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s-4pphics · 11 months

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let the rain sing. 4 (a.a)

wc;cw: 7k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap(oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi<3, slight angst yall know the deal, brief mentions of familial death, cigarettes, nasty sloppy sex MDNI, dubcon(they sipped a little), couch action :p, eating out no taco bell(pussy and ass), tribbing, meantop!abby, strength kink, lots of dirty talk, breeding kink😳😳, mult. orgasms, BREEDING STRAP(idk how they work im sowwie if it’s not accurate :/), slight d!p, body fluids(spit, fake and real cum LOL), UNPREPPED ANAL PLS DONT DO THIS, dumbification, degradation kink, pain kink it’s me duh, hair pulling, slapping, slight mirror sex??

The holiday season passed, and you were standing on Abby’s porch with your tail between your legs and exhaustion weighing you down.

You’ve never been… nervous to see Abby. Whenever you arrived at her home, you were eager and desperate to be in her presence so she could take care of you, but now you were nauseas at the thought of using her that way. And it was all your fault.

You haven’t spoken to her since the Christmas party. You didn’t know what to say. How do you approach somebody that you think hates you after an encounter like that? She went from rightfully kicking you out of her home to rubbing your pussy through your pants without care. In front of your entire family despite your mutual rules, and you didn’t even care enough to stop her. It almost felt like you switched places for the night: she was impulsive and irresponsible, and you allowed her to be, just like how she used to when she handled your demanding attitude. You wished she touched you more before she respectfully departed your parents’ home.

You wanted to speak with Abby properly. You never thought you would be willing to sacrifice your kryptonite once you found it, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged along and solve your problems anymore. Your heart still hurts at the thought of making her cry and leaving her to it. You’re such an idiot.

You called her before you showed up, but she didn’t answer. You don’t blame her for being distant, but she deserves an in-person explanation as to why you should never see her again. You’re a trainwreck and you need to deal with that alone, no matter how exhausting the journey would be.

The sun was setting when you finally exited your car knocked on her door, looking down at your scuffed boots that dug into the melting ice on her porch. You wanted to check to see if her key was still in the same spot under her rug, but you refrained. Your heart filled when you noticed her unique little Christmas decorations still dangling from her door and windows. She loved her flowers, for sure.

When the door yanked open, your heart dropped, and your stomach did somersaults.

Abby was dolled up in a red dress under a black trench coat with matching red nails and shoes, sparkling jewelry, and her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that cascaded down the back of her neck. She looked fucking gorgeous, and your throat went dry. She leaned against the frame as she eyed you, shock evident on her face.

Don’t fold, don’t fold, don’t fold!

You watched her surprise swiftly shift into confusion and… aggravation? Your heart sunk further into the floor, but you held her gaze.

“What’re you doing here?”

Her voice made your heart squeeze painfully; You missed it terribly, regardless of how stiff she sounded.

You took a shuddering breath, “… Hi, Abby.”

She ignored your greeting, “What are you doing here?” She sounded like she was in a rush, and you wanted to cry.

You swallowed harshly, “I-I know you’re probably busy, but I’m— “

“Look, I can’t deal with this right now. I have somewhere to be,” she quietly huffed with agitation like someone would hear, adjusting the shining watch on her wrist to check the time. You could feel her pulling away.

It felt like every cell in your body was dying, your brain fighting on its last legs to conjure up a reply to get her to stay and speak with you. You would’ve dropped down to your knees if it wasn’t freezing. Is this how she felt whenever you would shut her down to fuck? Nausea came in waves.

“I don’t,” you weren’t shaking from the cold. “I don’t wanna do anything. I just wanna… apologize.”

She rolled her eyes at you, “Keep it. Are you done? I gotta leave soon.”

You were motionless, your hands squeezed into fists in your coat pockets as tears jerked in your eyes and lips quivered. Don’t fucking cry!

Your brain didn’t fight hard enough because she shook her head when you didn’t comment, reaching for the door to slam it in your face. It forced you into action, shoving your arm between the open space to stop the wood from shutting completely. You couldn’t control the panic you felt at the thought of her hating you. You don’t remember the last time you cried like this.

“A-Abby, please, I’m so sorry, I can’t,” your heaving picked up as you sobbed to her. “I can’t stop thinking a—bout you and I feel awful and I know you hate me, and you s-should but’m so sorr—y. Please, I can’t— “

Abby seemed unsure through your watery gaze, the tensity in her face dropping slowly as she gauged you. You felt her wrap a light hand around your bicep as you broke down, ushering you inside with soft shushes.

You listened and followed her guide to the couch, taking a seat as you cried out your apologies to her. Your wails overpowered the volume of her coos; She was too fucking nice.

She stood over your sitting form, her soft, rose-scented hands holding your chin as she massaged the back of your pounding head. “Shhh, stop crying, stop.”

Your eyes met hers, and your heart burned, “M’sorry— “

She sighed, “We’re gonna… we’re gonna talk, okay?”

You nodded, sniffing harshly. You didn’t deserve her hospitality, and you felt guilty accepting her courtesy. Had you really been so heartless to such a gentle soul?

She hummed, “Want some water?”

You didn’t answer.

She took your silence as approval and made her way to the kitchen.

You calmed down. Slightly. Abby was able to remove your coat and boots without fuss; You were too busy blowing your nose with the soft tissues she handed to you.

Abby sat next to you on the couch, earrings, coat, and heels removed and slung on the floor near the coffee table. She allowed you to take some sips of your water before she spoke, voice as soft as ever.

“Okay to talk?”

You nodded, setting your glass down on the decorative table and using your sleeves to wipe your still wet face.

You took a deep breath. A few deep breaths, and she let you.

But when you finally opened your mouth to speak, her phone rang.

Both your eyes darted towards the coffee table; a contact named DON’T ANSWER read across the screen. Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes gliding between her and her device. You’ve never seen Abby have a negative reaction towards anyone except you; Who did she not want to answer?

She sighed heavily, reaching towards her phone to mute the ringing. A few moments of silence passed, and the call ended, but the caller popped up again.

She tsked, reaching for her device with agitation. She answered it, annoyance evident in her tone.

“I'm not coming. Stop calling me.”

Your ears perked with intrigue. Was she meant to meet with someone tonight? She sounded so upset.

Some distant ramblings came through her earpiece before she shot back at the person she was speaking to, “I don’t care. It’s not up to you!”

The person got louder with her, the voice masculine. You saw Abby roll her eyes as she listened to the shouts. Why was she getting screamed at?

She spat nastily at the man before hanging up. “Fuck you. Don’t call me anymore tonight.”

She turned her phone off and tossed it onto the longue chair near the TV before turning back to you, the flame in her eyes slowly extinguishing.

“Sorry,” she breathed awkwardly, massaging her temples.

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize, I’m in your home. You can do what you want.”

She hummed at you, her expression suddenly distant. She wasn’t looking at you, but at the hand that rested on your knee. Why was that making your body hot?

“I really came at a bad time, huh?” You huffed.

“Mhm,” she answered before backtracking. “I hate talking to him.”

You spoke before you could think, “Who was it?”

“My ex.”

Your heart frosted over.

“H-Husband?”

She nodded slowly, like it brought her shame to admit. You don’t know why that made your stomach churn with something red. Something fiery that you never felt. How long were they still in contact? You knew they weren’t on good terms due to Abby’s past dismissal of your questions about their past, but now you were really confused about where they stood.

“D’you still talk to him?”

“You interrogating me?” You stiffened at her tone, darkly sarcastic. Fuck, stop fucking up!

You shook your head incessantly, “Not at all! Just… yeah, I don’t know why I asked that.”

“What an honest lawyer,” you saw her lips curl upward into a smirk, and you exhaled a sheepish laugh, your hands squeezing into fists on your lap. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“Not a lawyer yet.”

She bit playfully, “Gonna be soon.”

You made a noise in agreement before silence passed between you.

Abby’s voice made you look up. “We don’t see each other often, my ex and I. Not anymore at least.”

“… Oh. What were you guys going to do tonight?”

Abby shrugged, “Get drunk. Fuck probably.”

You probably looked calm on the outside, but you felt every organ in your body burn like fire at her admission. You were stiff, your nails digging into your palms as grounding. Why are you getting so fucking pissed over them communicating? The fuck?

You couldn’t help yourself, “How come?”

“It’s winter. We’re lonely and miss our daughter.”

You felt like you were dunked into a bottomless tub of ice water. Your brain went into overdrive and your throat closed like you were going to cry again.

She shook her head like nothing mattered, “Not the best coping mechanism, but.”

“A-Abby— “

She cut you off, tone hushed, “We shouldn’t meet anymore, but he just… gets it. Gets me and what I’m still going through. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get rid of him no matter how much I hate his guts.”

You sat there and listened. This is the most personal conversation you’ve had with Abby since the first time you met. You finally met her eyes, waves of emotion flowing through them like ocean waves; You were here, and you wanted to listen to her. I’m sorry for shutting you down in the past. Please talk to me.

You placed an encouraging hand on her bare shoulder, and she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed. She was so tired; You recognized exhausted stiffness from anywhere.

“He’s the only… person I have, honestly. It’s really weird,” she huffed a laugh, rubbing her nose. “We had her alone, we raised her alone, I buried her without him, and now we just… drag each other along in our grief. She died such a long time ago and we’ve made no progress, but I can’t… I can’t leave him.”

You could hear the pain in her voice as she spoke, and it tore you to pieces. You can’t imagine what the two of them went through after such a grave loss; You knew it was your parents’ biggest fear. You had no idea how to talk her through this wave she was experiencing, but both your hands flew down to grab hers in her lap. You rubbed and squeezed them tight, hoping she would accept your presence again. You have me! I’m here, too. I'm sorry I wasn't before, but I am now.

She looked down at your locked fingers, shocked at the gesture. She released a shuddered breath and squeezed back, grabbing your hand like you would slip away.

She continued, her eyes glossy, “We always meet up around this time of year. For anything. For sex, to cry together. We could spend hours yelling and screaming at each other and then walk out of each other’s lives like nothing happened, just to do it all over again. I’m so… fucking tired.”

You shook your head in understanding. She needed comfort, some solace, a distraction just as much as you did, even if it’s only for a second. You wish you knew a better way to appease her emotional needs, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what to say, so you did what you should’ve done a long time ago.

She confided in you, and you listened to all of it.

Abby pulled out an expensive bottle of wine some time ago. You couldn’t stop smiling.

Abby’s laugh was music to your ears, “I can’t believe I fucking did that!”

You shook your head as you beamed at her, “You don’t know how shook I was! I thought I was hallucinating! I don’t know what my cousin put in that fucking blunt, but I was on my ass the rest of the night.”

You and Abby were facing each other, knees touching on the couch, in hysterics about the… events at the Christmas party. She tossed her expensive watch somewhere earlier, her posture content as she leaned back against the arm of her couch. You thought your first conversation after your argument would be much more unnerving, but you were both at ease and light. And a little tipsy.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been at her house, but you didn’t want to leave. You’re so glad you came to see her.

Her hands flew to cover her face, her face burning red, “I’m sorry. Aghh, I fuckin’ cringe. Jesus.”

You shrugged, “Great memories.”

She hummed in agreement, her head tilting as her eyes wandered all over your face. Your face warmed, “You look pretty with your hair up.”

She raised a brow at you, “Oh?”

“Um… yes,” you replied sheepishly.

“I think that’s the first compliment you’ve given me,” she joked, but that made your heart hurt.

“You’re really pretty, Abby,” you replied instantly, tone quiet as your heartbeat picked up. Her expression softened when she called out your name.

You shook your head, eyes dropping to your hands in your lap, “I'm really sorry for yelling at you.”

Her hand came up to lift your chin, “Hey. I’m not upset anymore. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

You nodded, eyes flickering between her mouth and eyes. She whispered your name again, thumb caressing your face.

“Yes?”

She whispered, inching forward slightly, “… How much trouble would I get in for kissing you right now?”

Your tummy instantly swirled, and you grinned, “I dunno. A pretty good amount, I think.”

She moved closer, tongue rolling over her lips as she eyed your mouth.

Your breath shuddered, hand coming up to grab her wrist. You whispered as your face burned, “Kiss me?”

She snorted. Her nose brushed against yours, a smirk plastered on her face as she sniffed, “Yeah?”

Your core squeezed in approval. Abby released the hold she had on your face, strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You followed, straddling her lap, arms looping around her neck. You could see the skirt of her dress riding up from beneath you when she stretched her legs out. She smelled like roses and Barolo.

“Hi,” she whispered with a grin.

You smiled back at her, “Hi.”

Her lips brushed against yours, “Kiss me.”

You cheesed, mischievously pecking her cheek, and she stared at you blankly. You giggled and pinched her squishy cheeks.

“Kiss me for real,” she scolded lightly.

You snorted, poking the space where her dimples are, “Mmm, nah. changed my mind, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t wanna kiss me?” Her voice lowered.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, but you shook your head at her anyway. Your defenses weakened when her grip tightened on your hips and head dropped, planting soft kisses down the expanse of your neck. You could feel her nails tickling the sensitive skin on your back as she softly caressed you. Your eyes went glossy.

She mumbled against your neck, “Missed you.”

Your heart fluttered. You breathed, “Really?”

“Mhm, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Doesn’t matter how much you get on my fucking nerves,” her hands slowly crawled up your waist.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

How does she speak her mind so easily?! “Miss—missed you too.”

“Missed me touching you like this?”

You nodded quickly, and her tongue swiped up the side of your neck. You breathed heavily in her ear, eager to touch her. You pulled back so you could see her face, friskiness dissipating when you connected your lips. She purred in your mouth, lips molding against yours as you grinded on top of her, her red lipstick transferring onto your mouth.

You grabbed her soft cheeks in your hands, gasping when her hands slid down to grab your ass through your jeans. Her tongue licked into your mouth, and your toes curled in your socks. You missed kissing her so badly.

She was kissing you stupid, tugging the hair at the back of your head as she sucked your bottom lip. You shakily brought your hands up to her ponytail to undo the elastic, and her locks fell down her back like liquid. Your arms wrapped around her neck to kiss her deeper, pulling tightly at her soft strands.

She moaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “Need some head?”

You nails dug into her shoulders, “Y-You don’t have t— “

She rolled her eyes, “It’s not for you, it’s for me. I was just tryna be polite.”

Well.

“But I wan—“

Her hand came up to grab your chin. Fuck, you love when she does that. “Don’t care what you want actually. Lay down.”

You scurried off her like she was on fire, lying flat on the couch and ripping your sweater over your head, tossing it into the pile on the floor. Abby stood as you unbuttoned her jeans. You secretly watched as she unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall down her body. She was completely bare underneath. Your eyes followed the thin trail of hair that led down to her wet cunt, and it made you hot… in more ways than one; She was on a mission tonight, for sure.

You shoved your jealousy down; She didn’t owe you anything, especially loyalty. You stared down at your busy hands.

You kicked your jeans off, a sock clumsily catching in your pant leg before they hit the floor. You were not prepared for spontaneous sex at all; One lonesome weed sock, panties with chocolate bars on them, and a gray lounge bra.

You awkwardly scratched your ear and waited for Abby to move, but she didn’t. You looked up at her and noticed her just… staring at your torso. Her expression was unreadable as she took your body in, but you were about to die from her searing ogle. Your face was torched, even more so when she brought a gentle hand up, hooked her middle and index finger into the band of your bra.

Her eyes bore into yours, silently asking for permission, and you nodded. She bit her lip, slowly raising the elastic band up your chest until your breasts dropped out. She played with the two of them, dark red nails digging into the soft skin, pinching at your nipples. You couldn’t stop squirming, watching her hand move on your body. You lifted your bra over your head and laid the bundled fabric over the back of the couch.

“Turn over, baby. Wanna see something,” she barely whispered, patting your thigh encouragingly.

You listened, flipping onto your hands and knees as she climbed on the couch behind you. You sighed happily when she massaged your ass in both hands, rubbing and pulling at your covered cheeks. You peered over your shoulder to watch her pull your sticky panties to the side. She was eyeing your pussy like she wanted to swallow you whole before her eyes flickered an inch up. She was staring at…

Oh. Oh.

You jokingly snarked at her, “Find whatchu lookin’ for?”

