#[there is so much wrong with this stupid man]

[rafesangelita]

…SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚🍺⊹♡

SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER who spend a lottt of time in the back seat of his cop car. they have an age gap that would raise all kinds of alarm if the people of the small town they resided in ever found out. sheriff!rafe is beefy, his muscles bulging through every shirt he wears. farmer’s!daughter!reader is too busy raising hell all around town in hopes that someone calls the police station so rafe can handcuff her and get her act cleaned up. “you can’t just go actin’ a fool whenever you feel like screwin’ i mean it!” he’s pulling her underwear up her thighs as she lays face down against his leather seats, completely fucked out. “whatever you say, dad.” rafe is groaning at her words as he uncuffs her. “yeah? i oughta’ take you home right now then and let him know about all the trouble you been gettin’ into.”

SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER who go on their dates in the next town over so they don’t run the risk of being caught by any locals. farmer’s!daughter!reader who teases rafe all the time, calling him an ‘old man’ and saying he’s a perv for entertaining her antics. “there’s a motel not too far from here.. just ‘sayin.” there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips, the older man in front of her looking unamused. “you’re suggesting that i take you to a motel and you’re callin’ me a perv? get outta here.” despite his faux disinterest, they end up checking into the said motel for the night, his stomach slapping against her clit as he fucks her into oblivion on the dingy mattress of the cheap room. sheriff!rafe who actually knows farmer’s!daughter!reader’s father very well, both of them going all the way back to their high school days.

SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER who can’t stand each other sometimes. rafe is scolding her, telling her that she shouldn’t be wearing those ‘godforsaken’ shorts of hers since it draws a lot of the wrong attention. “you’re just mad because jj maybank is wondering what color panties i have on..” she’s leaning into the window of his cop car, his jaw clenching as he eyed the scruffy looking blonde who stood not too far away, shot gunning hot beers with his friends. “mad at the ‘maybank kid? please, darlin’ he’s a joke.” she’s laughing at his words, getting close to his ear before whispering; “i’m glad you think so, because i’m about to go over there and tell him i’m not wearing any..” that sets rafe off and it isn’t long before he’s slamming jj down against the hood of his car and arresting him for underaged drinking..

SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER who are such polar opposites, even they don’t understand how they work together. sheriff!rafe has a rough exterior, seemingly cold, closed off and never smiles, whereas farmer’s!daughter!reader is dancing on tables in bars she shouldn’t even be at, and being a little minx to see how many free drinks she can get out of the regulars. so much so, that rafe started patrolling around town at night so he could stop her from doing something stupid. and of course, without fail, he’s getting a radio call saying there’s been a report of a quote, unquote ‘young woman resisting arrest and assaulting an officer.’ and rafe is arriving onto the scene almost immediately, cursing under his breath when he see’s her being held down by at least four of his men in uniform.

SHERIFF!RAFE X FARMER’S!DAUGHTER!READER who eventually have to get serious with one another, both of them knowing that what they have is anything but casual. sheriff!rafe who doesn’t know how to go about it, so he decides it’s best to just be blunt. “so uhm— what do ‘ya say to moving out of your pop’s and living with me instead?” farmer’s!daughter!reader is staring at him from across the table at their favorite diner. “what?” she’s frozen, holding her knife over her plate of fluffy pancakes. “are you serious?” rafe is nodding as he takes a cigarette out of his pocket, placing it between his lips. “yeah, but this rowdy act of yours needs to stop. m’not gonna have you actin’ reckless if i’m the one taking care of you.” he doesn’t have to tell her twice before she’s nodding, throwing her arms around the grumpy sheriff before pressing kisses to his cheek.

[inmyheaddd]

coffee sweetener — grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req! wc: 1.8k summary: one of your regulars at your café, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.

a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.

some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really. 

his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now. 

today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.

he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.

“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.

“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.” 

“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”

you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”

everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either. 

you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.

you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin. 

“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.” 

you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.

grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits. 

“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?” 

tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.” 

you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason. 

“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeline. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.

he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.

he only smiled in response.

''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''

''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''

you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''

amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.

“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.” 

“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.

“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.” 

“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it. 

your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.

“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?” 

his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.

you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.” 

biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''

you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.

holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.

ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter. 

''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.

''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''

you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.

''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.

you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.

''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.

''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''

if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.

chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"

"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."

'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''

you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.

the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.

a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.

there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.

Unknown Number:

Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃 Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.

you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.

you

i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣

you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 

[lost-romantique]

Stolas - Five Stages of Grief (Sinsmas)

One thing I don't hear many people talk about is the fact that Sinsmas illustrates Stolas learning and accepting his new reality that he's thrusted into, and through it he goes through the Five Stages of Grief. I think it's also important to note that Stolas' grief is due largely in part to not having Octavia around, and the fact that he's been off his antidepressants the entire month.

Denial- A temporary response to loss, where you might not fully comprehend the reality that your in.

Day by Day illustrates the very first month Stolas is spent living with Blitz, he goes about the day(s), living life with Blitz and while he's happy to be with Blitz, you can tell that he's also struggling.

Listen to the lyrics:

Keep it calm, life goes on, and on, and on Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong So why do I still feel this way?

Stolas is living life with Blitz domestically, going out on dates here and there, seeing how he lives, seeing how imps live, and he's just at a loss, confused, not really knowing what to do. But he pretends that everything is okay, everything has to be okay.

Anger- Stolas letting all his anger and grief from the current situation he's in out and about.

Stolas has what is essentially a mental breakdown in the span of a minute: breaking Blitz's phone (Stolas sweetie don't break your bfs phone, that's his job), ripping and tearing stuff apart, blaming himself for his stupidity for having ruined his life in order to fulfill his fantasies.

Note: When Stolas calls himself stupid for fulfilling a fantasy, I honestly think he's talking about the context of him and Blitz and their transactional arrangement. Remember, during the very beginning of their transactional relationship, Stolas was very much chasing a fantasy.

Bargaining- Making promises to do better or be better whether it be to a higher power or to yourself.

Stolas begging Octavia to listen to him, to what he has to say. Stolas is extremely desperate to get Octavia to listen to him, to get Octavia back in his life.

"No! No! Never Via, sweetie please, you have always been the only good thing in my life." "I love you Via so, so much. Please sweetie let me explain..."

Depression- A feeling of dread that feels like it will last forever, but is a necessary part of the healing process.

Stolas, immediately after getting home from the palace, sits down on the couch just to process everything. Stolas spends, what looks to be hours, sitting on contemplation- occasionally resting his head on Blitz's horns.

Note: I love how Blitz stays close to Stolas the entire time, never leaving his side, except to help decorate for the Sinsmas Party and to change into his Sinsmas sweater. Even when the Sinsmas party starts, and he starts looking content, he's always with Stolas the entire time.

Acceptance- You learn to live with the loss and acknowledge that both sorrow and joy can coexist.

Blitz helps Stolas learn to accept this new way of life, and for a moment he helps him forget all the pain as he leads them into a very romantic dance.

Stolas, for the first time since losing his daughter, is able to laugh freely and find joy in that moment, and it's all thanks to Blitz.

Stolas looks out into the sky as he realizes that this is his life now. From now on, he will have to live life of a commoner with his only solace being Blitz. The moment Stolas closes his eyes is the moment he accepts this new reality of his.

I love the tragic irony of Stolas spending the entirety of Season 2 pining and chasing after an emotionally constipated lizard to the point that he is unknowingly hurting his daughter in the process. But by the end of that season, he gets the unconditional love of the man he's in love with, only to lose the one thing he thought he would never lose- his daughter's love.

I do want to point out that I do feel bad for Stolas, but I also understand very well that this was his choice in the end. And from now on he has to live with that choice, to live with the consequences.

[weepingchronicles]

Could you do yandere jayce talis x reader with the yandere trope of " the yandere who stalks darling, but reader is aware and likes the attention"

cw: yandere behavior, stalking, implied kidnapping, general creepy behavior, reader is kind of a weirdo too?

❝yandere!jayce talis x aware!reader❞

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ Did he think you were oblivious or just plain stupid? Perhaps he was just a bad stalker! But he made no attempts to even cover his tracks, even you confronted him and all he could blubber out were stupid apologies.

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ Not to mention how Jayce was a pretty charming guy overall, almost all the girls studying in The Academy fawned over him. For good reason too.

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ He was handsome, polite, charming, overall hardworking and a good man! Maybe he thought that would be enough to make you not suspect him as your stalker?

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ It started off pretty tame to say the least. Showing up randomly at places you'd be at in town, you thought it was coincidence at first but that was just the first of many, many encounters. They all stack up and his little act of, "Woah, I didn't know you'd be here!" was not as believable as it had been the first couple of times.

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ Then the letters started coming in, lovesick gushingly corny handwritten letters came to you every weekend without fail. They carried his signature scent of cologne and you could tell from his handwriting and ink on the paper that it was in fact him. Okay, perhaps you were a bit weird too for noticing that stuff but he's the one stalking you !!

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ You had to admit you were a bit flattered, not many people would dedicate such time and devotion nowadays. It was a rare find and you couldn't help but relish in the attention. You knew it was wrong to encourage such behavior but you couldn't help it, he looked like a goddamn puppy when he'd follow you around.

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ So you started writing him back, of course all under the act of having no clue who he was. You could tell from his joyous attitude that your letters made his day. You could only imagine that he must keep every single page, dedicating a whole box of your letters for him.

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ Part of you was a bit annoyed. He obviously likes you so much and you're clearly reciprocating but he can't summon the courage to just ask you out? Like a normal person?

🛠️ ୧ ‧₊˚ ⚙️｡ Just as you spent your week pondering this, you had no idea that not only was Jayce going to confess to you but he's going to take you home with him! Forever! Now it's time to time out how much you really meant in your letters.

art credit: @/shuploc

[velvetvexations]

Saw your tags on that binder post and I thought I’d share that my first introduction to chest binding was actually through the lolita community! A lot of big name japanese brands are not exactly size inclusive and did NOT cater to anyone with more than an A cup, so I did see quite a lot of safe binding advice and methods on blogs and forums back in the day before more inclusive brands became available, ranging from sports bra to actual proper binders. I’m probably not the only example of the “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress” to “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress and gender reasons)” pipeline, but plenty of other lolitas I know are still cis women who just do it on occasion or for specific pieces that aren’t very forgiving on the tits! I doubt that a single niche fashion subculture is the reason for those binders being marketed towards cis women so heavily, but I thought this was a funny anecdote :)

Fascinating!

patricia taxxon shit really fucking hurts. i dont want to be effected by a random internet microcelebrity not liking transdudes, that happens often enough. but god her music and essays got me through really rough shit and it really hurts to see someone i looked up to for well written essays and work fall back on the bullshit arguments used to deny my lived experiences. it really really fucking hurts, especially with how it feels barely anyone will talk about or call it out. i thought trfs were something id have to look hard for, and seeing their rhetoric creep into the fucking music i listen to and tumblrs i follow really truly scares me

I'm sorry, anon. I love you a lot. <3

“You shouldn’t break up the trans community into groups!” The TRFs literally came up with a way to break up the community via TMA/TME. They are actively distancing themselves from the community by baking fearmongering into their ideology. God forbid we create a term about sticking together against a group within the community that’s inherently dividing?

lmao literally

Just had my first time getting sexually harassed by a woman as a percieved cis man and commiserating afterwards with a cis man about how we're all just supposed to be cool with being treated like that. It's a weird experience and somehow going through the same things mostly from women as a girl then nonbinary then a trans guy it feels the same but the flavors change. I know the discourse is literally nothing but it makes me feel like my feelings shouldn't matter because of the male privilege. And I even did my civic duty and took the brunt of it away from the other trans man who was getting it worse because of his percieved feminine traits which people also like to pretend doesn't happen. All of it is just stupid.

It's fine, she was a woman and you're a man so that was praxis sexual harassment.

honestly i think a better predictor of how much autonomy a child is able to have over their presentation is probably whether the child is disabled moreso than agab, like i not only wasn't allowed to have my hair too short, i also wasn't allowed to have it too long for a chunk of my childhood because it took me awhile to understand how to brush my hair (because i was afraid to because i am hypersensitive to touch and my mother would always brush my hair in a way that hurt so much i would cry), and my mother would bitch and moan about how difficult i was about it (because she was hurting me and did not listen when i told her this) and so i wasn't allowed to have longer hair until i could brush it myself. ultimately the biggest factor is always the attitude of the parents though

God, so much of my shit with my mother was over my hair, it still really gets to me.

TRF is like the whole voting for face eating panthers. But it’s like TERFs are the panthers and TRFs are a cheetah, like “I’m a kind of cat too so they won’t eat my face as long as I eat faces too right?” WRONG they see you as prey, they won’t spare you because they see a fellow cat, they’ll eat your face cuz you’re not a panther!

cis women will like me if I explain to them how I'm -taxonomically- a woman

it’s insane to me that ‘it’s bad to hate someone for an uncontrollable part of their identity no matter who they are’ is a controversial take now

we've regressed

when people say ‘um ackshually i can say i want all men to die and if you tell me “men see these things and go far right because they think it’s true” then you are blaming women for men’s bad behaviour’ i just immediately assume that this person is stupid as fuck like. if a teenage boy goes online to see what feminism is about and is bombarded with ‘kill all men’ ‘all men are rapists’ etc then OBVIOUSLY he’s not gonna want to be feminist. it is really not that fucking hard to understand. people don’t wanna be in spaces that are cruel to them for an aspect of their identity that they cannot control it’s not ‘blaming women for misogynistic men’ to say that. it’s just fucking true. people are so stupid it actually pains me

unfortunately radfem juice is addictive

[azuredawn81]

lemon sorbet with jack <3

hating you for christmas | jack hughes x ex gf!reader

❅ summary: jack gets a christmas card from his ex. he can't get over her.

