#Away From the Garden: Queue

[smol-sirens-garden]

@ever-winter Has Asked: “If I’m a monster, what are you?” - Dottore / Pants

"Well I guess that would depend on the context."

He hummed, having come to visit the lab for once. He wanted to see for himself what the other had been up to and the words seemed to have just escaped before he could stop them.

"Some may say a monster fucker. Though I suppose blind with love....or lust take your pick."

He chuckled as a finger traced along vials on one of the shelves in the room.

"So I can't say my funding has fully gone to waste."

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts​ Has Asked:  “I haven’t got all day.” - Ango / Dazai

“Well someone is Impatient.”

He pouted, having just wanting to come visit the other. He didn’t know this would be his welcome. Still he sat nearby, not bothering to leave. He did say he had a small surprise for the other so that may have been why the other was so impatient. 

“The surprise is just me anyway. I got bored and wanted to see what you were doing.”

[smol-sirens-garden]

"And you know nothing!"

He gritted his teeth, already not enjoying his conversation with the other. It was almost like he was wasting his breath every time they had this conversation. It was almost like the child revealed in watching his guilt.

"I tried to look. I wanted to brave the flames but couldn't. I had assumed wrong. Those first few days were torture. So don't you dare accuse me of having fun!"

He was trying hard to fight back the tears and guilt. Fighting so hard to not break.

"I didn't know. That's what it boils down to. M life hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows either."

@indeliblepromise

╰ ☾ ✧ — @smol-sirens-garden asked: ❝ So that’s how it is. You’re still upset with me for what happened, aren’t you? ❞ ~ Chu

↳ -: ☆ ( Unprompted ) ☆ :-

˗ˏˋ *ㅤ☾ ☆ㅤ‿︵ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤHow can I NOT be upset ?ㅤ❜

꒰ ☾ ꒱ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒕; this pointless argument with a man that clearly couldn't care LESS. He'd never known of this person at all; unlike his vague awareness of ' NUMBER 70 ' way back then. But the stories he had been told by Monsieur Garth about this fiery haired man — it made it sound like this man simply ABANDONED the other and left him to deal with the Comté all alone

꒰ ☾ ꒱ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤIt was almost as if he were back in that RAINY NIGHT; realizing that his own brother hardly gave a damn about him at all. But at least it wasn't his brother this time. Just some guy that he DIDN'T even know or care about either. The only reason he was playing this game was for Monsieur Garth.

꒰ ☾ ꒱ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤYou just went and ran off to have fun on your own and left the REST OF US to deal with this mess !ㅤ❜

[smol-sirens-garden]

Continued From {X} I @crownshattered

"I don't fully remember."

He sighed, a small yawn escaping. He loved their son more than anything but juggling him and his cavalry captain duties got a bit much sometimes. He would forget basic things even more. Especially when it came to putting down something he was holding two minutes prior.

Even now he had been running around like a mad man trying to find the blanket. He noticed it had been missing as soon as he got home from a small visit. He always liked bringing him in to see Jean when she needed a bit of a pick me up and then of course Lisa cooing over him.

Once it was found he gave a relieved sigh, taking it from her. Now he could go home and get Emmett home and down for his afternoon nap. He just had to go get him first.

"THank you dear. He is safe don't worry. I kinda wanted to be able to find it quickly so he is with Uncle Luc and Auntie Lisa. They were going to watch him at The Good Hunter. Was going to get something to go while I was at it."

He smiled, kissing her lightly.

"Still can't believe I forgot this here. I am glad I came back."

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts-ocs​ Has Asked:  ❝I’m pregnant, not incapable.❞  - Sabriel /Mori

“I know my dear. Still want to be at least a little careful. I never meant to make you feel incapable.”

He was just a little excitable and worried over her. He always wanted to make sure she was alright and taking care of herself. Maybe he was being a little more helpful than he needed to be. Was this the doctor in him or the husband in him? Maybe a little of both.

“But you are feeling okay? Do you need anything at the moment?”

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Me: *minding my own business*

an anime character with red hair: hey

Me: hi-

Me, who just remembered they are attracted to red haired characters: oh for fucks sakes, not another one.

[smol-sirens-garden]

He knew he was just trying to ease both their worries and probably doing a terrible job of it. At least right now they were semi-hidden away in their apartment but who knew if or how long that would even last. He gave a nervous chuckle, reaching over to hold her close.

"Sorry. I know you are capable. I am probably only saying that to calm myself down a little."

He sighed, shaking his head before resting it in the crook of her neck. Nothing relaxed him more than being like this with her in the home they shared.

"This will probably be some getting use to for a bit."

@smol-sirens-garden inquired: they won't come after you, and if they do? they'll have to go through me.~ Kuni/Lia

⁕| Feeling Safe / Expressing Comfort |⁕

In spite of herself, Lia couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips in response to his words. It was...cute, in a way. Lia was well aware of the target she placed on her back when she finally left the Port Mafia. A deserter like her--and a powerful ability user at that--would be a big concern of theirs. They would want her taken down as soon as possible.

Doppo could say they won't come after her all he wanted, but that didn't make it any less true. And the idea of him keeping her safe... It was cute, really. She could handle herself just fine--better than he could, she'd wager--but it was still a sweet thought.

