused ice to cover her stomach. 

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with a monster.” Medusa got up to leave, Elpida, who had frozen in pity, scrambled up to follow Medusa after a small nudge in the wind. Go. She grabbed Medusa’s arm and spun the Gorgon to face her. 

“You are not a monster. You, Medusa, are the victim. These soldiers came here in search of power, a greed that will someday destroy mankind. They were falsely led by the very gods who put this horrible curse upon you. You are not a monster but they are. The gods. Poseidon. You did nothing wrong, okay? If anyone should be punished, it should be the man who couldn’t understand the word no!” Elpida took a breath, her chest rising fast, her words riling her up. She hoped her words had helped Medusa but she understood one rant from a young girl wouldn’t erase hundreds of years of insecurity. I had a small smile on my face. I hadn’t heard a mortal so blatantly curse the name of one of the Big Three. If I focused hard enough, I could feel the bristling of the sea god, offended. Rolling my eyes, I focused back on the two women. Medusa also had a small smile on her face as she whispered a small thank you. Elpida nodded and almost went in for a hug before Medusa tensed and spun her head towards the west side of the island. I too felt an arrival. But do not fret, readers, this soldier is not the hero who would swing the final blow. 

“What is it?” Elpida asked, her voice small. Medusa’s snakes rose in the air, defensive. 

“Someone new is here, another hero.” She turned towards Elpida and jutted her chin towards a path down to the Graveyard. 

“Hide yourself down there, I do not know how he’ll react to seeing you.” Elpida was reluctant but listened to her instructions. She slid down the dirt path, watching as the silky brown soil mixed with soft white sand. She pressed herself against the highest wall of the cliff, straining her ears for a hint of what was happening above. Elpida sat down on the ground after a few minutes, studying the bodies that lay around her. I watched her face twist in curiosity at the sight of the soldier’s weapons still clutched in the stone encased hands. She crawled towards the closest body and brushed her fingers along the closed fist. This particular soldier could be thought to be one of the younger ones, as his chin and brow were still stuck in the boyish stance. 

“Why won’t she take their weapons?” Elpida whispered to no one but herself and the wind. I did not know this answer. I waited with Elpida, perfectly aware I could go check on Medusa and the new soldier but my concern was for Elpida. She had been through a great deal and now was thrust into a world of vengeful gods and monsterized victims. I watched as she named each soldier, giving them backstories and history rivaled to the greatest of storytellers. We waited for about an hour, Elpida slowly slipping back into slumber. She was awoken at the mysterious sound of shifting sand. Looking a few feet away from the soldiers Elpida had named, sand was moving on its own, creating a whirlpool-like mirage. Once it finished, a hole large enough for a man emerged. I looked towards the top of the cliff and saw Medusa returning towards the Graveyard, a stone body in her arms. A small body. Medusa’s eyes held grief and a somberness that seemed to stop the sun's rays from holding any warmth. Elpida gasped once Medusa came into her line of sight. Medusa lowered the young boy into the sand and kneeled down, brushing the sand over his body, once more making sure no sand covered the face or weapon. Before Elpida could ask a question, Medusa started to speak. 

“He told me of his father. A good man fighting a horrible war. If he were to have my head, his father could win the war and the respect of his people once more,” Medusa turned towards Elpida and I, her eyes only seeing the young maiden, “I almost didn’t turn around, almost let him take his prize,” She shook her head, lowering her eyes towards the ground, “But something, a force I couldn’t fight, pushed me around. His eyes were filled with fright, Elpida, scared for his life he only started living. How can you not think of me a monster?” I looked at the young boy, he couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Elpida waited for a minute, pondering her answer. She stepped forward, closer to the gorgon. 

“You were willing to be sacrificed for a child you did not know, for a war you had no business fighting. That is why and there might be another reason if my theory is right.” Medusa looked at the girl in confusion, as did I. Where was she going with this? Elpida gestured to the expanse of stone surrounding them

“Why do you not cover their faces or take their weapons to further defend yourself?” Medusa seemed to realize what Elpida was referring to. I was still stuck in my confusion, waiting for one of them to explain. Medusa had a small smile on her lips.

“I keep their faces uncovered for if they are revived. So they don’t choke on the sand with their first breath of new life.” Elpida nodded, as if proud. I waited for the second answer to the question. 

“I do not take their weapons for almost the same reason. If they come back, it would mean my power would no longer have a hold on them. They’ll have weapons to defend themselves against me and other enemies they encounter.” Elpida raised an eyebrow, a sad look coming across her face. But she did not speak. Medusa looked once more across the Graveyard before turning towards the direction of her cave. Elpida quickly followed, walking side by side with Medusa and hooking their elbows together. 

“What’s for dinner?” Elpida questioned, sparking a bright laugh from her companion. 

The night passed quickly as did the month that followed. The two girls had become close, each evening Medusa and Elpida trading stories and jokes from their homelands. I saw the light blush upon Elpida’s face as Medusa brushed hair from her eyes. I saw Medusa look lovingly at Elpida, the young maiden becoming the source of joy that woke her up in the morning. One particular night, the wind was a fierce chill. Medusa went to grab extra animal hides for blankets as Elpida tended the fire. Elpida smiled in the direction Medusa went. 