❅ pairing: jack hughes x reader

❅ content: angst

❅ word count: 1.2k

❅ prompt: hating you for christmas - everclear

❅ warnings: lots of alcohol, car accidents

❅ tags: @tomskookie @dream-girl06 @skepvids @devilinpradaheels @r0wdymaize86 @summert158 @lolatokki @camiesully

❅ note: i hate love and love hate

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

“jack! mail’s here,” luke called, slamming a stack of envelopes on the coffee table.

“thanks, rusty.”

“let’s see if there’s anything good.”

he started flipping through the pile. bill. bill. card from mom and dad. card from nico. card from fitzgerald. card from quinn. card from cole. card from trevor. card from keefe. junk mail about gutter cleaning.

“hey, this one’s from y/n.”

“gimme that.” jack snatched the envelope from luke, his eyes wide. he tore open the envelope, revealing a cute little christmas card, similar to the one from last year. the one he was on. he stared at the cardstock, with y/n’s smiling face and her stupid boyfriend. the back was just word after word about how her life was happy and perfect and her job was great and her house was grand and her boyfriend was specimen of a man.

the envelope was addressed to luke.

jack ripped the card in half, then in half again, and again, and again. “stupid y/n.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to hear about your new job now

“i just need to finish my business certification, then as soon as i get the money, i’m gonna open the flower shop.”

“gonna make the arrangements for our wedding?”

“of course, jacky,” she said, kissing his cheek. she slid onto his lap and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

I don't want to hear about your new boyfriend

“jack, it’s so beautiful.”

“of course, love. i wanted you to have the best ring.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, mrs hughes.”

I don't want to hear about it all working out for you

“five more minutes.”

“babe, you have to go to morning skate.”

“but you’re so warm.”

she rolled over so she faced him. he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “you’re such a goof.”

No, I don't want to hear it now

jack hughes stuns with girlfriend at devil’s charity gala

devils forward spotted with girlfriend outside bar

jack hughes speaks: 4 nations face off, road to the cup, and his elusive lover

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to hear about your swinging new place

I don't want to hear how everyone thinks it's great

“we should get a house soon.”

“what’s wrong with the apartment?”

“we’re getting married, silly!” she booped his nose. “your mom’s gonna want grandbabies.”

I just want to sit in our apartment and hate you

jack sat on the couch, his head in his hands. y/n had been gone for a week now. he didn’t know how to tell his parents, how to ask luke to let him back in the apartment.

she was gone.

Yes, I will be hating you for Christmas

“you’re never around!”

“you knew that when we got together!”

“if you can be present know, how can you be present as a dad?”

“i will try.”

“but you can’t try now?”

“i’m sorry.”

she placed her ring on the counter.

────୨ৎ────

You can have the Christmas tree

Remember when we bought it at the store down the street?

“i think that’s gonna be too tall, baby.”

“nah, it’ll work.”

“what if we get this pink one?”

“wait, that’s actually so cute.”

I don't want to think about the lights on your white skin

“thanks for bringing me here, jack. it’s beautiful.”

“you’re beautiful.”

he cupped her face and kissed her, the lights shining onto them. “my pretty girl.”

No, I don't want to think about it

“god, i love you so much.”

“i love you more.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to think about last year at your dad's

“jack, i just want to say, since y/n’s in the kitchen, i think you’re the best boyfriend she’s ever had.”

“about that…”

“what’s up, son?”

jack wiped away a tear as he opened the velvet box. “think she’ll like it?”

he was immediately engulfed in a bear hug by her dad. “you’re a good kid, jack.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to think about my face in your soft hair

I will be hating you for Christmas

as soon as jack opened the door and stepped inside, y/n was in his arms.

“missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, baby.”

“hate it when you leave.”

“aw, did my sweet girl miss me?”“your fiancé missed you quite a lot.”

────୨ৎ────

I must be losing my mind

“is there a y/n cloning facility nearby?” luke asked.

“no?” jack answered.

“then how come every girl you bring in looks like her?”

“that is not true.”

“last monday made a convincing twin.”

There's gotta be a better way to deal with the pain

“luke, i’m gonna hurt you if you keep talking.”

“dude, go to therapy or something.”

“i don’t need therapy.”

“right, because hooking up with girls who look like your ex is cheaper and easier.”

“i’m gonna get you scratched.”

“nico only listens to people of sound mind.”

There's gotta be a better way to deal with the hate

“you don’t even know what that means!”

“who here went to college?”

jack picked up the nearest object, a plastic cup, and threw it at luke, who ducked. the cup made a slight dent in the wall.

“now look what you did!”

“no, luke, it’s your fault. you poked the sleeping bear!”

“bears mate for life, jack.”

Wish that I could find some way to make you go away

“you’re on the devils, right?” the blonde said, holding onto his arm.

“god, you’re so hot.” brunette number one said.

the other brunette placed a sloppy drunk kiss on his cheek.

“you’re single, right?”

“no, i’ve got you three.”

“oh, you’re a fox, jack.”

“well, ladies, i try.”

Wish that I could have a drink and make you fade

he couldn’t even count the number of drinks he’d had or the number of girls on his arm. tonight, he was not jack hughes, y/n’s miserable ex. he was jack hughes, first overall pick, new jersey devils star forward and alternate captain. he was a hotshot, the big ticket item, the best looking guy at the club.

except with drink after drink, all he could think was how y/n was at her stupid apartment in the arms of her stupid boyfriend and not a single girl here tonight was her.

I wish that I could have myself a drink and make you fade

so he slammed another shot down. the girls cheered. another shot. another glass. another bar. another club. another bottle. another taxi. another shot.

“ladies,” he began, his speech so slurred and impaired, “tonight, we dance.”

I wish that I could have a drink and make you go away

“let’s go back to my place.”

────୨ৎ────

Wish that I could make you go away

five injured in hockey player’s car crash

jack hughes’ mugshot: click here!

devil’s forward jack hughes dui

jack hughes involved in collision - 6 girls in car

I will be hating you for Christmas

“hughes, those are all from different occasions!”

“i’m aware.”

“what the hell were you thinking?”

“i wasn’t, sir.”

“clearly! jack, if you keep this up, i will not hesitate to scratch you!”

Yeah I will be hating you for Christmas

“like i care!”

“you should.”

“nothing matters!”

────୨ৎ────

he got an envelope from his desk and scribbled her new address on the back. the stamp was placed in the corner with extreme precision. the shredded remains of the card were placed inside, like flowers in a vase, like a body in a coffin. then, a note reading

Thanks for the Christmas card

[someverygaymoth]

i’ve been thinking about Nightmare w/ social anxiety. like he tried to hide it because he’s literally a supernatural creature with power over people’s perceptions and emotions. but then he goes to order at Ccino’s place and then stands in the corner for half an hour because “what if i go to order and i do everything wrong somehow or whag if he starts talking to me and i mishear everything and oh my god what if everything i’m seeing and doing right now is just a huge hallucination and i look stupid” (projecting)

You cannot tell me this man knows how socializing works.

He goes to a coffee shop for the first time and just stands in the corner for an hour, expecting someone to give him coffee. I mean, how the fuck is he supposed to know about literally any aspect of socializing? He is a feral tree child with no inclination to interact with others!

Dream has a desire to talk to people! He's weird as hell, but people tend to write it off because they put him on a pedestal. (He knows about no form of hygiene but river baths and chewing on sticks) Luckily he has people to learn from, so he eventually becomes sliiightly less weird. (Stars and other friendlies)

Nightmare has no one to talk to, so he just stays weird and awkward! (Getting the boys doesn't help much because they're also weird.)

[haikyuuharemdreams]

Rich!Sakusa headcanons ✨

- Sakusa Kiyoomi is not good with words.

- He tries!! He really, REALLY does. But he definitely does better at showing love through acts of services and buying you things that reminds you of him.

- You live in his head rent free, so feel free to simply imagine how much that simp man has actually spent on you. He never minds, of course, money’s is of no issue to him.

- When you show up at his penthouse crying over an upsetting incident that occurred at your workplace, he rushes over to you.

- He has 0 idea what to do. He stands there like 🧍🏻‍♂️

- You wipe your tears away, attempting a forced smile that really isn’t convincing anyone. You tell him that it was minor, there is no need for him to worry and that you’ll be fine.

- It doesn’t matter, though, whether it had truly been minor or not. What matters is that you’re crying, that it pains him, and he feels helpless. He doesn’t know how to fix your problem.

- He sits you down and tries to find out what had happened. You tell him, tears pooling in your eyes and making their way down your cheeks as you recounted the events.

- He thinks, like you said, it was minor. He gets why you’re upset, but it really is a small matter that requires a simple solution. He offers some words of advice and pointed out what you could’ve done better. He also offers to support you in any way you need regarding your workplace situation.

- This only makes you more upset.

- You just wanted some reassurance and words of comfort!!! You just wanted him to express that you’re not incapable and incompetent and careless and stupid and useless!!! But no!!!

- You don’t blame him; you know he’s not the best with words. You know he doesn’t do comfort. But, it hurts.

- You simply just apologise, and hurry to take a shower to cool yourself down. You are too overstimulated and emotional to be capable of communicating how you feel to him without possibly starting a fight.

- Man is, however, confused. He genuinely thought he did a great job at being there for you; he even told you that he wants you to be his wife (disclaimer: he never explicitly said that; he mumbled to you that he’ll support you if you decide you don’t want to work ever. Unfortunately, you didn’t even pick that up.)

- He follows you like a puppy, confused. He wants to ask if he did anything wrong, but you aren’t even acknowledging his presence.

- “Y/N, please, darling.” He knows you like it when he calls you by a pet name. “What’s the matter?”

- His cooing softens your frustration. You turn around, and as you begin to tell him how you feel, you start sobbing. Your words are muddled, but he manages to pick up the gist of what you’re conveying.

- He hugs you, and you go limp in his arms, all tension melting away. He ignores your protests of being unclean and caresses your back. He murmurs comforting words in your eyes, telling you that he’s sorry, validating how you’re feeling and rebutting the negative beliefs you had about yourself.

- He draws up a bath for you and helps you to remove your clothes before his.

- It’s an intimate moment between two people who love each other, okay, nothing MORE!

- He gives the best bath 💯

- He dries you off, blow drying your hair as well, and wraps you up snugly in a towel before doing so for himself. He holds your hand when he’s done, leading you out back into his bedroom.

- He big spoons you in bed, and strokes your hair till you fall asleep.

- Sakusa, though, is unable to fall asleep. After all, the ring is ready in the drawer in the nightstand beside you. He was just finding the right time to propose to you, and you’ll in for a very pleasant surprise !! upon rising.

[rdng1230]

Sorry op, you awoke the writing demon and it must be satiated.

—-

Sal groans into his whiskey, silently asking god why he sent him such an idiotic best friend with it seems, an equally stupid ex boyfriend.

"You asked him to move in with you? Buckley I thought he said you were smart."

Buck can't help the sad smile that invades his face. "He really said that??"

Sal ignores him, tapping on the bar like he's Columbo laying out a case. "So tell me if I got something wrong here. He kisses you, you go on a date, you pull the no homo routine, ask him for coffee, invite him to your sister's wedding, fucking insane by the way, you spend the next what, 5 or so months happy as clams not asking any deeper questions at all and you think you can just jump into cohabitating with a smile and a Stonewall Spiel?"

Sal straightens up and turns to face Buckley full on. "No foolin, is there an actual goddamn gas leak in your apartment?"

Buck stares back at him sheepishly, either shame or booze flooding his cheeks red. "I may have skipped a few steps."

"Boy you skipped so many steps you took an elevator."

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. "Tommy always made your pep talks sound like, you know, actual pep talks."

Sal takes another sip of his drink and signals for another. "Here's the thing I think you've failed to grasp about ole Tommy Boy. There is nothing more baffling to him than a compliment."

The younger man's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

And this time Sal actually looks sad. Really sad. "I've been his friend for longer than either of us care to remember. I have seen the best and worst of him and I love him more than anyone apart from my girls. I haven't always been good at showing it, but he is my family."

Sal stares at Buck with a strange mixture of vulnerability and laying down a challenge. One Buck desperately hopes he can meet.

"The only thing I would change about Tommy Kinard is that he would believe me when I tell him that. Would believe anyone when they tell him things like that."

Buck reaches out without thinking to grab Sal's shoulder, and surprisingly the old grump doesn't recoil. Buck can't really say Sal and him are friends. In fact they may be far too similar to ever be friends. But Sal wants nothing but the best for Tommy, and for that, they're on the same team.

"The truth is kid, Tommy has a knack for picking roads he knows are dead ends. He was ready to ride the thing with you till the fucking wheels fell off, but he never expects anyone to stick around. There's nothing scarier to him than potential. To him that's the same thing as loss. And believe me, he's lost enough."

Buck stares at the foggy bar mirror. If he wasn't on his second whiskey, Sal would have made an excellent Roman Centurion. Stalwart and intimidating against anyone who would wish harm to the things he cares about. It's probably what makes him such a good Captain.

"How do I make him believe that he's not gonna lose me? How do I convince him that I want to stay."

Sal gives him a sympathetic glance. "I don't know if he'll ever believe it fully. But the best advice I can offer? Stay anyway. Love him anyway. But you gotta love the real him this time, and believe me he will fight you every step of the way on that."