"...Thanks," she finally replied after a moment's consideration. His words did nothing to ease her concerns, but... At least she won't be alone when they come after her. And if they do succeed in taking her down, at least she could die knowing at least one person in her life truly loved her.

[propertyofwicked]

FIRST - LN

lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink

✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧

masterlist the playlist

“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.

being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.

“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.

“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.

“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.

“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.

“i ju-”

“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.

in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.

she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.

this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.

“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.

“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.

“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”

“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.

“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.

oh he knew her a little too well.

“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.

“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.

“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.

lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.

“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.

“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”

“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.

“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”

“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.

“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.

“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”

“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.

“huh?” max replied, confused.

“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.

the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.

“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”

“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”

lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.

y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.

there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.

max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.

max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?

the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.

“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.

“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.

“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.

“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.

“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.

“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.

“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.

“tell that to the scar on my back.”

“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.

“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.

“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.

“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”

“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.

“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”

“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.

he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.

“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.

“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”

his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.

the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.

“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.

“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.

“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”

his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.

“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.

“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.

“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.

“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”

“kiss me.”

“wha-”

“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”

lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.

“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.

“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.

“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.

“there’s no one i trust more.”

with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.

“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.

“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.

“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”

“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.

“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.

“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.

“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.

“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.

“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.

“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”

“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.

“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.

“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.

“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.

“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.

“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”

she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.

“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.

“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”

“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.

“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”

lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.

“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.

“yes, fuck lan. only you.”

he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.

“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.

lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.

“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.

“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.

“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.

“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.

“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.

“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.

“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.

“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.

minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.

“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.

“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.

“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.

“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”

“preach.”

-

✧ inbox/requests are open ✧

[smol-sirens-garden]

Continued From {X} I @diverse-hearts-ocs

He would have to talk to Sabriel about this going forward. It was obvious Garth wasn't taking the incident well and was afraid of both water and sleep. In his mind Vic got lucky all he did was toss her in after. He shook his head out of his thoughts as he changed into his pajamas and got the bed ready. Hearing the knock he turned, coming to take the book.

"I think it will be perfect. A favorite thing can be the best way to relax the mind. Come on up kiddo."

He walked over to the bed, helping Garth up onto it and into the middle before he got onto his side of the bed. He wrapped an arm around Garth after giving him his stuffed animal and made sure he was tucked in all cozy before starting to read to him.

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts​ Has Asked:  “You are…so dumb…” - Ango to Dazai

“Ouch, you wound me...”

He was pouty for a small moment before starting to laugh. Maybe as a facade he was but the other did not need to know he was good at playing dumb. Still he could see why the other would say that about his plan. It may have been a little dumb but it was also fool proof.

“Fine then. What would you suggest then if you’re so smart.”

[smol-sirens-garden]

It was late, and with Vanitas not home yet it was their task to cook. They hummed lightly, stirring and adding some ingredients. They thought they were doing it like Vanitas had but maybe they had forgotten a few things. They took a taste, not making much of a face but not enjoying it.

"It should be....though Maybe I should start again? I don't think I remembered anything."

꒰১ ✦* : ˚ʚ 【 @smol-sirens-garden / STARTER CALL ( Luna / Vampire of the Blue Moon ). 】 ɞ˚ : ꙳✦ ໒꒱

‧₊˚ ⋅ ꒰১ ᯓ ☆ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 Father was putting in that pot ? Was their dinner even edible at this point ? It's too bad that Brother had gone out to run some errandsㅤ—ㅤand it's not HE knew the first thing about cooking !

˚ʚ ☾ ɞ˚ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤㅤ❛ㅤFatherㅤ—ㅤare you sure that's OKAY to eat ?ㅤ❜

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Sometimes I think about that moment in NMH2 when Travis’s talks about how ‘despite assassins being super fucked up, are still human beings that deserve respect’ and I just… kinda get emotional over that because even though he is a pathetic loser, he’s not wrong!! He’s absolutely correct!!

Assassins are more than just tools! They are more than just bloodthirsty killers! They had lives! Dreams! Personalities! Interests!! Family!! They had things that they cared about but had no choice but to abandon them, because the life of an assassin is cruel one with constant competition. The genuine horror of it is realising that at any moment, a ranking fight would be set and on that day of the fight you’d have to accept the fact that you might not walk out the door, it’s sad!! It’s horrifying! And with each little bit of info on the assassins you get you can’t help but feel bad for them. Sure they knew what they were signing up for but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a dignified/honourable death !!

[shesacrified]

tag dump: updating tags & new verses!

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter III

“Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” 1 Peter 2:11

Priest Geto has unfaltering faith in his hands. They have traversed deadly straits. Blossomed gardens. Taken and given life.

Can he trust his hands to mold you for another man?

Pairing: Geto x Female reader

Art credit: Grartss on tumblr/insta

A/N: someone needs to peel me away from I wanna Be Yours x Artic Monkeys and the third scene. That song fits TOO perfectly to my ears. I hope this chapter edges you just as much as it did me.

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CHAPTER III: Courtside

Duchess, 

Allow me to apologize. It was inappropriate to end our session so abruptly. 

You have been on my mind. It will serve your marriage best for you and the Duke Ahriman to pursue individual counseling prior to pre-marital counseling. 

