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loveliestlovelygirl · 4 months

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divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

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aroceu · 11 months

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i've been rewatching the good place with a friend lately so i've been thinking about it a lot and i just keep thinking

about how eleanor says so much that she's not a bad person, she's just a "medium" person. she didn't kill anyone, she didn't technically abuse anyone, she was selfish but not "horrible," she was human.

except when we see eleanor pre-death, we see something different. no, she didn't murder anyone. but she was pretty horrible. she was really good at lying to elderly people to sell them fake drugs. she abused her friend's dog. she lied to her coworkers to get out of driving for them at the bar. she felt so threatened by people feeling like they were better than her that when she saw concrete proof that a coffee shop manager was misogynistic and sexually assaulted someone, she enthusiastically supported the cafe to be contrary to her boyfriend.

she is very obviously a horrible person. even in season 2, michael calls her a manipulative demon; that's not something you get called if you're just a "medium" person. what we're told, and what her reasoning is a lie. but she doesn't know it. it's a lie to the viewers.

she also stands in stark contrast with jason—who has broken the law multiple times, has gotten arrested multiple times, likes celebrities and hobbies that have a terrible reputation (not just for being "trash" but for being actively hateful), and even if he might not have killed someone, there's probably something in his repertoire that comes close. but at the same time, it's very, very obvious to see that he's a good-hearted person, who wants to do more good than harm. compared to eleanor, whose bad actions are much smaller in comparison, but her bad personality makes her less likable, and much worse. yes, of course it's about environment—but it's also about how goodness might be more accurately judged by intent than by action.

i saw someone say that it was unrealistic that eleanor didn't call chidi a racial slur when she was a white woman from arizona. sentimentally, i agree with the realism argument. but at the same time, i think it would've been out of place. eleanor would know that saying a slur is on a different level of wrong. a lot of the bad things she did were indirect; it was a lot about what she did when no one was looking. but she didn't want to see herself as a horrible person, so she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see either. as long as they didn't get too close for her.

eleanor being a "medium" person is a lie. of course she belongs in the bad place. she's initially presented as a "medium person" because the story wants us to be on her side, wants us to believe that she's as human as us, until the season one flashbacks start to tell a different story. then it makes us squint and go, no, eleanor really is a terrible person. but the show is aware of this too!

and yet, the thesis of the show is that bad people can always get better. that no one is beyond rehabilitation; that society fucks us up but it's still the choices that we make that mean the most about who we are in the end. we get to see the growth of eleanor's good person journey through the entirety of season one, so that even as we realize she was a shitty person on earth, we're still rooting for her by the end of it. season one is the show's entire thesis; seasons two through four are just proving it to us. and eleanor proves herself to us over and over again, so that even as we know how terrible she was, and how terrible she's capable of being, we still know and believe that she belongs in the good place at the end.

#eleanor is just. a really good protagonist!!!! ugh #also i just love the good place and i kept thinking about this #the good place #tgp #eleanor shellstrop #i guess #i will not often write meta about white women but mike schur really went hard with this one #an aroceu original

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bisexualbard-writes · 6 months

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So I was thinking about kim (nothing new there), but fledgling Kim trying to leave the compound, and his father gives him an option. He’s allowed to move out, his father has a place that’s near his school and his studio, that has staff who will see to all his needs.

The catch - it’s an elderly assisted living home. His father offers it basically dangling a carrot on a stick and assumes Kim won’t take the bait and continue living at home. But Kim is like fuck it, anything to get outta here. It’s not like I’ll have to interact with anyone else in the building.

What he doesn’t expect is that the other residents of his building are old people who focused on their careers instead of family and so have no visitors, or old people who’s children are focused on their careers instead of family and so also have no visitors. There are like 200 wannabe-grandparents in the building with no one to spoil and fuss over.

And Kim is finally living on his own and loving it, and he’s pretty good at dodging his elderly neighbors, but there’s a grand piano in the lobby that one of the residents plays everyday. One day Kim is walking through the lobby to get to his special penthouse elevator when he hears a Sinatra cover and gets distracted listening. That’s when the first grandpa pounces and when he’s done playing the song he chats very casually with Kim about music and asks Kim if he has a request. He can play any song Kim can think of made before the 80s by memory.

Kim mentions a song his mother used to play for him, and offhandedly mentions she’s dead, and that’s what really opens the floodgates. Piano-grandpa goes to all his other friends and rallies them, and from then on Kim knows no peace. One grandma keeps making him cookies (he suspects they’re poisoned, why else would she insist) while another grandpa leaves him healthy home cooked meals at his door. One day he leaves the apartment only to be assaulted by a tiny tiny woman with a measuring tape, then two weeks later she returns again with the softest home knit sweater.

He thinks this is all pretty weird and rather annoying and probably they’re on his father’s payroll to be nice to him… but also he’s sixteen and no one has really fussed over him since he was little and his mom was around.

So when he discovers the grandma who always checks if he has an umbrella when it’s raining is getting extorted by her niece, he takes care of it quietly. And when train-facts grandpa and strawberry-jam grandma both complain about the new nurse being too rough, he takes care of it loudly.

So by the time he’s 22 and could actually move out to his own place, he doesn’t want to because he has 200 grandparents taking care of him where he currently lives.

When he brings Chay around all the grandparents adore him. Chay finds Kim’s living situation delightfully odd, but everything about Kim is delightfully odd so it makes more sense than it doesn’t. It’s photography grandpa who slips Chay the instant camera and tells them to have fun.

And when Chay stops coming around half of the old folks shower him in extra love because he’a obviously heartbroken and half of them want to whip his ass for being an idiot and coach him how to win Chay back.

Anyway, just thinking about Kim with mettlesome and well meaning grandparents

#I don’t even know where I’m going with this #I just think it would be neat if more people loved Kim #kim theerapanyakul #kimchay #bard writes

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late-to-the-party-81 · 5 months

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The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired.

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here.

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you.

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled.

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her.

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left.

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately. He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey.

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him.

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought.

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you.

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you.

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand.

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers.

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you.

On your face.

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over.

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum.

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered.

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings.

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer.

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.”

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?”

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued.

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @wheezy-stucky, @km-ffluv

#Bucky x Reader #Historical AU #historical romance #Bucky Barnes x you #buckybarnesbingo2023 #Bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky barnes smut

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violetpixiedust · 4 months

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king!steve harrington x virgin!suicides!reader x punk!eddie munson. (18+) ౨ৎ

thinkin’ about king!steve being cut off from his dad a lot earlier than his unplanned gap-year, sporadically- to the students of hawkins high- the summer before senior year. however, the stray beer bottles floating in the pool and the image of richard harrington’s son lying in a puddle of his own puke, laid atop a pile of red solo cups in the entry way of his mansion was the final straw for the man of the house. his dad wanted to teach him a lesson in hard work, chastising steve that “he start learning independence before pursuing his future.” the man a year your senior takes up yard work as a way to make quick cash. physical labour if you will. you’re laid atop the pavement stairs in front of your residence in your prettiest little bikini, soaking up the summer sunlight as you suckle upon your cherry ice pop. steve’s sun-kissed skin is coated in a light sheen of sweat, thick locks glowing bronze in the unforgiving indiana sun, naming him its muse. he’s parading a rusted, ancient lawn mower around the spotty front yard, one without an engine, belonging to mrs. o’neill who sleeps soundly in her rocking chair atop her balcony. steve’s honey gaze naturally pulls itself to you. his already fitted blue jeans that bond themselves to his hairy legs tighten as a sugary, ruby red glaze drips onto your torso. it’s cherry flavouring soaks into your pink tongue after you gather it with your manicured fingers, suckling upon your digits successfully. he accidentally mows your elderly neighbour’s pathway, metal scratching against the pavement deafeningly- except the elder woman simply sniffles before falling back to her slumber. a breathless giggle escapes your glossy lips, twiddling your sticky fingers at the boy who whips his head towards you at the joyous sound, witnessing his knees buckle before the cacophony of metallica begins to approach the pair of you. steve stares in shock as eddie “the freak” munson pulls up to your place, a smirk drawing themselves over the pale boy’s lips that were already nursing a cigarette at the sight of you, doe eyed and sensual. the sun kissed boy slumps over the lawn mower as you flutter your eyelashes at the metalhead, manicured toes curling in your platform sandals. you pop up from your place on the stairs at eddie’s playful honk, discarding the remains of your popsicle on the sidewalk for a family of ecstatic ants. steve’s lips fall agape as you walk over to the passenger side of the van facing him, winking hotly in his direction before lifting yourself into the vehicle. he swallows dryly as eddie kisses you deeply, violently, nicotine coated tongue assaulted by the fruity sweetness of yours. a roached cigarette dangles between his ringed fingers, neglected as he manhandles you. the only thing that pops steve out of his staring is a honk behind eddie’s van, startling the pair of you apart before tommy’s voice destroys the dreamlike sequence. “sometime today, freak!” and steve swears he sees you send him a cheeky smile through the open windshield before you speed off, eddie’s tattooed middle finger waving in the air towards tommy. untouchable.