Buck nods sincerely, his whole body singing at the idea of even seeing Tommy, much less being with him. "I'd fight forever if it means getting him back."

Sal grimaces and juts his chin toward the door. "Get the hell out of here and go get your man Buckley, Unless you wanna gimme a toothache on top of this hangover."

Buck grins, tossing a wad of cash on the counter and gunning it for the exit.

Sal goes up to Buck in a badge and ladder bar and asks him what the FUCK did he do to Tommy

And Buck is taken aback and looks so confused as he replies that Tommy's the one who broke up with him?

And Sal juat goes cool, that doesn't answer my fucking question. What the fuck did you do to him?

[activesplooger]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ | ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) FUCKING FINALLY THIS SHITS DONE I CAN REST. also there's a scene in this directed towards false healings performed and idk if it seems cringe believe me i know but that shit actually goes on so I thought i should include it

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You're a woman in the 1950s who's aspiring to be a journalist. However, it's hard to enter the workforce as a woman. Your boss presents you with the opportunity of a lifetime to do an undercover expose on a cult in your area! However, as you dive deeper into the church you get more than you bargained for.

ᴄᴡ: religious themes, cults, sexism, manipulation, false "healings", mental breakdown, drugging, dubious consent, penetration, nsfw, and barf

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10,256 (sorry)

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1/2

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

So the situation's this, it's 1955, and you're trying to make a name for yourself in the journalism industry. You currently work for the New York Times... as a secretary. Though you offer the same— if not better— credentials as the men who write "hard-hitting pieces", you were overlooked, as many women are in the workforce.

Why have you working when you can be a pretty face for everyone to see? It's bullshit, really. However, you were in no position to complain about where your income comes from, so you took the job. Something's gotta pay the rent, even if it killed you to watch everyone doing your dream job. That's supposed to be you working at your passion, not the under-qualified men who make more effort in hitting on you than on their writing.

You're currently perched on your chair, chin in hand, as you stare blankly at the rotary phone, waiting for it to ring. Your bored expression seemed to say "Come over and condescend me!", or at least that's what one douche seemed to think.

A cocky co-worker strides over to your desk, clad in a tacky blue suit and a coffee-stained tie. He stands in front of your desk and chuckles, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Chip a nail?". Taking a deep breath, you restrain yourself from kicking him in the balls (if he even had any), "Just waiting for the phone to ring.". The man rests his elbows on your desk, "C'mon, where's that smile? You'd be so much prettier with one.". You bite the inside of your cheek, restraining your instinct of telling this guy off. Instead, you plaster on a strained smile. "There she is!" he chuckles, walking off to his desk.

As soon as he's out of sight, your smile drops instantly. "Stupid piece of fucking shit... hope he chokes on a fucking cock," you mutter to yourself, letting your anger simmer as you bounce your leg agitatedly.

The whole situation mulls over in your head, how could you allow your life to come to this? Reduced to your gender, working at a job where you're nothing but a pretty face... You wish things were different, but what could you do? Your eyes flicker to the head editor's office door that's practically calling your name.

You know that you're destined for more. What's the worst that could happen if you just ask? So what if they fire you? There are plenty of other secretary positions open anyway. Hesitantly, you get up from your chair and march over to the editor's office, knocking on the door with a shaky hand, "Mr. Anderson, sir?". "Come in," the familiar raspy voice responds.

Straightening out your skirt, you push the door open and smile. "Kitten," he exclaims, "what brings a pretty face like you in here? Dont'cha have phones to attend to?". You shake your head, "No, the line's empty as of now, I actually wanted to talk to you about-". "Talk talk talk, that's all you women do," he states, "that and drain men's wallets!". Mr. Anderson cackles, leaning back in his chair as he laughs himself to tears. "Hah... yeah... funny," you say flatly. "Oh, c'mon, it's just a joke, you women are so sensitive," his laughter dies down, "now, what'd you need to talk about?".

Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself for the moment ahead, this was your chance. Don't blow it. "Well," you begin, "remember when I interviewed here? I originally wanted to work here as a journalist.". The old man nods, leaning forward on his desk and giving you an intimidating look as he stares you dead in the eyes. You swallow nervously, "Y-Yes, well, I wanted to follow up on that.". "On what?". "On my position here at the company as a journalist, not a secretary," you state firmly, standing up straighter as you try not to let his intimidating stare get to you. Mr. Anderson sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, "I don't understand, you're a fine secretary.". "I know," you defend, "but I wanna be more, I know I can be more than this! I went to college and was one the only woman to get accepted into the journalism program!".

Sighing softly, you plead with him, hoping he'll show a shred of humanity, "I can do this, I just need the opportunity.". He groans, "You're a pain in my ass sometimes.". "But," he reaches into a filing cabinet and hands you a file labeled "THE SIGNAL DOMINION", "you're very persistent, and annoyin', so here.". You grab the file, and your face lights up, "Thank you so much, sir! You won't regret this!". "I better not," he says while lighting a cigar. "I want you to write an exposé on a cult run by a man named Vincent Oren Xavier, are you familiar with him?". You shake your head no. "Doesn't matter," he dismisses. "Everything you need to know is in that file. Now I'll need you to go undercover for this, pretend your some type of damsel in distress that's looking for a new church or some crap, I dunno," he huffs out a puff of smoke, causing you to cough and waft the air in front of you.

"Don't be gettin' all high and mighty because I gave ya this piece though," he states while waving his cigar, "I've only given ya this to shut yer trap, got it?". "Yes, sir" you nod, "thank you.". Walking out, you close the door softly behind you and skip happily to your desk. You set the file on your lap, squealing happily as you read the contents.

The gist was that some guy got people to join his cult by luring them in with charms and keeping them there through manipulation. Their leader, Vincent, managed to escape the crimes for his obvious exploitation through some dumb loopholes in the law; what a great country we live in.

After work, you head home and plop onto your bed with a pen and paper, jotting down your plan for the exposé. Your cover would be that of a widow who had just recently lost her husband who's looking to a higher power after such a great loss. You figured you could still be a secretary; just don't mention that it's for the New York Times, that'd definitely blow your cover. For the entire night, you work on your plan, devising every piece of your fake identity to the T.

The morning light shines through your windows, causing you to stir. You lift your head off the notebook you had been jotting on all night and stretch your arms over your head. A smile stretches across your face, today is the start of your new career. Springing out of bed, you rummage in your drawers for the perfect outfit: a dark navy sheath dress that landed just below your knee and black babydoll heels. You styled your hair into classy victory rolls and smudged your makeup around your eyes just a tad to portray the look that you had been crying. After all, you'd just "lost your husband". Who wouldn't be crying?

__

Following the directions in the file led you to the parking lot of a church. In big, bold letters were the words "The Signal Dominion Church of Christ" plastered on the front of the building. The top of the building held a cross and "Christ" was plastered in the name, so you assumed it was based on Christianity in one form or another. You were never really a religious person. However, you did have some background knowledge about it from being dragged to Sunday mass as a child.

Once you walk in, you seem to have caught the end of the service. The large church was littered with people, every seat was filled with some people having to stand. You observe in the back, the whole thing seems so intimidating and bizarre. The service ended with worship, and various repeated phrases stick out to you like "Trust him", only the "him" didn't seem to talk about a God, but rather Vincent. "Trust Vincent" seemed to be a common theme throughout the sermon.

The whole thing sent a shiver through your spine, a bad feeling settling in your stomach. Once the service ends, a lady with a beaming smile approaches you, "Hi!". "Oh hi," you respond softly. "I don't think I've seen you around. Are you new here?" she asks, her smile never faltering even for a second.

"Oh yes, I just wanted to peak in, sorry," you reply shakily. You really hoped she bought your act. The woman chuckles and waves a dismissive hand, "No problem! What brings you here?". "Well, I recently lost my husband from a car accident," you begin, mustering up a few fake tears that reluctantly roll down your cheek, "and it's just been really taxing on me. I've been perusing local churches to hopefully lift that weight off me, and that's how I stumbled here I guess.". "You poor thing," the woman puts a hand over her heart, "I'm sorry to hear that. My name's Evangeline, I'm an elder here at the church.".

"Nice to meet you," you shake her hand gently, "I'm Y/n.". She takes your other hand in hers and holds them softly, confusion crossing your features as she does so, "Well, Y/N, I want to pray for you.". "Oh! Alright, sure"

She prays over you and your situation, ending it with "Amen" and releasing your hands. She looks you softly in the eyes, "How would you like to come to our service next week? I'll save you a seat myself!". "Really? That's so kind, thank you, I'd be happy to" you smile back at her.

You say your goodbyes and head back to your place, taking in what you had learned. Service starts at 8am sharp, and you knew nothing about Vincent.

When you get home, you kick off your heels and sit on your couch with a sigh. You'd barely learnt anything and you couldn't really go undercover for another week.

__

You arrive at work a few hours later, knocking on the editors office before coming in. "What's the scoop?" he asks in his usual hoarse voice. "Well, I didn't learn too much... Seems to be based on trusting the cult leader, and the people seem nice-" you reveal, hoping that he wouldn't blame your lack of evidence on your gender.

Mr. Anderson sighs, "Look, Kitten, since it's your first time doing something like this I'm not gonna yell at'cha. But listen up, if you wanna go undercover, you've gotta be a little persistent. Do a bit of digging rather than sittin' on yer ass and waiting for the oppurtunity to present itself!". "Im sorry, but-".

"No "buts"," he interrupts, "now get back to your desk and work. "Oh about that, do I have a different desk now or?" you ask. "Kitten, this project stays between you and I. Any writin' gets done on your own time. You're still a secretary after all; However, if you do good on this assignment I'll consider hirin' you full time," he explains. You nod and thank him for his time before exiting, walking back to your secretary's desk disheartened.

You slump in your chair with a sigh, eyes fixed on your lap. The cocky coworker from yesterday strides up to your desk, "Hey! Where's that sm-". Snapping your head up, you interrupt him with a glare, "Ask about my smile one more time I swear to God.". He scoffs at you and walks off muttering, "Sheesh, is it that time of the month?". You drag a hand down your face and sign.

__

The next week slowly rolls by, filled with monotonous work and vague research you found from other news articles and stories. But today, maybe you could finally get somewhere.

You put on your Sunday best, a blue pinstripe dress paired with tan stockings and short white pump heels. With the help of curlers and a ton of gel, you fashion your hair into cute pin up curls that framed your face just right.

Once you finish prettying yourself up, you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

__

You arrive at church early today, making sure you get a good seat for today's service. As you walk in, you see the room already bustling with people eager to get a seat. In the corner of your eyes, you see Evangeline waving her arms and patting the seat beside her. Upon walking up to her, she greets you with a big hug, eliciting an "oomph" from you at the sudden embrace. "I'm so happy you came!" she squeals excitedly. "Yeah, of course, thanks for saving me a spot," you reply. She lets go and leads you to your seats.

As you sit down, she turns to you with a grin, "Today's supposed to be a great message!". "Oh yeah?" you say, turning to her, "what's it about?". "Letting go of your earthly bonds and submitting to Him!". Your eyebrow raises, "Him?" Who's-". She cuts you off by pointing up towards the sky. "Ah, you meant God, right sorry," you reply with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention, Father Vox won't be preaching today, unfortunately," she mentions with a slight frown. 'Vox?' you think to yourself, you hadn't heard any mention of a Vox before. You thought Vincent was the head honcho here, wouldn't the cult leader usually preach? "Who's Vox?" you ask quietly.

"Oh! He's the best," she gushes, "he's the head preacher around here. He opened my eyes to the lies I was once forced to concede to.". Tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows and speak in a confused tone, "The lies?". Evangeline nods, "Yup, he taught me the meaning of life. If it weren't for him, I would still be in contact with my oppressors!". "Your... oppressors?". "Mhm," she affirms, "my so-called family and friends all held me back from my true purpose.". A chill went down your spine. Your look of horror is met with Evangeline's placid expression, how could she be so calm? Doesn't she know she's being manipulated? "I'm sorry, what-" you're cut off by Evangeline shushing you. "It's starting!" she says with a wide grin.

Three altar servers walk down the aisle holding large candles, one wafting incense across the pews. Following behind them is a man dressed in white vestments. The sacred white robes feature intricate gold patterns sewn into the stole that loosely drapes over the priest's shoulders.

Once the priest approaches the altar. He lifts his arms up in the air and everyone stands up from their seat. You follow suit and stand up a bit delayed from everyone else. The altar servers set down the candles and sit on a wooden bench behind the altar. Looking up from the large bible on the podium, the mass commences, "The lord be with you.". "And with your spirit," the room responds simultaneously. You try to keep up with all the sayings, constantly falling behind at all the responsorials and prayers. Shit, you really wished you paid attention in mass when you were younger.

After countless prayers and songs, you're finally allowed to sit. The priest smiles and crosses his heart, "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.". The members mutter an "amen" in response.

The priest walks in front of the aisle and claps his hands together with a big smile, "How are we doing, everyone? As you can tell, Father Vox couldn't join us today, he's taking a day to be reverent with God. I'll be stepping in his place for today, some of you may know me as John, but today I'll be known as Father John.".

Father John starts off the homily with a routine message, love God and all that crap, it's the end of the sermon that seemed to rub you the wrong way. The priest paces down the pews, each step impassioned as he preaches, "And therefore I ask you, the people of the signal dominion, to follow your shepherd. Let him guide you in a guide-less world full of corruption and sin.".

Once again, the "him" mentioned seemed almost sinister. It didn't feel like they were talking about God, but perhaps Vincent- or maybe that Vox that Evangeline was talking about. As your mind races, the priest starts to shout, "Has he not done enough for us?!". "No!" the congregation calls out, some people clapping and cheering. "So then, why do we run astray? Why do we avoid his divine enlightenment?! Look at all he's done for us, he saved you from suffering!".