I cannot guide you to love one another, your hearts will make that determination. But I can help unravel your layers; to allow for independent growth. Having a strong sense of self, above all,  is paramount for successful matrimony.

Think on this proposal. If you both accept, we will proceed. 

Warmly, 

Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto. 

His name tastes just as rich as it reads. 

Elegant. 

Too ethereal to be bound by ink and manila paper.

A name like that is meant to be said out loud. Shouted from the mountain top. Meant to be worshipped. 

Praised. 

“Darling? Are you decent?” Ezra calls from the other side of your heavy chamber doors. 

You flicker down to your robe. Technically you aren’t. But your continued attempts to avoid your betrothed — conscious or not — remain futile. 

Especially, today. Your formal introduction to court. The future Duchess Ahriman. You will be fused to Ezra’s side for hours on end. Grateful to have been bestowed the honor. An honor you will spend your life upholding. 

Pro Deo et patria. 

For God and Country. 

“Yes, I’m decent.” Hoping whatever he needs can be addressed from behind your barrier. 

“May I, my love?” 

A bitter scoff glides down your throat, but your words seep sweet. “Yes of course!”

Arella, who is diligently arranging your formal attire on the golden rack, fetters over to welcome the Duke.

Instinctively, your hand tightens the silk knot as he steps into view in your mirror. Ezra’s emerald gaze is warmer than the Grecian sun. Excitement buzzing off of his boyish grin and short strides to your vanity. 

The Priest’s letter finds its away into your pocket, just as strong hands land on your shoulders. 

Ezra didn’t notice. And why would he? The letter isn’t illegal.

“How are you feeling?” Like plush Evergreens withstanding all seasons, Ezra peers into you and roots you in place.

He’s unwavering, your fiancé. He doesn’t yield so easily. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” 

“Not like I have a choice in the matter.” 

Almost instantly you regret the response. The Duke offers you a pained smile and tender kiss on the crown. 

A sudden gust of wind brings the bouquet of fresh Dahlias to everyone’s attention. Ezra rubs a soft petal between his fingers. 

“These are outstanding, darling. Who brought them to you?”

Before a half truth drips off your tongue, Arella speaks up, taking stride toward where you sit. 

“I picked them this morning. From the garden.”

She grazes over your empty, half parted mouth.  Planting her own kiss on your warm canvas.

“We should get ready for the ball, yes little Dove?” 

Ezra’s good natured laugh overflows. He raises both palms in feigned retreat.

“I suppose that is my queue. I’ll take my leave.” Your handsome fiance keeps his word. Shutting the heavy doors behind him. 

“Arella!” Your head whips around to face your beautiful handmaiden. 

She is swanlike. Coordinating the intimate pieces of your gown. Not another word on her lips but a whole diary on her face. 

“Why did you lie for me?” Your hands steady her busy ones. 

Arella’s voice is small enough to fit through the cracks in the walls. 

“My allegiance is to you and only you, little Dove.”

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Under His Eye, Father.”

“Under His Eye, Rhea.” 

“Blessed Be The Fruit, Father.”

Of course. The greeting used when women are trying for child, the handmaiden chose to use with him. Suguru offers a polite, but pointedly distant smile.

Since his arrival to the compound, there hasn’t been a shortage of high court handmaids and the women they tend to ‘greeting’ him in a similar way. 

Well within the unspoken rules of engagement, but a message served loud and clear. 

“May The Lord Open, Seren.”  Suguru returns the pleasantry as scripted. 

The pretty maiden smiles like a Cheshire kitten. Taking her position in line behind the clergymen. Suguru keeps his gaze ahead. Remaining neutral in the midst of hushed giggles and whispered praises. 

His index finger wires beneath the formal collar. Tonight is the first of a long line of celebrations he will have to stomach. 

A commemoration of a new contract between families. A new marriage of countries. A long awaited treaty as precarious as the peak of Mauna Kea. 

And as the appointed Chaplain he is tasked with praying over each event. Handing out blessings to the soon-to-be-wed and those that wish them no harm. 

He’s already exhausted.

The processional begins and all extraneous chatter settles to the ground. Just in time for you and the Duke to step into view. At the height of the sprawling staircase, there you stand. 

Regal. 

Breathtaking.

Not a single strand out of place. The rigid corset digs into the small of your waist — accenting the feminine swell of your hips. Sage satin drips off the rolls and hills of your mind-altering lines. 

Curve and dip. 

Curve and dip. 

Your figure could render the most veteran fishermen seasick. 

Then your eyes collide with his and Suguru nearly falls backward. Knocking more air out of his lungs than any sea storm ever has. Ten times more deadly than the waves he rode along Drake’s Passage.

The infamous strait holds legend amongst seamen, old and new. The lethal dance between the South Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans gives way to the notorious Ship’s Graveyard.

At 60 degrees south of the Equator, Suguru’s father tweaked his usual saying before he dove off their vessel. 

“Below 40, there are no laws. Below 50, there is no God. Don’t go trying to find One, Son.” 

Suguru strips his eyes away from you. Currently plunging well below 60 degrees south, he will drown in you if he keeps gawking up like that.

Focus, Suguru. 