Her eyes pierced through yours before she slapped the fuck out of your ass. Your body jerked forward at the force, eyes squeezing shut and groaning at the seering sting. Your head dropped on the arm of the couch.

She sneered at you, “I still feel some typa way. Be nice.”

You gasped out, “M’so— “

“You’re sorry,” She squealed out mockingly. “I know. Be still.”

She yanked your panties down your thighs, “Put your head down.”

You dropped your head onto your crossed arms in front of you. Her hand rubbed down your spine to deepen your arch, pulling your hips farther up.

“Hold it open for me, baby.”

You whimpered and reached down between your legs, spreading the drippy folds of your cunt to expose your clit. You heard her curse behind you before you felt slow massages on your clit. They were so delicate, almost ticklish, and it made you shiver.

Your walls squeezed down and you heard her moan behind you. She rubbed a bit faster, the soft, squishy noises from your cunt filling the room. You tried to push back on her fingers, but she harshly dug her nails into your hip to hold you still, pulling her fingers away from you.

“Abby, please— “

She ignored you, prying your lips apart with her thumbs. Her breath hit your cunt as she slurred, “You trust me?”

You nodded incessantly, “Yeah, baby, trust you, fuck, I trust you— “

Her lips sucked around your clit, and you bucked back on her face with force. She wasted no time, shoving two of her fingers inside you and curling them. She poked and prodded at your walls as she flicked your throbbing bud and holy fuck, you missed her so fucking bad—

You couldn’t help the noises that left your mouth when she hit your spot dead on, your walls milking her fingers with eagerness. You cried out her name as your orgasm pulled from deep within your gut, your fingers curling into fists into her couch cushions. The sounds your cunt made were becoming louder as your moans crescendo, your hips moving on their own accord to get her deeper inside you.

Her tongue slowed on your clit, slowly licking up towards your entrance and… passed your entrance. She moved up, up, and her wet muscle swiped over your ass—

A sharp gasp shot through you, your head whipping around to face her. On any other occasion, she would’ve halted everything and checked in on you, but her fingers didn’t stop. Her thrusts were harsh and unrelenting, her eyes cutting through you, “Fuckin’ trust me, right?”

You sobbed when she slapped your still burning cheek, nodding your consent with tears streaming down your face. She didn’t hesitate to lick over your hole, her tongue sliding back and forth over the puckered entrance.

“Abby, fuckfuckfuck, oh fuck— “

She hummed against your hole and your head dropped on the cushions completely, using your bent elbows as leverage to fuck back onto her face.

She mumbled nastily against you, “Just needa be slutted out, baby? Yeah?”

You could only whine and sob in reply before the strong squeezes of your orgasm built and built. You were right fucking there you just needed her to—

Her tongue shoved inside you, and your body seized and tensed under the pressure of your orgasm. It wracked through your body in waves as you wailed into the pillows beneath you, both sets of walls contracting through your pleasure. Your cunt milked her fingers with urgency, your juices dripping out of your entrance and down Abby’s wrist. She tongued you through the aftershocks.

She slowly brought you back down as your pulses slowed, planting a kiss on the back of your thigh before pulling out. Exhaustion took over your body as she helped you get onto your back, your head propped up on the pillows behind you. You kicked your dangling panties off and allowed her to lift your leg over her shoulder. She climbed on top of you, straddling your resting thigh. You looked up at her and… the large vein in her biceps made you shiver.

“A-Abby?”

She grabbed your tit, “Hm.”

You whimpered, “Are you a gym rat?”

She snorted, a grin spreading across her pretty face as she massaged the soft skin. “Errr… yes? When I wanna be. Why do you ask?”

Throw me across the room! You eyed her bulging vein, “Nothin’.”

She smirked down at you, “Mhm.”

… Did she just flex her bicep what the fuck—

You didn’t even have a chance to think before her pussy rubbed up against yours, and nearly cried when you saw your sopping cunts connect, sighs of satisfaction leaving your mouths when your clits bumped up against each other, bonded by strings of slick. You grabbed her thigh for support, digging your nails into her soft skin as her grinds increased in pace.

Your throbbing bud jerked with each pass of her hips. You did everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch her: her head was tossed back with her lip between her teeth, her defined stomach tensing and she fucked you. She looked so desperate to cum, to feel so good that she forgets everything. She kept taking and taking like you never allowed her to, and you never wanted it to end.

“Your pussy feels s’good, shit,” she grinded down on you harder as she gazed at the ceiling. “Gonna make me cum— “

“Cum on me, Abby? Please cum on my pussy?” You whimpered up at her as your eyes grew heavy, and she slumped over the pillows, strong arms holding her up as she used you to fuck herself. She was getting louder, and you were squeezing as your second orgasm approached. Her pussy was hitting you right where you needed, right on your clit and you were about to—

You saw a screen flash out the corner of your eye as your device blared, and the drop of your heart matched the tight grip of your pussy.

Abby was close, and your dad was calling.

Abby was too deep in her pleasure to notice as she begged you to cum with her, grabbing at your tits and yanking your nipples. Your pleasure kept rising and your phone wouldn’t stop fucking ringing—

“Fuck, baby, oh god, m’cumming!—“

Abby’s scream sent you off, your eyes rolling back, and your core squeezing with all you had to give. She was fucking you so hard through your euphoria, crying your name as you did the same. She was hitting your clit so good, you couldn’t breathe.

Your ears were ringing so loud that you couldn’t hear the second call coming in, and you didn’t care. Your hips bucked as much as they could to meet hers, helping her ride out her intense orgasm. The harder you pushed up, the more you could feel her pussy pulsating. It sent another wave of pleasure through you.

The feeling eventually subsided, the contractions in your cunt easing into light jerks. Abby caught her breath before moving off and plopping on top of you as she breathed heavily in your ear. You brought a hand up to rub her scalp, twirling her hair around your index finger as her scent infiltrated your senses. Your phone was finally quiet.

“Can I fuck your ass?”

Her heavy exhale made your spine bend. You could feel her smile against your neck.

You were about to pass out, and it wasn’t from your insomnia.

Abby carried you upstairs to her bed, and eventually got your legs over her shoulders while she lubricated her deep blue strap… with a slit at the incredibly fat tip? She never used this one with you before. It was veiny, curved, and thick; How the hell was that going to fit in your ass!

You knew one of her darkest secrets was cumming inside of somebody, but you didn’t know she meant it. You couldn’t stop thinking about all the times she moaned about cumming inside you. Knocking you up. She was really going to—

“Stop staring at my dick, it’s rude,” she said blankly.

Your eyes flickered up to meet hers, “Sorry.”

She snickered, “I’m kidding, relax.”

How could you relax when she was jerking off in front of you! Her hands are so pretty on her dick, and you could cry right now because of it!

You squealed when she slapped it on your clit, the silicone getting drenched in her flavored lube and your slick. Your pussy squeezed in anticipation; She was about to destroy your cunt and you couldn’t think, holy shit, you missed her so badly—

She breathed eagerly, “You know what to do, baby.”

You nodded, reaching down to hold your pussy open for her. She lined her tip up at your entrance, “Need this dick?”

“Fuck yes— “

She cooed, “Yeah? Want me?”

You looked up at her, your head bobbing up and down like you were entranced. You wanted her so much. Too much. The look of pride in her eyes was going to stay in your memory forever.

“Fucking say it,” she spat.

“Want you inside me, baby, please fuck me!”

She popped the tip in, and you moaned as pleasurable pain rushed through you. She took her time easing into you, allowing you to feel every ridge of her dick against your walls. The veins in the silicone were catching on your walls and it made you squeeze down tight.

She paused and kissed your ankle, “Ease up, baby. C’mon.”

“Can’help it, fuck, splittin’ me open,” your tongue felt so large in your mouth.

“Fuck, missed wrecking this pussy,” she moaned out, staring down at the way your walls choked her length.

She pushed an inch deeper, and you nearly shouted.

She smirked, “Right there?”

You were drooling onto your chest as you craned up to watch how you connected. She was pressed right up against the spot that made you see stars, and you felt the beginnings of your orgasm stirring in your gut.

She pushed inside until she was fully submerged in your juices, your slick coating the entire toy when she pulled out, only to fuck back into you again. She stretched you out until you were grabbing at her hip, trying to pull her deeper into you. She wrapped her arms around both of your calves and drilled in your guts, only pulling out a few inches before shoving back in.

The power of her thrusts was causing the flowery headboard to bang up against the wall, the soggy noises of your cunt and squeals of pleasure filling the room. She was battering your pussy completely, and you couldn’t do anything to stop her.

“Pussy’s pushing me out,” she garbled with a limp tongue. “Feel good, baby? Can’t take it?”

You couldn’t find the strength to respond, nails digging into her soft blankets as she transported you to another dimension, sparkles and glitter exploding behind your eyelids as your unannounced orgasm shook your spirit, “Can feel you cummin’, shit.”

Her voice was muffled from the ringing in your ears. You could barely register her pulling out and grabbing her girth, quickly rubbing her wet tip on your clit to rub you through your orgasm. You felt speckles of droplets land on your ass and the covers beneath you, eyes crossed in your skull and the taste of copper in your mouth from biting your lip too hard.

She didn’t let you recover before she released your legs, pinning them down to your chest by the back of your knees, nearly folding you in half and shoving back into your wetness with a disgusting noise.

She bounced you on her cock like a weightless ragdoll, your body shifting up her bed with force. She hit so deep whenever she fucked like this. Her tip was nudging your cervix whenever she dug in deep, the pain plunging into you like a knife as tears filled your eyes and pleasure sizzled all the way down to your toes.

“Gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy, oh my god— “

You couldn’t help the babbles that came from you, drooly yesyesyesyess’ coming from you, “Yeah, baby? Need me to fill your pussy up?”

You nearly passed out at the thought of her stuffing you, your orgasm built until it crashed into you, snatching the wind in your body as you let out a quiet scream. Your lashes were fluttering, and spit was sliding down your cheek, completely dumb under her.

And then you felt a thin stream of liquid shoot inside your pulsing cunt. You swore you flatlined.

Your orgasm only intensified at the feeling of her creaming inside you, her gross whispers making the hairs on your arms stand, “Gonna knock this slutty cunt up and send you home filthy. Want you drippin’ with it.”

You nodded brainlessly; You’d do whatever she wanted as long as she kept fucking and filling you. Another harsh stream exploded inside you, and your juices sprayed on her lap. You went limp under her, letting her move and toss you around how she pleased. You were getting so fucking tired, but you didn’t want her to stop.

She gave one last deep grind, poking your cervix one last time before pulling out, her gaze dropping to watch her seed spill out of your battered cunt. She pushed your legs down even further, knees nearly hitting your head as she lined her dick up at your ass, “Would marry this pussy, swear to god. It takes dick so good.”

You only released a choked noise in approval; She could have you however she wanted!

Her pretty brow arched cockily, “You like that? Like when I make this pussy mine?”

You shook your head so fast. It’s yours, baby! It’s all yours!

She barely pushed forward, her tip nudging your other entrance, making you squeal, “Is this mine too?”

“Fuck yes, s’yours, baby!”

She popped in, and you sobbed. You need this, you need this, you need her—

Tears ran down to your neck as you cried, her gentle shushes caressing your ear drums like symphonies, “Such a good girl, doing so good for me, just a little more, okay?”

You couldn’t stop moaning at the foreign sensation, “G-Gimme all of it, oh my fuckin’ god—“

“… You sure?”

She paused, only a couple inches inside as she gauged you. The gentle aura you're so used to finally returned as she massaged your thighs comfortingly, and your heart swelled.

You spoke in one breath, “Fuck my ass, Abby, please. S’gonna make me cum again— “

“Tell me if I’m— “

“Please, baby, s’gonna hurt s-so good, gimme— “

“Okay, baby shhh, I gotchu,” she hushed you, quickly grabbing the discarded bottle of lube at your side and squeezing a messy quantity over your pulsating entrance. She tossed it somewhere and pushed in deeper, the burn sending hot shockwaves to your brain. How were you about to cum there’s no way you’re going to cum—

“A-Abby, fuck me, fuckme— “

She was whimpering with you, still pressing in, “Don’t wanna hurt you baby, shit— “

“Fuck me harder, m’so close!”

Your eyes squeezed shut when she pushed the last few inches in, sitting deep in your ass, and you came so hard. You could hear her moaning with you as she grinded you out. The cum that sat deep in your cunt was pulsing out of you with each clench, dripping down to your filled ass and coating her. You forced your eyes open so you could watch her, eyes burning with lust and her toned body drenched in sweat.

She brought a hand down to your pussy and shoved two fingers in, curling and hitting your spot at a vigorous pace. The squelches were so loud over your pleased shouts, and you squirted all over her hand, some droplets splattering on your chest and chin.

She yanked her fingers out to pat and spank your throbbing clit before pushing your legs back up, pulling out slowly before shoving her entire length back into you.

Abby has never been this aggressive during sex, but she was slapping you, fucking you deep and hard, spitting on your face from where she towered over you, and you took all of it like she was paying you. Your ass was rippling on her cock, trying to make space for her cock so it could suck her in deeper. You couldn’t stop squirting, both your cum dripping out of both your holes.

Gonna cum so hard in this ass, oh my fuckin’ god, you feel so good.

It’s mine? Say it’s mine.

Look at that dirty fucking pussy. Nasty cumslut. You love being my fucking worthless whore, don’t you?

Just needa turn that pretty brain off? Yeah? Need me to take care of you? Fuck you stupid?

You were thrown into one long, constant orgasm and she talked you through it. You clawed at her ass and sheets and your own tits to keep yourself grounded but it wasn’t working. You were getting her so wet, a large puddle forming underneath you as your body jerked away from her. But she held you down, made you take what she gave, made you see god. You felt so fucking good that it almost pained you.

You could hear her moans increase in volume, not bothering to pull out as she grinded deep inside you. You knew she was close, riding her harness into completion. You used the only strength you had to turn your head to the side, making eye contact with yourself in her large dresser mirror. You looked fucked up, but you watched yourself cum before staring at Abby’s reflection.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she bucked into you quickly, her tits and fat on her ass shaking in the mirror. You could hear her whispering makemecummakemecum over and over again, and you shuddered when another spurt of liquid left you.

Cum in my ass, cum in me filled your brain like a mantra.

You fought to keep your eyes open, watching the muscles in her body tighten up before she yelled out, screaming how hard she was cumming and how good your ass sucked her cum in. A line of spit left her mouth and landed on your thigh as she shuddered through her pleasure, and you felt her jizz fill your ass, the second load much larger than the first. It felt so fucking good.

Another orgasm rushed through as you both screamed in pleasure. You tried to meet her grinds, pushing down to get her squirting dick even deeper inside.

Abby dropped your legs and they instantly wrapped around her waist as she fell forward, resting her full weight on you as she rode out her orgasm. Her moans of your name didn’t stop, and it felt like you both were cumming for hours. She filled and filled you like you were milking her dry, draining her completely and it made you cum again. Your arms wrapped around her neck to pull her close, nails digging into the flexing muscles in her back and leaving red trails.

She screamed out a warning of another orgasm right before her body trembled on top of you. Her dick wasn't bursting in you anymore; Why did that make you sad?

Her grinds eventually slowed into twitches as you both came down. She was planting gentle kisses and sucks on your neck, her hands coming down to rub the soreness from your thighs as you massaged her scalp.

You made sure to keep your eyes open so you wouldn’t drift off into dreamland.

After Abby pulled out and cleaned you up, she rummaged through her underwear drawer and pulled out a Marlboro box and lighter.

… Why were you horny again?

Her wet, semi-leaking dick was still strapped around her waist, her now scarred backside facing you as she stuck the orange end between her lips and ignited it. You watched her through the mirror, her body instantly relaxing as she puffed silently. You looked like a cat in heat.

She looked up and stared back at you in the reflection, taking the smoke between her index and middle finger, exhaling around her words.

“What’re you looking at?”

You shrugged and smiled like a ditz. She shook her head at you before sticking the butt in her mouth, undoing the adjusts and stepping out of her dick. She picked it up, eyes flickering awkwardly before throwing it in her hamper. You giggled quietly.

She ashed her cig over her small trash can, before looking at you, “Come shower?”