You look around at the people in the pews, eyes fixed in admiration at the speaker, not even a hint of skepticism on their expression. How did they not question what was happening to them?! A pit grows in your stomach, almost feeling angry at these people.

Father John stops yelling and makes his way back to the pew. Lifting his arms up, the people stand. "Let us pray," he calmly commands, his tone a stark contrast to his frustrated yell. He leads the church in a penitential prayer, which, again, you didn't know. The people recite, "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.". Each "fault" is punctuated with a fist banged against one's chest. The practice, though not inherently sinister, leaves you feeling tense and guilty; the pit in your stomach starts to grow.

"I'd now like to call upon the Elders of the church to come forward and offer prayer to those who need it," people emerge from the pews and walk to the front of the church. Evangeline turns to you, "I'll be up there if you need me.".

Without Evangeline, you didn't have an in with the church. You felt out of place, not sure what to do as people pass you by to receive prayer. Taking a breath, you calm down and mutter quietly to yourself, "Be persistent, y/n.".

You walk out of your row and walk up to Evangeline, her ever-present bright smile plastered on her face. She takes your hands in hers, "I'm so glad you're here. What would you like to talk about.". "Well," you begin, racking your mind for what to say when suddenly, an idea pops up, "I was really hoping to be saved- like you were! By that guy you were talking about-". Evangeline tilts her head, "You mean Father Vox?". You nod, eliciting a thoughtful look on her face. "He is taking time to be with God today... but, m-maybe if I told him your testimony he would meet with you!". "You think so?" you ask hopefully, excitement filling the pit in your stomach. This could be your chance.

Evangeline nods frantically and takes both your hands in hers, "Let us pray. Dear God,-".

__

After the sermon, Evangeline led you upstairs to a sector of the church where only church officials and clergy were allowed. She approaches a door labeled "Father Vox" in big gold letters. "Wait here," she gestures towards a chair beside the door. Evangeline knocks on the door. "Come in," a deep voice responds.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone in the creepy church corridor. You can hear the faint sound of an organ playing a hymn from downstairs, along with the ticking of the grandfather clock beside you. The room is cold, freezing almost- creating a tense atmosphere in the supposedly "welcoming church".

You fixate your gaze on your lap, tapping your feet incessantly on the group as you wait. Time passes slowly as you wait, focusing on fidgeting with your hands to occupy yourself.

Finally, the door swings open and Evangeline walks out. She holds the door open for you with a soft smile, "Father Vox would like to see you.". "O-oh! Great!" you get up from your seat and nod at her while walking in.

__

Seated at the desk is a handsome man with black hair and separate eye colors; one eye color being blue and the other being brown. A white scar streaks down across his blue eye going from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He's dressed in navy blue vestments with red patterns sewn into the stole, similar to the patterns on Father John's.

You take a seat across from him, a tight-lipped grin stretching across your face to match his charming smile. On his desk are books labeled "T.S.D Bible," along with other religious paraphernalia. Perched front and center in a name placard displaying the words, "Father Vincent Oren Xavier - Head priest".

The pieces start to click together in your head. Vincent Oren Xavier, V,O, X - That must be the Vox Evangeline was talking about! Your snapped out of your thoughts as he speaks.

"Well, you must be the famous y/n I've been hearing about!" he finally says, his voice booming and upbeat. "That's me," you squeak out.

"Elder Evangeline told me all about your story, I'm so sorry to hear that, my dear," though expressing his sympathy, his smile remains unwavering. "It's fine, it led me here so-". "And we're happy to welcome you with open arms!" he exclaims with a chuckle.

You knit your hands together in your lap anxiously, "-Actually, I had a few questions.". "Oh?" he raises an eyebrow, "by all means, go ahead.".

"Well, Father," you begin, "what does this church believe exactly?". "My dear, we here at Signal Dominion are our sector of Christianity. Are you familiar with Christianity?". You nod, "I was raised Catholic.". "And as of lately?" he raises an eyebrow. "Not so much," you admit.

He nods and hums in acknowledgment softly, "No worries, we accept all that are willing to join.". "Good, good... What exactly makes this church different from a Christian church?". His smile seems to grow at your question, his tone full of confidence as he answers, "The Signal Dominion is special, the other denominations have lost their way, been too lax on God's plan for humanity.".

You lean forward in your chair, "And that plan is?". "To be saved, of course!" he grins. "Right, right," you exhale softly, "and how do you get saved?".

"Follow the church, and you'll see," Father Vox extends his hands to you, gesturing for you to hold them. You reach out and take his surprisingly soft and large hands in yours. "We can save you here, my child," he squeezes your hands, "you won't have to feel this dread upon you any longer. Don't go back to your old life, once you join the church, it's the first day of your eternal life, free of sin and grief.".

"Okay," you reply softly, hiding your internal excitement at the prospect of getting more info. Vox prays over you, eyes fixed shut as he asks God to "take away your grief"- as if grieving was an inherently bad thing. Vox commences the prayer with an "amen" and opens his eyes, gazing at you softly, "Come to our Wednesday night mass, I think you'll find it empowering.". "Oh, alright- I'd love to," you reply softly.

His hands linger for a moment before pulling away, "I'll see you Wednesday then.". You smile and nod goodbye before exiting his office.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it, breathing heavily as a smile stretches across your face. You did it, you're in.

__

The following days were spent working as a secretary by day and a journalist by night. Lately, your normal job didn't seem as horrible as before. You showed a renewed interest in life; every guy who would be sexist toward you was met with a smile and a nod. All you needed was the comforting notion that one day, they'd work with you. You felt comforted as you imagined the looks of horror on their smug faces as they realized that you're gonna work with them. All that good karma was coming back to you.

Currently, you're getting ready for Wednesday night mass. You fashioned your hair into loose, brushed-out waves that draped elegantly over your shoulders paired with a modest white shirtwaist dress. Once ready, you leave your apartment and head to the church.

When you walk in, you see the church booming with people. The congregation is dancing and singing as people play music on stage, a huge difference from the reverent mass you saw just a few days ago. In the crowd of people, you spot Evangeline singing and clapping in the front row of pews.

You walk up to her and wave, "Good to see you!". She greets you with a big hug, "Father Vox told me everything! Welcome to the signal dominion!". You smile at her enthusiasm, "Thanks for getting me a talk with him, I owe it all to you, honestly.". She shakes her head, "It's not me, it's you. Father Vox chose you specifically, you're special.". You open your mouth to speak but are cut off by everyone cheering as they turn their attention to the center aisle.

Father Vox jogs down the aisle, no altar servers present in front of him. This seemed to be a way more casual sermon than the "usual" Sunday mass. He goes up to the podium and speaks into the mic, "Welcome, my children, take a seat.". The people scatter into the pews excitedly and wait expectantly for Vox to speak.

He crosses his heart, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you.". "And with your spirit!" the room calls out cheerfully. "I'd like to start tonight's service by giving a hand to our amazing worship team!" he gestures his arms out wide to the small band exiting the stage. The church erupts in cheering with the whole congregation clapping and shouting praise.

Vox holds his hands up, and suddenly, the room quiets, "Tonight, we have an important sermon –one about taking a leap of faith, and putting your whole being into the Church. Let us pray.". He leads the church in the Nicene Creed, his deep charismatic voice carrying through the whole building.

"Amen."

He takes the microphone stick in hand and carries it with him as he walks down the pews, "You know, I was talking to God yesterday-" some people cheer at that, eliciting a wider smile from Vox. His expression flattens, and he turns more serious, "And he told me how distraught he was.". The people murmur sorrowfully, some looking down at the ground with guilt as if it was their fault.

Walking up, he gets close to the pews and starts to speak in people's faces, "I am trying to lead humanity to salvation, and all I see is neglect and evil in this world... even from some people in this community.". A few people get spiteful looks from other members; it was as if Vox is trying to pit the people against each other. Have others hold each other accountable for their "wrong doings".

Vox walks back to the podium and sets the microphone down, dragging his hands down his face to dramatically express his despondency. The sermon felt like a performance, almost theatrical in the way Vox was acting. He takes his hands off his face and sighs,

"As some of you may know, I didn't preach on Sunday. I was in despair, so much so that I couldn't preach-". The congregation gasps and murmurs. "Then suddenly, God appeared and said, "My son, you will guide these people!" he starts to yell, pointing aggressively at the crowd, "You will lead these sheep to pasture for you are there sheperd!".

The room claps and cheers, increasingly encouraging him to keep ranting, "Don't let yourself be ruled by fear, that's the devil talking! I was lifted up by the Lord! And now you will be too!". He points at an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a woman you hadn't seen before at past sermons, "You there! I command you, with the power of the Lord to STAND UP!".

The lady struggles, insisting she can't do it. "I SAID STAND UP!" he commands, throwing his arms up to motion her out of her chair. You watch in horror as this wheelchair-bound woman is forced out of her chair. After struggling, the lady springs out of her chair and walks around with a celebratory lap around the pews.

The room is filled with shouting praise and cheer, people rising from their seats and crying with joy. You stay sitting, your body frozen as you try to comprehend what the fuck you just saw. Obviously, it was bullshit, but seeing all these people getting roped further into Vox's lies made you want to puke. The once excited feeling of going undercover gets replaced with dread. How could you treat these poor people like a story? Shouldn't you be helping them?!

Your stomach starts to ache at the sight. While people around you rejoice in the "miracle" that happened before their eyes, you sit there, staring blankly ahead of you.

__

The sermon lasted hours. Vox would go on rants about how the church is under attack and we must fight back against them. You found yourself nodding off only to be woken by Vox yelling.

The sermon finally concluded, and people quickly shuffled out of the building. You were a bit delayed in your movements, grabbing your purse drowsily and slowly walking out of the pews. A hand grabs at your shoulder. You turn around and see Evangeline with a tired smile on her face, "Father Vox would like to talk to you in his office.". Great. Sighing softly, you force a polite smile and nod, "Thanks.".

__

The stairs creak as you walk up the spiral staircase to Vox's office, the already tense atmosphere becoming even creepier at night. You're instantly waken up by the freezing temperature. You quickly jog to his office and knock hastily, not wanting to wait a second longer in the corridor.

"Come in, my dear."

You push the door open to reveal the dark office illuminated by candles on Vox's desk. His handsome features still displayed even in the dim light of the room, "Have a seat.". Taking a seat across from him, he gazes at you for a moment, studying your features. Exhaling softly, he speaks, "God was telling me about you.". You raise an eyebrow, "He... He was?".

He smiles softly, "He told me you're special... you're different from everyone else. I think you will do great here.". "I hope so," you smile wearily back at him. You really couldn't even bear to look at him anymore. Part of you wanted to scream in his face cry all at once, but what good would that do? He knows what he's doing is wrong, he doesn't need someone telling him what he already knows.

Vox tilts his head at you, "I hope we didn't scare you off with tonight's service.". Your eyes widen, "No, no-". He chuckles and holds up a hand to cut you off, "It's okay, don't lie. I understand how a healing service can be a bit intimidating for new members.". "It's okay, it was just... unexpected," you admit reluctantly.

Vox chuckles softly, "I bet. I know it all seems confusing and scary right now, but trust the church. Trust me, y/n. I think you can make it very high here in the church, maybe even an elder.". Whooo whoopdy doo you get to be an elder!!! You plaster on a fake smile, "I'd be honored.".

Rising from his seat, Vox walks over to behind your chair and places his hands firmly on your shoulders. He leans down and whispers softly, his voice smooth and charismatic, "I know right now everything seems chaotic, but it will all be over soon. You'll be safe here.". His words send a shiver to your spine, the "reassuring" words almost sounding threatening.

He releases you from his firm hold, and you exchange goodbyes, eager to get home after a long day. Kicking off your heels, you collapse onto your bed. You don't bother with writing tonight, that can wait for another day. For now, you let yourself debrief and rest. It's been a long day.

__

"Better," your boss states flatly, tossing your report back on his desk. "That- That's it?" you ask, frustrated, all that work for "better"? Mr. Anderson shrugs, "Look, it's a fine report. But we're not looking for "fine." Here, let's put it this way... How did you feel when you saw what was happening to these people?". You tilt your head as you respond, "I felt... distraught and devastated and-". Your boss cuts you off. "Exactly!" he exclaims, poking your report as he speaks, "then show that in your writing. When I read this I feel nothing, it's just facts laid out in front of me. Put the reader in your shoes, I want you to make them feel like they're seeing what you're seeing.".

"How do I-" you squeak out before getting interrupted once more

"Sheesh, woman!" he groans, "Do I have to give you everything? Just- Here, go deeper. You said that this "Vox" guy said sum about "climbing ranks"?". You nod affirmatively. "Expand on that," he encourages, "climb the ranks, get the story. Got it?". You held your questions and feebly grab your report, "Yes, sir.".

__

You've really had to step it up. For the past few services, you've attended every single one, from the calm Sunday service to the bizarre Wednesday night ones. But, you hadn't really made any progress with diving deeper into the church as your boss suggested. Outside of sermons, you hadn't personally seen Vox since your eerie chat with him in his office. You thought you had a leg up when he called you "special," though looking back, that's probably what he says to everyone who joins the church.

This morning, you really were gonna step up your ass-kissing game to the church. You arrive an hour early to the Sunday service, dressed all prim and proper in a wine-red sheath dress. For the first time you've ever seen it, the church was completely empty. The once-packed pews are now completely devoid of any life, and yet, you had a strange feeling you weren't alone...