Lines from tonight’s production begin circulating in the Chaplain’s mind. Every moment rehearsed down to the breath. The night is already stifling. And he still has to look you in the eye and bid you a lifetime of love and prosperity with Ezra Ahriman. 

He’ll have to repent for the lie tomorrow. 

Patent leather dress shoes echo a path into the ballroom. Suguru and the rest of the priesthood fall behind the last line of noblemen. His stomach suddenly plummets lower than its usual residence. 

Public speaking isn’t the issue. 

A room full of eyes trained on his every word has never shaken his nerves. 

The problem is the air around him suddenly deciding to shed its layers. 

Leaving one, thin strip of sustenance left for Suguru to breathe in. While he rehearses the lies he has to spew in front of a congregation. 

Half of which is so forbidden. Basking in the thrill of lusting after a “Man of God” bound by law — biblical and not — to remain pure in the face of temptation. It’s thrilling for that half of the congregation. 

Then there’s the other half.

Seeing him for the foreigner that he is. 

The other. A man with eyes more inclement than the worst of Heaven’s rainfall. Who bares tattoos of a past life. Acting as if that part of himself is so far lost at sea.

That half of the congregation is counting the seconds until Suguru can be properly burned at the stake. Words he reads directly from the Bible sound like lies to their ears. 

Which half of the congregation do you reside in?

“Father, I have a hard copy of your speech if you want it.” Noel whispers, just a few paces away from entering the ballroom.

And Suguru is so fond of the boy. The little brother he never got to grow up with.

“I think I have a handle on it, Noel. Thank you.” The Chaplain flashes a brief smile his way before taking in the last gust of oxygen. Praying that it gets him through the dreaded speech.

Violin notes reverberate in sync with Suguru’s footsteps toward the podium. You are somewhere behind him. Probably 20 paces or so. Polite about your wave. Genuine about your smile. Convincing the masses that you are one of them. 

The decades your home country spent in war with them mean nothing. 

Welcome home, Duchess.

Suguru’s deft fingers wrap around the microphone. 

“Welcome in.” He starts. It takes nothing for the room to come to an obedient silence. Listening intently. Taking in every word.

“Please, may the congregation rise? To give and receive blessings this evening.” Suguru prompts the room, a gentle up-flick of his wrist, raising all to their feet. 

“I’d happily kneel, Father.” A muffled comment from the pretty handmaiden that made a point to greet him a few moments earlier. 

Normally, Suguru wouldn’t entertain it. But something about this being his first formal engagement strips his usual restraint. 

“Such a dedicated servant of the Lord, Seren.”The Chaplain glances over to the blushing crowd of women at his right. 

Seren’s outburst crumbles to nothing under his pointed gaze. And a collective chuckle fills the room.

That should be enough to stifle any additional outbursts. 

Here he goes. 

“To the Duke Ahriman, and the Duchess-To-Be.” Suguru tilts his glass of water up at the noble pews — everyone else holding goblets of red wine.

Beauty and grace lock his eyes into place. Coaxing words out of his parched throat. He couldn’t deny you his voice if he wanted to.  

“I pray the Lord brings you unwavering love,” A lie whipped sweeter than cream rolls off his tongue. Suguru’s eyes float from you to the Duke. An eager smile on his face. 

But, what is the expression you’re currently wearing, Duchess?

Are you desperate to come up for air, too?

“A never ending fountain of peace.” Suguru continues to bless the ‘happy’ couple. With eyes that can see with inhuman clarity below the level of sea that receives penetrance from Helios.

The Midnight Zone may as well be daybreak to the Chaplain. And those same sharp eyes see something other than joy in your face. Something other than peace. 

But he continues his script, nonetheless. 

“An unconditional well of prosperity.” Suguru shamelessly sips from your tantalizing presence. If someone whispered to him that you two were the last beings on earth right now, he’d believe it without question. 

The finishing lines cause physical pain.

“And most importantly, to an Ahriman heir.” Suguru chokes out. “For God and Country.”

The room erupts in near uncontrollable cheer. 

“For God and Country!”

“For God and Country.” 

You mirror the Preist’s words and he memorizes every twitch in your lips. Every intonation of your voice is burned into the most permanent part of his mind.

Festivities flicker past Suguru’s short term memory. The night is a complete daze. Hundreds of courteous smiles. Dozens of handshakes. A handful of empathic stares and one all-consuming gaze that halts the Father in his tracks. 

How are you allowed to exist when lust is apparently a sin?

The answer to that never comes.

Boisterous music. Drunken celebration. Complete disinhibition comes in full force instead. 

Suguru wires around the women flinging themselves into his embrace. 

No matter the intention, he wants no part of it. In fact, if he could make it home to steal a few hours of uninterrupted sleep he would consider the night a roaring success. There’s no telling how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since the start of the celebration. 

Not until his eyes find you swallowing more  than a mouthful of red wine at the edge of your seat. Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as if the clouds are your native home. 

“Blessed be the fruit, Duchess.” An inebriated noble nearly trips into your arms. 

You narrowly miss his impact. The flame in your campfire gaze ascends high enough to singe the crescent moon. 

“May the Lord open.” Each one of your words sharper than swords made of dragonstone. 