“Whoever sent me here, thank you.” She whispered to herself, fingers abstently twisting strands of hair. You’re welcome, I replied but of course, she did not hear me. So I merely sent a sign. Elpida’s features twisted from shy to incredulous as the shadow against the cave wall shifted in shape. She watched as somehow her shadow formed into someone else. Another woman seemingly wearing a veil tending a flame a thousand times bigger than the one in Medusa’s cave. I watched as she blinked and the vision was gone. Elpida’s lips formed a small smile as she whispered my name, finally knowing who was watching over her. Medusa returned and Elpida turned away from the wall, smiling joyishly at the gorgon. The two cuddled by the fire, Elpida resting in the curl of Medusa’s serpent body. Kiss! I chanted but my words fell upon deaf ears. Slowly, the girls drifted into peaceful sleep, their bodies pressed together for warmth. I smiled at the sight, warming my heart. Warmth that quickly died as an icy feeling krept inside my bones. I turned towards the sea, looking for someone that was not yet there. I knew something horrible was to happen soon, call it godly intuition, but I did not know what. Looking back, I can say with certainty what had struck such a reaction upon me. 

Perseus was coming.  

ok sorry to interupt what i think was a cool ending: would anyone be interested in knowing more about elpida? i also have other ocs lol

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

The Christian Republic of America

(My first manuscript, “The Flag and The Cross, 2084” explained)

11/19/2020

Scientific Morality©

The noun, “freedom” is the most misused word in the USA, as is the word, “liberty.” Who misuses it the most? Why, the folks of the authoritarian Right. Whenever they utter either word, it gives the commoner goose bumps all over the body and a tingling sensation in the crotch area. Listening to them, you’d think they invented these words. The very people who promise you freedom are the ones who will take it away. George Orwell, in his book about totalitarianism, “1984,” called this “double speak.”

As I’ve explained before, the fanatics of the three main world religions possess the mindset that human beings are barbaric animals that must be tamed. Humans, they maintain, are basically evil and perpetuate crime and terror within society. In reality, these religious, anti-humanitarians want to “free you” from freedom.

Crime is the high price of freedom. Consider any authoritarian country, Left or Right, and crime statistics are almost at zero. In North Korea, for example, the streets are empty. Forget about a casual stroll on a warm evening. The cops will stop and question you. If they don’t like your answers, off to jail you go. I’d much rather walk the crowded streets of New York City and have my wallet pick-pocketed than risk that! I’ve told you this once and I’ll repeat it, again and again: you cannot stop crime through religious morality or authoritarian repression. Crime originates from psychological disorders. It will require science to solve it. (You can be sure that some schmuck from the Right will read this passage and start to mock this as “wokeness.” Well, you can either ignore this cretin or slap his stupid face!)

The existence of crime is seen as a good excuse to create a police state or a Theocracy. I will focus on the latter. Contrary to poplar belief, God is not good. He does a lot of evil, himself. In the First Testament, he flooded the earth and commited the biggest genocide in human history! Why are the innocent killed or injured? Is it because God was never born and, thus, he can never die? Maybe, after trillions of years, he became bored and tormented his creations? Such polemics of Theology are a waste of time for life lovers!

What happens when the state becomes a Theocracy? I wrote a manuscript in the 80’s about this subject entitled, “The Flag and the Cross, 2084.” In my story, the Evangelicals take over—not only the USA, but the entire world! These wealthy, White, Anglo-Saxon Males run the world until, eventually, all of humanity becomes nomadic because of global warming. One nation is destroyed by drought while others succumb to freezing, until all are inhospitable. Alas, the poor become climate change refugees. The Government is run by fundamentalists-turned-criminals and common crime disappears. Before long, this wholesome society terrifies its citizens. The streets are empty and patrolled by the “God Squad,” otherwise known as the morality police. Pants for women are outlawed and, should the police catch a woman wearing a pair, she immediately gets the death penalty—right on the spot! Masturbation is outlawed, as is premarital sex. Cameras are installed in bathrooms and bedrooms. Anyone who violates the law is arrested and executed by firing squad. All religions and protestant denominations are outlawed, Jews are put in concentration camps with Palestinians, and Israel becomes a Christian state. All Muslims and Hindus, along with Buddhists, are cremated. The world evolves into a dystopian nightmare.

Today, the public is aware of Islamic Theocracy, which exists in countries like Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq. The set-up is the same: a wealthy monarchy and rich oil sheikhs rule over a population of poor Muslims. Don’t fool yourself—living under a Theocracy is not a family-friendly environment. Anybody who tells you that they are the forces of God and goodness, are lying. I warned of that, in my manuscript, way back in the 80’s.

I found that I could never get my book just right, not to my satisfaction. I did a re-write, but to no avail. Maybe I will try again someday. My main message was and is, however, that morality is not achieved by violence or threats of violence. It is achieved when it is voluntarily abided by all people of a civilized populace.

Should you encounter anybody who says that fear is the only way to achieve a moral society, shun them and keep on walking towards Paradise.

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 14

This time, they walked in silence. Marcy kept her hand in Nyota’s and her soft fingers helped keep Nyota’s breath from spiraling out of her grip. There was so much weight on her now that it felt like her ribs would crack from the tension alone. As if she felt that, Marcy tightened her grip. Like she was afraid Nyota would run.

