#���️.deaddove

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[sukunabear]

I'll hang myself cus why is every anti so dense bro it hurts my head so bad

how hard is it to understand,,,,let me speak in caveman terms.

it fake? ya! can make art! relationship okay only in fiction! uncomfortable? block! victim? me too!!!

[r0-boat]

Will you write some dark headcanons for the whb angels too 👀 (maybe pretend that their desire to kill Ra-on is affectional...... maybe... 👉👈)

Ooh

I'm always happy to do darker headcannons

Whb dark headcannons for angels.

I'm probably not going to do one for each individual because we don't know a lot about them. It's probably just going to be in general.

Cw: kidnapping, obsessive behavior, abuse, Yandere

Angels are morally ambiguous like devils they have different morals then humans do, but they sway the other way. They have a rigid sense of good and evil. Unlike devils which act on instinct and emotion. I feel as though angels act on law and logic. But that was before God disappeared

Without a ruler without someone to follow without a queen they bumble and They are at their most stressed. So they lash out.

Even Lucifer cannot help but feel sort of attracted to you. Maybe these angels feel the same They cannot help to be drawn to you. And that desire to kill you mixes with that affection.

Maybe in the end they won't kill you even now they seem hesitant They are jealous because of your lineage to the man that has most of God's love but something in there they can't help but feel drawn to you They cannot help to feel that they should worship you. They are scared of this feeling. Instead of kill you they kidnap you. Keep you in heaven as their prisoner.

They will poke and prod at your body on some days They give you love and affection giving into that mysterious feeling but on other days they treat you like garbage.

Slowly but surely they be start becoming more obsessed. Your screens of pain becoming just as delightful as your smile. They do anything just to get a reaction.

Since God will not return... Then with no place to give their devotion and love to. Maybe you'll be a fine replacement. They will break. Brainwash you, train you. you make you hate devils and make you love them make you give Angels all your love.

They will mold you into their perfect God. You will be there savior.

They're teaching will be harsh but they only do it out of love.

[thecr0w]

Home

p.1, ~1k words

ghoap/nanny reader, in which shes roped in to care for a poorly johnny who just wants his big family :(

[tags/cw; dubcon, noncon, breeding, use of alcohol, implied death, threats of violence, overall weird and creepy johnny, actually deranged johnny, simon’s off his rocker, blackmailing, ect.]

AAAAAAAAA i’ve been thinking about this for literally so long, im sorry it’s so so short i just needed to get it out :( it’s my first big-girl fic, and the first part. thanks @ceilidho for letting me spit this idea to you! btw, NOT beta-read. im sorry.

It was a gloomy day when you got the news you would lose your job, something about budget cuts and lack of funding. It was gloomy again, a month later when you found yourself short on rent. Cold, cloudy and gray when you got your eviction notice. No warnings, just a handwritten letter commanding your evacuation in a months time. Signed by your landlord. Nights of manic panic, rushing to pack and overwhelmed with the prospect of selling all your worldly possessions to afford a shitty motel room seemed to fly by.

The dim light of your phone illuminated your dark bedroom, scrolling through a less than ideal advertising website, reduced to this after exhausting all other resources. Rejection email after rejection email piled up in your inbox, fueling your anxiety like no other.

You scanned the listings, some odd and some underpaying labor jobs littered across the page. Suddenly, bold black letters flashed across your screen. It states simply, ‘Live-in nanny needed to assist first time dad. Give me a ring.’ This has to be a scam. It’s too good to be true, a job and a place to stay? A smile cracks across your face as you click on the listing. It offers no other information, just a phone number at the bottom of the advert. You think for a second, then decide that you’re out of options completely and this is better than a concrete pillow. Your heart flutters as you punch the numbers in, hesitating just a beat before pressing the green ‘call’ button.

It rings for about a minute, and hope exits your body with every monotone mechanical sound. Voicemail. Fuck. You hang up, groaning as you fall back onto your bed and allow your phone to drift from your clammy hands to your chest. The droning sound of a fan overtakes your thoughts.

Your phone vibrates loudly on your sternum, jolting you upright. The number feels unfamiliar, but you’re certain it’s the one from the nanny listing. You accept the call.

“Yeah?” A gruff voice on the other end greeted, followed by a loud blowing sound, as if he were smoking. You could smell the cigarette through the phone.