Your heart pounded in your chest like she didn’t just obliterate your pussy and ass. You consented in silence.

You could hear her laughing as you hobbled to the bathroom, “I coulda carried you, y’know.”

You flipped her off.

After washing, Abby just… held you.

The water was still beating down on the two of you, her head resting on your shoulder as she rubbed your back. And you did the same.

You felt so relaxed, and everything was quiet in your head, the lavender scent of her body wash surrounding the two of you. You could’ve fallen asleep right here.

Her hushed tone surprised you.

“Are you leaving tonight?”

Your heart shredded to pieces at her nervous tone. She sighed in relief at your whisper.

“No, Abby. I’m not.”

You didn’t know what would happen when you returned home, but for now, you relished in her warm embrace as you nodded off onto her shoulder.

You didn’t sleep alone.

OOHHHHH im ovulating LOL

anal whores this one’s for y’all😞😞

taggie waggies :3 @ohlawdthebirds @fibrogirlie @unangelic-thoughts @chrry1ovr @uraesthete @gravygranules @digit4lslut @machetegirl109 @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @macaroni676 @sillygooselit @nil-eena @elliesgirlll @hi2647 @fr0thycoffee @mai5mai @sweet-lover-girl

prologue. part one. part two. part three. interlude.

#𓈒∘☁︎let the rain sing☁︎∘𓈒 #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson au #works 𖧧࣪

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osamusriceballs · 10 months

Text

Last-Minute Plans

Ushijima x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)

Words: ~ 1,5 k

About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.

A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~

"It fits,"

he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.

Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.

He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.

Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.

The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.

His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.

He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.

"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.

"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.

"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.

"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.

"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"

"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"

You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.

"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.

"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.

"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.

"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.

He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.

You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.

"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.

"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.

"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.

As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.

A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.

"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?

"Sleep well, my love."

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yoonia · 2 months

Text

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xvi

⟶ Chapter summary | The many layers of mysteries that are present in the home castle are beginning to feel daunting. But the biggest mystery of all may have been about your magic. After your last encounter with Yoongi and finding yourself in a predicament which further questions the secret behind your family’s magic, you try to find ways to find your own solutions to grow stronger, to gain control of your magic, only to constantly being face with one obstacle after another.

⟶ Author’s Note | It took me a while to finish this part, so forgive me for my absence. I’m splitting what was supposed to be the filler in chapter 16 into two separate chapters because there’s going to be a lot of information dump happening and I don’t want to confuse everyone. So please don’t be surprised with the short chapter(s) coming. Thank you for your patience and have fun reading! [Ps. This is highly unedited so I’m sorry if there’s any mistake]

chapter xvi. respite

Quite some time has passed since the first time you began using the magic portals, long since you have arrived in this castle and learned about the existence of magic in this realm, and you are slowly beginning to notice the changes happening with your body.

It seems to you that the more you are using the portals, the easier your body becomes affected by their magic. Just as how you seem to be getting more sensitive to the flow of magic that is a part of the portals.

Returning from Grimm had costed you quite a predicament. Once again, the journey had drained your energy that you slept through the night and nearly woke up late the next morning after your return. Even the palace maids who have been tending to your needs since the day you came to the castle had become so concerned, thinking that perhaps you have gone ill.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when you figured out the reason why you have been feeling a deep fatigue coursing through your body each time you returned from your excursions. Not until the moment the royal physician was brought to see you after a full day of being listless, with barely any energy for you to have a meal.

The royal physician took his time examining your body thoroughly, yet once he deliberated his assessment, you were quickly taken by surprise, not expecting to hear him talk about your mana and how it had everything to do with the reason why you were feeling sluggish and drained.

“It seems to me that you have exhausted your mana. Have you perhaps been using it excessively as of late, Your Highness?”

“I—no, not that I recall. I haven’t done much but study with my tutor and keep myself busy with royal duties,” you simply answered as you laid back against the pillows, refraining from admitting openly that you hadn’t even begun training on how to wield your magic, much less to start getting to know about it at all.

You had no idea how much most of the people within the home castle have learned about you, or if any of them ever knew anything about your previous life at all. Particularly about your life back at The Citadel, back in the human realm where magic didn’t exist. You also had no idea if there was anyone within the castle who may have learned about the family’s magic and the responsibility that had been placed upon you to protect the secret behind the magic.

A part of you wished that you could have said something about it. Because maybe then you could find someone to help you solve the things you had wished to know. To find someone to confide in.

Someone who belonged in the castle, who was trusted by the King himself, instead of confiding to a member of the mercenary army suspected to pose a threat to the empire.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to stop thinking about this—to stop thinking just how dependent you were becoming to the handsome and mysterious stranger that you probably shouldn’t trust—just as the royal physician shared with you another theory while being oblivious to your trailing thoughts.

“Then perhaps your body is having problems adjusting to the castle. The magic barrier that His Majesty, The King, has placed here is quite strong. It must have been draining your energy as you come in contact with it, or—” the physician stopped himself as he deliberated the issue further while rubbing at his chin. But then he suddenly started shaking his head, as if brushing away those thoughts with his lips curling downward in displeasure.

“No,” he began wondering to himself, brushing away whatever thought crossing through his mind as he murmured, “I doubt that His Majesty’s magic would feed on your mana. The barrier surrounding the castle would require a power source, but I can’t see anyone else other than His Majesty who would be powerful enough to provide such energy.”

That can happen? You couldn’t help but wonder. Has your father’s magic been feeding on your mana?

But that sounds—so terribly wrong.

Just as these thoughts continued to run rampant in your head, a faint tingle ran through your forearm while you were being examined, and you couldn’t help but remember how similar it felt to the sensation coursing through you whenever you walked through the magic portals.

Had it really been the reason? Have you been right for thinking that perhaps the magic portals have been draining your mana, your energy, feeding off your magic that had been lying dormant within you?

Is this why Father had insisted that I only use the portal only once a day and not more, and to not stay any longer than the time limit that he had given?

Or had it been the other way around? What if it has always been my mana which activated those portals, while the keys have only been the medium to help open the doors?

Clearing his throat, the royal physician brought your attention back to him as he gently reassured you, “I will leave you with some remedy and a special potion to help strengthen your mana and help you rest for the night until your body recovers enough. I will also leave a list of nutritions that could be added to your meal. It may help you heal faster if your body receive the proper sustenance needed for your recovery. I shall leave it in the hands of your personal maids so they could hand them to the royal chef.”

Your mind was still stuck in his previous comment and your own assessment of the condition that you found yourself in that you barely paid attention to his words, although you were still able to answer him with a soft murmur, “Thank you, Sir.”

The physician said nothing else after. “In the meantime, please don’t strain yourself too much, Your Highness. You have quite a delicate constitution which may require a lot of care,” he inquired, before softly adding, “I am sure that His Majesty would prefer that you take care of yourself well until he returns home.”

You said nothing other than gratitude to the royal physician as he made his leave, allowing you some privacy and enough time to have your much-needed rest. Yet the silence that you were left with couldn’t stop you from spending the night wondering, thinking back to everything that he said; about your mana being drained without you realising it.

Looking down at your hands as you kept them rested on your lap, you slowly opened your palms. There hadn’t been enough books in the library that could have given you any clue on how to make use of your mana and practice your magic.

You could only figure this out simply because you had tried to look. Out of all the magic books that you had been digging into in the library outside of your tutoring hours, you had found little to nothing that was written about any magic that may conjure portals. At the very least, nothing that seemed similar to the magic that your father had cast in these portals.

And there had been nothing other than the old scriptures you found about ancient fairies and their ability to move between space and time that sounded similar to those portals. Although there were mentions of these ancient beings traveling to many different parts of the realm, even crossing between realms.

But what if there was something in those scriptures that could explain about the source of your father’s magic? Had there been something in those texts that you had missed?

That night, as you slowly drifted into sleep under the effect of the potion that had been given by the physician, you made a promise to yourself to return to those scriptures and learn more about the magic that was written in them. You fell asleep that night feeling hopeful, determined to find the roots of your father’s magic.

Perhaps, with a little more digging, you would find the reason why he had left you with such a huge responsibility of keeping this magic as a secret, while setting things in motion to have you venturing into those portals and to walk across the parts of the world hidden behind them so blindly.

Perhaps, you could also find the answer to one of the biggest secrets that he has been keeping from you and everyone else for years.

The secrets about your mother.

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

Yoongi’s voice echoes through your mind as if it bounces against the invisible walls standing all around you.

The words that he gave you seems to have been engraved in your memory ever since the day you met him in Grimm, and they keep haunting you both in your dreams and during your waking hours. It has been a couple of days since, yet it still feels like yesterday when you parted ways with Yoongi in the dark forest of Grimm.

Since then, you have been overcome with a deep feeling of regret.

The regret for not being able to have more time to spend with him. The regret of not being able to catch his sight, to be completely helpless as you watch him getting swallowed under the thick foliage, held back by fear that had a tight grip in your chest.

And you also feel the regret that always comes to haunt you whenever you recall about the offer that he made that day. When he reached out to you, offering to assist you in learning more about your magic. You hate thinking that you might have missed out on a chance to figure out your magic.

But it couldn’t be helped, after all, when your father’s voice—repeating the same words and warnings about how important it was to keep the family’s magic a secret—kept echoing through your head while you were staring at Yoongi’s extended hand which he offered you that day. You had felt the itch to reach out to him, to accept his hand, even if it was only for the sake of feeling the gentle touch of his fingers on yours instead of actually having him help awaken the magic that was lying dormant inside you.

Yet you just couldn’t do it.

And now you are left with the constant wonderings—all the what ifs and what could haves—while the long list of regrets that are still lingering with you becomes the reason why you keep seeing in in your dreams.

The dreams are never the same.

In one dream, you recounted the moment you refused his offer. Only this time, you had stepped away from him at the tavern, choosing to end your time together earlier than what you had intended to so you could escape his attentive eyes. In another, you haven’t even heard the same words spoken by Yoongi before his image vanished right in front of your eyes.

But there was one particular dream that appeared so vividly that you continued to see it even during the daytime, taking over your idle mind with his presence as if you were taken back to that moment, when you sat right across from him with his deep, unwavering gaze locked on yours.

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

You never truly understood what he meant by saying those words, but in this dream of yours, none of it mattered. And your father’s voice hadn’t been there to stop you from leaning forward at the table to give him your rapt attention. Your mind was also silent, and the thunderous sound of your heartbeat faded away when you spoke to him,

“How?”

“Give me your hand.”

Time seemed to remain still as you reached out to him, giving him your hand. You barely touched the tips of his fingers when something magical happened; as a bright sparks of silver dust light up between both of your hands, with specks of blue dust erupting the moment you made contact with his skin, and the same tingling sensation that you had often felt from the portals came surging through your arms before settling inside your chest.

Before your mind could ever make sense of what was happening, the light only grew brighter, and everything faded under its blinding glow which later pulled you away from the dream. And as you slowly woke up, finding yourself lying on your bed alone, nothing else remained from the dream, except for the tingles running across your skin which took their sweet time to fade away.

Stepping out of the treasure room, you clutch the golden pocket watch in your palm, feeling victorious that you finally have it in your hand.

You had come to the treasure room right before your afternoon lessons with your tutor, hoping that you would be able to find anything that might be useful for your next trip through the portals. Your father had been right, after all, that the treasure room may provide you with anything that you may need to support your daily activities while you adjust with your new life at the castle.

Like a pocket watch, for example.

Something that is so small and simple, yet crucial for the sake of your safety while you are out there, roaming through any foreign land that the portals are taking you.

Why have I never thought of this before?

You cannot help but wonder as you look down at the ticking watch in your hand, regretting that you didn’t think of getting one in the first place. It could have saved you a lot of trouble if you had.

The last couple of trips you made had been risky, as you kept cutting it too close to the time limit that had been given to you by your father, only missing merely minutes or even seconds before the portal started closing behind you after you slipped back through.

You had nearly gotten into a bigger trouble when you returned from Grimm, almost missing a toe when you barely managed to return to the portal before it closed on you. You blame it to your impulse need of chasing Yoongi into the deep forest when you started to feel like he was slipping away from and disappearing for good.

It was after that incident when you finally learned your lesson and decided that something needed to change. That you would need something to hold onto which may help you to keep up with the time, instead of simply relying on the signs of dusk as a reminder to let you know when it was time to return home.

The idea first came to you after observing Lord Gordan, the royal aide and the head butler of the castle, while he was working on his duties. You had often seen him pulling out a golden watch from the pocket of his suit to help him tell the time, and wondered if it would be something that you could make use of.

After receiving the royal physician’s approval to return to your daily duties this morning, you feel like you are ready to embark on another adventure. With this golden pocket watch in your hand, the magic necklace that had been passed down to you from your late mother, and the dagger hidden under the skirt of your dress, you feel as if you are unstoppable, ready to face anything that may come to your path as you walk through the portal later once your tutoring hours are over.

Now if you only could just find a way to calm the restless thrums of your heartbeat inside your tight chest, then everything would be well. That is all that you could only hope for, at the very least, as you make your way to your tutoring lesson.

Because what better way to find answers other than to gain them straight from the people who are in charge of teaching you everything that is needed to learn as the heir of throne? Who else would know the answers you need, other than your tutors?

“You want to—” Lady Laurel carefully repeats your question. She is looking slightly wary to even voice it out loud, even if it is just the two of you in the library that her voice is lowered when she continues, “—practice using your magic?”

You have only been away from the library for a couple of days while you were resting, only keeping contact with Lady Laurel by corresponding through letters and the books that she had left behind through your personal maids for you to read.

Today would be the first day that you are back with your daily lectures. You could tell from the moment you saw Lady Laurel sitting by the study desk in the library as she waited for you to arrive that she had a lot of things planned out to keep you busy for the day.

But you have come up with your own plan when you marched your way to the library.

For weeks now, Lady Laurel had filled your private lessons with lectures about the fairy tale land to get you to know this new realm a lot more. So far, you have learned about its history, about the kingdoms and the people, even the non-human beings that you may find should you ever have the chance to visit those lands—elves, fairies, werewolves, even human mages—and you have heard about the real events that are the makings behind all the tales known and shared in the human realm.

During those long weeks, Lady Laurel had also been teaching you the basic knowledge of magic; the types of magic that you may encounter and each of their origins, the history behind them, and the ancient spells that have been written in the textbooks that you have found in the library during your solo studying.

She was also the one who first taught you to find a way to identify your mana.

She had mentioned how it would be helpful in the future should you start using your magic, as you would have become familiar to the mana flowing inside you by the time you begin your magic practices. If only she knew with what you have been doing once you were done with her lessons, how you have been using the theories that she had taught you into practice once you were left on your own.

There has been nothing much that Lady Laurel could teach you in her lessons other than the ability to reach within, to feel the presence of your magic and have a good grip on it, to recognise it as a part of yourself instead of something that simply appeared in your body overnight. But your solo practices that you have been doing in the shelter of your bedchamber had taken it a step further, enhancing it until you could make use of it to recognise and then respond to the magic that exists around you.

Just like the way you had used it to respond to the magic in the portals and to recognise Yoongi’s inner mana.

Yet that is just as far as both of you could get. You could tell that there are restrictions that your tutors would need to follow when they are guiding you through your lessons. Because not once had she ever tried to do more; whether it was to help you unleash the magic inside you, nor to use it by conjuring the magic for a purpose.

But you want more. You have been ready for more. And after your last encounter with Yoongi, you have gained the courage to express your desire to learn how to properly use your magic more actively. To learn how to expel its powers and make use of it for your own benefit.

And that is exactly what you said to your tutor the moment you joined her at the library’s study area, as you were taking the seat right across from her as you usually would during your tutoring hours.

Keeping your eyes on Lady Laurel, you try to gauge her reaction. Even from the moment you had first thought of bringing this up to her, you had expected to have an intense response from her, and for her to straight up refuse your request.

And you have been prepared to deal with whatever the outcome may be, knowing that you are not going to back down that easily.

“Yes, that is exactly what I said,” you answer her with your chin raised, feeling determined about taking the next step into learning how to use your magic. “I want you to teach me how to unlock my magic and help me practice using it, instead of just trying to feel it. Because I already know that it’s there, lying almost dormant inside me without me knowing how to use it to protect the people who are dear to me, which is something that I want to be able to do.”