And then, almost too soon, the gate loomed up ahead, still and silent against the star-filled sky. It had been a long time since Nyota last set foot on this side of the Outpost. It was just as she remembered, not a fleck of dust out of place.

“It is really impressive,” Marcy said, filling the silence at last. “Is this—I saw an illustration like it in a research journal once. How does it work?”

“Honestly, I do not know that part,” Nyota said. Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears. “But I collected core fragments to power it. …Marcy, I’ll answer your questions about the gate later, but please. Before I lose my nerve. I owe you answers.”

Marcy stopped, hand halfway out to touch the stones, and stared up at her.

“I had hoped I could distract us,” Nyota admitted, “by bringing you here.” She looked up at the gate above them. “I am always avoiding my problems like that. Ignoring them, running away.”

“No you’re not,” Marcy protested. “In the Academy—”

“It was running that brought me to Earth.”

Marcy fell silent.

Nyota ran a hand over the polished stone, digging her short fingernails into the tiny cracks where each stone fit into the next. She bit her lip, hard. Avoiding it again. Speak, damn it. She closed her eyes and pulled up the memory of Lana’s face, of staring down that rifle at the entrance to the Miniknog Stronghold, of Lumen and Namina’s stares burning into her back. “You were right,” she said, “when you guessed that I was law enforcement before. I was.”

The silence was deafening.

“I was an officer in the Miniknog.” Nyota resisted the urge to look back and make sure Marcy was still there. It helped, somehow, standing beside the massive gate, feeling so small in its shadow. If she had felt larger, braver, she might have found the courage to bury the words again. “I was an Agent. A spy. A soldier, rarely, with this damned leg of mine. From the day I turned seven years old until just after my twenty-second birthday, I served in full obedience to the will of Big Ape.”

“That’s a long time.” Marcy’s voice was very, very quiet.

Now Nyota turned to look back at her, and the old Miniknog part of her heart swelled with pride to see how firmly and cleverly Marcy masked her emotions now. Skill like that was hard to come by without being trained. Such potential… The part that had been Marcy’s friend throbbed at seeing a blank-faced stranger in the young woman’s place.

“So,” the Miniknog Agent asked, “are you still my friend?”

“I don’t know,” Marcy said slowly, and Nyota tilted her head in acknowledgment of a fair answer. “I guess this is why you always told me not to make promises I can’t keep, back on Earth. Why did you leave?”

Nyota looked up, past the gate, at the stars hanging heavy and distant and silent overhead. One of them had been her homeworld sun, once. “I realized there were other ways,” she said. “I grew up with the Miniknog being all that was good in the world. I learned early that they were evil, but thought they were a necessary one. Then, one day, I found that they weren’t even that.”

She paused. “You can speak, you know.” Her voice was, in that moment, the closest to what Marcy had known on Earth that it had been since they met in Patchwork. “Reproach me, call security, run for home. I won’t stop you. I don’t have the right to stop you.”

She could feel Marcy’s hesitation. “I realize I should,” Marcy said, “but if I close the book now, I won’t know how it ended.”

Emotion, too strong to name, caught thick and heavy in Nyota’s throat and she had to fight back tears for a long moment. It didn’t quite work. “I have humans to thank for it,” she said, blinking quickly as her vision blurred around the edges. “I met one during a science summit with the USCM, before it collapsed. He mentioned the Protectorate… It took me two years to perfect an escape that wouldn’t leave me dead or in a cell in minutes. That’s when I met Isobu.”

“What? Isobu knew, and neither of you told me?”

Nyota flinched at the hurt and anger in Marcy’s voice. “He didn’t know. Not for certain, at any rate. I never told him either. I think he assumed I was part of the rebellion.”

“He was way off the mark, then…”

“Yes.” The tears finally stopped trying to escape down her cheeks. “I don’t think he cared too much about the details at the time. He was venting out in a snow drift when I found him.”

“Wait—so that was true?” Marcy’s quiet anger vanished into surprise. “You did find him in a snowdrift? You two weren’t just pulling my leg?”

Laughter shrieked out of Nyota like water escaping a ruptured pipe, high and hysteric. The tears returned with a vengeance and her knees gave out, the tension supporting them gone too soon, sending her sliding down to the base of the gate, still shaking with laughter. Her lungs burned as she tried to pull in a full breath.

A small hand settled on her shoulder. “I really don’t know if I should be scared of you or scared for you right now,” Marcy told her quietly. She took Nyota’s hands and held them until Nyota subsided and started breathing calmly again.

Nyota squeezed Marcy’s fingers gently. “I could never hurt you,” she whispered. “Not intentionally. I didn’t mean to, with this. I was just… too deep in the role to let it go. I’m so sorry.”

“Nyota, be honest with me,” Marcy said. Her voice shook, just a little. “When you knew me on Earth, how much.... How much of ‘you’ was a mask?”

Nyota retained enough courage and respect, for both Marcy and herself, to not look away. “All of it,” she replied softly, hand tightening against the deep pain in her throat as Marcy's face fell. “But none of it was a lie. It was... a mask of who I wanted to be.”

“I think—” Marcy’s voice caught a little. She shook her head and, to Nyota’s shock, smiled. “I think I can work with that. You still have a lot of story to tell me. I want to know if you ever did become her, that Nyota I knew.”