#scrap that i never posted :)#steve harrington #king!steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

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nonetoon · 1 year

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✨ Big Comic Recommendation List! ✨

I’ve been wanting to compile some of my favorite comics into one big list in no particular order for a while. Again, I just want to reiterate that I’m in no way any sort of comic critic and all of these are just books that I personally enjoy, and if they seem up your alley I hope you’ll enjoy them too!

I also want to state that these are definitely more adult oriented books and not for kids. A lot of these stories have pretty graphic violence and tackle more adult topics like sexual or physical assault, so I’ll also be putting content warnings for where it applies.

1. Afternoon at McBurger’s by Ana Galvañ

Afternoon at McBurger’s takes place in a bright, colorful future where a group of young girls finally have the opportunity to participate in the Once Party provided by McBurger’s, a fast food restaurant. The Once Party offers a fantastical opportunity for anyone who turns eleven years old: the chance to visit themselves in the future!

The limited color palette of pink, teal, and yellow make for a very nice aesthetic that lends itself to the strange, futuristic world you get just a glimpse into. For such a short story there is a lot to keep track of that makes rereading fun and I felt like I discovered something new every time I went through it again.

CW: physical abuse

2. No One Else by R. Kikuo Johnson

Another short one but is definitely one of the more impactful. No One Else is about a woman (a nurse and full time caretaker for her elderly father) and her brother (a musician who has a much more strained relationship with their father) trying to process the sudden, accidental death of their father while also looking after her son. A very honest, holds-no-punches look at family, abuse, and neglect as each character struggles to cope with this sudden situation they find themselves in.

The artwork is beautifully done and the use of blues with a splash of orange makes for a great visual impact. I’m a big fan of character driven stories, and this book provides an interesting and messy glimpse into these characters lives. Very down to earth, very honest, and nicely tied together.

CW: physical abuse

3. Birds of Maine by Michael DeForge

A fun and meandering story about a society of birds that migrated to the moon to form their own world, away from human involvement. Birds of Maine follows both a group of young birds trying to find their place in this giant, complex world as well as gives glimpses of the many different facets of bird society and how they function.

This comic gives a very funny, matter-of-fact look into the absurd world of birds! It’s overall a great read if you like world building, and it’s presented with beautiful line work, bright pops of color, and abstract shapes that make up the bustling world and characters. The story overall feels like a stroll: it generally follows along a specific story with certain characters, but isn’t afraid to wander off to other points of interest.

4. Coyote Doggirl by Lisa Hanawalt

Set in the wild west, Coyote Doggirl follows said character as she tries to escape a group of bandits after she kills their leader’s brother. Along the way she meets new allies and has to decide to confront the past she is trying desperately to get away from or keep on running. It’s a funny yet honest book set in the beauty of the desert.

The story and characters in Coyote Doggirl are both hilarious and crude, which makes the more serious and genuine moments even more impactful. The loose style of the watercolors throughout this comic perfectly match the beautiful colors of the desert landscape. This comic also has probably one of my favorite endings (which I’m not going to spoil here).

CW: nudity, sexual assault, graphic violence

5. Eight-Lane Runaways by Henry McCausland

Eight-Lane Runaways follows a group of runners participating in a marathon through a fantastical and lively world. Each have their own motivations and desires for entering the race, and we get to see how each resolves as the race goes on.

The quirky and oddball characters and their ever-changing, winding landscape go perfectly hand-in-hand. It’s always amusing when clearly bizarre fantasy worlds, characters, and events are treated very plainly within the story. The characters are simple but fun to follow along with, from a character who is a frog, to a character who follows the instructions of a magical coat, to a character simply looking for two missing cats. Along with the beautifully done artwork and sprawling pages of landscapes, it feels as though you are only getting the smallest look into this big, wild world you want to learn more about.

6. The Book Tour by Andi Watson

The Book Tour follows a rather unlucky new author as, not only is his debut book not selling well, but a string of murders is following his exact tour route, leaving all signs pointing at him as the culprit.

It’s a very dry but still incredibly entertaining and suspenseful story. It’s hilarious, quaint, and baffling to watch the poor man get hit with bad luck after bad luck, only for him to be very proper, if not completely lost, about the whole ordeal. There are also many moving parts and details going on in the background that make for a great murder mystery story, definitely deserving of a reread to connect all the pieces that might have been missed on the first read through (I know I definitely did).

7. Heaven No Hell by Michael DeForge

A collection of 17 amazing short stories looking at a variety of characters and concepts. Everything from a woman pretending to be a surgeon, a karaoke party, a family killed in a car crash, and the creation of a hypothetical child.

My favorite stories of the bunch are “One Of My Students Is A Murderer… But Which?”, “Surprise Party”, “Album”, “Road Trip”, and “Soap Opera.” All of the stories in this comic are perfectly bite-sized looks into a variety of interesting visuals and concepts that keep you engaged from segment to segment.

CW: mild nudity

8. Flavor Girls by Loïc Locatelli-Kournwsky and Angel De Santiago

In Flavor Girls, a mysterious alien ship appears in Earth’s orbit, and its passengers cause death and destruction for life on earth. Luckily, a group of women dubbed “Flavor Girls” by their fans are gifted magical, fruit themed powers that aid them in fighting off the alien army. The newest, unexpected member of the group, however, is having trouble catching up.

By far one of the most visually stunning comics I have ever read. Very, very reminiscent of Sailor Moon in its characters, aesthetic, and story. This comic has some of my favorite character designs, the alien designs in particular are extremely fun to look at. Unlike the other comics on this list, it is not a complete story but at least it gives you something to look forward to!

CW: mild graphic violence

9. Beautiful Darkness by Fabien Vehlmann and Kerascoët

Last but absolutely not least, Beautiful Darkness is a surprisingly horrifying and violent story about cute and fun looking fairy-like characters trying to survive out in the woods. The less you know going in to this comic, the better.

The incredible beauty and meticulous detail of the environment in this comic lends itself well as a stark contrast to the horrific deaths littered throughout this story. It is bizarre watching how unfeeling and unbothered these cutesy fairytale creatures are with their friends dropping around them like flies, but it’s impossible to look away. Seeing how all of it shapes and warps the genuinely kind main character, Aurora, and the darker implications going on in the background make this a must read. By far one of the best openings to any comic I have ever read.