“Oh, hi! I’m calling about the nanny ad, I’m very-“

“Have any experience?” He cut you off, blowing sound accompanying his accented voice again.

“Oh yes, I-“

“Right. Meet me at that coffee place ‘round the corner of 5th in an hour.”

The line went silent.

“Um.. okay, see you soon.” you called after, to which you were met with no response. A look at your home screen revealed he had already hung up.

Thirty minutes later, you began your walk to the designated shop. Maybe being early would show some initiative for the job, or maybe it would look pathetic. Your mother always said to show up early to everything, anyway.

The coffee shop is quiet, few patrons sprinkled few and far between the tables and booths. The smell of brewing coffee is so strong it makes you nauseous. The back of your neck tingles and you can feel eyes burning through your skull. You turn to look, and a pair of brown eyes meet yours.

God, if looks could kill.

A tall, wide man tears into you, unmoving in his gaze. Jesus, not even a blink. He sits almost a foot taller than the back of the booth, black surgical mask barely covering an ugly scar etched across his cheek. His hood shadows his face, dark hoodie tight over thick biceps.

Is this guy real?

You blink, gaze faultering and searching for a break from contact. Uneasiness floods your stomach and you contemplate just walking back out and going to bed. He whistles quickly as soon as you turn your head back, motioning with his finger to sit. You follow.

“You must be the dad about the nanny gig? I didn’t catch your name, sorry.”

“Didn’t give it to you.”

You inhale and nod.

“Well, we’re both here a little early.” You look him over in an attempt to find something to connect on. “I like your tattoos.” you try, suddenly finding your hands awkward on the table.

“Can you handle a baby?”

You nod, eyes shooting up to meet his. He hasn’t stopped looking directly into your eyes, and it’s making you nervous. You haven’t seen him blink yet.

“What about a man? Cooking, cleaning? Can you keep the place nice?”

“I can, I used to babysit my neighbors, little cousins. I have a clean record, I don’t drink, and I can keep a nice house.”

He stays quiet for a minute too long, and you’re ready to accept defeat.

“You can have the guest room, I’ll send you your pay at the end of the week. Here’s my number, call me when you’re all packed up and I’ll pick you up.”

“Today?”

“Before next week.”

He slides a napkin across the table to you, smudged ink scribbled over the thin paper. Before you can ask anything else, he’s already sliding out of the booth. He groans loudly as he stretches popping joints, arms extended high in the air. You catch a glimpse of his hairy belly when his hoodie rides up. His eyes meet yours when you hastily look away, and you could swear a smirk hides under that little mask of his.

“Is that all? I’m hired?”

He nods and walks away, never looking back as he exits the cafe. A shiver erupts up your spine, an uncomfortable churning presses in your stomach. Maybe it’s just too weird, maybe you’re being too weird, maybe you’re overthinking something so simple- but he wouldn’t stop staring. A low hiss emanates from the small tv mounted on the wall, catching your attention.

A nature documentary. A panther sits atop a tree, staring attentively at something small on the grassy earth below. A deer flicks its ears, some primal instinct allowing it to be somewhat aware of danger. It flicks its head around, scanning its surroundings for the source. The panther pounces, sinking its sharp fangs into the fragile neck of the doe beneath it.

You look away as the deer begins to bleat pathetically.

[iminsideacoffin]

fem basement gerard x reader ?!?!pleak

OMG YESYESYES she would be so disgusting.. truly a perv about you..

she would whine and whimper as she humps her pillow all night long, imagining its you ofc.

would be very shy, you would have a lot of work to do to make her open up..

she always had a big fat crush on you.

oh but when she finally open up..

she's truly a slut,

begging for you to suck faster, rougher..

plz spit on her, and PLZ bite and mark her all over her plush body..

whispering to you to go on another round, even if her clit is so overstimulated.. well she loves u and the way u guys fuck, what can she say? <3

[meadowmonsterr]

too close

[mimilovesnumetal]

girl youre way too pretty to be writing dead dove incest fics about gerard way 😭

my mind is in ruins dudee 😭😭

(also thx for the 'pretty' part LMAO)

s2

[n30nkush]

[dgbookbindery]

Finally posting pics of my most favourite fanfic ever:

PEREMO by Virennia @devdevlin

#Peremo is a #Tomione (Tom Riddle|Hermione Granger) fic and can be read on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33960232

PLEASE check the trigger warnings, this is a #deaddove 💀🕊️ fic.