Suguru starts to make his way over to flailing man, to rip him away from you at the very least. 

But you are more skilled than he is in still waters. Beneath your fiancés nose and a host of prying eyes you find an exit to slip past. 

The Chaplain’s feet move before a knowing smile tugs on his lips. 

Suguru knows exactly where to find the woman who doesn’t want to be found. 

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Saline seabreeze intertwines with your loose mane. Erupting goosebumps along your exposed décolletage. Expanding the lungs imprisoned by your steel-boned corset.

Breathe.

The moon is curved and high. Super-terrestrial hands knead the low tide crashing along the cliffside. 

To what end?

Your mind searches for a finish line to the marathon. Desperately seeking refuge from the journey with no endpoint. Traveling further than Pheidippides, who ran hundreds of miles from the battlefield to the citadel to deliver news of victory. 

All before dropping dead. 

A chuckle more bitter than the goblet of wine escapes you. 

You would travel further just to be home. Even if it meant instant death in return.  

“For God and Country.” Sharp words through terse lips. “For God and Country.” 

Thick, unforgiving fog fills your brain space. Heels echo through the chapel garden, pebbling the stone path to the rocky edge. Red wine powers your clumsy stumble. Chasing an ever elusive clarity. 

The marathon continues.

“What if…what if I don’t serve your God.” You hiss at the stars above. 

Resentment more potent on your tongue than the spirits you ingested tonight. Before rules of conduct blare through your drunken haze, rolls of sage satin fill your balmy fists and you take a seat on the ground. Legs dangling over the edge. Enticing the dangers below. 

“For God and — what if I think your God is deaf and dumb and…and—“

“And He loves you all the same, Duchess.”

Oh, that voice. 

That voice that smells like honey. And tastes like a dream. And sounds like lilac. 

No.

Violet. 

Like the eyes of its owner. 

“Suguru!! I-I mean Father. Shit. I’m sorry.” Bitter resentment is replaced with sour regret. 

Did you really need that last serving of truth elixir?

The Chaplain lets out a deep, velvet chuckle. It runs smooth along the curve of your flushed cheeks. He takes a seat on the ledge. A full hand width or two away and yet, his presence kisses you in the way sun rays do, when they tuck in for the night.

“You must think I’m a petulant woman, Father.”  Shockingly sober words, thanks to the company beside you. 

Another rich, truffle laugh. You cant help but notice his prominent Adams Apple gliding down the muscular column of his throat. 

“My name sounds like a ballad when you say it.” Irises softer than an oil painting cement you in place. 

“Please use it.”

Because it is, Father. 

His name is a ballad. A sonnet. A monologue in its own right.

A love letter. 

“And what of my name, Suguru? When will you use it?” 

Sobriety flutters away as quickly as it cloaked you in the first place. Cobalt winds lift the hem of your dress. A sheet of goosebumps along your bare thighs now on display. 

From the glacial breeze? The damp earth beneath you?

…Or is it the way the Chaplain’s Adam’s Apple and gaze descends?

“When I’ve earned it, Duchess.” 

Long, deft fingers reach over to re-drape the  satin over your knees. You swallow a gasp before it erupts. 

Of course he fixed your dress. It’s where your hem belongs. Especially around a man who has taken a vow of celibacy. 

No, no. 

Especially as a woman who is engaged. Spoken for. Under the God he serves and the law you abide by. 

“I trust you’ll have enough..” Suguru’s lips curl up at a thought reserved for himself only. 

And somehow, the perfectly centered dimple  on his appled left cheek comes to your attention for the first time. 

“Enough what?” You probe, sinking in the cavern you’ve discovered. 

“Conviction.” Volcanic eyes trail up to the moon. “To tell me the exact moment when I’ve earned the privilege.”

Suguru gives you ample space to bathe in him while he bathes in moonlight.

It’s uncanny. 

How the Priest exists in two different places at once. Down here, with you on the cliff edge. He’s tangible. Thick locks in a poetic cascade down his back. Limbs nearly twice as long as yours, beckoning creatures that only break the surface of Leviathan’s playground to wreak havoc. 

Sure, he’s down here. 

But he’s also up there. 

Somewhere in the ether. Traversing altitudes well above the average, simple minded being. High enough for the Gods to confess their sins. Because Suguru is the only one worthy enough to forgive them.  

“You’re staring, Duchess.” His voice holds a grin, and that grin has fingers. 

Cruel, torturous fingers that pet and stroke and tease your throbbing core until it’s plush. Your cunt is more intoxicated than you are.

“Eyesight is not a sin, Father.” You retort, crossing your legs before any more arousal leaks from your warm sex. Your gall entirely fueled by Arella’s quote imbedded in your mind. 

“Suguru.” The Priest corrects.  His sleek, jet black brow elevates. You must be an amusing drunk. 

“Suguru.” You acquiesce with a bashful nod. 

“So demanding.” 

He gifts you his left dimple once more. A feature that is rapidly soaring through your mind’s construct. Undoubtedly the only boyish thing about the stallion of a man next to you. 

Straight from Poseidon’s steed. 

“Very.” He agrees. “Only when the time calls for it.” 

And what time would that be?

“The Dahlias I sent, did you enjoy them?” Suguru deftly redirects the conversation like a captain navigating treacherous waters. As if he heard the blasphemous thoughts starting to brew. 