CW: gore, body horror

(That’s all I have for now! Hope to recommend more in the future ✌️)

#text #long post #excuse any typos I have been staring at this for too long #comic recommendations #book recommendations #beautiful darkness #flavor girls #Heaven no hell #birds of Maine #the book tour #eight lane runaways #coyote doggirl #afternoon at mcburgers #no one else

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dykonradish · 7 months

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Trans and Antifa Activists Violently Attacked Women at an Event about Violence Against Women in Portland on November 19th, 2023

Women's Declaration International (WDI), a volunteer run organization focused on protecting women's sex based rights had organized a speaking event at the Hollywood Branch of the Multnomah County Library in Portland, OR for November 19th. The theme was protecting women and children, with speeches planned about topics like keeping prisons single sex and the nordic model for prostitution.

Note that some of the women involved with this organization also work with conservatives, but many don't, and that the main demographic of the group is women over 50. The event was specifically made to be a non-violent direct action and demonstration of the first amendment rights of women to speak about sex based rights.

So what happened? According to statement from WDI on November 18th - on November 9th, it leaked that a local group planned to protest the event by throwing food at the women attending, WDI planned to go forward with the event. Then, on the 16th, the library security folks requested a meeting with the organizers because the library had found threatening social media posts about the event. On the 18th, there was a threat of gun violence against the event.

The library was committed with going forward with the event, stating “Multnomah County Library resists censorship in all forms, it is the responsibility of library staff and leadership to provide free use of our locations to all patrons of the library. As an organization that adheres to free expression as defined by the Library Bill of Rights, Multnomah County Library does not discriminate against any organization, regardless of viewpoint. Our primary goal is to provide a safe place for freedom of expression and speech.” There was also vandalism of the library,

This, in combination with the threats of violence led the library branch to shut down normal operations for that day out of concerns for the safety of staff and patrons. They allowed the event to go on but could not guarentee the safety of attendees.

The evening prior to the event, the tires of some of the WDI attendees were slashed outside of their airbnb.

WDI didn't want their event to endanger the library staff so they moved the event to outside of the library, planning to speak on the sidewalk. There is a reduxx article about what happened after that and many posts on WDI's twitter but here is a quick overview:

30 to 50 masked activists, mostly males, surrounded the 10 women from WDI who were speaking about male violence against women.

The activists threw cans full of liquids at them and sprayed women with mace at close range.

The activists punched several women and kicked them while they were on the ground.

The activists specifically targeted women who were filming, multiple women had their cameras and phones stolen.

An elderly woman in her 70s who was walking by and not part of WDI was assaulted.

The women from WDI did not fight back, sticking to their principle of non-violence.

The police were called and didn't show up.

4 women had to go to the hospital to be treated for injuries. Some of these injuries are pictured on WDI's twitter.

#wdi #male violence #violence against women #gender critical

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matan4il · 4 months

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Daily update post:

This morning started with the horrible news about an independent Palestinian terrorist attack on the main road to Jerusalem. As workers come into the city in the morning, there's a junction where at this morning time, there's usually a traffic jam. Three Palestinians (from the Beit Lechem area, two of them brothers) started shooting from assault rifles at people sitting in their cars, as if they were fish in a barrel (hand grenades were found as well, but thankfully they didn't get to use them). Currently, the reports are of 1 person murdered (26 years old Matan Elmaliach), and 11 wounded (on TV, they're saying 13 more were wounded, including a young pregnant woman in very serious condition). A spokesman for Magen David Adom (Red Star of David) said that the terrorist attack scene was 500 meters long (about 1640 feet). Two of the terrorists were neutralized immediately, and the third was after a chase. The father of one of the wounded said his son just finished his army reserves service, noticed the terrorist attack, tried to stop one of the terrorists, and in the process was shot himself.

On a personal note, my mom's cousin sometimes works in Jerusalem, coming in through that junction, and his wife sometimes comes with him, so after I woke up from a nightmare about a baby crying because its limbs were amputated by Hamas terrorists, I had to contact my family to check that they're alive, and figure out when it's okay to wake my mom up, so she doesn't get scared for her cousin when she hears the news.

A terrorist attack that was carried out about a month ago, has now been revealed as originally targeting the IDF spokesman in Arabic, Avichay Adraee. Turns out one of the terrorists, who was working in Ra'anana, walked into a restaurant and saw Adraee. The terrorist couldn't kill him on the spot, but returned with a weapon the next day and staked the area (assuming Adraee lived somewhere nearby) for a while, before he decided if he couldn't carry out a "quality" terrorist attack, he still wanted to carry out one. He got his cousin employeed, and together, the two murdered a 79 years old woman, Edna Bluestein, and wounded 18 others. I just think it says something, that an army officer, and an elderly civilian woman, are equally legit targets in these terrorists' mind, because they're both citizens of the Jewish state. Both terrorists were indicted today.

Survivors of the Nova music festival carnage on Oct 7 are suing AP for hiring 4 photojournalists that were embedded with Hamas, and should have been identified as such by the news agency. The lawsuit names the men who were there in the middle of Hamas' war crimes, and documented, among other crimes, the kidnapping of Shani Lock's raped body, and of Yaffa Adar, a Holocaust survivor.

In London, the anti-Israel crowd projected onto Big Ben messages that UK Jews have repeatedly said endanger them, including calls for the Jewish state to surrender to an antisemitic, genocidal terrorist organization, and the slogan that calls for, at the very least, an ethnic cleansing of Israeli Jews, but one which most Jews understand as genocidal, because if it were to be implemented, it would necessarily include the slaughter of the world's biggest Jewish community. According to one witness, he asked the police if projecting these slogans on Big Ben's tower is legal, was told it wasn't, but the police personnel present still wasn't moved to stop this. At what point is the UK going to wake up, and act as if its Jewish citizens, and their well being, counts?

And since I mentioned that demanding a ceasefire before Hamas has surrendered, is to ask the attacked (the Jewish state) to surrender to the attacker (an antisemitic, genocidal terrorist organization), I also want to remind everyone that allowing Hamas to continue existing, and ruling Gaza, is also BAD FOR PALESTINIANS. As the war goes on, more and more Gazan protests are being held against Hamas. I haven't mentioned them in a while, but this is a good moment to remind everyone that people who REALLY care about Gazans want Hamas destroyed for them, too. Here's newly released footage from a Gaza anti-Hamas demonstration, we're now getting more documentation like this practically daily.

This is 19 years old Nimrod Cohen.

On Oct 7, he was kidnapped to Gaza. His twin sister Romi and his parents have been fighting to have him released. The family says he's so sensitive, they can't imagine how he'd be able to survive captivity, and the kind of constant abuse they'd heard the hostages are undergoing from those already released.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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taviamoth · 3 months

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ISRAELI ARMY USING PALESTINIANS AS HUMAN SHIELDS AT AL-SHIFA MEDICAL COMPLEX

—

A report by Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor released on 23 March has documented the Israeli army’s deliberate use of Palestinian civilians as human shields, to protect its forces and military operations inside Al-Shifa Medical Complex.

This comes several days after the Israeli army began its assault on the medical complex on 18 March, resulting in hundreds of deaths, injuries, and arrests.

Additionally, dozens of residential homes surrounding the complex were destroyed and set ablaze after being raided.

TESTIMONIES:

○ A Palestinian, K.F, said Israeli forces attached cameras to him and three other young men, giving them remote orders to inspect rooms inside Al-Shifa. He was made to do this for several hours before being forced to evacuate the complex with his family.

○ An elderly man in his sixties, M.N., said that his son was forced to enter sewage areas underneath the hospital, and witnessed others being made to stand in front of Israeli forces and vehicles at the entrances of the complex to fortify and prevent their targeting.

○ The wife of a nurse at the hospital witnessed her husband being used as a human shield to open doors to sections in Al-Shifa Medical Complex for several hours, before he was told to evacuate the hospital towards the city of Deir al-Balah. Her husband’s fate remains unknown.

○ Several families near the complex reported that Israeli forces used detained young men to enter homes and force Palestinians to evacuate to central and southern Gaza. A woman from the "Arafat" family reported that the Israeli military sent a detainee in his late thirties, stripped of his clothes except for his underwear, to inform them to evacuate their home within 30 minutes, threatening to bomb it over their heads. Following their evacuation, they witnessed several others in similar conditions.