The story is amazing. The writing is amazing.

I was granted permission to bind this personal copy, and permission from the amazing artists to include some of their artwork within my typeset. ⚜️ @artofcrumbs ⚜️ @stinkycheesecult

I’ve been working on this typeset for what feels like a year. I completely redesigned it to the first one I printed over a year ago. Every chapter heading, border, scene break, page number motif, I designed and meshed to fit the vibe of the story. The chapter heading changes with a turn in the story in the epilogue. IYKYK. This is a draft bind and printed in black & white but the typeset is in colour for the art. Oh and as you can see the gold metal HTV fought me hard 😠

I put a lotttt of love and effort into this because I wanted it to be special as it’s my FAVOURITE.

But go read it!

You can find me on insta, #DG_BookBindery @ https://www.instagram.com/dg_bookbindery

[whoopsimasillyguy]

🦑Modern AU! Thramsay ft. Drugs/noncon🗡️

My modern au Thramsay thoughts all consists of Ramsay drugging poor Theon 😭

like I’m imagining a scenario where he gets him to drop acid with him. Ramsay takes a fake tab himself and gives Theon a much, much higher dose than he should be having; it turns him into a whimpering sobbing mess that clutches to Ramsay.

Being the bastard that he is Ramsay would fuck with Theon the whole time—but be incredibly sweet on his come down so he feels a sense of trust around him.

Another time he’d take Theon out for drinks, forcing shot after shot on him. Ramsay suggests a cocktail to end out the night, and shoves a glass into Theon’s hands—unbeknownst to him the drink had been roofied.

As Ramsay hauls Theon back to his apartment he isn’t all there. He tells Theon how lucky he is to have him watch out for him. Ramsay convinces Theon that he owes him a great deal—and within fifteen minutes of being at his apartment, Theon is being bent over an armchair.

This has nothing to do with the fic I’ve started working on but I just can’t get it out of my head 🎀

[solarchaotica-deaddove]

Links to things I like listening to, overall deaddove content warnings here. Each link has its own tags so, that's a thing.

You might notice that, I don't really listen to many people and yeah, I'm picky. (And possibly parasocial but that's a whole thing that I don't have time to get into. But basically. I have a clear favorite)

But so much Yandere and Somno and just 🫠

Couldn't shouldn't wouldnt

Placing angel

Pretend game: I'll Find You

Pretend Game: I Found You

Pretend Game: I Kept You (fun thing about this one is that it's a cyoa style from here, you pick an option and listen from there) 💕

Are you really fast asleep (somno 💕)

My Heart (kind of snuffy yandere one and I just love it so much) 💕💕💕

Loved Like You Deserved (revenge plots are very, and some of the files like this one have an effect that works so well with getting a very "hazy drugged out feeling")

Extended Stay (another somno mindfuck-y one)

My Perfect, Idiot Girl (very good one for perfectionists who are sick of it!)

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[sukunabear]

I love Sukuna ^=^ i have an unhealthy attachment to him

[devourerofdoves]

Ok this is a personal autism one but, if u and narrator were kinds of weather/ weather phenomenon. Which would yall be. [smiles big)

OOOOOUH... UMMM This is a rlly good question and I don't actually know all that much about weather phenomenons... Maybe a cyclone? Downpour? Something with lots of rain, for sure, but I'm not completely certain. Why don't YOU tell us what YOU think and why? You're the weather expert here (/nf ofc <3)

[thecr0w]

, Home ’ Series Masterlist

“The panther pounces, sinking its sharp fangs into the fragile neck of the doe beneath it.”

pairing; my beloved johnny boy/reader and simon. i’m sorry they’re all i can think about.

Summary; you lost your job and housing in a months span. luckily for you, a really neat live-in nanny position just opened up!

*CW*; this series contains many elements of noncon, dubcon, threats and implications of violence and murder, breeding, kidnap, use of substances/alcohol, mental illness, intimidation, manipulation, bullying, blaming, blackmail, lots and lots of icky things. please don’t read if this can negatively impact you. love yall!*

Part One

[herbertpocketsfidgettoys]

Vent only posting on here because I’m somewhat proud of it(literally just a quick sketch)

cw for implied grooming