These thoughts have been running through your head for the past few days while you were being holed up in your bedchamber under the royal physician’s restrictions. The feeling of want and the deep curiosity you have to know more about your magic, to be able to reach within yourself so you could somehow wield it so that you could make good use of it, has been growing stronger that you can no longer deny it.

That need had been lingering in your thoughts that it was almost impossible for you to remain idle during your bedrest, and you had then taken the risk to secretly try to find ways to unlock your magic on your own.

You just couldn’t help it, after all. When you had nothing else to fill your time with aside from watching the scenery outside of your windows and reading the pages of your books, until neither could easily calm the havoc happening inside your mind. So you stole the short chances you could get between the hours you were given to rest under the heavy medication and the constant flurry of lady maids coming and going into your room as they attended to your needs.

Using the vivid images of your dreams, the basic knowledge of magic that you learned through your lectures, and the small facts about your magic that you learned from Yoongi as your guidance, you had spent your quiet nights trying to get in touch with the magic that was believed to be coursing through your body.

You tried everything you could; from using your necklace to see if it could bring out the mana inside you, to copying Yoongi’s action which you saw in your dreams, by placing your hands together to see if it could bring out your magic.

But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate and tried to cast your magic out through your fingertips, nothing seemed to be happening. Nothing more but a surge of energy crawling its way from your palms, through your fingers, stopping at each tip, before they vanished into your veins.

And you continued to try, until there was nothing left but the exhaustion rolling through your body and the missing warmth of Yoongi’s hand which your body seemed to have memorised from that day and what you are now craving to feel the most.

Having to openly ask your tutor for her help had been your last resort, knowing that she has her limits to what kind of guidance that she could offer you in learning about magic. Yet you had every reason to harbour some hope that she would somehow comply with your request.

Oftentimes, whenever you would try to inquire about any specific theories to learn about during your lectures, Lady Laurel would have embraced it—she has always loved your curiosity and your eagerness to learn—and grabbed any chance that she could have to share any knowledge about the realm that you were still struggling to understand.

This time, however, she seems uneasy to hear your request. Not because she is reluctant to teach you about magic, as she has been doing so ever since the first day she started her lessons. What seems to make her reluctant about this is the fact that you are asking her to help you learn about your magic.

With a remorseful sigh, Lady Laurel leans forward in her seat. Reaching out across the desk, she places a gentle grip on your wrist. “Your Highness, I’m sure that you are curious to learn more about your magic,” she begins with a polite smile, “But His Majesty had specifically inquired—”

Before she can finish her words, you immediately cut her off.

“I know what my father said”—as you have repeatedly said each time I tried to bring this topic up before, you silently wonder with a frown—”but His Majesty has yet to return, while here I am, feeling like my soul is slowly being sucked out of my body without understanding why. Maybe if I could control my magic, things will be different and I’d know how to prevent something like this from happening again.”

Through the letters that you have been exchanging with your tutor, you had explained everything that the royal physician had relayed on you about your condition.

At first, you simply mentioned about your draining mana in your letter to try and ask for her opinion to see if this was something that could possibly happen. Without mentioning the secret doors and the magic portals in your letter, you questioned her if there was anything that you may have come in contact with which might be able to drain your mana without you ever realising it.

The response that you were given with hadn’t been enough to answer your curiosity. But there was something in her letter which caught your attention, when she explained in a rather plain sentence—

“There are certain elements that have been built all over the castle, each one imbued with His Majesty’s magic. Perhaps, with His Majesty being gone, these elements have been trying to find a new source of energy. I have highly suspected that your magic might be similar to that is of the King’s, which made it possible for the energy around you to mistakenly drain your mana to fill whatever they are lacking.”

“You know very well the reason why I would have to refuse taking over your magic training, Your Highness,” Lady Laurel regretfully says as she pulls back. You hate how genuine she seems to be as she is saying all of this, about the regret of not being able to fulfil your wishes, as she is being held under the King’s orders.

It wouldn’t be until later when you notice the unspoken words hidden perfectly in her response, that she isn’t refusing your request because she isn’t capable of doing so. Because she is capable. But she is also bound under your father’s rules when it comes to your lessons.

“All I can do without His Majesty’s guidance would be to guide you to become in tune with the mana that you have inside you, preparing you for the actual training that you are about to have under the King’s guidance himself,” she continues, and just like that, she turns to pick up the guidance textbook and the set of candles that she would use during these sessions, ready to start another one of her practices that she has been introducing you as of late. “We can continue to do that today and see how far ahead we can go this time. The last time we did—”

Once again, you cut off her words before she could finish talking. “The last time we had our lesson, you were helping me identify my mana and how to channel onto it so I could feel its flow inside me.”

And to recognise it without exposing your magic form. Something that you have caught on after a while and seems to be one of the main tasks given to her when your father passed down the duty of tutoring you while he is gone. But you say nothing of this.

After all, if you are trying to convince her to change her mind and sneak behind the King’s orders to fulfil your wishes, the last thing you should do is to show her that you have figured out all of her cards—the little tricks that she had played to skirt around the subject of your magic.

You may never figure out the reason behind all the secrecy about the family’s magic, or why your father would prevent anyone from helping you in unlocking your magic without his presence. But oddly enough, the more you think about it, the more you understand why your father would take such measures.

The magic that he uses to create the portals wouldn’t have been a regular kind of magic. You can tell that it is something special, something that your father has treasured for a long time, even before you ever came into the world.

But would your magic be anything similar to what your father has, just like what Lady Laurel previously claimed? Would you be able to create your own portal one day to find your own escape?

As if answering your question, Lady Laurel gently speaks to you, “I know that you are curious, and the lessons that you have been getting so far no longer seems to adequate to your needs, as you have gotten enough of the basic knowledge that you could gain in such a short amount of time. All I can ask of you is for you to be patient for now. His Majesty will be returning soon, and he will be able to guide you with your magic and answer a lot of your questions.”

As much as you hate backing down, you realise that you have no other choice—at this moment, at least—but to give up, and follow your tutor’s advice.

“I suppose, I can be a little more patient,” you finally say to her with a sigh.

Your acceptance seems to please her, as a smile grows on Lady Laurel’s face. She beams as she rings the bell to summon the maids for a serving of tea and snacks to accompany your lesson, just like always. And while in waiting, she continues to set up all the books of magic that she would need for your lesson, followed by lighting up the set of candles that she has laid out in front of you.

“Let’s continue with our practice on your focus today,” Lady Laurel says to you as she returns to her seat while gesturing you to keep your eyes on the flickering flames. The same way that she has always guided you during your focus training.

This practice might be far off from helping to unlock your magic, yet you still have to admit that this practice may have been quite helpful so far. Because it was through this practice that you had inadvertently figured out one of the skills that you have developed ever since you started learning about magic.

The skill which allows you to trace and identify others’ mana; be it within a person or a place.

The same skill that you revealed to Yoongi the last time you were together.

As you try to empty your mind and focus on the flickering candlelights, the dejected feeling that came over you earlier is slowly being lifted when you remember that this day is still far from ending, and you still have other tutors to turn to.

So you try to make it through the end of your lecture, doing your best with your simple training, Even if it only means that you will be walking out of here in the afternoon with sharpened focus. Perhaps it might be able to help you later by preventing you from falling asleep too soon if you ever decide to try to unlock your magic on your own again.

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akairawrites · 7 months

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Born for conflict | Jason Todd mini series

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"Again!" The instructor's command echoed through the training room, prompting Y/n to forcefully strike the punching bag.

"Again!" he repeated, and she delivered another powerful blow.

"Again!" This time, her hit caused the punching bag to nearly fly off the hook, ripping open as sand spilled out. Stepping back, she released an exhausted huff, her eyes seeking the instructor for further guidance.

His usual expressionless glare met hers. "Get cleaned up. There's someone I want you to meet over dinner." Nodding in acknowledgment, she watched as he exited the room, leaving her to tend to her bruised and bloody hands on a nearby bench.

Seated, she unwrapped her hands, clenching her fists as she observed the bruising forming over her knuckles. Not wanting to keep her Instructor waiting, she stood and headed for the door, determined to clean up and face whatever awaited her.

After a soothing shower to ease her sore muscles, she dressed and made her way to the dining hall. It exuded an unusual elegance, hinting at the significance of the impending meeting. The dimly lit room, adorned with candles, filled with the aroma of cooking food. Taking a seat at the far end of the table, she prepared for the encounter, usually beside her instructor, who occupied the end of the table.

Mere seconds after settling into her seat, the instructor entered, flanked by three men—one adorned with a black mask, presumably his two bodyguards. Y/n refrained from lifting her gaze from her plate, avoiding eye contact with the skull-like masked man who took a place at the far end, while her instructor occupied the other end beside her. The remaining two men positioned themselves behind the Black Mask.

A silence enveloped the room until the instructor finally spoke.

"Y/n, meet The Black Mask."

Huh.

"This is the sweet girl I’ve heard so much about."

His words sent a shiver down her spine; there was an ominous undertone, a hint of death in his voice that resonated clearly in the quiet dining hall.

Turning to meet The Black Mask's gaze sent shivers down Y/n's spine; his intense stare already fixed upon her.

"Y/n," her instructor's voice broke the unsettling eye contact. The look in his eyes tried to conceal an emotion.

"The Black Mask will be taking you. He has offered a great deal of money because you are one of the best."

A lump formed in her throat. While she anticipated this eventuality, the abruptness caught her off guard. At fourteen, she still had much training ahead.

"As of tomorrow, you will be working for him," he declared. She looked down at her untouched food, her voice steady. "I understand."

"Pack your things. You leave in an hour."

Without hesitation, she rose from her seat and swiftly exited the dimly lit dining hall, leaving behind the weight of an unforeseen destiny.

Exactly an hour later, Y/n stood before the place she once called home. The memories flooded back – the awe of arriving, the enormity of the building, the initial sense of feeling like a princess for a moment.

Handing her bags to a guard from before, she observed as they were tossed into the trunk of a black limousine. Just as she was about to follow, a familiar hand rested on her shoulder. Looking up, her instructor met her gaze.

"Be safe," he advised. "Remember, leaving home opens a new journey for you. Each step is a new chapter in your own story."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Y/n proceeded toward the waiting limo, where The Black Mask awaited. Through the window, she watched her instructor disappear from sight. Once he was entirely gone, she sank back into the seat, exhaling a sigh, unprepared for the long journey ahead.

5 years later

Black Mask seethed with rage at his desk. “Are you telling me the scumbag stole my guns? Again?” he bellowed, surrounded by his assistant and four henchmen.

“No, sir. He destroyed them. Blew up the truck and the drivers,” his assistant calmly explained. “He was enlisting anyone under our province, now he's just killing them,”

Black Mask slammed his hands on the desk, frustrated by his inability to stop the mysterious Red Hood. "So what is he, Batman?"

“No, sir. He's not Batman,” she replied, maintaining a calm expression. “He’s still taking cuts off the streets but eliminating the competition. He's targeting you.”

Fuming, Black Mask growled and flipping his desk over. “You wanna tell me why this guy isn't dead?” he demanded, he walked up to his henchmen and punched each one in the face out of anger.

“We're trying. We sent the Fearsome Hand of Four,” she stated, though she knew it wouldn't be enough.

Looking out at Gotham, Black Mask turned to his assistant. “You don't know Batman. He won't let this lunatic run wild. He can't catch him, or it's something else.”

“Can't you feel it?” he asked, but before she could respond, a red dot appeared on his neck. Panicking, he saw Red Hood on the building, holding a rocket launcher.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, before turning around and bolting out of his office his assistant followed right behind him. Mere seconds later he pulled the trigger and sent an explosion through the building causing the fire exit to fly off the hinges and crash into the wall. Black Mask ducked just in time.

He stood up and held his neck which would have been taken off by the door if he hadn't moved in time “Okay time to change up the ground war.”

“How so, sir?” his assistant inquired.

“I’m being forced into negotiating with a psychotic,” he admitted. “And there's one person in mind who I think can take on this Red Hood. Bring me Y/n.”

Add yourself to my taglist here

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icarustypicalfall · 9 months

Text

midnights

johnny soap mactavish x f!reader

summary: soft gazes, small talk, secrets spilled under breaths between stations, is this his idea of fun?

note: sorry for the inaccuracy, i don't speak the Scottish Gaelic, neither been to Scotland. love soap though <3

warnings: sfw, fluff, no yn just you, kinda funny, kinda awkward, litterly my mind is empty for renting.

"but i think i am falling so what can i do?"

23:30 pm

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the final train arrived at the station. Your feet throbbed from standing, though you could have sat down. Glancing back at the plastic seating which didn't appear any less unclean or discomforting.

Swiftly, you secured a seat near the front of the train, close to the conductor's cabin.

You didn't own a car, you struggled to secure employment and housing in this foreign city. Lately, your life seemed dull, and this realization hit you with great force—were these the overhyped twenties?

Escaping a toxic household was a good thing, you left your hometown, starting a new life somewhere in Scotland. Relying solely on yourself, you faced myriad challenges, working tirelessly day and night, sacrificing sleep for brief naps during college breaks. Amidst this sea of responsibilities, your social life withered away. Night shifts at the mall, traversing college hallways by day—you embraced this life fearlessly. Despite the exhaustion, you cherished every moment.

The train resumed its motion, the slow yet rapid movement causing you to stumble slightly as you made your way towards the front. This was your sole means of transportation, and you had memorized which spots were worth fighting for and which ones to avoid like the plague.

23:35 pm

As you entered the cabin, a sense of relief washed over you; it was nearly empty. Although this did not always bode well, you refrained from complaining, grateful for the chance to sit during the 45-minute journey back home.

At this ungodly hour, the train car was considered vacant. A woman, a typical "Karen" in her mid-thirties, appeared disgusted by everything, casting a disdainful glare your way. Two mumbling teenagers, an elderly homeless individual, and... a man.

This man was unlike the usual commuters you encountered on your journey home. He seemed out of place yet strangely familiar amidst the others. Wearing a military uniform and sporting a unique mohawk haircut, its ends loosely falling onto his forehead.

The man's head snapped up as you stepped onto the platform. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, his lips curling into a tired yet awkward smile. Sensing your arrival, he moved his large gym bag from the seat beside him, as if he knew you would choose him as your travel companion on the way back home.

Whispering a quiet thank you, you collapsed onto the seat while checking your bag. You were well aware of the cunningness of thieves, having once had your ice cream snatched from your very hands.

Discreetly, the man stole a glance at you, that awkward smile still lingering on his chapped lips. Neither of you knew what to say or do, and the silence hung heavily in the air. Engaging in conversation seemed tempting, yet the weight of the silence prevailed. You preferred it that way, not wanting to embarrass yourself with ill-chosen words, especially in the presence of a military man—one who happened to be rather attractive.

23:42 pm

You checked your phone, scowling slightly. Only seven minutes had elapsed? It felt as though a decade had passed while both you and the stranger coughed and fidgeted in your seats, unable to shake off the peculiar sensation in your chests.

It was warm, almost tempting. And, for the very first time, you got courageous, opting for the somewhat risky choice; you decided to sleep.

Your head felt slightly dizzy, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts as you observed the flickering light bulb in one of the train cars.

00:09 pm

"Hey... Bonnie? Wake up! We're almost there," a soft voice laced with a Scottish accent murmured into your ear, jolting your eyes open.

The man with the mohawk cut smiled at you, whispering something in Scottish Gaelic that eluded your comprehension. Still groggy from your impromptued nap, you found yourself captivated by his bright eyes, paying little attention to his words.

The man seemed to invade your personal space as he continued to babble, yet you felt no offense. It was then that you realized you had slept through the entire ride, your head carelessly resting on his shoulder.

You quickly recoiled, straightening your posture and murmuring a wave of apologies while avoiding his gaze, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The man stared at you as though you had sprouted a second head. Expecting the worst—insults or annoyed glares, as most people would respond—you were taken aback when he burst into laughter.

"No need to apologize, lass. Ya look like you've been through the wringer. Hope my shoulder was comfortable, eh?"

You nodded, slightly perplexed. Despite living in this Scottish town for two years, you had never quite grasped the local accent.

"My name is Johnny, but they call me Soap," he introduced himself.