[via RNN]

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akazuki7 · 19 days

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On A Colder Night Of The Year

A Young Boy Encounters A Fearsome Creature

A yuji and sukuna fan-fiction because there isn't enough about those two and I want to forget about the Mangas storyline. (First fan-fiction go easy on me guys.)

_______________________________________

"Heed my warning, Brat. Should I find you, I'll eat you. Is that clear?"

___________________________________________

Yuji discovered the village ablaze, the agonized shrieks sending chills down his spine. Blood and the acrid stench of charred flesh assaulted his senses - it was all too much to bear.

He had merely been fetching water from the nearby stream, as the villagers had instructed. It was not uncommon for them to send him on such errands, even in the biting cold of winter. They would cast him out whenever the opportunity arose. The bucket of water slipped from his grasp as he gazed upon the raging inferno before him.

Monster, freak, four-eyed, bastard child - he had heard it all before.

Yuji had been found by an elderly woman in the village one wintry night. She had taken him in and cared for him, and he had not been so reviled back then. At least when the peculiar markings upon his face were not prominent enough to inspire fear in the villagers. But now they had darkened into rich, crescent shapes. He knew not the reason for their existence. The kindly old woman who had sheltered him passed away on a cold winter's eve.

That was when the villagers' disdain for him had intensified. They no longer concealed their contempt. He did not mind, for at least he received sustenance and water in exchange for his labor. Even if the cramped cow shed in which he slept was less than ideal, it sufficed. Even if it reeked of waste, it was enough. Even if it was bitterly frigid in winter, it was sufficient for his needs.

Yuji felt a strange warmth for the first time since the old woman's demise - the cause being the conflagration consuming the village that had so despised him. Inexplicably, he found comfort in this heat, a peculiar sensation of solace.

But Yuji's attention was soon diverted by large footprints in the snow, accompanied by fresh blood. It was a captivating sight, for reasons he could not fathom. He followed the trail, though he should not have.

A four-armed being was feasting upon a woman he had once known from the village. It was perched upon a nearby hill, towering over the 7-year-old boy even in its seated posture. Its face was buried in the woman's flesh. Yuji stared at the severed head, eyes wide and mouth agape, the woman's tears dried but her blood still glistening upon her cheek.

Her kimono and undergarments were rent asunder, strewn across the snow. Yuji's gaze drifted to the four-armed entity. Its hair was the same peach hue as his own. He had never before encountered another possessing such distinct features, but this creature was surely no human.

"Brat. Do you have a death wish?"

A rough, deep voice sent shivers through him. The being was now regarding him, its face smeared with blood, a mask-like tattoo adorning half its visage. Most unsettling of all were its four crimson eyes.

"You should be fleeing by now," the entity growled, seemingly irked by Yuji's lack of response. "Since I am in a charitable mood today, I shall grant you ten seconds. Should I find you, I'll eat you. Understand?"

"Start running."

But Yuji remained frozen, captivated by the being's eyes. He felt the uncomfortable, rapid beating of his heart.

"You possess remarkable courage, Brat." the entity purred, amused, resting its upper elbows upon its thighs and cradling its cheek in its hand.

The entity regarded him intently, puzzled by the child's lack of movement. Was the boy not afraid? No, his trembling limbs and ragged breathing betrayed his terror. The child wore a simple, short kimono that left his arms and most of his legs exposed, his pinkish skin likely a result of the cold.

Something about the boy's unwavering gaze irked the being - normally, the child would be cowering on the ground, begging for mercy. "Time's up. Come here, since you seem so eager to be devoured." the curse huffed, gesturing with a long, bony finger. The being sighed, finding the situation rather tedious; a chase tonight might have been mildly entertaining, but this seemed less than promising.

"I won." The boy spoke,

"Hmm..?"

"I... didn't hide, so you technically didn't find me. I won," the child spoke up in a small, hoarse voice.

Sukuna stared at the boy, wide-eyed. Did this child truly outsmart him? He let out a booming laugh, genuinely amused and entertained by the young one's insight. "Alright, brat, I'll let you live. However, you must choose your fate: come with me to my shrine, or wander the streets and try to survive on your own. But if I find you again, I won't spare you, so choose wisely."

"Your shrine... does it have a condition?" Yuji asked suspiciously. Sukuna's grin widened as he tossed the woman's heart at the child's feet. "Eat that heart," he commanded.

The boy's brow furrowed, his lips pursing in distaste. "No, thank you," he replied, turning and fleeing.

Sukuna scoffed, wondering how long the child's frail body would last in the harsh elements. He picked up the heart, taking a bite and savoring the flavor. "Humans are foolish for not appreciating this," he muttered, heading in the opposite direction from the retreating boy.

___________________________________________

Migrating from one village to another was a common occurrence for Yuji, as was scavenging for sustenance from refuse like a wild animal. Being shunned and mistreated by the villagers, who labeled him a monster, had become his unfortunate norm.

The arrival of winter brought with it a new set of challenges. As people ventured out less frequently, Yuji feared he may not survive the harsh season. Huddled in an abandoned alleyway, he trembled, his body tightly embraced against the relentless snow that blanketed the streets.

It was then that Yuji heard whispers of a troubling rumor spreading through the village. A being known as "Sukuna Ryomen" had allegedly set fire to a neighboring settlement. Recalling the entity that had feasted upon the woman's body, Yuji realized this was likely the same malevolent force.

"That peach-haired child is probably the reason Sukuna has been burning down village after village," the villagers speculated. "We're next, but at least Sukuna doesn't strike the same place twice in a week."

Yuji paid little heed to their words, for he had made up his mind. He steeled himself and set out, his bare feet aching as he trudged through the snow, determined to find Sukuna's shrine, which he presumed rested atop a hill or mountain.

After much arduous travel, Yuji found himself standing before a disturbing structure. The shrine was a twisted, demonic perversion of a traditional Buddhist sanctuary, with horns protruding from the roof and human skulls hanging from its eaves. The entrance was a gaping, tooth-filled maw.

"This... looks like utter rubbish," Yuji muttered, yet he mustered the courage to knock on the large, red door. When it finally opened, a white-haired monk appraised him with a look of disdain.

"What brings you here, child?" the person inquired.

"I... Sukuna Ryomen. I wish to meet with it," Yuji responded, stumbling over the name.

The white-haired individual raised a brow. "It?" he repeated. "Well, Master Sukuna is currently out hunting, but I can venture a guess as to why you've come. You seek to work for Master Sukuna in exchange for shelter and sustenance, don't you?" With that, he ushered Yuji inside.

Yuji hesitated, realizing that if he were to enter the shrine now, he may very well be met with Sukuna's return, finding him and a swift, fatal end. "No, I can't... I'll wait for him outside," he said, shaking his head and stepping away from the entrance.

"Are you sure? It's still snowing," the white-haired individual warned.

"Yes," Yuji replied with determination, and retreated to a nearby tree to await Sukuna's arrival. He knew his current situation was pathetic, clinging to the faint hope of survival, but he was not yet ready to accept his demise. When Sukuna finally returned, holding the remnants of a human in his grasp and still consuming it, Yuji's body froze once more, and he cursed his own weakness.

Summoning his courage, Yuji reached out and grasped Sukuna's bloodstained hakama, his gaze fixed on the crimson droplets falling into the snow - a familiar sight. His breathing became ragged as that all-too-recognizable voice spoke.

"The hell?" Sukuna uttered, and Yuji's grip tightened on the fabric.

"I... won," the boy said, his voice broken.

Sukuna looked down at the child, recognizing the familiar peach-colored hair and similar features. He tossed the body aside with disinterest and seized Yuji's kimono from behind, lifting the boy to face him. Yuji's condition had clearly deteriorated since their last encounter; his body was covered in bruises, and he had grown thinner, still wearing the same plain kimono and bare-footed.