“…as you wish.” Nyota stood again, to Marcy’s concern, and held out a hand. “I’m sure you’re tired of me dragging you everywhere by now, but there’s someone you should meet. I think she could answer that question much better than I can.”

[m0n0visi0n]

[NAMIKO'S ONE REGRET]

            The forest was where Namiko felt most comfortable. Perhaps it was an instinctual thing brought upon her by her demonic nature, the heavy air filled with dread draping over her like a heavy blanket, putting her mind at ease after a long day. It didn’t matter too much to her, though. It was her second home, where there was no fighting, no tears, just calm and darkness.

            That was, until her sister was born.

            Cassie was a small little thing, always curious and asking questions about the smallest of things. With her plain yellow complexion, long brown hair that lay limp across her shoulders, and wide green eyes that always seemed locked onto her big sisters, Namiko rarely ever thought of her.

Cassie had no horns, no thin tail, no claws, she was painfully human. She couldn’t handle going into the ancient forest like Namiko or her twin, Lotus, could.

So why on Earth would she think it would be a good idea to bring the seven-year-old with her?

“Don’tcha think we’re going too far?” Cassie looked over her shoulders, stumbling over every root and rock as she tried to keep up with her sister.

Namiko didn’t look behind her, instead carving a mark into a tree trunk with her black claws. “No,” she answered simply.

The sky had been bright before the sisters had entered the forest, rarely a cloud in sight. Almost as soon as Namiko led the younger into the forest, everything grayed over, thick black clouds swirling in the sky as moisture filled the air, getting ready to rain.

“I think we should head home,” Cassie urged, finally making her way next to the albino teen. “Mommy always said to stay away from here.”

“Mommy is legally insane.”

Cassie’s eyebrows were furrowed, a pout making its way to her pale, thin lips. “What about Lotus? She also warns me about this forest.”

Namiko rolled her eyes, finally turning to face her younger sister. Something about the confused and worried look in her eyes just… irked Namiko. It made her fingers twitch as something sour filled her heart, dark claws reaching up and squeezing. “They only say that because you’re a human,” she explained, bending down to be face to face with Cassie. Something in her protested this action. “Humans are often considered to be vulnerable in here.”

If anything, Cassie looked more confused. “Why?”

Namiko sighed. She began walking again, hearing the leaves crunching behind her as Cassie tried to catch up. “Let me tell you a story.”

“Long ago, in the times of old, when monsters and humans roamed the Earth in harmony, there was a demon,”

“Like you!” Cassie interrupted.

Namiko nodded slightly, a tad bit annoyed at the interruption. “Yes, a demon like me. His name was Jasper. He was young, only nineteen, and he was insufferable.”

“What does insufferable mean?”

“A bitch.”

“What does a bitch mean?”

“What Lotus is.”

“Oh!”

Namiko cleared her throat, resuming the story. “Trouble would follow Jasper wherever he went, pranks gone wrong, poisoning the village’s water supply, and scaring all the little changelings. Soon enough, everyone started calling him a curse, a failure. Jasper didn’t mind though. He liked the criticism, he thrived on it.” She paused. “And one day, he went into the forest, where he found his true love.”

“Aw,” Cassie crooned.

“She was a beautiful woman, with long brown hair that fell into luscious waves that framed her delicate face, and enchanting green eyes filled with mystery and intrigue.”

“Like me!”

“Jasper was captivated by this girl, even more so when she showed the same amount of interest in him. But there was one problem. She was a human.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Cassie tilted her head quizzically. “Weren’t humans and monsters friends back then?”

Namiko sighed, shaking her head before ducking underneath a low hanging branch, her dark red horns scraping against the soft bark. A small drop of water fell in front of her, getting absorbed into the ground immediately. “No, things had been very tense between the human and monster rulers at the time. Jasper didn’t care though. His darling was just so lovely, he had to have her. And so, he walked to the demon kingdom, his lover in hand as he walked her through the streets, keeping her away from curious eyes. He knew that the monster ruler would never allow them to wed, it was just impossible. So, he gave her a cloak and a string. He tied the string around her waist, a thin red line that trailed behind her and swayed with each moment, and he put the cloak around her shoulders, raising the hood and covering her head. He had disguised her as a demon.

“And their plan worked. She was able to walk amongst the demons, eat their food, participate in their rituals, make friends. And so, they got wed. They married and had three kids.”

“Did anybody from the human village wonder where she was?”

“Of course they did. Her parents wept and sobbed, praying to their gods for her safe return. But soon, it was just assumed that she had wondered into the woods, killed by wolves.”

Cassie frowned. “Why didn’t they keep looking?”

“Sometimes, it’s just easier to accept that those you love are dead. That there’s… no way they’ll ever be coming back. They had to accept that their daughter was likely dead, now at peace deep in the woods.”

Cassie had nothing to say to that, only looking at her untied shoes now as more drops of water fell around them. Namiko paused for a second to leave a mark on a nearby tree, its growth stunted.

“… Nothing good lasts forever. After years of blending in with demons, the woman got angry at Jasper. She was annoyed by his constant pranks that put her, a weak and fragile human, at risk. So, one day, she followed Jasper into the woods, noticing that the demon had boxful of fireworks. She confronted him, and the two soon got into a fight. The woman threatened to leave him, causing him to throw the box of fireworks on the ground as sparks flew off him.”