You ignore the strange feeling of eyes on you and approach the altar. Slowly, you kneel before it and get into a prayer position, eyes furrowed shut as you firmly clasp your hands together against your forehead. Just for good measure, you mutter "please God" under your breath every now and again. You felt a bit silly doing this, almost like a child playing pretend.

For about half an hour you knelt there, hoping your faux devotion would catch the eye of the higher ranks. Just as your knees were starting to give out, a large hand gently grabs hold of your shoulder, "Come with me.".

You open your eyes and see Vox standing behind you, a subtle smile across his sharp features. He offers a hand to you and helps you to your feet. Without another word, he swiftly turns and guides you upstairs to his office.

Once upstairs, he opens the door for you and gestures a hand out for you to walk in. The two of you take a seat, Vox smiles softly, "Don't think your actions have gone unnoticed, my dear.". Your heart rate quickens. Were you found out? "I've noticed your devotion, and so have the others.". You exhale softly, relieved that this wasn't some sort of shake-down. Tilting your head, you fake confusion, "My devotion?".

"Yes, the elders and I have noticed your piety towards the church. Out of all the members in the church, your efforts stand out," he chuckles softly and reaches into his desk, "I meant what I said when I called you 'special'.". Vox lifts his hand from the desk, a pretty gold beaded rosary necklace hangs off his index finger. You lean forward to get a better look at the jewelry, "What's that for?". "You," he gestures the necklace toward you, "to show my appreciation, you've become a model member of the church."

Taking the rosary from him, you marvel at the dainty intricacies of the necklace. It was real gold, from what you could tell, and not just plated either. Gold beads were strung along the dainty chain, and the apex held a pendant with the initials "T.S.D", a beaded chain hanging down from it. At the bottom of the chain hung a diamond-encrusted cross, the crystal shining brightly in the dim room. How did Vox have the money for this? Surely being head of a "church" couldn't make that much money, right? Whatever the reason was, you shouldn't accept gifts from a corrupt person paid with money from God knows where.

Your fingers run over the expensive jewelry, "I really can't accept this.". Vox tilts his head to the side, "Why not?". "Because its uhm," your hands clutch the necklace in your hand, you whisper under your breath, "really fucking expensive.". Snapping your head up to look at him with wide eyes, "Shit I mean- Wait sorry again- It's just-". Vox raises his eyebrows and chuckles, "No worries, you're forgiven."

Getting up from his desk, Vox strides over to you, gently releasing the necklace from your grasp, "Don't worry, the church paid for it. Besides, this isn't about money, think of it as a "thank-you" gift.". His hands brush your hair to the side and deftly clasp the necklace around your neck from behind. He moves back in front of you and clasps his hands together, "Lovely."

Glancing at the clock, Vox excuses himself to get ready for the sermon and you leave shortly after for the service.

__

A few weeks have passed since your surprise gift, and ever since then, Vox has kept an eye on you. There would be moments when his eyes would meet yours during a sermon, almost as if he was speaking directly to you. Part of you hated how much you liked the attention, Vox was the only man in your life who treated you decent, even if he was using you to further his agenda and grow his cult. The other part of you was terrified by it.

With all the close attention to you, you have to be extra careful to not let your true intentions slip. One mistake, and it's over for you. No career, and hell, Vox would probably kill you to keep that story from coming out.

It's currently Saturday night, you had gone to bed early for the morning service and were sound asleep. The loud trill of your home phone wakes you in a panic. You snap up into a sitting position and exhale softly after realizing that it wasn't some type of alarm.

After stretching, you hop out of bed and walk to the kitchen as the phone blares, "Jesus Christ, shut up...". Grabbing the phone off the wall, you pick up the phone and speak gravelly, "Hello?".

"Good morning!" a familiar voice responds, "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.". "Uh, I'm sorry, who is this?" you question, leaning against the wall to support your exhausted body. "This is Vox," he responds. Oh shit! You perk up instantly and hold the phone closer to you, "Oh! Vox! Uh, good morning... h-how'd you get this number?". "Anywho," he ignores with a cheerful tone, "I just wanted to call and let you know about tomorrow's sermon.".

Pushing off the wall, you pace in a small circle around your kitchen, "What about tomorrow's sermon?". "I just wanna make sure you'll be there, I can count on you, right?". "Yeah, of course-" the cord yanks you back softly as it stretches to its max. "ow fuck-" you mutter. "What was that?" the voice asks. "Nothing! Uh, I'll see you tomorrow, bye!" you stammer out, slapping your palm to your forehead in embarrassment.

The phone clicks in its spot on the wall and you cover your face in exhaustion and mortification at your slip-up. You really had to work on your cussing if you were gonna sell this whole "widowed church girl" persona. Whatever that's tomorrow's problem, you're too delirious to function right now.

__

After a pathetic night's rest of tossing and turning, you wake up and head to church. Sitting in the center front pew, you save a spot for Evangeline. You've grown quite fond of her over the past few months, and although she was a little church-crazy, she's been nothing but welcoming to you. Evangeline skips over to you with a wide grin, "Y/N!". "Hey!" you greet her with a hug and chat a bit before the sermon begins.

The lights dim as the mass starts, candles illuminating the walkway as the altar servers walk to the altar. Vox follows behind them, his hands folded in a prayer position. His eyes meet yours, giving you a soft smile. Your lips subconsciously twitch up into a grin as you see him. You snap your head back up to the stage once you realize what you were doing, no time for making eyes at a literal fucking cult leader. Sure, he's attractive, but he's a psychopath! 'get it together, y/n,' you say to yourself.

Vox approaches the podium and goes over the routine responsibilities and creeds. "Good morning," he says into the mic, his voice booming through the large church. "Good morning," the congregation responds. "Today is a special sermon," he begins, "many of you have such courageous testimonies of how you entered the church! And some of you have so graciously offered to share your stories today-". People start exiting the pews and lining up on the stage. Vox smiles and gestures one of them up to the pew. The woman smiles softly as he speaks into the podium's microphone, "I first found out about the church when...".

__

The testimonies droned on for about an hour. Each testimony, though intended to ignite a fire in your faith, made your stomach churn. Hearing about these people who once had great lives, leaving them in a time of darkness, cutting everyone off, all for the hope of having a purpose in the church. A tear trickled down your cheek as you listened to people fall deeper into the cult. If only they knew their "salvation" would be their downfall.

As the last person wrapped up their story, the congregation erupted in applause and cheer. Vox retakes the stage and speaks into the mic, "Thank you, everyone, for those beautiful stories... and I'd like to invite one more person, a new member, to share their story.". He gestures a hand out to you in the crowd, your face turning white. Fuck. Why wouldn't he ask you about this first? You already are mortified by public speaking, it's gonna take everything in you not to accidentally expose yourself.

Shakily, you arise from your seat, eliciting light applause from around you. Once you reach the podium, you clear your throat nervously, "H-Hi everyone.". Evangeline smiles proudly and gives you a thumbs up. You smile back at her and continue, "M-My story started when uhm my husband died. It was a really dark time for me and I just wanted to have hope again.". Fidgeting with your hands, you glance at Vox who gives you a condescending smile.

Standing up straighter, you speak more confidently into the microphone, "And then I found this church, and I was scared... really scared. But with the help of a lot of you here, I really found a purpose again. Thank you for everything, I'm glad I'm here.". You quickly exit the stage and plop in your seat. Evangeline immediately showers you in praise while you stare at the floor in mortification. __

The service goes on for another half hour or so. You're eager to leave, quickly getting up and grabbing your things once Vox ends the sermon. You just wanted to go home, relax, and take a bath- You've pushed yourself hard the past few weeks, maybe it's time to take a break from the story for a little bit.

And just as you're about to leave, a firm hand grasps your shoulder. "My dear, come with me for a moment," the familiar voice rings in your ear. Fuck! You sigh and oblige, not wanting to rouse any suspicion. Who knows what he would do if you denied him.

He leads you down the corridor and into his office, the door shutting behind you with a loud creek. You both sit down, Vox staring at you with his piercing multicolored eyes, "Your testimony was beautiful, dear.". You huff quietly to yourself, "Yeah, it was just- unexpected.". He chuckles, "Ah, I see, not a big public speaker?". You shake your head no. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he says somewhat apologetically.

Noticing your harsh stare as opposed to your usual submissive one, Vox sighs softly. "Here," he grabs a bottle and two glasses out of his desk and pops it open. He poured some of what looked like champagne into your glass and handed it to you. "Is this booze?" you raise an eyebrow. He flips the bottle over to reveal the "Sparkling Cider" Label. "Pft, oh," you chuckle softly and pick up the glass.

You clink your glasses together. "Cheers," he says, his rich voice sounding a bit husky. You take a sip, unaware of Vox's intent gaze on you as you drink the beverage. His gaze drifts to your necklace as you wipe the foam from the drink off your lips, "I see you're still wearing the necklace I gave you. I take it you like it?". "Oh, yeah," your hands move up to fidget with the cross pendant, "It's really nice, thanks again by the way.".

"No need to thank me," he states, laughing softly as his gaze wanders over your features, "It looks beautiful, my dear.". "Oh- Thank you," you try to cover the unwanted blush spreading across your face.

He sets the bottle down and rests his elbows on the desk, "You know, I think I owe you my testimony now that you shared yours.". You tilt your head, "Your testimony?".

He nods, "I didn't come from a good home. My father was- very abusive. And so was my mother. CPS must've investigated my parents a dozen times, but, they never convicted them of anything. Just chalked it up to parental punishment and me being a sensitive kid.".

Your eyebrows furrow in a sympathetic expression, "I had no idea I-". He cuts you off, "No, no, don't be sorry. That isn't the part I want you to focus on.". Vox leans closer over the desk, "Things only got worse as I got older. My parents were broke and only became more abusive over time...".

He gets up from his chair with an excited grin and walks over to you. "But then, God appeared to me and said, "Vincent, my son, I have bigger plans for you than this! Go forth and spread the good news!". And so I did! I took my old man's car and ventured out here, where I started the church.".

As he wraps up his testimony he looks at you excitedly, almost as if he is seeking approval like it was some kind of performance that he did. You flipped your cringe into a surprised grin, "Wow that's- that's incredible!". Taking another sip, you groan internally as he keeps going on about the "Son of God" bullshit.

__

As time goes on, you start to feel funny. Time didn't feel as though it were passing, but as you glance at the clock you realize that hours had passed. Vox’s voice starts to sound like he’s talking underwater, your main focus being the loud ringing in your ear.

You wince and cover your ears. Vox smiles, “Everything okay?”. “Ya its just hot in here,” you speech starts to slur, suddenly feeling a bit more free and loose lipped, “I wan leave but I also don’t… I dunno…”.

He chuckles softly, “Oh is that so?.”. “Yaa… I think imma just take a nappp,” you slump against the chair and close your eyes. The last thing you hear before passing out is a soft “perfect” whispered in your ear.

__

Your eyes flutter open, catching glimpses of the scene before you. Vox was driving you somewhere while you sat limp against the seat. You couldn’t move or talk very well, only being able to function through sight; it almost like being in a state of sleep paralysis. “Voxxx?” you mumble out. He pulls into a driveway and parks the car. “Hey there, doll,” he coos, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Where are we goin’?”. Vox unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the car. He opens the door and carries you out of the vehicle, “My house, you passed out. I just wanna keep an eye on you and make sure your okay.”. “mffkayyy,” you lean against his arm as he carries you inside.

The house before you is rather large with beautiful foliage out in the front that was well kept. Modern furniture decorated the lavish house with at least 3 TVs just in the downstairs area. “ ‘S a big house. Hows it so big I thought priests were poor,” you say absentmindedly.

He chuckles softly as he carries you up the grandiose staircase, “The people donate to the church to pay me.”. You scoff, “Pfftt, donate what? Half their fuckkinn’ salary.”.

“Language,” he reminds sternly, “and yes.”. He carries you into a large master bedroom, the same lavish furniture with crosses riddled all over the walls. “You can lay here,” he sets you down on the soft mattress. “Thanks Vox urr nicer than I thought you’d be,” you smile at him.

Stepping out of his shoes, Vox crawls onto the bed with you and sits beside you. His soft large hands reach out to cradle your face. Sleepily you lean into his touch. “Mmmm,” you hum into his palm.

His hands snake down from your face to your waist and hoist you onto his lap. Your neck is eagerly peppered with kisses, hands sliding up your dress and onto your bare thighs. For a moment, you lean into his touch, “Vox… Mmph.“.

While one hand massages your thighs, the other works to unzip your dress. The cold contact of metal onto your skin briefly brings you back to your senses, “Vox, wait, no- We can’t-.”.

“Shh,” he continues undressing you, “don’t worry, let me make you feel good.”. You feel too weak to stop him, eventually just giving into his actions. The dress slips down your shoulders and is slid off your body. He quickly discards his priest garments and other clothing on the floor.

Grabbing a thigh in each hand, Vox spreads your legs and hovers over you. His thick veiny cock presses up against his stomach, pre cum leaking from his tip down his shaft.

He slowly enters your dripping pussy, “Ah… There we go.”. “Mmph~ Oh god-,” you moan out, your vision getting a bit hazy. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to accommodate for his size.

After a minute he rolls his hips into you, establishing a steady rhythm. You stare blankly at the ceiling, only partly focused on the pleasure winding up in your core. Every now and again you’ll moan softly as you watch the room spin. You flicker in and out of consciousness, unaware of how much time has passed or how long Vox has been going.