"Soap? Like the dove bar?" you mumbled, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled and patted your head, underestimating his own strength in an endearing gesture that almost squeezed your skull. It seemed as though he was used to roughhousing with his military comrades rather than interacting with civilians.

"Quite funny, lassie. Truly... What might be your name? I haven't seen this face around before," he asked with a nod of curiosity.

The man, Soap, appeared to be either having an unmedicated ADHD case, under the influence, or simply a huge ray of grins and laughter. He acknowledged your name with a wide smile before whispering.

"Would you be interested in joining a military task, lassie?"

Your horrified expression seemed to amuse him greatly, as he continued to laugh heartily and slap his knee until the train reached its final destination.

"Just kidding, don't worry, lassie."

You nodded, rising from your seat as the doors swung open. Soap swiftly stood up, effortlessly hoisting his hefty gym bag onto his shoulder while grinning at you. He casually rested an arm on your shoulder, displaying an unexpected amount of affection and energy.

00:23 pm

Stepping out of the station, Soap let out a loud yawn, pushing his mohawk back before beaming at you. Were his cheeks blushing, or were you now hallucinating?

"Well, lassie, it's unsafe to walk alone at this hour. Mind if I accompany you home?" he asked, his shyness suddenly evident.

You smiled and nodded, appreciating the sense of security he provided. It was remarkable how at ease he made you feel, as if the two of you shared an unspoken understanding. Feeling emboldened, you intertwine your arms and began the walk home together.

Soap seemed thrilled, almost bouncing with excitement as he walked beside you, rambling on in his cheerful manner. He patted stray dogs, laughed boisterously, shared tidbits about his Captain, and even vented about a certain Phillip Graves.

You struggled to follow the intricacies of military life, but decided not to mention your confusion, content with observing how passionately he spoke about his hometown, his upcoming vacation and his family.

01:00 am

You arrived at your home, settling on the doorstep to catch your breath. Soap gazed in awe at you before plopping down beside you, accidentally jostling your feet with his bag which he tossed carelessly on the floor. He sighed, looking up at the dark sky with a contented smile.

"You know, Bonnie, this has been quite an fun night for me. It's been a while since I've met a charming lassie like you," he confessed.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you returned his smile.

"I'd love to see you again. Perhaps I can show you around... if you'd like?" he added, restraining himself from sharing that he had developed a small crush on you, finally finding someone with whom he could share countless stories and laughter on their doorsteps.

You, too, wrestled with the fluttering feeling in your stomach gently nodded in agreement.

Soap beamed with relief, looking at you intently, his eyes sparkling.

"Can I sleep over? My mom prolly waiting for me with a flip flop at home. I forgot to tell her about breaking grandma's vase before my deployment..."

note: if there is any timeline faults or granmar, ignore it or tell me in the comments, im 2 tired to reread 🫶🏻

(this was pretty longer than the usual, kinda hate it cuz i made the reader a stone with no actions.. sorry for my soap fans next time will be better, m quite exhausted from the week 😭 gonna try to write for rudy tmr morning 💗)

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teddylovestea · 1 year

Text

sebaciel ns/fw headcanons I´ve been asked for a while ago (and some sfw ones in between) ♥️

Sebastian initiates stuff usually, since he knows about Ciel´s desires, yet also knows that the little one tends to be too embarrassed or proud to act upon them. He gives his demon subtle hints though, like careful glances and small touches. Light squeezes of his butlers hands when he helps him out of the bath, a lingering gaze when they´re in the study or the discreet folding back a corner of the covers for the demon to join him in his bed.He also pulls Sebastian through the contract to him.

Although they have engaged in quite some nocturnal activities so far, Ciel still feels self-conscious about his body, thinking he's too small and skinny. Sebastian of course doesn´t mind his masters appearance in the slightest. Quite the contrary, he considers the boy to be exceptionally beautiful and never misses an opportunity to make this known. And Ciel feels so loved, like he´s the most precious and desired thing in the world.

The boy blushes madly when he´s being praised or when Sebastian calls him by any pet names.

He rarely praises his butler though, since he doesn´t like to admit how the demon makes him feel and how utterly and completely he loses himself in the devils arms.

They have safe words and touches (always one for stopping and one for slowing down)

However, as long as Sebastian doesn´t entirely forgets himself, Ciel doesn´t mind the demon to show a bit of his true nature every once in a while. On the condition that Sebastian treats him appropriately afterwards, cleaning him and taking care of possible injuries. And of course the demon always does, making sure his master is as comfortable as possible especially after a rough session.

He also always stays whenever the boy asks him too and also simply when he senses that his master needs the comfort.

Ciel likes it a lot so see Sebastian entirely naked, but is often too ashamed to ask for it, while Sebastian -being very much aware of that- loves to tease his tiny master into admitting it and asking for him to undress.

Ciel often pulls Sebastian's hair and scratches along his back.

He furthermore doesn´t like to make much noise, because he thinks it makes him sound desperate for the devils touch, so he stifles his noises with his own fist, in the pillows or even by biting his butlers shoulder.

On the other hand, Sebastian loves it when his master is vocal, relishing in every moan, whimper or call of his given name that he's able to pull from his masters small bitter mouth.

The tiny earl sometimes hides his face when they´re in bed together, especially when he´s overwhelmed by his emotions and/ or feels embarrassed. But Sebastian continually pries his hands away, whispering softly “ I want to see you”, before kissing all over his master´s little flushed face and licking possible tears away.

Whenever Ciel leaves any wounds/ marks on Sebastian during their midnight encounters, the latter always heals them slowly, in the speed a human body would, taking pride in the little teeth-marks or scratches.

Sebastian also loves to leave marks of ownership on his little charge, but much to the devils chagrin he has to refrain from that rather often. To be precise, whenever the tailor is about to visit, which happens quite regularly.

But apart from that, he often just takes his time to kiss along Ciel´s whole body and the earl just feels so adored.

After some time he is allowed to even kiss the branding on Ciel´s back and along other tiny scars from Ciel´s time being captured, although the boy initially didn´t like that, since he believes these scars are signs of his weakness. However, Sebastian sees them as symbols of his strength and tries to convey this to his little lord in every way possible.

Occasionally they take baths together, either to get cleaned up after certain activities or simply to relax after a particularly exhausting day/ a tough mission. Ciel would sit in between his demons legs, back to his chest, feeling the butler's gentle touches as he washes the boy´s body.

Sometimes, when there's a party at the estate, Sebastian allows his master to drink a champagne flute or two. Firstly, in order to endure his guests and secondly because after the guests have left the earl will still be a bit tipsy, sleepy and more pliable. He will be almost eager to finally get his clothes off and let Sebastian do as he pleases, while the boy is highly responsive to his touches and very vocal on top of that.

Whenever Sebastian keeps his lord up long into the night, he lets him sleep in the next morning.

Ciel is completely ensnared by his demon's natural form and has certainly more than once asked Sebastian into his bed like that. And even though he often wakes bruised and aching afterwards, he´s never once regretted it.

Especially when his more feral instincts come through, Sebastian really enjoys biting Ciel (mostly on the insides of his thighs or his neck), the earls blood allowing the devil a little taste of the boy´s soul.

As his duties demand, Sebastian often has to work until late into the night. So he´ll bring his charge to bed, tuck the earl in, kiss him goodnight and then leave to the kitchen or his room in order to make preparations for the next day. When he´s finished and there is still some time until morning, he´ll return to his master´s chambers, slipping under the covers and holding the little boy gently through the rest of the night. Sometimes though, Ciel wakes while his infernal servant climbs into the bed. And every now and then he won't just settle contently into the demons embrace, but pull him close into a heated kiss, whispering a breathy "I need you". And the devil wouldn't deny him, wearing Ciel out until they're both satisfied and the boy falls into an exhausted sleep against his servant's chest where he's kept cosy until morning comes.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel headcanons #ns/fw headcanons #sebaciel #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #o!ciel #textpost

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gauloiseblue · 3 months

Text

Hellgate

[+18 | MDNI]

2!Dante × Reader

If someone asked you what kind of hints you were citing to him, you’d only blush and refuse to answer it. And you’re ready to bet that their innocent minds can only come up with the purest form of sex, while in reality, you really want to reduce your boyfriend into a sobbing mess.

It might be something that he discovered along the way, or how the evidence slowly mounted up and his brain finally made a connection. Either way, the hints that you’ve been dropping since God knows when were finally noticed.

Well, it’s not that you’re passive-aggressively sending him a signal, and sitting back hoping that he’d pick it up. You just don’t want to frighten him, because the idea of surrendering one’s control can be really scary. Especially for a tough guy like Dante. Oh, you're definitely going to use that nickname against him.

When he finally addresses the matter—or more like confronting you about your eagerness to take the lead, you just smile at him. Even a Devil can’t escape the conventional education of sex.

Now, if we pick his brain apart, you’ll see that he has every side of him arguing. His dismay would shout a hard ‘NO’ at him, while his poor confusion would try to make out the situation. Maybe his adventurous side would shrug and say why not?, and his ego would try to smother it with a pillow. But where’s the part of him that loves you? Well, he’s the one who silences them all.

“It’s just a suggestion.” You nonchalantly said, “I don’t mind sticking with our usual way, but why don’t you try it once and see if you like it or not?”

He didn’t answer right away, as you’d expect it. But give it 5 days maximum, and he’ll get down to it. But how can you be so sure? The answer is, you just know.

Call it a lover’s intuition, but you can see through his mind. And it’s a hell of wreckage.

An explanation might be offered, but you might as well write an essay about it. Let’s dive into the haywire thoughts of his. Dante is a traditional kind of lover, and he’d prioritize your pleasure before his. Even when you get on top of him, and straddling him with your hips, he’d still try to hold back. But you knew that he wanted to cum so bad.

He’s the perfect example of Gary Stu, because never in your life you see a little bit of his weakness. Well, you did, but they’re a lovable weakness so they didn’t count. This side of him might be some kind of a dream come true (for some people), but not in your case. You just hated it. Because if he doesn’t let you see the tender side of him, it means that he doesn’t trust you completely.

This man might have the biggest trust issue you ever encounter, even rivaling his enormous insecurities. Yes, yes, you know. He had his reason, but you had yours too. You don't want to always be on the receiving end, you want to take care of him as well. He always exceeds your expectations, and he keeps building a new wall every time he does it. As if he's afraid that you'd leave him, after you see what's past behind his strong facade.

It's exhausting, for both of you. He can't keep lying like this, and you can't always pretend that it's totally fine. You've tried to encourage him to open up before, but it's no success. So this time, you're going to push him beyond his limit instead. In short, you're going to teach him some lessons. And maybe, by some miracles, he'll finally realize that what he’s done would only hurt the two of you.

At first, you see the refrain in his eyes. He's afraid, and of course he's afraid. You literally asked him to hand you his control, and who knows what he'd do during the act. What if he whines, or even begging you to let him finish? That'd be so embarrassing.

Then, comes the curiosity. What's the worst that could happen? He's a tough guy after all (honestly, you're still laughing whenever you try to narrate his thoughts), he can handle it. You’ve promised him that you wouldn’t do anything that makes him uncomfortable. And as long as he remembers, you never made him feel that way.

But here comes the fear. It’s the shortest period, but it clearly leaves the most impact on him. What if, somehow, you lose your interest in him afterwards? What if he does something so shameful that you never want to speak of it? What if you find it disgusting? What if, what if, what if…

Thankfully, he manages to snap out of it.

Anyway, he goes through that cycle again and again. Days passed, and you waited patiently for him to decide. To be fair, you don’t mind if he refuses the proposal. But it’d feel like a step back in your relationship, and he’d end up putting another wall around him.

Day 4 after the initial discussion, he comes to you. It’s just past dinner, and you’re lounging on the sofa. He approaches you, with his hands in his pockets. You pretend to immerse yourself into your novel, before lifting your head up when he’s standing by the couch.

Of course, he’s having a second thought, and it reflects in his eyes. But he manages to muster up courage and asks you,

“If I say yes, what are you going to do to me?”

And you close your book, “Do you trust me?”

“I do, but I have to know—” He corrected himself when you lifted your novel again, “I do.”

“I want to try something new, and it’s gonna be all about you.” You told him, “But I think it’s wise to lay down some rules.”

“Tell me.”

“First, we have to choose a safeword. If it gets too much, you can stop it by saying the word.” You explained briefly, “Second, you have to be honest with me. When you don’t feel comfortable, or you don’t find it enjoyable anymore, you have to tell me, by using the word."

He didn't say anything, as he pressed his knuckles against his lips. He looks the other way, and you can figuratively hear the gears rolling in his head. "Alright." He muttered out, "But I can't think of any words yet."

"It should be specific, like something you wouldn't say during a normal conversation." You suggested, "You can use flowers, or anything really."

But knowing him for years, you know he wouldn't come up with such an easy word. He'd spend the whole day thinking of asking you a trivial thing, before he decided to do it tomorrow. This man would take anything too seriously, even when it's just a silly line. You really think he'd choose a rare word, like subrosa, lucent, or some sort of ancient epithet. Until you hear him say, "Hellgate."

You blinked in surprise. Hellgate. It didn't even cross your mind, how clever.

For most people, it might be just a term. But for both of you, it has developed from a simple shout to a warning. The two of you have used it, until it changed its meaning. It shifted from 'Beware, it’s a gate of hell!' to 'Absolute no go'. And when he said it to you, it conveys; It's not safe, we shouldn't go there.

"Hellgate." You repeated, "We'll use that." You push yourself up, before you extend your arm toward him, "Come, let's take it upstairs."

—

He didn't flinch when you fastened the rope, even when it dug into his skin. "Too tight?" You asked as you loosened the bind around his arms.

"You can go tighter."

"No, I don’t want to make your hands numb.”

You let out a huff as you redo the ties on his back. Not even a minute has passed, and you already run into the first problem. Dante doesn’t know his own limit or discomfort, and it’s making your guesswork harder.

“There we go.” You said as you tied the final knot.

Almost instinctively, he tries to tug his hand to test the strength. “You know I can easily break free from it right?”

“Try not to.”

He let out an amused snort, which tempted you to do the same. But you keep your facade and smile.

You touch his bare skin gently, and he sighs as he begins to relax. Your fingers trail from his chest, down to his stomach, and they pause right above his jeans. He draws a sharp breath when your hand slips under the underwear, “Do you mind?” You asked him, while fiddling with the button. He nods, just as impatient as the bulge inside his pants.

The zipper rustled down, and your hands quickly worked on his jeans. He looks away when you pull the pants down, along with his brief. Even when sex has been a part of the routine, he’s still somewhat shy when it comes to nudity.

“Lay down.” You told him as you gently pushed him to the bed. As he settles down, you begin to pile up the pillows behind him. “Look up for me.” You said as you raised his chin.

You reach into your pocket, and take a hold of the bundled piece of fabric. A look of surprise crosses his face as you unravel the blindfold, and you carefully wrap it around his head. “Is it really necessary?” He timidly asked, while you adjusted the cloth around his eyes.

“Yes." You press him against the pillows, "Like I said earlier, it's all about your pleasure."

He didn't protest further, even when you placed the earmuffs on his head. Although it's not going to prevent him from hearing your voice, as long as you keep quiet, he won't be able to tell where you are.

Climbing down the bed, you then walk to the nightstand. You rummage through the drawer, and find the plastic box beneath the magazines. Inside the case, there's a medium sized silver ring with adjustable width. Plus one remote control. Well, after knowing the exact size of his cock, the adjustable part surely comes in handy.

The bed dips as you return to his side, and he flinches when you touch his face. “Relax.” You assured him, and he slowly calmed down. Not for long though, as the clasp of the ring releases a clicky sound. Your hands work on adjusting the toy, before you wrap it around his cock.

“What did you put on me?”

“Vibrating cock ring.” You uttered with a smirk, “It’s going to keep your dick up until we’re done.”

He heaves a sigh, “Since when did you buy it?”

“Guess, tough boy.” You chuckled as you kissed his cheek. With the remote in your hand, you test the lowest setting on him.

He gasps when the ring starts to vibrate, which rouses his member up. You let it on for a half minute, before you turn it off.

“How was it?”

“... It’s fine.”