“Sparks?”

Namiko nodded, raising her hands, and rubbing them together. “Demons used to be able to summon fires. As they became more evolved with fire starters and ovens, they lost the need to create fires at a whim, so the ability slowly started to disappear. But, if you try hard enough-“ A spark flew out from between her pale hands, quickly being extinguished by the slow falling rain. “-you can create little sparks.”

“As I was saying, Jasper was really, really angry. Sparks flew from him as he took a step towards his love, and one landed on the cast aside box of fireworks.  They were startled out of their argument by the sound of fireworks going off, one lighting the other, flying out of the box and towards the dry trees. The forest caught on fire. In a panic, Jasper took off, accidentally leaving his wife surrounded by growing flames. It was only until he reemerged from the forest did he realize that she hadn’t followed him. He ran back into the forest, ignoring the flames as they reached for him.” Namiko ignored Cassie’s saddened gasps, stopping for just a second to drag her claws across another tree. “By now, the thick and heavy smoke had drawn attention from both the humans and the monsters, multiple groups being sent out to stop it from spreading. The fire raged on for hours, only being fully put out as midnight fell upon them. The groups soon made it to the middle of the forest, seeing scorched trees all around them, and a sobbing demon hunched over the charred remains of a human.

“Almost immediately, the humans and the monsters began fighting over the scene before them, the humans claiming that Jasper had lured a human out there with the intent of murder on his mind. The monsters tried their best to refute these accusations, but they didn’t even believe themselves. Multiple monsters had gotten injured over Jasper’s pranks, who’s to say that he wouldn’t snap one day and murder someone.”

Namiko couldn’t bear to look at Cassie’s crestfallen face, no doubt with tears welling in her eyes as her puffy cheeks were flushed pink. The rain started falling harder.

“Jasper kept quiet while they were fighting, just staring at the charred flesh and bones of his lover. He kept quiet as they escorted him to the human ruler. He kept quiet as the monster and human ruler agreed on banishing the demon. And for once, as everyone called him a curse and a failure, Jasper felt… guilty. He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed of the name he was given by everyone. And so, he went into the forest his lover had burned in, and with her bones, he carved a spell into the burnt trees. No longer were humans able to enter the forest. This spell had weakened over time, without any blood sacrificed to make it permanent. So now, all humans get is a constant sense of danger and fear looming over them. Some have been driven to madness due to the paranoia, mainly travelers with no knowledge of what happened all those years ago.”

Cassie remained silent for a moment, and while Namiko was somewhat pleased by the silence, something akin to concern laid beneath the surface. She tried to convince herself that it was because Cassie would tell their mom and she would get in trouble for telling such a dark story to her.

After a few minutes of walking and scratching marks on the trees, Cassie looked at Namiko with confusion. “Why did you bring me here?”

For that, Namiko had no answer. She kept her eyes forward, ignoring the way her hands shook. Why was she worried?

Seeing as she wasn’t going to get an answer, Cassie asked something else. “Why do you scratch marks into the trees?”

Namiko scrunched her eyebrows together, looking down at her claws that indeed did have bark stuck underneath them. Her mouth opened to answer, words involuntarily slipping from her lips. “I didn’t notice them. If I noticed, you would still be here.”

The sound of leaves crunching behind her soon ceased. “… I didn’t notice the scratches in the bark,” she whispered, a stone sinking in her gut. “I should have noticed.”

She looked over her shoulder, looking down to see a pair of small, untied sneakers laying in the leaves, moss and lichen growing on them. “Cassie?” She hated how small her voice sound. “Cassie, where are you?”

“I’m sorry.”

Gin peeled open her eyes, still half asleep as the lights of her bedroom turned on. “Namiko?” her words were slurred from sleep as she rubbed her eyes, her dusty pink hair falling in front of her face.

The albino woman wordlessly approached Gin before promptly collapsing on her bed, her thin red tail limp behind her. Gin sighed, pulling Namiko over to her lap as she soothingly rubbed the base of her horns. “You had a nightmare about her?” Namiko nodded, burring her face between the blanket.

“It’s okay, you both were just kids. You didn’t know any better.”

“… I never saw her body.” Namiko quietly murmured, her monotone voice muffled by the soft cotton.

Bending down, Gin planted a reassuring kiss on the back of Namiko’s head. “Oh, I know, I know, little mouse. But you searched, didn’t you?” Namiko nodded once more. “And that’s all you could do.”

[mcu-romanoff]

Sitting on the Floor Babygirl? pt. 2

Link to Pt. 1 Sitting on the Floor Babygirl? Pt 1

Link to Pt. 3 Sitting on the Floor Babygirl? Pt 3

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary:

Pt. 1: You get locked out of your dorm room and your neighbors offer you a place to chill and study. Your neighbors just happen to be the two women who you are crushing on.

Pt. 2: Wanda and Natasha help you study and maybe somethings are revealed.

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, questionable science facts??

A/N: Hi!! So here is part 2! I have absolutely loved writing both parts. Maybe I might make it a little series idk. I hope everyone enjoys part 2! Also shoutout to @wandamaximoffbae for some ideas that went into it!