Grunts escape his throat as he pistons into you, his pace become more erratic as he got closer to orgasm. You were close too, your hips weakly bucking into his. “Thats it,” he says breathlessly, looking you in your glazed over eyes. His hips start to slam into yours, sending waves of pleasure over you as you came.

Your a bit overstimulated as he continues chasing his own relief, drawing out whimpers and moans from you. “Hnnf, Hnnnff~,” His hips start to stutter until he finally fills you up with his seed. Once Vox pulls out you feel the cum dripping out of you.

Releasing his grip on your thighs, he lays down on the bed and pulls you into a spooning position. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is the kiss Vox presses into your hair.

__

The next morning, you wake up around 10 with a pounding headache. Blinking your eyes open, you sit up abruptly. You were at home. “Vox?” you call out. No response. A hand shakily drags down your face, “F-Fuck… What have I done…?”. The weight of the situation sets in, mortification settling in your stomach.

Nausea washes over you and you quickly run out of bed to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet you throw up. You remembered being sick last night, you remembered everything from last night.

On the floor of your bathroom, you hug your knees and bury your face in your hands. You just had sex with a cult leader… Sobbing softly, you mutter to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore…”.

You wipe your tears and march to your type writer where you hastily finish that god forsaken story. Every last detail was thrown in, well, except for last nights events…

You don’t care if it has a billion spelling mistakes, you just want this to finally be over. Even if some part of you liked Vox, you’d never admit it. You could never be with him.

Throwing on whatever clothes you had out, you grab the freshly typed papers and sprint to your car.

__

The doors of the NYT office building fling open as you burst through them. “Woah,” a coworker comments, “what’s got you so-.”. You cut him off, “Go fuck yourself.”. Fuck that, fuck him. You’re not taking that crap anymore. The worker stands there in embarrassment and shock. He scoffs and mutters something as he retreats to his desk.

You march into Mr. Johnsons office and hold the papers up in the air, “It’s done!”. Mr. Johnson covers the receiver of the rotary phone, “Hold on-“. “Please!” you plead, wanting this to be done and over. He ignores you. No, you demand to be taken seriously for once. You walk closer to his desk and snatch the phone from him and place it down to end the call. “Y/N!” he yells, “you can’t just-!”. “Mr. Johnson just please read it over!” you beg.

He groans, “Fine!”. He snatches the papers out of your hands and reads over the report for a few minutes. Once he’s done, he hands them back to you, “Great, thanks.”. He gets back to work after dismissing you.

“I-Is that all?” you ask, “what about my future here at the company?”. “Listen doll,” he slides the papers he was working on aside for a moment, “you have a future at the company as a secretary.”. “What?! I worked for mo-“. “Frankly I don’t care,” he interrupts coldly, “this was just something to keep you occupied so you’d stop bitching!”.

“Why would you promise me a job then?!” you defend, tears welling up in your eyes. Mr. Johnson sighs, “Jesus- It’s company policy not to hire women anyway! And look at you, you completed one story and you look a mess! Your cryin’, snappin’ at employees, and you look wrecked. Why have that when a man can easily complete a job without all this drama? Now get out!”.

“But I-“

“Out!”

Clutching the papers in your hands, you begrudgingly walk out of the office. You hear the whispering and light laughter of the employees as you walk out. Tears flow down your cheeks, walking faster until you out of sight from the ridicule.

Once your outside you lean against the wall of the building and sob into your hands. You shake as you let everything out. All of that, for nothing. You felt like nothing, a nobody. You look at the papers in your hands, the words angering you and causing you to rip them to shreds. People pass by you, but you ignore the stares at your public breakdown.

You pull a pack of cigarettes out of your purse and light one. You shakily inhale, and exhale the somewhat soothing smoke. “Oh God,” you whisper, burying your face in your hands.

__

You sit in your car for awhile, not sure where to go. Should you go home? No, you don’t want to just sit their and be sad. Your friends wouldn’t understand, you hadn’t even spoken to them since you started this project. You start the car, and as if your hands had a mind of their own, you mindlessly drive to Vox’s estate.

You weren’t exactly sure how you remembered to get their, but suddenly, you were in front of the large estate once again. As you hop out of the car, your legs almost seem to turn to jelly as they wobble and shake. Wobbly approaching the door, you ring the loud doorbell.

The grandiose door swings open, revealing Vox in more casual wear then you’d previously seen, “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where-“. You cut him off, “I-I remembered from yesterday, somehow…”. His face turns pale at the mention of yesterdays events, “Wait you remember- Nevermind, why are you here?”. You sniffle, tears flowing down your face once more, “I didn’t know where else to go.”.

“Shh shh, hey,” he pulls you into a hug, ”what’s wrong?”.

__

Vox had you settled onto settled against him on the couch. You told him everything that happened. He nods slowly as you finish your story, “I see… Those report papers are shredded right.”. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I tore them up…I’m sorry.”.

“It’s okay, you’re forgiven,” he coos, “but why’d you come here?”. You shrug, "I didn't have anyone else to go to...". He nods and pulls you closer against him, "It's okay, you're here now. You're safe, trust me.".

"So, what now?" you ask softly, "are you gonna have me actually join the church now?". He chuckles softly, "Doll, you've already been in the church for a long time now. You just need to recommit your faith".

__

You had stayed with Vox for the past few weeks, listening to his guidance on how to live a happy and virtuous life. And it was working, you were happy. At first, you doubted everything. I mean this was surely a cult, right? Vox assured you that it wasn't, saying that "if your boss lied to you about your job as well, then why doubt that he lied to you about this being a "cult"?". He had a good point, and since then, you became a true follower of the church.

Vox had you cut off everyone, telling you that they were holding you back from your true potential. You believed him, they were holding you back.

The next few services had a whole new meaning for you, instead of judging them from an analytical perspective, you really engrossed yourself in the message. Vox was happy with your newfound piety, and planned to make you an elder of the church.

__

Becoming an elder requires a "swearing-in" ceremony in front of everyone. You were incredibly nervous, feeling sick to your stomach. Vox drove you to the church and felt your anxious energy, "Don't worry, my dear, everything will be fine.". You clutch your stomach, the car making you even more nauseous, "Vox I don't feel good...".

"It's just nerves, you'll be just fine," he softly reassures you, "let's pray on it, hm? Dear God,-".

__

You clutch Vox's hand tightly as he guides you onto the stage, the congregation eagerly watching as you become an elder. All 5 of the other elders in the church were on the stage as well. Evangeline smiles proudly as Vox prepares to make you an Elder of the Church, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She mouths, 'I'm so proud' to you as you approach the bible labeled "T.S.D". Vox has you put one hand over the bible and the other in the air. He speaks into the mic, "She will now recite the Elder oath.".

You must've recited it a hundred times before coming here to make sure to nail it, but you were preoccupied with the growing nausea you felt. As you recite the oath, you look awfully sick, your face pale and your body swaying slightly. "I, Y/N L/N, swear to adhere to the Church and fully commit myself to the church and Vox. If I fail to do this then- BLECH". Your nausea suddenly took over, the church watching in horror as you barf all over the fucking bible.

The whole church is silent, in shock over the situation. Vox's mouth is agape and his eyes are wide, not understanding what the fuck just happened. You didn't really understand either, all you did know was that if you didn't get out of there quick you'd throw up on it for a second time.

You dart to the nearest bathroom and barf into the sink. This definitely wasn't just nerves.

End

__

TAG LIST:

@rlini0914 , @charryflavoredblood , @ithopi0s

@electronicexpertshark , @diffidentphantom ,

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-

its finally done! (tho there will for sure be a part two, but it def won't be as long).

this my Christmas gift to you guys so yayyy

if u enjoyed pls affirm me i worked hard ok bye

this shit is barely edited by the way so bye

[brox-not-a-badger]

Cut your teeth on me

A little NSFW reader x Perturabo for you, think of it as a holiday gift from your favorite, frankly stupid author

Tw; breeding kink, implied pregnancy, bruises, fingering, Perturabo being a petulant and horny whore of a man

___________________________________________________

Perturabo is not the most skilled in the art of flirting or lovemaking. Not to mention the fact that he’s barely in touch with his emotions, so when a pretty little serf catches his eye, he figures it’s not his fault, and evidently blames you for his odd attractions.

___________________________________________________

You served the primarch of the IVth legion, Perturabo. By far, the most petulant and irritable primarch, and he was looming over you, an unfortunate serf who ended up on the wrong end of a brief conflict. At your feet stood the shattered remains of a vase, evidence of your brief scare due to the run-in with the primarch. You were attending to your usual duties, cleaning his study and not bothering him as per usual. Normally, he’d sit in the corner, working on a model or some plans or another.

Normally, his business was not yours, but right now he was making his business yours. “Throne damnit, woman- pick this mess up. I’ll see to it you tend to something-… less fragile. You’re dismissed.” He snarled. You found your hands trembling as you bent down to pick up the remains of the now shattered vase, quickly shuffling off to discard of the broken parts. For a brief moment, you swear you could hear mumbling coming from the mountain of a man, however, you quickly dismiss it, seeing that Perturabo was already in a bad mood.

Perturabo was hardly furious about the vase. It was the way you looked at him so gently yet so frightfully. How you moved with so much grace, despite your evident clumsiness in dropping the vase. It was infuriating how tempting you were to the eyes, so much so he hated just seeing you.

You made him feel things he thought shouldn’t have been possible. And now that your presence was no longer in the room, it felt strangely empty. Perturabo hated the emptiness of the room more than he hated your presence. Perhaps it wasn’t even hate at all, either. That was a possibility. A foolish one, but a possibility nonetheless.

Before you could leave down the hall upon disposing what was left of that vase, you heard the door slowly creak open. Perturabo poked his head out, looking around before spotting you very abruptly. “Come back, please. I may have dismissed you too quickly, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” That was quick considering how suddenly he’d already dismissed you.

For a split second, you could see a light pink coloring in his cheeks, across his stern features. Was that blush? You quickly reentered the room as Perturabo was returning to his seat. “Do you need something, my lord?” You asked. For a moment he just stared at you, almost completely distracted by you, before quickly snapping out of it. He scolded himself internally as his features quickly grew stern and uncaring once more. He nodded.

“Yes, yes I need you to finish… reordering the books, on that shelf. I prefer they stay in alphabetical order, unless it’s a triology, or a set of chronicles. Then I expect you to order them accordingly.” He said sharply, staring at you with a concerning glare. Perturabo was renowned for snapping on a whim, so you took no time to begin preforming the task he ordered of you. You stood up on the ladder, starting by taking each of the heavy books off, starting with A’s, B’s, and so on and so forth.

Perturabo found his gaze wandering from his models over to where you stood on the ladder. He only intended for a quick glance, but found himself staring for much longer. His eyes drifted over your robes, how they hugged your curves in all of the right places, how you delicately moved. It was all enticing, and tempting. Tempting enough that Perturabo found himself feeling heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The moment he’d caught himself staring, he’d abruptly turned away, back to what he was doing, muttering something under his breath. “Damn temptress.” He snarled scornfully.

You paused for a moment, eyes wide as you caught what he’d said. Your mind was screaming at you to stick to what you were doing, but unfortunately, your heart was louder than your head that day. Pathos overcame ethos, as you slowly turned to look at him, surprised at what he’d called you. A temptress? What on Terra did that insinuate? “Sir. What-… what do you mean by ‘temptress’?” You looked so innocent in your confusion at his description of you.

The primarch quickly snapped his attention to you, briefly stumbling over his words. In a moment of sudden panic, he blurted the first words that came to mind. “I’m calling you a whore.” There was a feral growl to his voice that only a man like him could convey. He tried to play it off, even as you stood there, staring and looking stunned at the primarch.

“M- my lord I don’t mean to pry but where did that come from?!” You sounded somewhat distressed and confused, which caused the Lord of Iron to give a blank stare, as though it had just now occurred to him the magnitude of what he just called you, very quickly he switched to an accusatory tone. Though, of course, instead of apologizing, Perturabo took the stubborn route and doubled down on his harsh words.

“I called you a whore. A harlot. Or did you mishear me? Get over here.” He snarled, watching as you did as commanded of you. You scrambled off your ladder, wandering over to the towering astartes with a startled look in your eyes. Perturabo hated your timid mannerisms, but he could never hate you directly. It was strange to him.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” Were the first words out of your mouth. Of course, you didn’t. He knew you didn’t, but to him those feelings were conflicting, leaving you confused and a little afraid due to his unpredictable behavior with his legion. Approaching him the way you had been was like approaching a wild animal, you never knew what he would say or do next, whether it was him making a passing comment, an annoyed gesture or something more direct, he always kept you guessing. However it never truly felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, he simply felt unpredictable. He was never outright violent, nor has he ever made any violent threats towards you.

The way he kept staring at you made you a little concerned. He just stared, before speaking slowly, in a tone that was a little hard to recognize. “You-… damned whore. What is it with you? You’re just a serf. Why is it so hard to talk to you specifically?” He growled, though it sounded more like a question than scornful words. You were at a loss for words, the fact that he was towering above you made the situation even worse than originally thought possible. There was a low growl in his voice, the way he stared at you like a piece of meat could almost be described as alluring if it wasn’t a little intimidating.

You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, which was made all the worse by the fact that he could clearly tell what was going on, seeing how fast his expression changed from a hardened look of disdain to very sudden surprise. “S- sir, I mean no disrespect, however that seems like an issue that’s your fault?” You tried to pipe up, only being met with a stare.

Perturabo found he was realizing a lot of things about himself at once as his eyes traced over your form as you spoke. He huffed and licked his lips, trying to mask something you couldn’t quite figure out. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, serf.” He borderline snarled in a rather animalistic display. He reached out to you, grabbing you by the face, his rough fingers digging into your cheek. It was a easy to reach you, seeing you stood to the side of his desk, right beside him so you were within reach.