“Good.” You replied as you stepped away from the bed. You flop down on the chair by the bed, which gives you a full view of him. “Remember what we talked about before? Do you remember the safeword?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. If you’re uncomfortable, or you need to stop, just say it out loud.”

He nods.

You look at him once again, and observe how his chest rises and falls. He’s nervous, if it’s not so obvious already. You wanted to tease him a little more, but you didn't want to scare him. Fiddling with the controller, you flick the switch to number two.

Almost in an instant, his body jolts from the stimulation. Though it's more of the abruptness rather than the pleasure itself. But as the shock subdued, the feeling began to build up in the pit of his stomach. It starts slow, and you raise one more level.

He hisses when the toy's setting is getting higher, and his cock begins to swell. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his moan. Alas, you can hear it from his breath. Not sure if he can hear you smirking, but you're barely able to contain yourself. The sight of him is such a feast for your eyes. You finally get why he's eager to please you first, because the reaction from the receiver is worth watching.

You reach into your pants, but you hesitate. You're unsure if you should do it, as you might have missed some of the signs he's showing. The least thing you wanna do is ignoring his subtle stop.

After a short contemplation, you decide to watch him only. You lean back, and prop your head against your hand. You notice his legs tremble slightly, and you pick up the pace for one level. Which makes him throw his head to the back, and moans loudly. His toes start to curl, and his hips move in a jerking motion.

His first orgasm comes with quite an eruption, as his cum spurts out to his abdomen. The opaque liquid glistens on his skin, which makes him look even dirtier. You lean forward, while biting your nail. He looks absolutely ravishing, and you'd jump on him if not because of your self-control.

Helping him ride his orgasm down, you set the setting to three. It will help him recover from high, while keeping the rhythm going. He sighs heavily, before his breath hitches up when he feels the soft vibrations. "(Y/N)—" He called out, but you didn't answer.

Your quietness confuses him for a second, as he can't hear your breath. Not even a sound that can indicate your presence. But you didn't let him think too much, and you immediately hit the second highest setting.

The jump of the beat startles him, and it takes a moment before his numb member gains its sensitivity again. When it happens, the build-up pleasures hit him all at once. And he almost screams when the toy mercilessly pulses around his cock. "(Y/N) please—" He choked up, as his body went stiff.

He's gripping at the pillow, trying so hard not to break the rope. Every muscle in his body becomes prominent, and his dick is red and veiny from the strain. You press your hand against your lips, in an attempt to conceal your smile. The blindfold and the earmuffs really help to reduce his sensory function. Leaving him only with his sense of touch, and smell it seems.

The sight of him arouses you, as you feel yourself wet. He pauses when his nose picks up the scent of your arousal. You notice the cue, and immediately cross your leg. “How long are we going to do this?” He muttered out between the gasps. Still, you refrain yourself from speaking. But even when you didn’t say it out loud, you both already knew the answer.

His shout rips out from his throat when he feels the speed is increasing. Your thumb has set the remote to the highest setting, and you sat back, watching.

He calls out your name again, along with him begging you to speak. But you keep your voice still. You narrowed your eyes on him. The pleasure that he feels will soon turn into pain, and it’s going to be excruciating for him. One orgasm turns into two, and he’s unable to keep his position straight as time goes by.

It’s just one word, really. Hellgate. And you’d immediately stop. For some unknown reason, he didn’t say it. The thought of it just pops up in your mind, as you notice the discomfort in his manner. The buzz from the ring is slightly muffled by his thighs when he curls up. With his heightened sense, and constant stimulation, he’s soon coming with a loud groan.

This time, it’s more unforgiving as the pace stays the same. You didn’t turn down the level of vibration, as your eyes fixated on him. His body is glistening with sweat and his own release—both dried and sticky. Then he sinks into the fort of pillows, while he squirms and moans. But still, he doesn’t yield. Part of you—your inner detective—knows the reason, and it’s not good. He’s an attentive lover, and he could figure out what you want in a second. Yet this time, it’s completely wrong. Based on your reaction, he drew a conclusion that you like watching him in this state. It’s half-true, but it’s not your intention to set up such a play for a selfish reason.

On the seventh counts of his climax, he’s become barely coherent. His semen has stained his body and the bedsheet, and some of them even spewed out to the pillows. If he was certain that you’re there in the room with him before, he couldn’t be sure of it anymore. You kept everything just the same, no movement, no talk, and not even a sound.

Just how long is he gonna keep the act? He’s almost at his limit, even when he hasn’t broken the restraint. It’s pitiful to watch, as the blindfold becomes wet with both tears and sweats. Though you initially enjoyed the view—maybe your inner sadist still enjoys seeing that—it quickly got to the point where you’re more concerned than aroused.

Once again, his body convulses as another wave of pleasure hits him. His cock was in the shade of angry red, as it wept out his cum. The white string of fluid oozes out from the tip of his dick like a stream, dripping down on his inner thigh. You did it, you made him into a sobbing mess, just like he always did to you. But with your hand fidgeting nervously on the controller, you’re beginning to think if you should put it to stop.

“(Y/N), I can’t—” He cried out, “Turn it down.”

Just like that, he puts you in a dilemma. You don’t want to continue it any longer, and doing as he said can lead you to a longer playtime. That’s not your intention, because you just want him to understand, and you want him to say it—

His voice snaps you from your thoughts, and you blink as you realize that he’s repeating the same word. “Hellgate.” He quietly whimpers, as if he’s surrendering himself, “Hellgate.”

It takes two seconds for you to register it, before you’re fumbling with the remote to turn it off. The sigh of relief falls from his mouth, as he collapses on the bed. His breath is heavy, and every fiber in his body seems to shrivel, while exhaustion takes over him.

With caution, you make it to his side and touch his arm. His body jerks at the sudden contact, and you softly mutter to him.

“Shh, it’s just me.” You gently remove the earmuffs and the blindfold, “How are you feeling?”

His teary eyes search up your face, before your smile comes to his view. You roll him over, and begin to undo the bind that you put on him. It leaves a little bit of marks on him, but it’d probably disappear in a minute.

As you reach to pull the ring, he pushes you to the mattress before you can even touch it. Your eyes widen in surprise when he crushes his lips against you, and his hands frantically hold the side of your face. The kiss that you both share is almost hungry, as he presses his mouth closer without giving you a room to breathe.

The stains on the cover stick to your skin uncomfortably, but it slips from your mind when his kisses prove to be a hell of distraction. You regain your control after a while, and quickly work on getting the ring off his cock. He moans at the friction, but his lips are reluctant to part from you yet. He only pulls away from the kiss to murmurs against your lips, "It's awful." He frowned, "I don't want to do it again."

"Okay." You mused as you caressed his hair, "We won't do it again. But you should know that I did it for a reason."

His brows then furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I did it because I want you to know what I felt." You confessed, "You always gave me so much, but I never felt your presence at all. Only pleasures, but never you."

Your words seem to affect him as his face turns gloom, "So you didn't like the way we had sex?"

"God, no! That's not what I meant. It's just that… I want you to enjoy it as well. You're always trying to make sure that I'm satisfied, but you never even thought of yourself." You smile at him before you kiss his cheek, "I love you, alright? And I want to make you feel good as well."

It's something that has been said before, and you've told him several times. But in this particular moment, he finally understands what you're trying to express. He seems to be taken aback by the idea, and it makes him uneasy. "I'm sorry." It's all he could say.

"It's okay." You pull him to face you before he can turn away. His clear irises stare back into you, and you see guilt. "Just don't ignore me next time."

He nods, and he relents when you tug him closer to kiss him again. He doesn't even fight it when you roll him over, though you suspect it's more because of his exhaustion and muddled mind. But you trust him.

By the end of the day, as you both lay down side by side, completely spent but satisfied, he murmurs something to you. A smile blooms on your face as you peck his lips. Even if he felt compelled to say those words, there's no question that he meant what he said.

#repost from ao3 #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante x reader #devil may cry 2 #i remember writing it after I binged reading sunstone by stjepan #it's good shit I'm telling you

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m-ayo-o · 6 months

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megumi is cagey with most, courteous with some, friendly with few and intimate... with you.

but when he's greeted at the bar during his christmas / birthday drinks by someone he doesn't recognise? you watch the whole thing unfold and you swear you're going to buckle and fall on the floor with laughter.

he's a pretty cute guy, perhaps looking for some kind of connection... that just isn't going to manifest over drinks. in one evening? he doesn't have a chance.

you can't watch, so distract yourself by talking with yuji, who seems unaware of the situation. until his dark haired friend comes storming over with a heavy cloud following over his head. he slumps down on the booth seat, clearly exhausted by the interaction, and just thanks his lucky stars that his real friends choose not to comment on his awkward encounter.

and you don't. you refrain, until your sobering walk home.

"what did you think of him?"

he looks at you, gritting his teeth before he speaks.

"i didn't."

he barely opened his mouth to reply to the man, let alone grasp what his deal was. fuck, he was enrapt in getting away from the poor guy he barely looked at him.

you sigh and giggle, and just hold his hand tighter and look at him as if he's the only one you want to lay eyes on. and it's true. like him, you have severe tunnel vision. nobody else can enter your life now, at least not romantically. he has a hold on you, and you on him. it's true and pure and makes your heart ache. it's an unfamiliar feeling, but you suppose this is what love feels like?

#megumi <3 #stop drunk posting #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi #jjk fluff #megumi thoughts

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traveller-of-the-knight · 2 months

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Blind Reflections Chapter 1 "Willing to die"

So this is basically a Moon Knight x Daredevil fanfic that is also a Moon Knight x Jessica Jones fanfic. You don't need to know shit about Daredevil or Jessica Jones, just know that this fic is very Jake Lockley centered and I will do a deep dive into his character and his past.

(Punisher, Spiderman, Layla along with Marc and Steven will be on the next chapters)

Words: 8.5K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yeap I don't speak Spanish please correct me, very very temporary character death.

You can find it on AO3 here

ENJOY!

Matt Murdoc was… Confused to say the least, weirded out you may say. He’s been in many fights before: gangs, crime lords, ancient ninjas, blood thirsty vigilantes, dead girlfriends, you name it! But this… This was something the wasn’t prepared for. The strangest encounter he had yet to face. And that was only the first step into the maze that is Moon Knight’s reality.

The night started as normal as it could get for someone like him. A few punches here there, a couple of knife cuts and some missed gunshots -you know, the uzhe. Which lead him stalking a complex of ship containers next to the Hadson River, waiting to ambush an arms trade from Egypt. If what “punched-out-criminal-number-four” told him is true, these weapons can’t fall into the wrong hands.

So, he waited for what seemed like hours on a building not too far away from the target. He didn’t need to be that close anyway. Besides he got a clearer image of his surroundings that way, without having to deal too much with the unpleasant odors of the river.

Still, he found himself wondering around with all for his senses. The warm wind made the otherwise cold and humid night more tolerable. He could feel it breaking through his shirt, making him shiver in the sudden change of temperature as the soft fabric hugged his skin.

He took his blindfold off, to let his face breath in the New York night. As he did, the smells he wanted to avoid hit him all too fast. Rotten fish, garbage leaking out into the muddy waters and the industrial revolution making itself present, even to this day. But it wasn’t all that bad after all. He isolated the traces of the afternoon’s rain on the soil mixed with churchy leaves, as they were stepped on by a young couple.

He heard them laughing and do happy little dances around each other. It is beautiful, having someone like that in your life. Someone who stays longer than a month, someone who understands what you must do and won’t try to keep you away from it, or even worse, judge you and leave due to that.

A new presence pulled him out of his thoughts. Someone was running from building-to-building heading towards the river. This can’t be good. He put the blindfold back on and focused on the potential threat.

It was only a man, out of breath, trying to keep up a conversation regardless the circumstances. Matt couldn’t hear the other side of it, or even feel the other person, but it was probably just an earpiece…

Well… he was very wrong. On his defense who could have guested what was actually happening!

Instead of another man he was accompanied by the wind. It was growing stronger and more violent around him, when it reached Matt the comfort of his warm clothes was utterly gone and he could only feel an unearthly chill, making him freeze to the bone.

Suddenly the wind became aggressive, lifting all the trash left on the poor rooftops and dropping them into the ground with force, like a child throwing a tantrum.

“We are not too late!”, said the man. He had an accent that Matt couldn’t really place, he sounded like he lived in New York for a while but there was also something… South American he quested in his pronunciation but also soft and rhythmic like Italian. Besides that, his tone wasn’t soft, he sounded exhausted and slightly pissed but he did his best to refrain himself.

“We don’t know that my son. They have tricked us before.”, answered the wind. But its words were undetectable, even for Matt’s delicate ears.

Fortunately, the only man capable of hearing them, is always surrounded by that wind, to hear all of its demands and pain. That man of course, was no other than Jake Lockley.

Jake Lockley is a strange man. He likes to drink his coffee black, but occasionally he’ll order “a gingerbread-almond-milk-late, with some caramel syrup and whipped cream on top of it” just because “it reminds me of an old friend”, even though he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d let himself get that sentimental. He also always likes to wear his hat. And I mean always. He’ll take of his jacket, if he ever comes to your place, heck, he’ll even take his shoes off, if you want him to. But no, never his hat.

People who know him have their theories. Some say that he’s probably bolding at a young age, emphasizing the later, because even though he looked young, his demeanors made him look at least a decade older. Others say that his grandfather, moments before he died, gifted him the hat, which belonged in the family for many generations, and made him promise to never take it off. That theory sounds dumb, but you can never be too sure about anything when it comes to him. He’s a man surrounded by an aura of mystery and the skill to trick others into thinking that he’s an open book. That’s how dangerous he is.

Only one man is capable of breaking through his many layers of armor. Well… Not actually a “man”, but a bird. A six-thousand-year-old bird, or maybe just what remained of him in his flowing-head skeleton or whatever the fuck is that. But he sounds like a man, or just a stupid pigeon -your choice, his avatars will probably agree with you regardless. He on the other hand… He’ll prefer the name Khonshu. Khonshu, the protector of all who travel by night. Khonshu, the God of the stary sky. Khonshu, the one who seeks vengeance on anyone hurting the travelers under his domain. Khonshu, the owner of the voice that made the air run cold with fear. Khonshu who spoke to his priest in with caution.

“There is another traveler.”

Jake stopped his marathon to spot him.

“¿Cómo?”, he looked around, “¿Dónde mierda está?! Oh…” (What now? Where the fuck is he?) Jake noticed a man dressed head to toe in black, he looked dumb. Dumb, and intimidating -just like him.

“Fucking. Great.” he exhaled with frustration, “…El Diablo.” He lifted his hands in the air and yes, he tended to do that a lot when he spoke “Of course! Hell’s Kitchen!” he rested his palm on his forehead, “why am I even surprised…” he waved his arms again “Ah, I should have seen this coming from miles away!”, he whispered the last part to himself, so the God wouldn’t join in the mockery.

“I think he can hear you…”

He whistled to get his attention, in response Matt flinched, covering his ears.

“Hey Diablo”, Jake greeted without bothering to raise his voice, despite the distance, calm and charming as always. “Would you mind leaving this one on me?” he continued but his calmness carefully unveiled a threat as he spoke more seriously, lowering his eyebrows.

No response.

Maybe some response but he couldn’t hear it, obviously.

“Can you hear me?”

Matt stood up.

“Great, I-”

And then jumped right into action.

“Ah... Shit.”

“This is going to be a pain in the ass” said Khonshu as Jake ran to catch up.

It took a moment to approach the containers, but when he did, he saw about ten men, all armed. Most of whom were looking alarmed, aiming their guns at random spots in the sky with the sliest of sounds, looking around like idiots. Four more were already knocked out by a threat they didn’t see coming.

“There!” One of them yelled, pointing on top of a cargo at pour Jake, who hadn’t even touch them (yet).

“Joder.” (fuck)

The men started to empty their guns at him. He quickly leaned back to escape their range. He wasn’t fast enough though his tie revealed, as it billowed in front of his face framing the enemy around a hole that wasn’t there before.

One bullet too close to him. Then another one as he ducked scratched the flesh underneath his ear. At that moment Marc or Steven would have summoned the suit. Jake on the other hand, wasn’t a big fan of it.

He sticked on summoning it just enough to cover his wound, leaving the bandages loose to fly around in the air as the rest of him remained in his usual clothing.