“They are gorgeous.” 

Stifling heat emanates from your cheeks. You were so fond of the bouquet that you felt compelled to lie to your betrothed about the source. 

“Good.” His eyes capture a moon ray and holds it hostage. 

“And the letter?”

“I loved it!” A slurred confession. “I’ve re-read it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.” 

How does his laugh sprint down your spine the way that it does? 

Unraveling you bit, by bit. You would stay drunk and stupid if it meant you could keep drawing that addicting sound out of his full lips. 

“I was referencing the proposal in the letter, Duchess.” 

Suguru’s eyes drop to your bottom lip, now rolled under your teeth. Not even a second passes before he flickers back out to the sea. And you’re grateful for the privacy to darken like Pinot Noir on a corkscrew. Both hands cup your reddened cheeks. 

“Yes, of course.” You wave, a matter-of-fact, of course. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” 

That response draws something new from the enigmatic Priest. 

Raven locks lift off his back from the speed at which his gaze recoils back to you. Lightning strikes the volcanoes in his eyes. A clenched fist and tense arm drops between his legs. 

Is he…steadying himself?

You can’t quite name his expression.  Wine or not, you’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s dark. Ominous. Full of bloodlust. 

And you’d gladly offer up a vein. 

“Pardon?” He rasps, completely fixated on your lips. As to not miss a single word of your answer.

Your hips roll around under his unrelenting stare. “I-I mean, you know best. I will do whatever you think is best for my marriage.”

Suguru barely hears your repeated answer, judging by the way he briefly makes eye contact, before re-settling on your mouth. Heat swells in your puffy cunt. Already hugging your thin, sodden undergarment. 

The Priest offers no words. 

Just a heady, quiet that pins you to the ground. And your mind, suddenly promiscuous, wonders if this is what it feels like to be beneath a man’s weight. Caged in by muscular arms. Scalded by fiery eyes tracing inch by inch. 

Not that you would know. 

Not that you know anything about making love. Or men. Or loving a man. 

“Will you…can you teach me how to love a man?” The tips of your ears threaten to melt off your head the second your sentence is complete.

Another shocking blow to the Father. His lips hang open in disbelief. For one, two, three seconds before he zips back up. Concealing his thoughts behind a courteous but very present steel barrier. 

“I—“ He starts carefully, averting away. “Surely you don’t need to be taught—“ 

“But I’m pure, Father.” You counter. Searing into his angular profile. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to—“ 

Cool fingers gently tilt your chin upward. To brand his correction into your memory. 

“Suguru.” The Chaplain’s voice glides lower than your inhibition. 

Something says that he won’t correct you a third time. 

Despite the temperature maintaining the same degree, a sharp jolt of pleasure straightens your spine as your nipples pebble against the silky fabric. You gnaw your cheeks to keep from physically squirming.

“S—Suguru.” You repeat. Subservience wets your drooling sex in a way that makes you want to keep following commands. 

Suguru’s tone rubs the folds in your brain smooth. 

“Good. Quick learner.” A pleased grin blooms across his lips. “I’ll start with focusing on you.”

The two of you slowly peel away from one another. Crashing waves replace the heady silence. 

Well, silence other than your heartbeat rattling between your ears. In your periphery, the Chaplain is now peering outward, at his true home. The coast is clear to return your greedy eyes back to his acute, feline features. 

Just enough of his mane is tied back to reveal a pretty mulberry dusting his high cheekbones and pointed nose. 

A pleasant surprise to know the demigod warms like the mortals he walks amongst.

“You’re blushing, Suguru.” Girlish satisfaction heavy on your tongue. 

Another decadent chuckle pets your womanhood. And this time you have to swallow a moan.

“As are you, Duchess.”

“Darling? There you are!” Ezra’s voice is just as, if not more sobering than his footsteps approaching. 

Too soon. 

Time bows at Suguru’s feet. The concept doesn’t exist around him. Someone, be it Arella or Noel or now, your soon-to-be husband, someone always has to physically draw you back to the present. 

Reality never comes on time. Always too late. Or in your case, always a little too early. 

The Chaplain is on his feet in seconds. He swiftly lifts you from the edge and sets you on solid ground. Leaving you dizzied and breathless on the surface. 

Guilty and red-handed beneath it. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Ezra paws at the soiled fabric, concern etched into his face. “Your dress is completely ruined.”

“I’ll live.” You’re sharper than intended. Surely, from the spirits still thrumming through your veins. 

Ezra falters like a wounded puppy. And it tugs on your tattered heartstrings.

“Thank you for the concern, Ezra.” You soften, thumbing his cheek. Purposefully avoiding the violet beams aimed at your face. And shoulders. And hands. 

As if the Priest is daring you to keep provoking his searing gaze. 

But your fiancé unravels under your rare display of affection. He eagerly leans over to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile your hand desperately magnets to your side. 

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly Ezra, I—I had a bit too much to drink and I needed air then—“

“Don’t give it a second thought, my love.” 

Your fiancé is gentle with you. Little strokes along the small of your back. And maybe…just maybe your reaction time is dulled because you don’t immediately flinch away.