"You tryna dig your own grave, brat?" Sukuna huffed, brushing the stray strands of hair from Yuji's face, now longer than before.

"No... You said if you found me, you'd kill me. But I was the one to find you, so I won," Yuji replied, flinching as Sukuna's blood-stained finger traced his face.

"Ah, I see you still got that attitude from before, huh?" Sukuna mused, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Alright, what do you want, brat?"

Sukuna's eyes then focused on the unusual markings on Yuji's face, which resembled another pair of eyes. How intriguing, he thought.

"I want to work for you."

Sukuna scoffed dismissively. "With that frail body of yours, you'd barely get any work done. And I already have plenty of servants - you won't be of any use to me." His grip tightened slightly around Yuji's small hand.

Undeterred, Yuji pleaded desperately, "I can be of use to you! Please, take me in. I'll do anything."

Sukuna hummed contemplatively. "Anything, huh? Alright." He opened the door to the shrine, and the white-haired individual bowed reverently at Sukuna's arrival. The monk seemed surprised to see Sukuna holding the child close.

"Uraume, did you prepare my bath?" Sukuna asked, striding down the corridor towards the bathroom.

"Yes, my lord," Uraume replied.

"Prepare clothes for the brat."

The interior was opulently adorned with fine wood and gilded accents. Sukuna entered the bathroom, guiding Yuji along. "Why am I here?" the boy marveled.

"Take your clothes off and get in," Sukuna commanded, and Yuji complied.

Once in the bathtub, Yuji found himself submerged up to half his face, dwarfed by the oversized tub. He gripped the edges, trying to maintain his balance and avoid drowning. Sukuna then joined him in the tub, and Yuji was surprised.

"You too?" he asked.

"This was prepared for me, of course I'd take a bath," Sukuna huffed, eyeing Yuji's tight grip on the tub.

"Come here," Sukuna said, motioning to his lap. Yuji was hesitant at first, but slowly made his way over. Sukuna pulled the boy onto his muscular thigh, eliciting a small yelp from Yuji, who reflexively wrapped his arms around Sukuna's arm.

Sukuna then took Yuji's wrist, forming an O with his thumb and forefinger. "Tsk, your wrist isn't even covering half the circle," he muttered. "How old are you?"

Yuji looked up at Sukuna, his eyes following the movement of Sukuna's fingers as they glided across his wrist. "I'm eight," he answered, surprised by the curse's surprisingly gentle touch - a stark contrast to the thousands of innocents he had killed with those same hands.

Sukuna scoffed. "Eight? No child of eight years is this small. Brat, you look no older than five." He released Yuji's wrist and grabbed a nearby bowl and fine comb, scooping some bathwater. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

"I'll give you time to prove your usefulness to me," Sukuna said. "You have time until you get some meat on your bones. If you fail to prove how useful you are to me, I'll eat you, brat." Yuji simply nodded in response.

Sukuna let the water flow down the child's head, and Yuji gasped letting some enter his mouth. "The water tastes...good," he murmured. Sukuna raised a brow and began combing through Yuji's hair, untangling the knots.

"That's because it's milk and rose water," Sukuna hummed, surprised by the softness of the boy's hair, given his apparent life on the streets.

"Don't drink it, or do you want to get the blood and dirt from our bodies in your mouth." Sukuna warned. Yuji immediately spat it out, wiping his tongue.

"If you want, I could always give you blood to drink - tastes amazing, if you ask me," Sukuna grinned.

"No, thank you." Yuji replied in a small voice, wincing slightly as Sukuna ruffled his hair. Sukuna put the comb away and scooped more water, this time Yuji kept his mouth tightly shut.

Sukuna then reached for a towel, dampening it in the water and gently gliding it across Yuji's body. The curse couldn't help but see a resemblance to a small, stray kitten, and he scoffed at the thought. Sukuna noticed the little whimpers Yuji let out at certain parts of his body, likely due to bruises, and he applied an even gentler touch with the towel.

Sukuna took notice of the lighter color of Yuji's peach-colored hair, now that dirt was no more. The child turned his head to look at the curse. "You're shining, brat," Sukuna remarked.

"Can I do the same to you?" Yuji asked eagerly.

Sukuna looked at him with disinterest. "What will you even manage with those small hands?"

"I can do it!" Yuji insisted. Sukuna shrugged and handed the boy the comb. Yuji held it carefully, not wanting to lose it.

He looked up at Sukuna, realizing that with his height, he couldn't reach the curse's head. "Could you come down?" Yuji asked awkwardly.

"Excuse me?" Sukuna raised a brow.

"Sorry... I can't reach your head," Yuji apologized, looking down.

"I don't go down for anyone, brat."

Suddenly, Yuji found himself lifted onto Sukuna's shoulders, his arms hugging the curse's face tightly.

"Are you trying to suffocate me?" Sukuna grumbled, his voice muffled as he lightly nibbled on Yuji's arm.

"Ah, sorry," Yuji quickly retreated his arm, his eyes now fixed on the bowl, wondering how he was supposed to use it from up here.

"Uh, Mister... could you give me some water?" Yuji requested.

"Mister? Don't call me that," Sukuna scolded, scooping water into the bowl and handing it to the child.

"Thank you," Yuji murmured, taking the bowl.

"Close your eyes," Yuji said, mirroring Sukuna's earlier actions. The curse grinned.

"I'm doing all the work here, brat. What kind of service is this?" Sukuna taunted as Yuji let the water flow through his hair, feeling the comb gently run through it.

"Sorry... when I get taller, I won't need to be put on your shoulders," Yuji said, handing the bowl back to Sukuna.

That is if he survived that long.

Yuji then began combing through Sukuna's hair, surprising the curse with his skill. It felt almost like a massage.

"Hmm, maybe you're not so bad after all," Sukuna mused. "What's your name?"

"Yuji."

"Just Yuji?"

"Just Yuji..."

"Hmm."

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna #yuji itadori #jjk #fanfic #sukuna and yuji #slight angst #jjk yuji #jjk sukuna #not canon #bad parenting #jujutsu kaisen #heavy themes

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poisonousquinzel · 4 months

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In honor of the Deadpool 3 talk going around, be aware that the director Shawn Levy is a Zionist who supports Noah Schnapp, with Ryan Reynold's support.

Caption: These are just a few images of the hundreds that compel me to speak up: More than 1000 dead, over 150 kidnapped , others raped, wounded, brutalized .

Children, teens, women, and the elderly...

This terrorist act has and CAN have NO justification, no 'context' that can explain or forgive .

To be clear: this was perpetrated by Hamas-- a terrorist organization that does not seek peace, nor democracy , nor a 2-state coexistence for the Palestinian and Israeli people; they want the elimination of Israel, the eradication of the Jewish people, and what they did in Israel should outrage anyone with basic human principles. You can care about the struggles of the Palestinians and still condemn Hamas as the barbaric terrorists they clearly show themselves to be. Honestly baffled that there's even any debate about this .

You don't need to be Jewish to stand with these innocent victims and hostages. You don't need to be Jewish to be heartsick, outraged and stand against this terror; you just need to be a human being with eyes and ears and heart.