Khonshu looked down at his avatar “You’re pathetic Lockley.”

“El Diablo… The Devil… ¿Dónde está?” (where is he) Jake asked, taking deep and controlled breaths to cancel out the pain and ignore the insult.

“Taking care of another business. Don’t tell me you thought it would be only them.”

“How- how many more?”

“Can’t tell.”

One of the men sneaked in from a different angle to shout at him as he was distracted. This one managed to hit his shoulder. He did his best not to scream as he was pushed back by the force of the bullet and gritted his teeth making a hissing sound as he crawled back, away from their range, pulling his gun out.

“Don’t waste all your strength at them. Finish them quickly and move on.”

“They are not who we are looking for, solo están- (they are just)”

“Don’t you trust me? …Jake mijo (my son)… Look at you! You’re already holding a gun.”

Jake looked at his ghoulish skeleton. He was right. Turns out he knew him all too well.

“Stand up. Raise and fight them, just how I taught you.”

And just like that Khonshu summoned the suit. White bandages were crafted out of the wind’s swirls, embroider themselves deep around Jake’s wound. And from there, just if they had dived inside his veins, they started to shallow his body, tightly holding him together as they settled in their proper positions. If you were to pay closer attention, you’d see that for a moment those bandages resembled puppet strings, illumined by the moon light, being handled by the sky lifting his body up without his will. It looked painful, but then again, all healing is painful in its own way.

The suit was different than Marc and Steven’s. It wasn’t all that put together, bandages were dirty and loose, like they were flying in the wind but still bright like the moon. The shapes they made weren’t all that unique, if he was a mummy, archeologists would say that it belonged to a worker, or even a slave. His cape also matched the rest of his outfit, looking as old as Khonshu, torn apart like the faith on a forgotten god, trying to fight his way through the human mind. He was an old script, a papyrus of dusty prayers and a place of worship and sacrifice for just before war. So holly his skin burned, a saint who owned his place though sin.

It took him a moment to get used to the cold grip of the armor on his burning body. It felt exactly how it looked like. A prison, a cell big enough as his body, with only a small window around his eyes, connecting him to the world, bringing the New York breeze on the bridge of his nose.

Gunshots brought him back to reality. He sighed and turned around, so his cape was facing the shooters -it was either that or approaching them like Dracula. He- He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t sure if any of this round’s bullets had reached him, if they did, they must have healed faster than adrenaline runs out. Those who definitely didn’t reach him, ricocheted from his cape. From the sound of it, one of the enemies was down. From the following sound, one dropped his gun and run away. And from the next, another one followed him.

Jake carefully turned to face them. One man on the ground and the two deserters making their escape as the other’s brain stopped working trying to figure out how to kill a bulletproof man.

“What are you waiting for?”, said the god, “You don’t have all night.”

But Jake did nothing, he just stood there locking eyes with a shouter who had lowered his gun. He was speechless, probably no one had warned him that he would go up against a superhuman. Was their boss really that ignorant?

“Lockley.” The unearthly voice spoke again, angrier this time. He had barely managed to focus on it when another bullet hit him, right under his stomach. That wasn’t right, he wouldn’t be able to feel it for more than a second, he should have healed, he should have-

A scream escaped his lungs he couldn’t stop it as he kneeled on the ground his left hand trying to keep as much blood inside as possible.

“When will you learn.”

“He can be shot! Avoid the cape!” his shouter yelled.

Even through his gloves and bandages he was too familiar with the weight on his palm, to recognize it immediately: his pistol, still in his hand, ready to be used any second now.

I have to, don’t I?

And there, as he laid one with the cold surface of the cargo trying to keep himself from making another sound, he stretched his right arm towards the men trying to get away, he pulled the trigger and watched in horror as a bullet came out of his gun, hitting the closest one in the head and yet another one piercing through the other’s back.

The god took a long and arrogant breath and Jake felt a shiver running through his body. Not sure whether that was a good sign or not, but soon enough, he began to heal.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“No, padre.” (No, father) he promised, his name poison on his tongue, or maybe just an icky medicine that children hate, even if it’s for their own good.

He jumped from the container, the wound being still fresh, tearing him with every move as he landed on one of the men, kicking him to the ground. He tried to get up, but Jake’s fists got to him first, he then took his gun, disarmed it, and hit him in the face with it.

The other’s circled him, still insisting to use guns. “Ah, not this again”, Jake thought as bullets started flow. One of them was shot by his own fire… Again. “What are they stupid?!”, he continued his inner monologue as he turned around, flipping his cape so hard, that he managed to drop everybody’s guns, hitting their hands in the prosses.

Two people rushed to grab his arms and pushed him backwards. Jake tried to flex his legs and run vertically on the container to escape them, but his attempt was cut short. A fisher’s rope was forced on his neck pulling him even harder as he choked. He could feel his sight getting darker as he gasped for air. He balanced his feet and despite all of his instincts pushed forward just enough to grab a dart from his chest and desperately stab the man behind him. He wasn’t even sure if any of his hits were delivered or even where, he just held on to the dart tightly, moving his arm repeatedly as fast as he could, like a fish in the shore flipping its tail for a change to come back into the waters.

The man let go of his arm, but he wasn’t the one holding the rope. With one move he put all of his weight on his right side and turned slightly to see the man holding his left arm. He threw the dart at him, forcing him to let go.

His arms were free, and he wasted no time. He found the hands holding the rope, grabbed them and flipped the man over his head. He fell with a loud noise on a container. He was the last one.

Jake walked slowly towards him taking deep breaths and kicked him like a rug when he tried to get up.

“Stay down puta!” He yelled, voice rusty and painful from the choking.

He didn’t listen.

“I said: Stay. Down.”

He put his boot on his head and shoved it on the ground, twisting his foot like stepping on a cigarette bud.

“There… there…”

And kneeled over him.

“So… Now is the time where you tell me who your boss is.”

The man didn’t answer so Jake decided to offer him a deal.

“I was in a good mood today, you know that? Real good mood until one of you fuckers ruined my night. But I guess it can still be saved for both of us, no need for any more violence just a simple conversation -you know.”

The man stared at his eyes and asked.

“Who do you work for?”

“I serve no man.”

“Mogart? Hydra? I know a mercenary when I see one.”

He took a deep annoyed breath “The only think there is to know about me, is that I’m holding the gun.”

“He has no name. The man you’re looking for, has no name!”

“That was helpful”, he said ironically stepping harder on his head.

And just as he did that a flying stick hit him on the neck.

“Don’t touch him.” a new voice said.

S-steven? Jake asked himself.

No!

Steven no, listen-

I- I’m-

I’m sorry, I had no choice, trust me that’s not who I am!

that’s not who any of us is, especially you!

Don’t you ever forget that, not like Marc did

No.

Not like Marc

Not this time

You didn’t need to see this- I won’t hurt him I’m bluffing.

Just bluffing I swear!

This is all just an act

an act

An act,

Just an act…

…

Steven?

No, that-

No, that’s not possible-

“WHO?!” Jake asked out loud.

He didn’t realize but the guy under his shoe had escaped. Was he knocked out or just dissociating? He couldn’t tell but he was present now, conscious, mostly. He turned around and saw a man with a black cloth covering his eyes.

“…Diablo …What did I tell you?” he threatened as he slowly stood up.

“You killed those men. Why?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You got to them first.”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“But I did, what’s the point?”

“You can’t make decisions like that! You’re not-”

Jake laughed and answered after a moment like it was a hilarious fact that felt more personal to him.

“Only “God” can make these decisions, am I right?” His voice cracked at the end just for a moment, a moment that made Matt feel like the man in front of him could break down saying these words, or maybe he has already. But that was just Matt’s senses, no one other than him could see Jake’s true emotions, himself included.

“Don’t tell me you see yourself as a god.” Were the only words that could escape Matt’s mouth that wouldn’t change the subject.

Jake laughed again, softer this time. “God of getting myself in annoying situations...”

“Is that what death is to you? An annoyance?” He continued, trying to read him even though he already understood that all of his questions were heading in the wrong direction.

Jake tried to think fast and his experience of dying made up his answer quickly “Well it is annoying if you think about it enough.”

Matt got confused by his words, he wasn’t talking about killing. No, he knew what dying feels like- but how? He took a step forward, stepping under the moon light to ask Jake the first right question. “Who are you?”

A blue light. It’s illuminating on gold feathers.

So bright that it almost blinded Jake.

A hand toughed his chest like it was gabbing itself from his heartbeat.

Voices.

But- we have each other, right?

I’ll always be here for you.

Don’t leave me!

I won’t leave you!

You lied.

You can never be whole.

You’re too broken Spector.

But- we are a team ain’t we? We are one!

…Don’t make me laugh!

You lied Lockley…

To all of them you lied…

To yourself you lied…

You are the weak link…

And you were supposed to bring them together,

Instead you teared them apart,

Just because you were afraid.

The hand let go of Jake and in the faded lights he saw three silhouettes. They were young boys, but they suddenly grew older and more violent, running towards Jake. He covered the eyes of two little boys standing next to him. He didn’t realize when they appeared. Maybe they were there all along. Together.

Together Jake,

together.

Together

“What were you doing with Fisk’s men?”

The light was gone, so were the voices. Now Jake was standing again alone in front of Matt, probably looking like an idiot, trying to figure out… Everything. This had never happened before. No this-

“Why did you do that?”

“I- I didn’t… My boss…” Jake answered trying hard to put together a sentence as his mind drifted away.

Fisk.

“Fisk!” He said, finally holding on one thought, “Is he the no-name guy?”

Matt answered something but Khonshu’s voice covered it.

“Did you sense it?”

“What?” Jake asked hopping that either of them would elaborate further.

“I said you must be new in Manhattan.” Diablo answered.

“Hardly”

“He has it.” Khonshu declared, covering Matt’s voice for once more.

“Has what?”

“What?”

“THE AMULET YOU FOOL!”

For the first time Jake took closer attention to Matt. His clothes were dirty, and his fists covered in blood, a feeling way to familiar for him. Seeing him like this… he wanted to tell him that he knew how hard it was, bringing justice, vengeance while being only a human. To tell him that it’s ok to lose some battles, to take a break, to forgive himself for all the lives he couldn’t save. He wanted to-

He's carrying a bag. Did he had it before? Is the amulet-

“Yes, it’s in the bag! Get it!” Khonshu ordered.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you…”, Jake threatened, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, kiddo… You better return it so I can give it to its rightful owner.”

“Kiddo? How old do you think I am?”

“Well, you’re still playing ninjas in your pajamas...” Jake lifted his eyebrow underneath the mask.

“Lockley, what are you doing?! Get it now!” Khonshu interrupted again with his annoying voice.

“Ugh, look I don’t wanna fight, if you could just hand it over to me, it will all be over.”

Matt stepped back to protect his bag from Jake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing you should be worried about.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You should. You don’t want the danger associated with it.”

“They said there would be weapons.”

“You think you want the danger, don’t you?”

“Is this a key?”

“Dios mío, es estúpido!” (My God he’s stupid) He said frustrated, looking at the sky.

“No soy tan estúpido como para dártelo” (Not stupid enough to hand it to you)

Jake was surprised with the white boy’s accent but felt mostly irritated, he wanted the privacy of expressing himself in a language only he could understand, and his Yiddish wasn’t that good.

“Wow… hablas español… estoy tan impresionado…” (Wow… You speak Spanish… I’m very impressed) Jake pointed out unimpressed.

“Nop, creo que eres.” (Nah, I think you are)

“…Sabelotodo.” (Smartass)

“Stay down!” Sabelotodo yelled at Jake as he ducked a bullet coming from across the river.

“How the fuck did you do that?!”

“I’ll tell you another time.” He answered as he started to run away from the containers.

“Espera!” (Wait!) Jake called as he tried to catch up, but Matt just ignored him, heading for the nearby buildings.

“Diablo!” he yelled again when he saw a van with broken windows following him. It was speeding up, ready to hit him when he jumped and started climbing up a building. Two men fired at him from the windows, but he always knew where the bullets were aimed at and avoided them with ease.

Jake jumped from a container to the top of the van, startling the men. A voice inside of him pleaded to kill them, an easy kill it wouldn’t take more than-

But Jake didn’t listen, he didn’t like that voice. He didn’t know to who it belonged to, it was all too blended, without any sign of getting clearer. Who knew, maybe it was only him showing his true nature …Nah… That’s more of a “Marc guilt trip situation”, he knows better than that.

The men kept trying to shoot Matt and he did well by himself, but for how long? He couldn’t be trusted to get out of this alone! He‘d never heard about the infamous Daredevil being bulletproof or having any powers of that sort. He had to save him.

So he broke the windshield with his elbow and got into the van. He fought for the control of the wheel and after a series of slaps and punches he managed to take hold of it and veered it all the way to the left. Like a train going of the tracks, the vehicle crashed into a dumpster as he made an exit, jumping out of the window and roll all the way on a wall across the street.

“That was… Wow…” Matt thought as he heard the wheels squeaking and two crashes one after another. He stopped for a moment and focused on the man at the bottom of the building. He did all that to save him… Why?

But he couldn’t stay longer, more men were following them, some up ahead, he needed to escape. As soon as he heard the man breathing.

He’s breathing.

Ok, time to go.

“Diablo!” Jake groaned again. Matt wanted to stop, he wanted to return the favor even if the man was dangerous to him. But he had to leave him on his own. “He’ll make it... I think”.

Jake stood up, with the power of the suit and begun to climb the fire escape, but Matt had already reached the top. There he sensed more men, running on the roofs of the nearby buildings. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing and slow his heartbeat; there was more to this fight.

“Stop running away!” Jake yelled at him from two floors below.

“Shhh! I We’re surrounded.” Matt whispered.

“What?!” Jake yelled from a floor below and in response Matt shushed him, louder this time.

“Ok, ok, calms!” he finally whispered as he reached Matt.

“They’re after us. Three of them almost here.” Matt informed him in the same volume.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Protect my city?”

“Getting involved in my business.”

“Who even are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You don’t need to run away from these men, they’re after the artifact not you. If you just-” Jake suggested as he slowly moved his arm near the bag. But Matt had enough of it

He yelled “No!” despite insisting on whispering and twisted Jake’s arm. But Jake didn’t act hurt, instead he scolded him with a shush. “We don’t have time for that, lets run away from here with the amulet! Together, ok? Whatever! Just- we need to leave now!” but Matt had already made his mind.

“Get away from here!” he ordered him, and then pushed him down the stairs to get the lead.

He then ran to the rooftop and realized that the men had really circled him from the surrounding buildings. He chose to head away from the river parkouring his way out towards one of them. The man was getting closer to him, and he started to fire, but he avoided the bullets, hiding behind metal doors and walls and just dogging them as well as he could.

It didn’t last long though. He was too focused on the man ahead and got distracted by the rest of them, two rooftops to the left yelling.

“Kill the Devil and don’t let Moon Knight get the thing!”

The other man shot right next to Matt’s ear making all of his senses blank for a moment leading him to fall to the roof below him, damaging his leg in the process.

“I GOT HIM!”

“Run, get the stuff!”

He took a moment to breathe, from what he could tell, his leg wasn’t fractured but it still hurt like hell. Thankfully, he was used to fighting with even more painful injuries, but this time he couldn’t get up fast enough. The men were approaching, and he was still trying to balance himself. They would take the key (or whatever that thing his carrying is)!

When he had first touched it, it echoed a metallic melody, but it didn’t feel cold like most metals do. As soon as he took it in his hands, it adapted to the warmth of his gloves, almost as if it was alive. Still it felt light, like a feather but as soon as he put it in his bag it sunk heavily at the bottom.

For a moment the melody grew stronger, Matt was barely up, and a men were about to jump on the roof from above, throwing him down again. With a loud sound, synced with the artifact’s they instead hit the concrete floor. It took a moment for Matt to comprehend what had just happened as he let himself continue the effort of getting up.

“Diablo.” …Of course it was him. He said unmasking his face.

The men tried to fight back but Jake jumped to the roof, putting them down again and continued; “You’re stepping into my battlefield, playing hide and seek with my enemies, taking my loops and you expect me to treat you nicely?” He threatened, out of character because yes, for the most part he was treating him kinda nice.