He examined you for a long while, eyes locked on your delicate frame. Perturabo looked, for the most part, largely unimpressed, were it not for the light pink blush that had subtly spread across his face. After what felt like an eternity, you were let go. “Come here. In front of the desk.” He commanded of you harshly. Of course, you obliged to his commands.

You stood before him, specifically in the space between him and the desk, looking intimidated by the fact that he was looming over you. “Up, on the desk. I feel as though there is a lesson to be taught here that words cannot convey properly.” He growled, watching you scoot up on the desk, sheepishly moving things around, you looked behind you momentarily to straighten yourself out, only to be met with the primarch baring down on you, his palms on the sides of the desk.

Emotions were running very hot, so much so you could physically feel the heat coming off of Perturabo’s massive body. By the holy throne on Terra, you drove him to the brink of insanity. He’d always assumed the flowery language that Fulgrim had used to describe his vices with women back on Chemos was just talk, but now that he had such a woman in his office, propped up on his desk like a decorative piece, he understood just what Fulgrim meant.

“My lord, are you-… asking something of me?” You questioned. It was a bold thing to ask him, especially seeing how stiff and hesitant, yet extremely desperate and starved he seemed. Without words he answered your question when he slid whatever project he was working on aside and grabbed you, not by the wrists but by the hand and pinned you down to the desk. His grip was strong on you, not enough to hurt or bruise but it was enough to keep you in place so you didn’t get away.

__________________NSFW BELOW HERE ________________________

A yelp escaped your lips, it was a noise that made heat begin to pool in Perturabo’s belly. By the holy throne, everything about you made him want to just devour you more. “Ask less questions. They annoy me.” He said simply, his eyes locked on you like a wolf to a hare. You swallowed your initial tough realization, allowing your thighs to slide open in the heat of the moment.

You could see what appeared to be the faint shape of his hardened cock beneath his robes, a sight that had made your face flush even worse than it had been before. He must have taken notice of this, seeing how he’d distracted you next.

Perturabo growled like an animal as he leaned over you. Taking two fingers and abruptly and unceremoniously shoving them into your mouth. It was slightly hard to take at first, seeing just how large his fingers were, but gradually you got used to the feeling, your tongue working around his hand and covering them in saliva. “You know just what I’m going to do with these, don’t you?” A sly grin played on his lips as he reached up to push your own clothing up.

He’d then take his fingers from your mouth, making you feel a bit out of breath. He momentarily looked down at his now saliva-soaked hand, fingers spreading apart before he looked back at you. This entire encounter was leaving you at a loss for words, even more so when he praised you for how well you were doing so far. “Good, that’s a good little serf. I bet you were just begging for that to be over with, hm?” He sounded like he was taunting you, which wasn’t a tone you were used to, especially not from him.

Perturabo then slid his still-slick hand under your robes, eliciting a soft whine from your lips that drove him mad. You whimpered as he gently drove his fingers into your hot cunt. The sounds you made as you wriggled on his fingers made him want you all the more, but he persisted in his patience. Perturabo spread you open with his slicked fingers, wet sounds coming from the space between your pretty thighs.

He slid deeper in to you, until he was at least up to his knuckles. He’d begun to make swirling motions, using the pads of his hand to massage the clit. His breathing got more ragged as he gently gripped your side, hoisting himself over you. “Look at you, how pathetic. I seem to have been right to call you a harlot.” Perturabo was rather hypocritical as he spoke, seeing it was him lusting after you so intensely, however, you didn’t seem to mind his harsh words.

Perturabo wasn’t as experienced as Fulgrim or Horus when it came to pleasing women, but he was still decent, and at least knew what he was doing. His motions were slow and delicate, knowing he could probably force you down and take you however he’d liked, but he chose not to. Despite his initial hunger and annoyance at being so easily tempted, he was still soft on you. Parts of him could have even said he was in love with you, but that was preposterous. This was just some simple ‘discipline’, at least, he assumed it was.

When Perturabo finally pulled his slick fingers out, you’d felt empty, and a little disappointed, finding yourself yearning for a little bit more of that sweet, sweet stimulation. What was even worse was that you were getting surprisingly close to climax off of just his work with his hands alone. Just as you assumed Perturabo was about to let you leave, he didn’t.

As you went to sit up on his desk to get up and leave, he set you right back down. He licked his middle and index fingers, lapping your juices off of his hand, then grabbed you by your hips and lining you up with his. “Mh~ you’re not going anywhere just yet. I’m not done with you.” Perturabo grunted. He was hard as a rock, and you could feel it between your thighs, through the silky fabric of his traditional robes.

Perturabo was absolutely throbbing. The way you laid there and stared at him with those eyes he hated seeing, the way you sprawled out, willingly giving yourself to him in every sense, he hated it. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. He hated everything about you because you were alluring and tempting, like a siren that leads sailors astray. He needed you.

And, evidently, he was going to have you. Perturabo pulled away slightly, brushing his robes out of the way as he had done yours. Perturabo reached up and gripped the fabric in his teeth to keep it out of his way, revealing his somewhat soft abs and just under his chest. It was quite a view to have, seeing just how strong he was under there.

Then there was his cock. Perturabo was huge in every aspect. Every, aspect. Parts of you were worried he wouldn’t fit, and you were almost correct. It explained why he had to be so thorough with his foreplay. He squeezed his cock into you just narrowly, feeling you just writhe made his sensitive body react. You could see the faint outline and bulge from his member in your lower belly. It was a feeling that sent you spiraling.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began. At first, moving his hips deliberate and slow as to not injure you, which was a shockingly considerate move on his part, considering how much he was going to wreck you. Slowly, he sped up until he was at a steady rhythm. His hips pumped, leaving you a moaning, whining mess. The sounds coming from you were like a personal orchestra to Perturabo. He clenched the cloth of his robes in his teeth harder and started going down on you like there was no tomorrow.

Part of him wanted to keep going until he got you pregnant, but he tried to stifle that part of him deep down. Perturabo then bent over the desk, letting his own robes fall from his teeth as he wrapped his arms around you, grunting and growling like a wild animal as he kept thrusting in and out of you. You felt good, absolutely divine, even. The way your walls hugged his cock, how your moans sounded in his ear. Even the way your nails dug into his back made him want to fuck you like it was your wedding night.

Perturabo’s hips did all his talking for him, while your cries of pleasure certainly fueled him to keep going. He was so wrapped up in fucking you that he drowned out the sounds of the desk creaking beneath you. He placed his full weight down on the desk, but being careful not to apply too much pressure to your body. Perturabo reached one hand out to grab the edge of the desk, keeping it in place even as it creaked.

His iron grip had even caused the hardwood of the desk to crack. It wasn’t long before he was laying into you with considerable force. You, on the receiving end, were struggling. It was beginning to hurt your lower back, and your insides, seeing just how big and robust he was in every way possible. It was too much for you to handle, which very quickly brought you to climaxing before him.

Pure ecstasy riddled through your entire body as you stiffened with a loud moan. You were feeling very swiftly overstimulated due to his onslaught. Though, luckily for you, not long after you’d climaxed, so did he. Perturabo gripped your hips with bruising strength, staying inside you as he rode his pleasure filled climax to its peak.

You could feel the hot, sticky liquid pouring into you in large amount. His seed was hot, but not hot enough to burn. Perturabo remained with his body on top of yours, having to lift you off the desk and sit back in his chair. The two of you just sat there for a moment, breathing heavily and listening to one another’s heartbeats thundering. “Th- throne on Terra, I need to make you my wife as soon as possible.”

He leaned back. You were far too spent to comment, so you decided to simply nod and groan. You looked down at your lower stomach, wondering if there would be consequences to your master’s actions, however, the chances of that were unlikely. But not zero. “Sir-.. P- Perturabo, we should probably clean up, yes?” You asked, panting between breathes.

Perturabo had nodded in agreement. “Yes, cleaning up is a good idea… lets-… lets just stay here, for a little while.” He said to you, his tone much gentler compared to when you started off. Perhaps, he could even go for a round two in the shower. He’d decide that later though. For now, the pair of you needed to rest.

___________________________________________________

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while!!! I got hit by a car, BUT I AM OKAY! There were some superficial wounds but I’ll live. A broken wrist + some snapped ribs never killed anyone (at least I don’t think). I hope I portrayed the silly little guy correctly, Perty is kind of hard to nail down in writing! I also may have gotten a little too wrapped up writing the smut portion

[museishere]

I have been convinced to post more of my ISAT takes on here, so I guess I’m doing this. My fond little nickname for this beautiful game is Autism: The Game, and I say this as someone diagnosed at an early age; I see so much of myself in the Family.

In Odile, I see the awkward inability to properly tell what others are feeling without obvious clue paired with the need to logically justify the emotions of myself and others. I see the hyper-fixation and curiosity about the world and how things work, the awkward feelings when trying to navigate social interactions, the need for everything to be Correct and the dysphoria brought about when things are Wrong.

Bonnie is the energy and passion. Where Odile struggles due to logical disconnect, Bonnie struggles due to simply not understanding. But that doesn’t mean they’re stupid; far from it in fact. Much like Odile, Bonnie hold a certain curiosity about the world around them and a love for learning. They understand far more than others give them credit for and it frustrates them to no end, and when they’re upset they lash out because they don’t know how else to express their feelings. They feel and feel until it all explodes.

Mirabelle takes the anxiety and trauma of living in a world that isn’t quite made for you, a world that makes assumptions about who you are without knowing you at all. She’s afraid to correct anyone’s perceptions of her because her mind cannot help but catastrophise. She tries her best to fit into the box society has deemed she fits into, no matter how cramped it may seem.

Isabeau is the one who best masks. He fits into society not because it’s genuine but because he has learned what to do. He takes parts of himself and hides them away because they go against what people would expect of him, a lot like Mirabelle, but unlike her Isa has crafted his image himself. He hides his intelligence behind the mask of a big dumb man with strong muscles and a heart of gold, and he does it with such skill that it has clearly become second nature.

And Siffrin takes all of these traits together to make the whole picture. He is someone that forms few attachments because he doesn’t know how, so he wants to hold on to them so desperately that he begins to self-destruct the moment he makes a single misstep. He falls into unhealthy habits and they can’t understand why others disapprove when what they do Works.

And looking at the other side of the coin, Loop is much the same; They are simply dialed up to 11. Loop has lost Everything, and clings to the one thing that gives them purpose. Once they aren’t needed for that they melt down and react with violence, vitriol towards themself misdirected to target someone due to convenience.

Can you tell this game has me in a chokehold? I’m considering starting yet another play through to gather evidence of why I think all of these characters are at least a little bit autistic if anyone is interested in that? I’m always happy to talk about my theories/interpretations in DMs if anyone wants.

(Please don’t take this post as me saying the characters are definitely autistic, and please don’t use this post to self-diagnose. K thank!)

[vermillyons]

flustering katakuri

gender-neutral reader x katakuri, whole cake island arc spoilers, tooth-rotting fluff, gets angsty towards the end (bc it’s katakuri)

katakuri’s observation haki is keen enough to know when someone’s lying so it completely baffles him when, to his face, you call him cute.

no bullshit detected.

no one calls him cute (except mama when he was, like, 6). he’d love it and hate it since it’s at odds with his perfect image.

outwardly, he’s stone-faced as always but his ears are pink enough to match big mom’s dresses. he’s all too aware of it and, even if there's no one tall enough to see it, he bunches up his shoulders to move his scarf fluff to cover his ears more.

he’d just silently leave while everyone berates you for saying something so thoughtless and stupid. he can’t stop thinking about what you said and stresses out about what he did wrong to make you think that. he tries to convince himself he only hates it. nothing else.

at first, he thinks this might be some elaborate plot of yours to humiliate him and ruin the charlotte family. the thought enrages him enough to consider killing you. maybe what he saw with his haki was a fluke.

you’re bold, he’ll give you that. or just plain stupid.

for the sake of the charlotte family, katakuri decides he needs to figure out your intentions.

but he’s still confused as ever after encountering you several more times. the way you treat him is… odd. you show him due respect as big mom’s right-hand man yet you don’t put him on a pedestal like so many others do. in fact, you keep insisting that he’s cute to his face and seem to delight in teasing him.

he’s used to being admired and swooned over from a distance but he’s never been met head-on with flirting as shameless and sincere as yours. even with his future sight, he’s not prepared for the menace that is you because all his future sight does is preemptively fluster him before you actually do anything.

he still hasn’t recovered from when you told him that he has pretty eyes. you even gave him flowers the color of his eyes, saying that they made you think of him. he keeps them in his office and, when they start to wilt, asks mama to turn them into homies. you’re delighted by his flowery little secretaries.

ever since katakuri swore to no longer show any weakness, he’s also shunned romance. the cold, perfect persona he has carefully cultivated has no use for it. furthermore, he’s seen what marriage does to people and he had no interest in carrying that extra stress.

having had little to no romantic experience, he’s never been kissed on the lips. sometimes a part of him wished he had, just so he’d stop wondering what it’s like. now all those wonderings come back in full force when he looks at you. he likes to pretend for a moment that you’d actually accept his scars and fangs but he knows better. all your little comments and teasing would come to a stop.

you’d stop calling him cute. only disgusting. he didn’t realize how much he dreaded the idea of you calling him that.

he then realizes he might be a little bit in love with you.

[anonyme-glace]

Christmas Gift

Spending Christmas break with my dad, which I’ve done tonnés of times before.