Oct 10, 2023

And yeah, unsurprisingly, he's posted jackshit in regards to the proven lies that were and are spread about the events of Oct 7, or about the propaganda he helped spread, or about how Israel killed it's own people on Oct 7, or how they have repeatedly had chances to get the hostages back (including this month as well!!) and refuse because this has never been about the hostages, or how they've repeatedly lied about Hamas bases and operatives to try n justify bombing hospitals & schools, or how Israel has committed dozens of war crimes over and over, or how there's plenty of recorded proof of IDF / IOF soldiers beating up and assaulting Jewish people who disagree with them, or the videos of Israeli settlers harassing others in their circle for having empathy for Palestinians, screaming obscenities and insults at teachers for having empathy for other humans, or the thousands of Jewish people who stand with Palestine and have been this whole time, or the heinous racist shit Noah Schnapp has spewed lately, or how the IDF / IOF is known for having a problem with soldiers sexually assaulting each other, or how Israel is a safe haven for pedophiles (ya know, rapists), or about the little girl who was stuck in a car with her dead relatives until she was also murdered by Israel (alongside the medical workers who had gone to recuse her), or about the videos of the Israeli military using bulldozers to run over people in tents, to run over a pregnant woman, to run over refugees, or about the family members who've had to carry the pieces of their loves ones in bags because they were blown to pieces by the bombs set off by the Israeli military, or about how they're actively starving every Palestinian person they can and refusing to allow aid into Gaza, or how Israeli folks are actively driving out in droves to physically prevent aid trucks from passing to get to a starving population, or how it's been a tradition for Israeli settlers to go to the edge near Gaza to listen and Celebrate bombings long before Oct 7, or the countless pieces of irreplaceable historical landmarks have been destroyed, or the over 30,000 Palestinians who've been murdered in cold blood since Oct 7 while Zionist cheer on the violence.

Marvel supports Israel, actively, don't let your love for that specific series cloud that.

#im not following ryan so that's someone else's screenshot cause mine just shows a random name #not dc #disney #deadpool #deadpool 3 #marvel #mcu #wolverine #shawn levy #anti zionisim

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good-old-gossip · 1 month

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‘How could they leave her before burning the house?’

It took Naifa Rizq al-Sawada’s family an agonising two weeks to discover what had happened to the beloved grandmother following a raid by the Israeli army on her home.

The 92-year-old Palestinian woman, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, was found as a pile of charred bones on her granddaughter’s burned bed, according to her daughter. The grandmother had been separated from her family by Israeli soldiers during their assault on al-Shifa Medical Complex and its vicinity in mid-March in western Gaza City.

When Sawada’s daughter-in-law asked an Israeli soldier to release the elderly woman with them, he refused, the family previously told Middle East Eye. “We will take care of her,” he said.

For two weeks, the family did not know Sawada’s fate after they were forced to leave her behind.

They later received reports from neighbours that the army had set the building ablaze.

But they could not return to the building to see if the grandmother was taken out before it was engulfed in flames.

On 1 April, the Israeli army withdrew from the area and the family finally reached the home and found Sawada’s charred remains.

Although it was unclear what happened in her final moments, the family were “devastated to imagine she was burned alive”, according to Maha al-Nawati, her daughter.

✍️ by: MEE/Maha Hussaini in Central Gaza Strip, occupied Palestine

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minnophee-writes · 7 months

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Safe and Sound - Part 1

Fandom: The Purge: Anarchy

Pairing: Leo Barnes x Fem! Reader

Series Warnings: Violence, gun violence, assault, non-consensual touching, death, character death, murder, breaking and entering, knives, blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, single mother trope, slight smut, dry humping / grinding, strangers to lovers, attempted kidnapping, smut, oral sex, p in v, size difference, taller man / smaller woman, attempted sexual assault, attempted assault, attempted murder, sharing a bed trope, strangers to lovers, kissing, Leo being a good father figure, Leo is sexually pent up, rough kissing & gentle kissing

Chapter Warnings: Violence, gun violence, assault, non-consensual touching, death, character death, murder, breaking and entering, knives, blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, single mother trope, slight smut, dry humping / grinding, attempted sexual assault, attempted assault, attempted murder, sharing a bed trope, Leo is sexually pent up

Summary: When you're trying to bunker down in your poorly barricaded house with your young 8-year-old son it doesn't go to plan. A gang of unruly criminals come breaking into your home and you're forced to take your son and flee down the street toward your brother's apartment. On your journey there you're corralled into an alleyway, certain of death, but then a lone saviour comes to your aid.

Word Count: 4,413 words (damn, one hell of a part 1 o-o)

A/N: I love the purge series so much and when I first saw Leo Barnes I knew my horny ass was doomed. I haven't seen many new fics of this man and I'd like to fix that. Street names and apartment / house addresses mentioned in this story are made up and fictional but I did mention 2 well known places in America due to where the Purge: Anarchy takes place in (roughly).

You huddled with your young son Justin in your bedroom when the siren blared on the TV and speakers outside. The annual Purge had begun and you were terrified. You had been struggling to juggle being a newly single mother and working 2 jobs to provide for your child. Your salary at both jobs weren't the best and so with the money you did save up you could only afford a cheap, scrap metal barricade security system for your house. You highly doubted it'll completely keep out the looters that come out during the purge but you hoped you'll be able to keep Justin safe.

With Justin cuddled into your left side, on the right side laid a large axe, a hand gun, and a hunting knife. You wanted to be prepared in protecting your son so you weren't going to shy away from using force if necessary. The Purge was a brutal bloodbath, every year seemed to get worse and worse with disgruntled employees seeking revenge on their employers, old exes murdering in a sick act of "love", and twisted people who just like to watch others suffer for entertainment. It scares you, scares Justin, and this year would be his 8th year experiencing the Purge.

Distant gun shots were fired and you felt Justin flinch, his head burrowing into your chest for comfort as your body tensed around him. You wished he never had to experience this. If you had stayed with your ex you would be protected, fortified by the highest security technology only the rich could buy - the only downside is that you'd be going back to the abuse. The name calling, the subtle insults, quick taps to the face that escalate to forceful slaps, and hiding bruises that would slowly litter your body.

You left when you finally had enough. The last straw for you was when Kyle dared to stump out a cigarette on Justin's arm when he was only 2 years old. That night you waited until Kyle fell into a drunken slumber before you packed your bags, strapped Justin to your chest, and snuck out the laundry door then out the side gate. You fled down the road to the gas station where a nice elderly couple gave you a ride from Beverly Hills to down town Los Angeles. You had secretly been stashing some of your ex's cash so that you could afford a roof over your head but you knew that the money wouldn't last long which is why you work 2 jobs just to have enough for rent, food and any other basic needs. It didn't help that you lived in down town L.A but your brother lived in the area and you wanted to be close to family since Kyle made sure that you had cut ties with your family before moving to Beverly Hills.

Your brother Daniel was the only one who knew what Kyle had done and did everything he could to help you get on your feet. Daniel helped you raise and look after Justin, babysitting when you had a late shift at the diner, and sparing money for you when you needed it. He lived about a block from you, giving you the invitation to crash at his place whenever you and Justin wanted. Daniel opened the offer earlier that day, before the Purge commenced, but you declined. You lied about having a good quality security system but you didn't want to worry him, you knew you could get through this and protect Justin but as the night dragged on you started to doubt yourself.

"Mommy, I'm scared." Justin murmured as he clung to your shirt.

"Shh - its okay, sweetie. Mama's here."

You stroked his hair to calm him a bit, humming the tune of 'Bleed to Love Her' by Fleetwood Mac to coax your son to sleep. You hoped most of the night might be slightly peaceful so Justin could rest, you were tired yourself but made the effort to stay awake and alert for anything.

As Justin slept beside you your eyelids grew heavy after hours of nothing. The occasional gun shots and screaming could be heard from afar but nothing to be worried about. With nothing to stimulate your brain it was hard to stay awake and the echoing lullaby of slumber was calling to you. Your head dipped forward only to jerk up again as you fought it but soon your mind finally succumbed to sleep.

~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~

A sudden crash woke you, you were a bit hazy from sleep but you were brought into the presence by the sound of glass crunching from within the house. Your pulse was racing as was your mind over what to do. You heard Justin's breath hitch and so you huddled him into your walk-in wardrobe before grasping your collection of weapons and hiding in the wardrobe. You hoped that it would possibly be one person deciding to rob your home, only one person to worry about - you could handle that.