“Individual counseling starting early then?” Ezra jests. Pristine jade eyes dance between you and Suguru. 

The Priest offers a smile about as warm as the Siberian tundra. 

“Hardly. Just ensuring the Duchess is out of harm’s way.”

Like your fiancé did with you, you flower under the pad of Suguru’s thumb. A brief swipe, to remove a stray saltwater droplet. But your skin scorches all the same. Unreasonably missing a touch that lasted all of half a moment. 

Ezra clears his throat and drops his broad, but not nearly as broad, shoulders.

“I received the memo from your office staff, Father. Please accept this as my formal agreement to proceed with individual counseling.” He reaches out and Suguru takes his hand firmly. 

“Duchess,” Suguru beckons without breaking focus on Ezra. 

“We will be begin your sessions in three days. Meet me around 8:00 AM in our garden. Yes?”

Our garden.

You are a dirty woman. 

The way your core aches at his meaningless, frivolous, harmless words. 

“Y-yes. I will be there.” A half-baked attempt at maintaining neutrality. 

Your agreement earns you Suguru’s left dimple again. You toss your gaze elsewhere before your knees commit treason. 

“Duke, is there an activity you enjoy?” Suguru probes Ezra. 

“Sailing.”

“Sailing…?” Suguru lifts an incredulous brow. Blatantly amused by his automatic response. 

Granted, you don’t know your future husband that well, but he’s never made mention of any maritime activities.

Meanwhile everyone in this country, two countries over, possibly your home country knows that water belongs to the Chaplain. The element bends to his will. 

“Are you certain about that, Duke Ahriman?”

“Yes, Father. We have quite the fleet. I think you would be impressed.” 

“Understood. You and I will set sail before Sunrise the day after tomorrow.” 

The men exchange pleasantries as they do. Ezra intertwines his loving fingers into your reluctant ones. He ushers the long night to a welcome end.

Five steps into your path home, a blistering heat snakes up your spine. Fanning your shoulders like high noon during summer solstice. 

You don’t have to do it. 

You know the source, already. 

But you do it anyway. 

Over your left shoulder, you find the Naval Prince strolling along the unstable rocky ledge with as much grace as he does flat terrain. Eyeing the tide. Searching for the perfect entry home. 

Suguru’s trident reflects stark against the moonlight. Upper body completely shed of clothing, lower body with a long, black compression garment. Heavy locks now woven in the same singular braid you met him with. Dark overhead skies somehow illuminating the ridges and shadows of his sculpted arms, and back…and chest. 

A glimpse of heaven. 

…is staring right back at you. 

Possessing you.

“Enjoy your swim!” 

The words string together without your consent. Ezra lands his attention on you, startled by the sudden crack in silence. 

And the demigod shakes his head.  One part disbelief, two parts fond. 

“Enjoy your dreams!” Suguru calls back before turning his trident to you. His night has just begun.

You walk away with your betrothed, cloaked in soiled satin and guilt. 

Were you in the wrong? Maybe so.

But your heart didn’t choose Ezra. Not yet. You aren’t sure if your heart has even chosen you. 

Arella’s gentle wave from the patio welcomes you home. Sleep suddenly descending on your heavy lids. 

At least you’re safe, here in your mind’s haven.

For now. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Fuck.” 

A tormented hand swipes the bead of moisture tickling a path down Suguru’s temple. 

0345

Obscenities seem to spill from his lips a little too easily these days. And his usual coping mechanisms are falling a little too short. 

The chaplain drags the hem of his sleepwear down to his thighs. 

Each bone, muscle and tendon is utterly spent after tonight’s swim. Every part of his body except the thick rod that springs free from its cage. 

Glistening with beads of lust. Taunting him. Making a mockery of his code of conduct. 

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife.

“Really?” Suguru scoffs and screws his eyes shut. His nails dig into the abused sheets to keep from gripping his cock and tugging himself numb. 

How convenient. 

The Holy Book of Answers and all of its rules makes no mention of how to survive the likes of you. 

How does one circumvent murky waters when Thy Neighbor’s Wife is Aphrodite’s reincarnate? 

Suguru’s heavy, oversized length pulsates. Its blushing head lays flush with his abdomen, a few inches past his belly button. Leaking pearly arousal onto his damp skin. Still not fully air-dried from the second icy bath since returning to his quarters. 

‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me.’

You dangled your submission in front of him. 

Him, a red-blooded man. 

A ravenous, touch starved, cunt-drunk beast of man. And you sat there. With your dizzying silhouette. And puffy lips. And pert nipples, pebbling from his gaze alone.  

Did you think he couldn’t see? 

How you pressed your mouth-watering thighs together? With wide, gorgeous eyes. Desperately trying to deny yourself the indulgence. 

What if he asked you to spread your legs then and there, pretty girl? 

What if he asked you to watch his fingers pet that weeping little cunt of yours? Watch how much honey he could coax out of your needy opening. 

Because you were. 

So fucking needy.

Suguru could see it from a mile away much less sitting next to you. Tensed legs. Short gasps. Studying his features when you thought his attention lapsed. 

‘Can you teach me how to love a man?’

“Oh, sweet girl,” Suguru rolls over to settle a plush pillow between his thighs. The cool, soft cotton rubs blinding friction against his aching length. 