Previously:

"You sitting on the floor, babygirl?" Natasha asked, looking at you with an adoring grin on her face.

You flushed, nodding your head.

"Course she is," Wanda said, sitting up and reaching down to twist a strand of your hair. "Cause she is just the sweetest."

* * *

Wanda reached her hand not twisting your hair, and cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed your skin so softly back and forth a few times. Her mesmerizing eyes caught yours, and you couldn't look away.

Across the room, Natasha had sat on her desk chair, "Wanda," she called out. "I thought she needed to do some, you know, studying."

You whipped your head in Natasha's direction, your face still flushed. Wanda's hands dropped from your face and hair. She pulled away, making a small sound of protest, and sat back against Natasha's bed. Natasha shot a grin at Wanda, and Wanda shot a smirk back. There were a few beats of silence where Wanda and Nat seemed to be silently communicating. They seemed to do that a lot.

Natasha turned and smiled at you, "what class is the test in, darling?"

"Oh, it's my Earth Science with Professor Coulson," you said, taking out your notebook and textbook from your backpack.

"Oh hey," Wanda said. "We had Coulson last year for science."

"Yeah, and we both passed," Natasha started before getting up from her chair. She walked across the room and sat down beside you. "Do you want some help studying?"

You heard the bed behind you, shifting and Wanda appeared next to you on the floor.

"Yeah, sweets, we studied together all the time for his class," Wanda said, shooting a slight smirk to Nat.

"Yeah," you said. "I'd love you guy's help. Science isn't my best, and you guys are so smart, so…" you trailed off, and your face flushed at the compliment you had given Nat and Wanda.

Natasha gave a smile, "since we are so smart, hand me that notebook then, babes."

Wanda climbed off the bed and sat next to Nat to help you study from your notes in the notebook.

"I'll ask you some questions?" Wanda asked you. You nodded in response.

"Describe the elements of a mineral?" Wanda asked.

Oh god, how were you supposed to think about science when Wanda and Nat were looking at you like that. They were so very distracting.

"Umm. They're homogeneous, naturally occurring, solid inorganic substances with definable chemical composition and… an internal structure characterized by an orderly arrangement of atoms, ions, or molecules in a lattice." You looked at them for confirmation you had gotten it correct. Both women were openly staring at you. "Was that right?" you asked slowly.

Nat nodded, "correct, darling."

You smiled, having gained a bit of confidence from answering correctly. "Next question?" you turned to Wanda.

Nat elbowed Wanda lightly in the ribs. "Oh right, yes. Sorry." Wanda looked sheepish as she looked back down at the paper and started going down your notes, asking you questions. You had gotten many of them correct. Until she asked, "What's the difference between isotopes and polymorphs?"

Oh crap, you thought. You could never remember what these were. "Umm, uhh…" you said, trying to search your brain for the answer. "I don't know," you said quietly, looking at Wanda and Nat.

The women glanced at each other, and Nat pointed at the paper and whispered something to Wanda. Wanda shook her head.

"Darling," Nat said. "You must not have taken down this answer. It's just blank in your notes."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "really? I'm usually pretty good about taking my notes."

Wanda flipped your notebook around to show you the blank spaces where you had actually not taken down the answers.

"Ugh," you groaned before picking up your textbook on the ground beside you. You sat the book in your lap. "Now I need to find it," you muttered. You were flicking through the pages, your face contorting into concentration as you tried to find the answers. While you thumbed through the book, Wanda and Nat were just watching you. They both found your concentrating face absolutely adorable and just made them want to kiss the look off your face. You missed the look they gave each other and the nod Nat gave Wanda. Wanda inched closer to you while your head was still looking in the book.

"You guys. I think I found it. It says…" you started but never got to finish your sentence. Wanda had taken the textbook out of your hands and tossed it to the side. She was sitting next to you on her heels, just a bit taller than you. She was hovering over you, her breath fanning out across your face. God, she was so hot. Her eyes were boring into yours. You couldn't look away.

"Can I kiss you?" Wanda asked, her voice going a bit raspy.

Your breath picked up when she asked the question. "Please," you whispered. And then Wanda's soft lips were on yours. You felt dizzy and warm, and were fireworks going off somewhere? The kiss seemed to last forever, but eventually, Wanda pulled away to allow you both the breath in some air.

You were breathless, but Natasha was there as soon as Wanda moved away. Her fiery red hair engulfed your vision, and her eyes were hypnotizing you.

"Can I kiss you too?" Nat asked, looking right into your eyes.

"Yes," you answered breathlessly. Natasha's lips were on yours. They were soft and tasted of vanilla. The dizzying, warming feeling was back. Were the fireworks still going off somewhere?

Natasha pulled away, and you were out of breath and practically panting. As Nat moved back to your side, the haze over your mind started to clear. And your mind began to race.

You need answers. You were confused, and you needed to ask some questions before you kept kissing them. You glanced at both their faces. Their lips were kiss swollen and in the widest, biggest smiles you had ever seen. On second thought, you could definitely kiss them all the time. Oh gosh, you thought they were going to get you in trouble with their kisses, weren't they?

"I can see them on your face," Wanda says as she brushes her fingers over your cheek.

You look at her, "what?" you ask.