A male voice rang out down the hallway and a second male voice responding, color drained from your face at the realization that there was more than one person - probably many more as more glass being smashed could be heard in the guest bathroom down the hall. Your mind raced with conjuring up a plan of escape, if you were lucky you could get Justin to crawl under your bed before quietly vaulting out the window into the front side garden while you kept watch.

"Okay sweetie, we're going to play a little game called 'Statues'." you grasped Justin's shoulders gently to grab his attention as you explained the plan. "We're gonna crawl to my bed and hide under it, once we get there we freeze like statues. When I say so we'll crawl toward the window and Mama will help you get out into the side yard, okay?"

"Yes, mommy." Justin nodded cautiously before laying on his belly.

At your signal you both inched to the bed while you glanced out your bedroom doorway to make sure none of the men had seen you or Justin. When you were under the safety of your bed you surveyed the hallway again, freezing and listening for movement from within the house. Rattling noises came from in the guest bedroom, porcelain shattering and rustling of cabinet drawers being opened aggressively. You nodded to Justin again to move toward the window while you trailed behind him with your stare aimed at the doorway.

Justin reached the windowsill and slowly tried to pry open the window. You assisted him once you crawled up behind him and prayed that it wouldn't creak as it widened but it seemed that whatever God was above wanted to spite you. The wooden frame stuttered loudly in the room, echoing down the hallway and all movement down there stopped abruptly. Your breath picked up as you shoved the window open and lifted Justin out and into the side garden in a panic, footsteps were approaching fast and so you tossed yourself out the window next to your son.

"We need to go - now!"

You grasped Justin's hand as you ran for the gate to get out to the road, the voices from in your home shouting at each other while a few stray bullets whizzed passed you. You picked up Justin and held him in your arms for protection, your legs carrying you as fast as possible - heading in the direction of your brother's apartment. Justin started hyperventilating in your ear from the shock of the sudden violence and narrow escape, his little mind racing to understand what was happening and where they were heading while your brain was rattling with the different thoughts of the fastest and safest way to reach Daniel's place.

You had passed a few other houses on the block when a loud explosion erupted from a couple of parked cars that sat down another street across the road, an armoured vehicle charged toward the T intersection before breaking hard in the middle of the road. You ran behind a tree on the block as a group of people hopped out of the small truck, large assault rifles at the ready and masks covered their faces. Some were cheering while others searched the area, you guessed for prey, to feed their sick idea of entertainment. You weren't sure if they'd kill on sight or capture you both to be tortured for pleasure and you didn't want to stick around to find out, you just wanted to take Justin to Daniel's and know he'll be safe when the sun rises in the morning.

Your body shook slightly from fear of being caught, you couldn't risk Justin being hurt - he was your little bundle of joy, your baby boy, and you weren't going to let anyone take him away from you.

Justin's sniffling and whines were getting loud and you tried to shush him, some of the masked men turned in your direction and alerted the others.

"Shh, baby, shh... we need to be quiet..." you whispered in desperation but a harsh yank of your hair shot to your scalp.

Rough hands grabbed you while ripping your son from your arms causing you to scream in distress. You thrashed in the men's arms to get closer to Justin when a blow to the left side of your face disorientated you enough for them to drag you to the middle of the street, more masked men surrounding you as another man held Justin in a tight grip. The stranger aimed a knife next to Justin's neck and your heart rate spiked in fear.

"No, please!" You begged, "I-I'll doing anything, please - just don't hurt my son!"

A man walked toward you and chuckled at you, finding your pleading to be amusing. He got down on one knee and leaned over you in a menacing manner which made you slightly shrink into yourself.

"'Anything', you say? Well I can think of a few things you could do to save your son." The man then suggestively groped his own crotch to imply his meaning.

A shiver shook through your body at the thought of doing anything sexual for these men and hoped you could convince them otherwise.

"My boss is the owner of the Drunken Duck bar, he has a safe in his office-"

"I don't care about his shit. I've got plans for you."

You were then shoved onto the asphalt, your back and side of your face pressed to the ground as you struggled to get the man off of you. Justin cried at the scene and your heart clenched at the thought of him witnessing something so horrific so you put more effort into fighting your attacker. The man had managed to jerk your pants and unzip his but you twisted your legs so that he couldn't remove your underwear which frustrated the masked man. He began to squeeze your legs to get you to release your hold but you screamed in defiance, swinging your small fists toward his face with all your might.

"Get off of me!"

"Shut up, slut."

The man gripped your throat harshly, choking you and making you lose focus. Your body flailed as you fought to get more air into your lungs, your legs kicking to get leverage, and your arms clung to his in an attempt to remove his hand from around your neck. Your vision was starting to fade but a distant roar of a car engine ricocheted through the streets, the man above you pausing his actions while his head swivelled to the right.

A black, armoured car darted from around the corner and swerved toward the group of men.

"Shit - open fire!" He boomed as the car rammed into a few of his men and into their own vehicles.

It was all a blur for you as oxygen entered your body, you rolled onto your stomach and surveyed where Justin was. He was laying on the ground a distance away from you and crying out for you.

"Justin! Mommy's coming, baby." You shouted.

You made your way over to him as bullets flew in all directions, your swollen eye made it hard to navigate but you pushed on as you got closer and closer to Justin. You got within a few inches from him when a swift kick to your stomach winded you and you were then shoved to the side, a heavy weight laid on top of you in the process.

"Mommy!"

The terror in your son's voice had your mind in a frenzy, you fought back against whoever was above you but you couldn't fight back against his hard-hitting blows to your face. Your consciousness was fading in and out, the bad seeming to spread across your body, and your strength dwindled with each punch. When the surrounding light growing faint the sudden pressure on top of you vanished - you could breath but you just laid there unable to move from exhaustion. Small arms wrapped around you and cold, wet droplets began to fall onto your exposed skin as Justin attempted to cuddle you but the shock coursing through his body was making it hard.

You cracked open your left eye, barely in better shape than your right, and gazed up at Justin, wheezes rattled your throat while you made an effort to move your arms to reassure your 8-year-old. You struggled to lift your upper body to sit up and fell back, Justin sobbing then exerted himself to lift you with his tiny strength.

"Hey, hey - stay awake, little momma." A calm male voice instructed, "I'm going to get you and your son out of here but I need you to trust me..."

Larger hands then touched your arms, your eyes shooting toward the culprit and seeing a slightly older man with messy dark hair, a sharp jawline covered in rough facial hair, as well as piercing brown eyes. Your mind went blank and you were suddenly aware of your dry mouth when no answer came out so you resorted to nodding your head cautiously. If you wanted your son to be safe and protected then you'll have to give some trust to this new stranger who seemed to have saved you from death.

"Good." he nodded then offered his hand." Leo Barnes at your service."

"Y-Y/N..." your voice croaked out painfully.

"Alright, Y/N just stay calm. I'm going to pick you up and carry you to my car - okay?"

You nodded again to save your voice and felt your body heating up at the strong, muscular arms that wrapped around you and lifted you with one arm tucked under your legs and the other supporting your back. You leaned your head against his upper chest hearing his heartbeat which started to lull you to sleep. Leo shook you slightly to keep you awake in case you have a concussion, Justin trailing behind the both of you to the car. Leo gently set you down on the passenger seat before helping Justin into the back seat and buckling you both in. The seatbelt pressed against a wound that you hadn't noticed before - guessing you must have been grazed by a bullet during the shoot-out, you fidgeted from the small, stinging pain as Leo got into the driver's seat and starting up the vehicle.

"M-my brother... lives on the corner... of Mcroyle street..."

"Just down here, yeah?" Leo pointed further down the street where a large apartment complex stood and you nodded.

Leo drove the few feet to your brother's place and helped you and Justin up the stairs to Daniel's apartment. As the three of you reached Daniel's floor Leo noticed that your brother's door was slightly ajar and he knew something was up.