“That’s it my son…” Khonshu encouraged him as he slowly walked towards Matt, “Do my will.” And in response Jake strengthened his glare.

“Stop following me!” Matt yelled, unaware of the conversation.

“Can’t do.” He said being only a few feet away from him.

Jake just looked at him softly for a moment, a stare full of regret and pain that unbeknownst to him, wasn’t delivered. The thought that even the sliest of efforts to communicate his true will, didn’t reach anyone would make him more than afraid, it would make him gone, his essence, his true self, all he believes he can hold on to.

Where does Jake Lockley end and Khonshu begin if only one’s thoughts are being acted upon? His brain forever changed by unknown, ancient forces, being turned into a literal fucking-freaking bird house demanding to be feed fucking over and over again with freaking blood!

Where is Jake Lockley? Does he even exist if mindlessly he follows orders to survive?

Not again, not like when he-

Does he even have anything of his own? Something that is just truly his, not Steven’s or Marc’s or even Khonshu’s but something only for him, a love, a passion, anything that’s pure Lockley and nobody else can alter.

A stare, a stare to say, “It’s me, I am me, I… I don’t want to do this”, being forever lost as Jake took a long breath and punched Matt on the ribs. He was surprised, for a moment he though that his new acutance wouldn’t actually get that far. He knew he was way out of character even if he couldn’t see him, even if he just met him.

Jake continued, he was now running like a machine, he put all of his thoughts away and focused on Khonshu’s fight. He tried to punch Diablo on the head, but he deflected it, he wouldn’t be allowed to give up so soon, so he tried again. This time not only Matt deflected it but as he ducked, he punched his kidney, the only part of the body that wasn’t hurting until now… Great.

In response Jake slapped his arm away and then his face. It wasn’t that good of a hit as a punch would have been, but this wasn’t his goal, was it? He then grabbed him by the head to keep him still as he kicked him right under his lungs with his knee until he collapsed again. Now it was his time to take the bag but Matt, managed to kick him of his feet and rushed to get on top of him, punching him in the face with an anxious rhythm.

“You won’t let him get away.” Khonshu ordered. He was standing on the roof above, but his voice still felt like a whisper, boring his ears. At times like this his words gave Jake a headache, like drilling into his skull and pushing his thoughts in him with all of his power. Jake groaned but the deeper the drill went the more it started to sound like a scream. A scream that gave him the strength to punch Diablo on the throat and throw him of him.

…For a moment that was. Until he saw a gun. During their fight one of Fisk’s men sneaked into the roof and was now aiming at Matt. Jake rushed to tackle him to the side, getting him out of his aim ending up on top of him. The bullet landed right next to Matt’s ear and scared them leading Jake to roll them away from the spot, hiding them behind a wall.

He stood up and offered his hand at Matt, who without a second thought took it. If he did have a second thought that would be “What are you doing Mathew, get away from him!”. And he would be correct because as soon as Jake helped him stand up the punched him in the face, throwing him on the wall. This led them to a boxing match that was only interrupted by Jake pulling Matt closer to him when he got near the man’s aim.

Jake turned his back at the shooter, hiding Diablo from his view and pushing him away with his punches as well as he could. He managed to throw him face down on the ground, still hiding both of them behind the cape that kept the bullets from piercing through their skin.

He had to deal with the man, but not before he would get his hands on the amulet. He unzipped the bag, Matt resisted, he kicked him, but he only managed to get him hurt, not stop him. He finally turned around and with both of his feet kicked him in the face, dropping him down and offering a clear shot for the man aiming. Matt could worry about that, but a rolling metallic sound got his full attention.

“No!” he yelled, as the melody of the artifact became more distant.

“Lockley, now!” Khonshu ordered.

It was his chance; run and catch the amulet while Matt was down, leaving him to the mercy of Fisk’s man. Khonshu wanted him dead anyways, at least in that way he wouldn’t have to carry the guilt, right? No. He couldn’t let a good man die, even if it was inevitable, he had done that many, many times in the past he couldn’t bare it anymore …That’s what he says to himself every time. “This time will be deferent.”, “I’ll convince him!”, “I’ll find a way, for once I’ll do what I want.” But he never reaches his goal. Having his own will is well… pointless.

He knew, as always that no matter what he wanted, he was Khonshu’s tool, the will was his, so is the guilt, if he can even have that emotion. The death that he had brought in his name had never made Jake happy, he tried to create lies to tell himself, to reason his actions and for a time he believed them. That time is over. Killing a man who’s saving Manhattan over and over again, whose goal is actually the same as Khonshu’s, this is madness. The madness of a god who’d gone greedy.

“Lockley!”

He made his choice, without even realizing it at first, he stood up, faster than Diablo and kicked him again on the ground.

He left him to catch the artifact, so did the man. It was a rase, he was getting closer but then without even realizing it, Matt grabbed him and pushed him backwards, leaving Fisk’s man to get it.

“What are you doing?!” Jake yelled at Matt but before he could answer the man started shooting again.

“Lockley!” Khonshu yelled again.

And again.

In his brain everything happened so slowly but at the same time his body moved so much faster than he could control. The man hid the artifact in his pocket, as his other hand holding the gun moved higher. Jake pulled his gun out once again, failing to keep it out of the fight aimed and hit the man on the head.

“We’re on the same team!” he yelled at Matt.

Matt sensing the lack of a heartbeat didn’t hold back to answer.

“I’m nothing like you!” and rushed to get to the corpse but Jake stood in his way to stop him.

“Doesn’t matter! Bad guys have lost, the amulet is safe!”

“You’re mad!” He said trying to get away, but this time Jake was using way more force than before, unusual of a normal human. He took a deep breath and carefully said to Matt,

“Listen close -I know you can. Help me give my boss what he wants.”

Then suddenly he added something more in the sentence with a whisper as silent as a breath.

“To your right!” and punched him on the right side of the head, looking a bit disappointed and surprised like he was expecting something of Matt.

Why would he announce his moves before acting on them, did he learn to be a superhuman from a children’s show?

“Kick!”

“What are you- Ouch!” he was kicked and lost his balance.

“Ssssssh! Silence sinner! You endangered the travelers of the night, for that you should pay!”

Yes, definitely a children’s show.

“Listen. To. Me.” He almost spelled him out before whispering again “Down!”

Matt obeyed this time, with a small delay and almost ducked his punch. That put a smile on Jake’s face.

For the next couple of minutes they danced together to the choreography of Jake’s whispers, putting on a pleasing show for Khonshu.

“Right leg! throat!”

“Stomach!”

“Down! … Down! … Down!”

Of course he didn’t always tell him where he was going to hit. What?! He needed to show Khonshu that he actually did mean to hurt Diablo. He on the other hand would try to complain, not getting whether or not the man in front of him wanted his wellbeing.

He then spoke in his normal voice “Stop just avoiding punches and fight like a man!”

At that point Matt realized that he had stopped trying to hurt the fucked-up-confusing-murderer-vigilante guy who won’t give him a break.

“Fine!” Jake continued “I guess the amulet is mine now!”

And just as he said that Matt fought back throwing him to the ground near the amulet. You could say he was doing the bare minimum of fighting off Matt, he took most of the punches acting out the pain more that feeling it and only defended himself when he was getting closer to the artifact, until he zoned out looking at the sky.

“My Avatar… Is that really what you want? Humiliating yourself, not using my gifts to your advantage? Are you really that ungrateful to me, after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I-” Jake tried to defend himself but failed as Murdock kept punching him.

“Could you give me a break!” he finally yelled at Matt who was unsure if he should stop or not, but at least he slowed down.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Khonshu continued “Playing war with third class vagilities?” He posed and slowly walked towards him, examining the situation. “You are my son, I know you’re having fun”, he leaned down and looked at him in the eyes, covering the sky with the arch that was his body, only letting the moonlight to flow around him, “I know you enjoy your play but at some point, you have to finish it. It has to end Jake Lockley.”

Jake immediately gathered his strength and pushed Matt off him.

“This ends now.” He declared with the calmness of a wild dog wearing a muzzle as he caught Matt’s hand midair and used it to throw him down, without any warning this time, leaving him helpless in his mercy.

Matt’s world spined around, he remembered the sensation of rolling down a hill as a child, his vision turning everything into a blurry circle, only now everything felt like rolling. “What are you-” he almost asked but he was met by a hit in the guts, enhanced by the power of the suit.

“Finaly.” Khonshu encouraged Jake as he straightened his spine with a rocky sound.

His son wanted nothing but to please him, that’s what he counted on; on his devotion. Marc was easy to control, he didn’t care about himself, nor Khonshu, he mostly acted like a blank vessel, it was easier for him. Besides, it’s harder to make a man who believes in himself to turn to God, than a man who doesn’t see his own value. Because deep inside Marc needed guidance, needed something, someone from above to turn his pain holy, only in that he failed, he failed to who he offered his suffering.

Jake on the other hand always believed in themselves, he was the one who had to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have faith in something beyond him. That was probably the only thing he ever had in common with the body’s father. All these times he quietly sat in his desk listening to his stories about God, love, and suffering pretending to be his son, they paid off. A one-sided relationship, Jake hidden behind Marc’s mask and a man he had to call father.

He knew what he had to do to survive, he cared about himself, so much so he took the pain from the other’s hands so the system could function as normal as they could. Jake needed a father who could save them, Jake needed someone who saw him, heard him, protected him, someone to held on to. So he behaved in Khonshu’s words, did everything he had to do to be safe, but in reality, he is held tight in the hands of a vulture, nails piercing through his skin, imprisoning him, not knowing if he will be brought to the nest safely, or be dropped as one final sacrifice.

“You make me sick!” he finally yelled, kicking Diablo’s kidney rhythmically. “Why. Won’t. You. Listen. To. Me. Once!” he continued not sure to whom he was referring and stopped. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, then dragged him near the edge of the roof. He pulled him up and made him sit up straight, like hanging a punching bag “Stay. Up! Por el amor de Dios, stay up…” he added as he tried to catch his breath.

“You…” Matt tried to interrupt him, but he was cut short by almost blacking out. Jake sensed that and gently pulled him up again, giving him a slap to wake him up then grabbed his chicks and yelled his face “Is this what you wanted?!” he let go of him and he caught himself just a second before falling face first on the floor “Me beating the shit out of you until you drop unconscious?”. He still hesitated to say the word dead, that was his plan, that was their plan, isn’t it? But he still wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let himself believe that he is a murderer, not like Marc thinks.

“Stop it! I know what I am doing!” he answered to Khonshu who didn’t even speak yet, but he knew what he was thinking, he wanted death, just as every other night. And death is what he always delivers.

He locked eyes with Matt’s mask and sighed “I can’t keep doing this…”

“Don’t give up Lockley…” Khonshu was by his side.

“I know what I have to do.” He said as he slowly let his eyelids close, like his was about to pray “…No sé si tengo fuerzas para hacerlo (I don’t know if I have the strength to do it)…” he added under his breath.

That caught Matt’s attention, it was like the signals he was sending him, he held into that, into the whispers and waited for more instructions.

“Hazme un favor… por favor, déjame- Ugh (Do me a favor… Please let me- ugh)” he went to say something more but he stumbled into his own words and then exhaled from his nose, like a wild animal, sick of a fight. He picked him up again, bringing him a bit closer to the center.

“Fight me.”

Matt could barely stand up, but he still made his palms into fists and gathered himself. Jake didn’t hold up, he punched him over and over again, just enough so he wouldn’t get down yet.

This wasn’t the rage of a mad man, or the savage brutality deep buried in the human emotion. No- this was still an act, at least part of it was. Matt didn’t always know how he knew, but he knew, he had a sense of seeing someone’s true nature, seeing what’s real and what not and this- this was a play, a play for someone Matt couldn’t really place.

“I think that is enough Lockley.”

Jake didn’t stop.

“Lockley.”

Nothing

“Jake!”

He looked frustrated Matt thought it was him, making him actually mad this time.

“You need to obey me!”

And just as he said these words Jake’s suit disappeared and the wind blew his jacket to the side, making his cold gun visible as he took it and aimed at Matt.

“That’s enough Lockley. Time to put an end to this.”

“Time to put an end to this.” Jake repeated but then added, under his breath “Drop me off!” he then threw the gun and lashed out to Matt.

Matt wasn’t sure if he had heard him right, even though he never heard anyone wrong. His reflexes though stopped Jake from throwing him on the floor long enough from him to ask, whispering “What do you mean?”.

“Let me go, throw me off!” he let himself being pushed.

“What?” Matt answered his voice dizzy

“Off the roof” he pushed him back.

“No, you-” he stopped him

“I have a plan.”

“I won’t- won’t kill you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Wh-”

“I have a plan do you trust me?” he begun to push him again

Matt zooned out of the conversation and ignored Jake, focusing more on the fight but he wouldn’t let him go that easy

“Do you trust me?!”

Matt didn’t answer but he didn’t turn him down either, he gave him a stare that was enough for Jake.

They had reached the finale of the show. Jake had pushed them near the edge again, his strength was starting to run out and Matt had found the power to fight again.

“Lockley, you are making me bord.” The bird complained, staring the fight from above, in his bigger form.

“It won’t last long.”

“I better hope it does not.”

“Who are you talking to?” Matt finally asked but Jake didn’t bother to answer, why did it matter?

Lockley had brought them to the perfect spot. “Now!”

But to his surprise Matt was still unsure. He pushed him a bit and punched him but not enough to be thrown off. Shit, if he doesn’t play his part perfectly Khonshu will realize it is all fake! He must obey, why doesn’t he, it’s just one favor, just one favor.

“Diablo now!” he slapped him.

In response Matt leaned on him pushing him towards the edge.

“I… I can’t.”

“I trust you.”

Matt continued pushing, that was it, just one more- he stopped

“What are you doing!” Jake yelled “You’ll kill us all!” he whispered.

“I can’t do it I’m-”

Jake had have enough of it he pulled Matt from the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face “Do it!”.

“No!”

Then he punched his jaw “Do it!”

“No!” he punched back.

“Now” Jake helped Matt’s hand to punch him harder.

“Now” he repeated being punched in the throat.

“No!” Matt yelled with a punch and again and again and again as his strength worn out.

Jake grabbed the last punch and kicked Matt behind his knee, making him kneel in an uncomfortable way, his spine leaning backwards, feeling the breeze of the edge.

“Is either you, or me.” Jake finally explained.

Matt had figured it out from the beginning, but he didn’t want to believe it, no. In every single one of his fights he always finds a way to keep everyone alive, it never has to end that way and he knows, he knows that if it ever comes to it, he will be the one sacrificed, no matter how awful of a human being is the opponent.

“End it then.” Matt begged.

Jake’s expression softened. He gave him the green light, he chose it, not him, with just one move, a simple one that is, he can go on with his life, the burden of Diablo’s life is not in his hands anymore he could finally breath in and relax the night will be over with just one kill.

“Ok.” Where the only words escaping his mouth. He took a breath and looked away getting ready for one final kick.

As he was looking away a twitching light caught his eye. It was the moon reflecting on Khonshu’s skull, nodding, agreeing with his choice, still guiding him.

Who is Jake Lockley?

Who is Jake Lockley if only Khonshu’s will is being acted upon?

Does he even exist?

Is he his own person?

He missed his kick.

He looked down at Diablo who was holding his breath.

“This is not how it ends.” He said and took a step closer to the edge.

Jake’s heartbeat was steady, he was telling the truth Matt realized, his on the other hand was beating like crazy desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Keep it safe.” Jake balanced at the edge.

“What are you doing?” Jake turned his back outwards.

“Goodbye. For now, Diablo” he took a deep breath lifted his hands wide in the air and fell backwards.

“Wait!” were the only words that could escape Matt’s lungs only to be interrupted by a loud crash and car sirens echoing from the alleyway bellow.

That night Matt Murdock let a man die.

Nights like this have been rare for a while, dealing with such a lost is always hard, especially now that he had pushed in the back of his head all the memories of the pain it costed.

It wasn’t time to morn, the enemy heard the fall, they were coming to get him. He took the artifact and put it back in his bag and run away as fast as his injured self could. As he was getting to safety two men stood in the now empty alley that Jake had fallen, next to a crashed car.

“Tell Bushman he escaped.”

Tags: @moonymelly @nicobico23 @rattymess @pikapuff-316

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