Natasha chuckles from your other side. You turn your head to look at her.

"Questions, sweetheart. Can see you have some, so ask away." Natasha said, her face open and genuine. Both of them did.

You flushed as you glanced back and forth between your two crushes.

"Well, umm, are you two together? I was never sure. And oh no, if you guys are, I'm sorry. I don't want to be some kind of homewrecker." You rushed out. Your brain was on overdrive, and anything was coming out of your mouth.

"Hey, hey, hey," Wanda said, bringing her hands to cup your face. "You are not a homewrecker, do not worry about that."

Natasha took your hands in hers, and Wanda gently turned your head to face Nat.

"Wands and I are together. Just over a year now," Natasha said.

"I mean, sometimes you wouldn't know it," Wanda said with a slight giggle. "This one over here isn't the biggest fan of public affection."

"Yeah, well, that's because I prefer to kiss you senselessly in private," Natasha said, shooting Wanda a sly smirk. A slight blush colored Wanda's cheeks.

You let out a little giggle, and both girls turned to look at you.

"Oh, you think that funny?" Natasha asked, smirk still in place.

You gave a sheepish smile and a slight giggle again, "yeah, a little bit."

Natasha slowly leaned in until her face was so close to yours you could feel her warm breath fan out across your face. "Oh really?" Natasha said, her voice seemed a whole octave lower than before.

"I thought we were talking, you know," Wanda said, pressing a kiss to Natasha's cheek, breaking the spell you and Nat had been under together.

Natasha lightly kissed the tip of your nose before pulling back. "Yes, yes, we are talking."

"So you two are together?" You asked them.

Both women nodded.

"So," you paused, your heart thudded loudly in your chest. Both Wanda and Nat were looking at you, waiting for you to continue.

"Umm, you guys like me, right? Cause I would hope so, you both kissed me. I mean, unless you want more of a friends with benefits situation. Which I'm flattered, but I don't think that's really my style and I…" A pair of soft lips cut off your ramble. Opening your eyes in surprise, you saw Wanda pulling away from you.

"You done, babygirl?" Wanda asked, smiling. You nodded.

"Nat and I like you. A lot." Wanda said, taking one of your hands in hers.

"No friends with benefits," Nat added. "We want to take you out on a date. If you want?" She took your other hand in hers.

"I would love to go on a date with you guys," you beamed at them. "It was probably pretty obvious with all my rambling before."

Wanda and Nat were smiling at you.

"I mean yes," Nat said. "But I thought it was cute."

Your face turned red.

"Is your face going to do that every time one of us compliments you?" Wanda asked you.

You looked down, your face flushing even more, "I mean probably," you mumbled.

"Well, good thing you're adorable, darling," Wanda said, leaning in and kissing your cheek.

"Thanks," you said with a small smile.

"Is tonight good?" Natasha asked you. "For a date?"

You looked up at her, "of course."

"Perfect," Nat said and squeezed your hand affectionately.

"One condition, though," You said.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Wanda asked.

"You two actually help me study for my test."

Wanda and Nat let out full laughs.

"Of course, darling," Nat said, still giggling.

"Got to help our girl keep those grades up," Wanda said, settling back next to you on the floor. She took your textbook off the floor from where she had tossed it when she kissed you senseless earlier.

"The sooner you pass this test, the sooner we can take you out," Nat said excitedly, leaning her head on your shoulder to look at the notebook still resting in your lap.

"I can't wait," you said, a full smile on your face.

[espritmuse]

okayyyy but dom bully mikasa who starts being mean to you when you get too close to eren and tells you you’re acting like such a slut around him until one day she eventually fucks you stupid calling you the same names and making you tell her your hers

—𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄—

⌕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mikasa Ackerman x Reader

⌕ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: semi public sex (school bathrooms), fingering, cunnilingus, meankasa and possessive Mikasa, a bit of degradation. [1.3 words.]

⌕ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: The beginning is just for a bit of context, you can just go right to the smut if ur too horny, it’s the best moment I guess…. (Yeah it is)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 —

Mikasa knew very well where this little game was going. Since the very beginning. But can you blame her for playing with you like she did? it was so fun, seeing you getting all flustered, seeing your eyes avoiding hers when you both met in the school corridors.

A boy. A stupid and meaningless boy. It was the problem, or rather, her excuse for treating you like she always does. Accidents, like she calls them in front of the headteacher when she is, once again, sent to his office.

But the line was definitely crossed last Saturday night, when you went to her boyfriend’s birthday party. Eren Yeager. It took you some time, perhaps too much time to finally realise and understand that jealousy was the cause of all of your mistreatment.

Daggers piercing your skin. That’s what her dark black eyes would’ve thrown if they could when her boyfriend shared his cup of alcohol with you. You weren’t that close to him, you weren’t even really his friend, but that was already too much, apparently. Since then, insults and humiliations got worse, so much worse.

“Slut.” This is what you could read on the body of your car, written in red paint. Eyes wide and mouth agape, you tried to use the sleeve of your shirt to wash the paint out, without any success. You looked stupid, like this, on the parking lot; and she didn’t miss a second of it.

3PM in the school restroom. That was the time and the place you were supposed to meet her at. You accepted, for some unknown reason, after reading it on the piece of paper she had left on your car. Curiosity, as it may be.