Except ever since I’ve gotten older, I can understand more and more why my friends call him a DILF. He’s built, trades man, thick legs and strong body, tall and, I can’t believe I notice this, hung.

Three weeks ago I was with him for the weekend and got to his house earlier than normal, he was showering. I couldn’t help myself, I peeked in, curiosity driving me, and maybe a bit of lust. Foggy shower door, his groans, and his hand down low. I knew what he was doing. I felt my stomach flutter.

His groans were so loud; his deep voice ringing out in the shower, talking to himself.

Fuck that feels so good baby….

Oh my god.

Keep going….

Oh my god he’s dirty talking.

You’re making daddy feel so good…

Oh my god.

…Carly.

Holy shit. What.

…

Hey Carly, sweetie, how’s it going?

I snap my head towards him, coming out of the memory.

It’s going good, dad, thanks for asking. I’m super excited to exchange gifts later, I’ve got the perfect thing for you.

Aw sweetie you didn’t have to get me anything.

I felt his eyes on me.

You’re gift enough.

I know Daddy.

…

I’ve been planning this for weeks. Now that I know he feels the same way about me. I’m gonna be the best little girl for him. I went out lingerie shopping with the girls a few weeks ago, they think I’m trying to impress Jack from fifth period. What the fuck am I doing.

Standing in my doorway, red lace plunge bra, matching panties, handcuffs in hand. He’s sitting on the couch, watching some stupid movie. I call out.

Turn that off, I’m coming out with my gift, close your eyes.

They’re closed sweetie.

I walk out, keeping my steps light, shivering with excitement. I stop in front of him.

Hands out daddy.

He laughs, a husky, sharp, inhale. Okay.

Quickly I place the cuffs on him. His eyes shoot open and I step back. He’s speechless, eyes trialing up and down my body, and I see his pants get a little tighter.

Do you like your gift daddy?

Fuck baby what are you doing? He breathes out and moves to get up. I push him back down and straddle him.

Mhm I heard you in the shower, daddy, you want me.

I don’t know what you heard sweetie, this is wrong, and illegal, and you need to get off of me. I trail my hands down his chest. You need to get off me, honey, you can’t be doing this. I’m your dad.

Daddy I can feel you. I lean into him and whisper, against my cunnie. Let me take care of you, this is your gift.

Not that he put much fight up in the first place, but his resolve loosens, and he leans back. I slide off his lap, knees hitting the floor.

I rub my hands all over him, my face rubbing his crotch. You gonna let me have it daddy? Yes baby, take daddy’s cock out. I reach for his pants but change paths and quickly unlock his hands from the cuffs before resuming.

Fuck daddy, it’s so big. I take it in my hands and begin to lick up and down, taking his balls in my mouth, and using my thumb to play with the tip. Yes baby just like that. Why don’t you take it in your mouth? I suck on the throbbing head, maintaining eye contact with him. I go deep as I can, choking myself on him, until he grabs my hair and takes control.

I can’t believe I raised such a slut. Where did you learn this slut?

I’m so sorry daddy, I’ve been with other boys.

Oh wow, you’re such a whore, you couldn’t even save yourself for me. Well I’ll just have to fill you up until you forget them, won’t I?

Yes please daddy, please give me your cock, I need it.

Good begging, come lay down and spread yourself for me. I do as he says, taking off my panties, laying back, and spreading my legs open for him. He slaps his heavy cock against my cunt before laying it on my stomach.

Look how deep I’m gonna go. Just about hits your belly button baby. I gasp and look down, just as he lines himself up with my pussy.

You’re gonna take it so well baby, all of it, all for me, forever and ever.

[omgsecretsecret]

I don't want to go ! Part 2

Pairing : Lee Minho x gn!reader ; established relationship

Genre : angsty, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

Word count : about 930

Warnings : phobia of needles ; crying ; panick attack ig (idk if it's exactly one)

Author's note : I'm so sorry for taking so much time to post it but it's out now for Christmas (btw merry christmas to everybody who celebrates it and happy day to everyone doesn't <3) and I hope you'll like it ; lots of love and bisous to @giddyfatherchris for helping me ; the pics on top are not mine, credits to the owners

Request : « Can you do a part 2 of the don't want to go lee known fic, where lee know comforts the character while getting a shot, the character cries too, maybe puts up a fight because she doesn't want to get a shot? Lee know tries to keep distracted. » by @200billionlightyearsaway

Masterlist || Part 1

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Honestly, you are happy to have Minho with you, his presence is always reassuring. But at the same time, it's so embarrassing. How could a grown-up like you need their boyfriend to go to the doctor? You feel so childish.

You don't notice the way he's looking at you with slight concern, but you do feel him taking your hand. You smile at him and he simply squeezes your hand. You give your name to the secretary for the appointment, then go in the waiting room. Everything seems so slow, you feel like you're waiting forever. Why are doctors always late?

When you are finally called, you don't even know if you are relieved to leave the room full of sick people or if you want to run away even more. You tense up as you enter the medical room and Minho's hold on your hand tightens.

It's like you're not completely there when the doctor asks a few questions, letting Minho answer as you try to handle the anxiety threatening to overwhelm you. You feel so stupid. Why are you so damn scared of a simple fucking needle ?

Minho has to call your name three times to finally get you to react. You blink a few times before slowly getting up, your movement almost shaky. Your body feels weak as you walk to the examination chair and you are just unable to let go of your boyfriend's hand. The sound of your own heartbeat pulsing in your ears and your already heavy breathing covers everything else around you. You can't see the look of worry on Minho's face as your eyes get glassy, but when you hear the doctor pulling out the needle, you break down.

You instinctively grip his arm as you can't hold back the tears that immediately fill your eyes, looking up at him with genuine distress. You can't do this. You don't know why you react so strongly, but you just can't keep it together. You suddenly start crying, pulling on Minho's arm and messily begging him to get you out of here. You don't care about what the doctor might think of you anymore, all you want is to go home.

"Baby, baby... It's okay. Calm down, love. Just calm down. he whispers sweetly as he cups your face and crouches down to be at your eye level, but it doesn't help.

— No it's not ! I can't just fucking calm down ! You think I do this on purpose ? You think it's easy ? I can't –"

You want to keep talking, keep telling him how you feel, how wrong he is, but you can't. A loud sob interrupts you and you just can't speak anymore. You cower down and cover your face as you cry, vainly attempting to suppress your sobs. Of course you know you should calm down, of course you know your reaction is disproportionate, but you can't control it.

Minho's heart clenches at the sight. He hates seeing you in this state, but it's not like he's going to blame you. He lets out a soft, pained sigh before carefully wrapping his arms around you. He holds you gently, with all the love of a man who only wants to comfort his partner.

You bury your face into his neck, shaky hands coming up to clutch his shirt lightly. He doesn't say a word, simply holding you close and rubbing your back. In a last surge of resistance, you weakly whisper that you want to leave, even trying to get up but it's halfhearted. You know you have to take that damn shot. Minho just keeps you there when you try to move, pressing you against his chest.

"Baby ? You're going to get the shot okay ? You can do it, baby. I won't let go of you, I'll be right there. You can cling on me all you want. But we have to do it, okay ?" he whispers softly without pulling away.

You don't reply, don't nod, but your lack of protests serves as a silent agreement. Minho kisses your forehead lightly in encouragement before looking at the doctor and nodding for her to go ahead. He talks you through it, keeps you close and lets you squeeze him, not even reacting when you dig your nails into his shoulder.

The doctor puts down the empty needle, patiently waiting for you both to be done. Minho tries to be a bit quick as to not make her wait too much, but still takes his time to make sure that you're fine.

"Are you okay kitten ?" he asks softly, watching as you nod weakly.

He presses a small, tender kiss to your lips before turning to the doctor, keeping your hand in his. You hear him apologize to the doctor, but she's quick to reassure him. Kids are way worse, and we can't control our phobias. Minho gives her a soft smile before paying, grateful for her understanding.

He looks at you again and his gaze softens with love when his eyes meet yours. You look drained, exhausted even, and honestly you are. He helps you get up, bows towards the doctor and leads you out. He holds your hand all the way to the car, only letting go when you are settled in your seat so he can go to his own.

"You're okay. he says softly.

— I love you. you reply and he chuckles at the suddenness of the declaration, a mix of amusement and fondness filling his heart.

— Me too, kitten. So much." He whispers before kissing you gently.

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do not repost, translate or rewrite without my written authorisation

[cherrysurf]

Tall blonde and evil! | Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader

chapter 6; stupid interview

Today was the interview for the 2024 hottest man event. It was really important to bakugou whether he said it or not. You woke up really early to get ready and prep yourself just in case you get bombarded by the paparazzi or news reporters that linger around by the studio,

You groan “how can he still be rude even he’s probably nervous and maybe that’s just provoking his angry more” you think as your in the cafe waiting in line, you get his order and rush out the cafe into the car and tell the chauffeur to get bakugou now you text him telling him you’ve arrived, he walks out looking composed but you can’t tell if it’s a facade or not the way his face showed no emotion. He gets into the car and you hand him his breakfast you hear him murmur a small thanks as he starts eating, while you are replying to some emails on your laptop “you eat?” he says looking at you as he sips on his coffee “yeah woke up early enough to do so” you say eyes still focused on the screen in front of you “shocking” he said taking a bite of his food, you simply throw him a him a confused glance and then ignore him, you definitely didn’t want to argue or create unnecessary drama between the two of you, these next two days are going to be hectic so for now it was a mutual understanding that it was going to be more so getting through this calmly and professionally than the way you two have been acting as of late “you nervous” you asking him as you two pull into the studio “eh nah i’ve got this.” he says looking out the window “i’d hope so” you say, as you come to a stop to get out the car bakugou opens his door just as you were about to do the same it catches you off guard than rather him walking to the entrance he walks around to your side to open the door, you shocked try to compose yourself as fast as possible before the press get the wrong idea. as you get out and say thank you to him he shuts the door and starts walking ahead of you not wanting to be bombarded by the press as you walk all you hear from the press and new ladies “wow what a gentleman” “he’s so gonna win hottest man award” “i want to be his next manager for sure.” you try to hide your annoyed expression after hearing those stupid remarks because they don’t understand how difficult he is. As you walk into the studio you come to find out bakugou is already whisked away to hair and makeup, you find a seat near the cameras to watch everyone prepare for the interview, bakugou soon walks in and takes a seat, he finds himself looking through sea of cameras and stage crew to see you there seated waiting for this to take place, the show host soon finds a seat herself already gawking at the fact that bakugou is near her, you just let out an eye roll at the fact that she’s head over heels. “Okay everyone, we're starting in 3 ... .2 ... .1 and action!” the producer says “Hey folks today i’m here with special guest katsuki bakugou, welcome to the show.” she said, giving him and a small round of applause “thanks for having me i appreciate it” he said in a neutral tone “so tell me everything bakugou! How does it feel to be nominated for the award?” she says giving him the biggest doe eyes “it’s good i mean i'm not surprised i appreciate my fans for it.” he says looking at her with little to no emotion “i know you definitely have my vote” she says laughing “anywho so as of recently we’ve heard that your manager is the longest one you’ve had in a while, How does she do it?” the lady asks with a hint of coated jealousy “well she just competent i guess, that’s what the others lacked” he said shrugging which made you face palm at his response, “mmh interesting, well what about your love life?” she says with a bit more happiness “i don’t have time to date or silly flings. I take my career seriously, and very much dislike false rumors about myself” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice “we love a man focused on himself, okay last question before we run out of time.” she says “what’s the one piece of advice for your fans out there or people who want to pursue modeling like you” she continues “grow a backbone and be humble, don’t forget where you started from.” he said looking at the camera “wow so inspiring” the lady said holding her hands together.

“well that’s all the time we have folks hope you enjoy and don’t forget to vote bakugou for this year’s hottest man award!” she said “CUT” the producer yelled, yet you're still in a trance after hearing those words come out of bakugou's mouth you’ve never heard him say something so meaningful? dare you say, it was like a side of him you haven’t seen or met before shocked that it was there. You snap out of it when he thanks everyone and gets up to leave, you quickly stand up and follow along. When he’s stopped by the host “hey do you possibly need a date for the event?” she asks batting her lashes at him, you almost wanting to vomit a the sight “no thank you im not interested in a scandal with some host respectfully.” he said in a stern tone and walked away you wanted to laugh at the sight but figured you’d laugh about it once you got home. The car ride back home was silent, you were still shell shocked after his words though, “did i do good?” he said looking at you, you snap out of it once more and nod while saying “yeah really good actually” with a sincere voice “i knew it” he said laughing in an ugly yet funny way “im the best” he said gloating. For once you didn’t feel the need to fight him back on it, at least not right now all you could do was smile a bit.

when you got to his place you bid him a farewell “see you tomorrow night don’t look ugly, i don’t want people to think my manager sucks people know i need to have the best of the best” he says waving a lazy goodbye “right. bye bakugou.” and then he turns to look at you “oh by the way i’m picking you up tomorrow so. Don’t worry about that.” he said and turns to walk away. leaving you with a flush red cheeks “gosh what has he done to me.” you say.

going to try to speed run this fic rn guys 🙏🏻 after this and the event chapter im going to be doing the new years special so stay tuned for that!

taglist; @kalulakunundrum @sweetadonisbutbetter @rednicotine @ikissfade @bakugouswh0r3 @allurearia @themultifandomgirl @junehasnotbeenfound @darhinadadragon @kodzubaby @harryzcherry @sahrii @kholethecutie @s4ikooo1 @babylambdietcoke @lover-no-lover61 @sikuthealien @homeless-clown @bookaholicfangirl4life @idexmids