"Wait..."

"What? Daniel's apartment is right there-"

"The lock is broken and the door is open." Leo stared at you for a moment before continuing, "Stay out here - I'll check it out and make sure it's clear."

You agreed and watched Leo creep into Daniel's apartment, the eerie silence made you anxious as no voices could be heard - not even from the other apartments which put you on edge further. Oncoming footsteps caught your attention and you saw Leo emerge from the apartment with a sorrowful expression. His face told you what you needed to know and the tears blurred your vision while they streamed heavily down your face, your hands covering your mouth to muffle the pitiful sobs from echoing the hallway you stood in. Justin watched on in confusion and distress - he was smart enough to understand something was wrong because of your visual state but wasn't aware of 'what'.

You hugged Justin for comfort as Leo strutted toward you both, giving you a few seconds to grieve before gently placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up into his dark eyes with your teary ones.

"C'mon, it's not safe here. I have a secure place that you two can hide in until it's over." Offered Leo.

You swallowed while debating the option in your head but you knew it was your only option for Justin's sake.

"Okay..."

~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~

The car ride to Leo's secure hideout was quiet. Justin fell asleep in the backseat a few minutes ago, you were leaning against the passenger door looking at the passing scenery as Leo focused on the road. The humming from the car engine was the only sound even if it was muffled, the air around you and Leo was gloomy from the previous events.

Before leaving Daniel's apartment Leo had searched for some pants for you since your encounter with the masked man had ruined them, your jeans had been ripped and torn in many places so Leo had found you a pair of your brother's gym shorts. The car's air-conditioning was starting to freeze your exposed skin on your legs and arms, the cool air causing you to feel the slight throbbing pain of your many bruises and wounds but you tried to focus on anything else but the discomfort. Without warning a warm, large hand rested on your bare thigh which caused you to jump in your seat - Leo apologized swiftly removing his hand trying to explain himself.

"Sorry, you looked cold so I wanted to offer some heat..." Leo's voice trailed off, probably thinking about how idiotic his reasoning sounded but you just shook your head with a small smile.

"Thank you." you caressed the spot where his hand once was, "I'm a bit cold, now that you mention it."

He gradually placed his hand back on your thigh and rubbed it to warm it up occasionally switching legs after a few minutes one each one. His body heat helped a lot with keeping your legs warm, the touching and caressing was shooting to your crotch making it pulse with want. Your face slowly started to blush at the thought of a rough looking man like Leo would be petting you and making you feel certain emotions that you haven't in quite some time.

Your logical brain was turning into mush has your horny thoughts flashed through your mind with multiple different scenarios which had your pussy throbbing and dribbling in your underwear - a little thought mortified if Leo were to feel the wet spot if he moved his hand more to the inside of your thigh but that didn't stop your body from relaxing and slightly adjust your legs to spread a little wider. An unexpected squeeze to your thigh jerked you back to rational thinking and you clenched your things abruptly.

"Woah, didn't mean to startle you." Leo glanced over at you with slight concern.

"I-I'm okay... Just a little jumpy I guess."

Leo quickly glanced down for a brief moment before staring back at the road ahead of him, you looked down to see his hand trapped between your thighs near your drooling pussy which made your eyes widen in embarrassment. You were too scared to move your legs because your anxiety would then reason that it would bring attention to the touch and you'd lose the warm press of his hand close to where you needed it.

Before you could continue your internal struggle the car slowed to a stop outside of what looked like an abandoned house in an old part of the city where not many people lived and the house was concealed by foliage and a long gravel driveway. Leo got out of the car to then unbuckle Justin from his seat and carried him inside while you gradually made your way inside after them. You saw that Justin was sleeping in the only bedroom you could see - that Leo had placed him in, while you crept over to the old, beat-up couch to sit on, finally giving your sore body a rest. Leo sat beside you with a relieved expression as he groaned, his legs spread wide and slightly nudged into yours causing your heart to shutter and your body to heat up again.

"Sorry if the place is a bit small. The house only has one bedroom but you and...?" Leo trailed off in an implied question.

"Justin."

"You and Justin can share that room - I can take the couch."

"Oh no, no, no! You've saved my son and I, and brought us to a safe place. You deserve the bed after all you've done for us." You pleaded, feeling guilty.

Leo shook his head with a chuckle, he admired your caring nature but could visually see that you needed the rest. Dark, heavy bruising littered your face and exposed skin, blood dried on your skin and a few cuts looked irritated from being dirty so his first priority was to clean you up and care for your injuries.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

During the whole process you couldn't keep your thoughts innocent when it came to Leo. From his rippling muscles, his messy hair, the way he would touch you, praise you when you winced at the sting of the disinfectant; and even the way he would stand close so you could smell his scent of gun smoke, leather and an earthy, cedar aroma. It made you light-headed, you subconsciously leaned into Leo's touches and embrace - every so often you would drift off to sleep in his arms only to wake up when Leo would wipe an antibacterial wipe on one of your wounds.

You were so drained that you barely had any energy to exert to move out of the small bathroom which lead Leo to picking you up again and carrying you to the bedroom Justin was resting in. When Leo settled you on the bed he went to move out of the room when you tiredly grasped his wrist and wined.

"Please don't go, you're warm..." You slurred, your tired state making you a little delirious.

Leo glanced at the bed, sizing it up and mentally calculating if there'll be enough room for all three of them. He looked down at your hazy eyes, you looked adorable when you begged and he just couldn't resist disappointing you. He moved toward the bed so you shuffled over to the middle of the bed as Leo climbed in, his body heat already warming you up better than the blanket that you were tucked under. When you both settled again you were facing each other, your breaths fanning over your faces, and your eyes were locked in an intense stare.

"Comfortable?" Leo asked.

"Yes, just a bit chilly but better than before..."

"Okay, good."

Your body gave a short shiver from the cold air that caressed your shoulder that wasn't under the blanket, you moved to remedy the issue when a heavy object wrapped around your waist before you were tugged into a toasty body. You hummed in approval, snuggling into the warm surface when a chuckle vibrated through your body causing your eyes to shoot open and look up at Leo, his eyes were closed as if to mimic sleeping but his deep laughter told you he was still awake.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Leo..." You mumbled until sleep finally sunk it's claws in, dragging you into its embrace.

Leo could hear faint snores coming from you as he made sure to keep you warm and to make sure you and your son were protected. Your soft skin and smooth legs pressed into him causing him to exhale in distress when he could feel a certain body part getting a little too excited about the physical contact. Leo's arms strained from pulling you closer into him but his cock began to throb in need in his pants. He tried to resist but you fidgeted in your sleep, rubbing your lower stomach and crotch against him and his body would respond the same - his hips would angle forward to press against you while you slept.

You gasped in your sleep except you didn't wake up, your breathing began to be somewhat laboured and your hips thrusted toward Leo's to chase the subconscious sensation of his rough jeans against your stimulated clit that was puffy and sensitive. Both hips worked in tandem with each other, your breathing getting louder and Leo's body tensing from the rising orgasm but suddenly his rational mind screamed at him.

'What are you doing, you bloody idiot!?' After what she's just been through and you do that? He stopped immediately but the sound of your unconscious whine at the loss of stimulation had Leo shushing you and cuddling you further to make up for teasing you. Movement behind you also reminded him of your son sleeping at the other side of the bed, a fair distance from you both but guilt and irritation wracked his mind at his thoughtless decision yet he just couldn't let you go.

His eyelids finally grew heavy, a yawn made its way out of his mouth before he rested his head on top of your head, his face burrowed into your hair because the flowery scent of your hair products lulled him into sleep. The three of you sharing a bed, Leo's shotgun propped against his side of the bed next to his pillow, and you and Leo wrapped into each other's arms.

Unbeknown to you or Leo, your three man group would be rudely awoken by a malice gang looking to cause more chaos before the night is over...

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