And there she was. Awaiting for you, her back pressed on the white wall, an unamused expression on her face. Unamused, until she heard your footsteps walking down to her.

Black nail polish. It was what her nails were painted with when she slowly slid them down your pants, looking straight at you, eyes lost in your own gaze, searching for the slightest glimpse of disapprobation.

Nowhere to be found.

“Don’t make any loud noises. You’ll regret it” She advised spitefully, in an inaudible whisper, her lips almost caressing yours. “Understood?” She then questioned rhetorically.

“Y…yes” you answered uncertainly, still a bit confused of what was just occurring in front of you.

“Good girl. Open your legs.” She announced in a rough voice. An order, that’s what it really sounded like.

You did so, spreading both of your lower members without any difficulties on the bathroom cabinet, sitting in-between the two sinks. Your movement seemed to please her because her lips curved into a small angelic and exited smile. The black haired woman placed both of her hand on each individual knees before pulling you closer to her.

She put one knee on the floor, then the second, before pulling down your underwear swiftly with her fingers. It was delicate, surprisingly. Your eyes weren’t missing a single piece of this moment, amazed and still a bit shocked.

“You’re a dirty girl you know. Couldn’t have guessed that.” She remarked, holding your pink lace lingerie in her pale hand, her curious and mocking gaze all over your underwear. “I wonder if the top is the same.” She started after dropping your pantie on the bare floor, “or let me guess, you’re not even wearing anything under your shirt? Hm?”

“I…”

“Shh…bad girls don’t talk.” She said, standing back up quickly and placing her hand on your face, her thumb caressing your cheek. You couldn’t even tell what was going on in her mind, her movements towards you didn’t give any further details. Was she playing with you? Maybe one of her friends was hiding and recording all of that? You didn’t know. You should’ve stopped.

But you didn’t want to.

Mikasa took both sides of your skirt and lifted it a bit, exposing your pubis to her perverted gaze and, suddenly, her mouth was painted with a very big and bright smile, as if this scenery was all the needed, everything she always wanted.

You were now all naked, with the exception of your skirt, that was still covering your ass and not allowing the cold surface to come in contact with your bare skin.

And yeah, she was right, you weren’t wearing anything under your shirt.

Her tongue wandering playfully around your warm core, you mentally begged her to pleasure you. You needed it, so, so much. It's funny when you think about it; you just hated her more than anyone on this earth some minutes ago and now, she’s between your legs at your most vulnerable state.

“Mikasa…. Can you…” you tried to say.

“Quiet.” She replied spitefully, the sound of her voice slightly muffled since her head was buried in your lower body. The raven-haired woman placed both of your legs on her shoulders, your knees bending at the curve of her bones.

It’s her tongue that you felt first, sliding slowly between your fold, trying to find its way to your clit. And it did find, pretty quickly, like it always belonged here. She moved it very slowly, at first, making sure to not hurt you or making you uncomfortable.

You grabbed her black hair, trying to keep your noises for yourself, as she ordered you to some minutes prior. You could feel every little thing, her steady and serene breath on your vulva, her nose brushing slightly against your mons pubis and her right hand stroking gently your right knee.

“See? When you close this fucking mouth…” she said between loud respiration. It seemed like she was talking to herself, actually. But you still listened carefully. “You…you’re fucking delicious…I knew it.” She continued, her words feeling even better on your clit because of the air she was releasing when she was pronouncing them.

Two fingers. Or maybe three, you couldn’t even tell. She started moving them very slowly inside of you, trying to follow the rhythm of her tongue at the same time. It was the same identical pace, you could tell. It felt fantastic.

You couldn’t even stop the noises from escaping your lips, it was impossible. Never in your life you have felt that great, that pleasured.

Her lips and tongue sucking on your clit, you almost didn’t notice when she replaced her mouth with her thumb. She got up from the dirty floor of the bathroom and got closer to you and, as a whisper, planted some soft kisses on your temples and your nose. You glimpsed a change in her behaviour, almost unnoticeable, but it was here.

“Mika….Mikasa…it…” you tried to say once again, but this time she didn’t interrupt you or, not directly; you simply couldn’t talk anymore.

“It feels good doesn’t it baby?” She whispered in your ear sensually. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” She continued.

“V…very very good…” you mumbled.

“Very good? Is that so?” She questioned gently, her knuckles moving back and forth inside your folds. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you sweetheart?” She asked as well after noticing your hands, who tried to grab her shirt uncontrollably.

You nodded quickly. But she stopped.

“You’re mine. Do you understand?” Mikasa said, looking straight in your eyes, a devilish smile on her angelic face.

“Mhh…. Please….why did you…” You protested, not even paying attention to the things she was saying.

“I won’t continue if you don’t say it back.”

“I… I’m y…yours…”

You finally felt her hands moving back in your body, allowing you to properly cum, your head buried in the crook of her neck as she was trying to keep her balance with her free hand, positioned on the mirror behind you.

“Turns out I was right all this time huh?” She started, once out of the bathroom, both of you looking all innocent, as if nothing had happened. “You’re such a slut.” She quietly proceeded in your ear.

You were right too, it was jealousy all of this time.

Thank you a lot for reading <333 reblogs and comments are pretty much welcomed !! Have a nice day!

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