This is wrong. 

Immoral. 

He’s a filthy, disgusting, pervert.

Suguru lurches his hips forward in a deep thrust against the cushion. A shattered groan pushes past his clenched jaw. 

It’s a disgrace, the way saliva pooled in his mouth and cum drooled from his cock when you unveiled your purity. 

Suguru’s hips rut faster. Brutalizing the pillow. Animalistic sounds bubble out of him. 

“Fuck…fuck no..don’t..” Pathetic pleas contradict the pace he humps the fabric. Chasing the whirlpool of lust in his groin. 

Demons in hell couldn’t concoct the vile things his mind is showing him. The intricate ways he wants to violate you.

A moral stain for the church 

The priest tilts up on his knees. Fucking the pillow in earnest. Picturing its your precious, dewy center that he’s defiling. 

He could teach you, gorgeous. 

He could shape your untouched core to fit his cock like a sleeve. Perfectly molded to his veins. Slotting into your warm, wet, noble sheath with ease. 

He would have you sit on his lap for your first lesson. 

His swollen length buried inside you to the hilt. He wouldn’t thrust, not yet. Your body would just clench and squeeze and leak around his intrusion. Suguru wouldn’t retreat out of your cunt until you were begging him to. Teary eyed and drooling from every single opening. 

He could teach you. Break you. Turn you into a pretty little cockdumb puppet at his touch.

“God..nngh fuck.” Opaque fog fills his head and lungs. 

Sordid moans echo against the walls. Reflecting his sinful behavior, but Suguru is too intoxicated to care. He curls around his swollen cockhead. Feverishly jerking his abused sex. Grinding so pitifully into his hand. 

Suguru drops his head. Mumbling your name in full before spewing himself empty into his grasp, the sheets, his pillow. 

Shame warmer than the mess of cum he’s currently laying descends. Filling the fuzzy corners of his brain. 

Is he really so weak?

“Be stronger than this.” The priest hisses angrily.

Unable to lay in filth for another second, Suguru rockets out of bed. Pulling his sheets, folding his sins away. To be cleansed in the next load of laundry.

A third, icy shower serves the same purpose for him a few minutes later. Glacial droplets soak the length of his mane, again. His manhood hangs away from his body, bucking every couple moments. Threatening to steal his virtue for a second time. 

He’ll be a better man when the sun rises. 

A tired sigh escapes his lips. At least Suguru is safe, here in his mind’s haven. 

For now.  

E/N: Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Chaplain, you really have to get a handle on those pesky hands of yours. 🤭

Taglist: @blkkizzat @hayakawalove @rotteneyess

[smol-sirens-garden]

A soft hum left his lips, eyes going from Garth to the two who lay on the floor now. He raised a brow, staring at Garth before reaching out to cup his cheek.

"It's what you all did. If you want to play happy family then you all pay for the mistake of even one of you."

He released him, going to smash his foot into Chuuyas back, keeping it there.

Chuuya gasped as the air left his lungs, pain from previous wounds making him groan as well. He was more worried about Yumeno. He lifted his head, eyes finding them and reaching a hand to rest on Yumeno's.

Mori just chuckled.

"Ah this is the type of weakness I was trying to warn you both about. Your concern for each other is probably why that last mission don't go quite to plan, even with corruption. On top of that your little field trip."

He looked up from him, digging his foot into Chuuya's back harder.

"I want you to learn your lesson. To learn to listen to what I tell you. All of you. Its quite simple."

He raised a brow at the plea, stepping off Chuuya and walking back over to Garth.

"Please what?"

@diverse-hearts-ocs, @theircurse

@smol-sirens-garden asked:

"Look at them. Look closely. You can make it stop."~ Mori to Garth

Forced to Watch starters

There would never come a time where he'd be able to understand his father. Whenever it seemed as though there was something being built, everything would soon come crashing down, and he'd be left hurt and confused, his heart aching as he tried not to fall into a full blown panic attack. If he was the one that his father was so upset with, then why? Why go after his family? Why harm those who had nothing to do with any of this? This...this was why he was so terrified at fighting back, his eyes rather wide as he turned back to face his father. "Why? What - what could I have possibly done to make you hurt them both like this?", he was barely holding back the urge to attack the older man, afraid that Yumeno or Chuuya would only be hurt worse if he were to do so. Over and over, he'd beg to be harmed in their place...Chuuya was so darn loyal to his father too - it made no sense to him!

"What do you want from me!? Just...just stop hurting them...I'll do whatever you want..." As long as it kept them save. He didn't much care how much it may push him to his own limits - his deal with Kyran was supposed to keep Yumeno safe...but even that wouldn't be enough to keep them safe from his father's hands. He couldn't even do that little for them. His family were stuck in this nightmare simply because they cared for him...and he was too weak to protect them. What had he even done?

Or, maybe it was something he hadn't done? He was trying to search his memories, but his mind was a mess with how much he'd been using his ability lately. All in all, he was beyond exhausted - but none of that mattered.

"Dad...please...."

[yan-lorkai]

I’m not sure if I can request this and I don’t know much about Halloween but I can totally imagine the first year gang starting a little pumpkin farm at Ramshackle. They’d carve pumpkins together and maybe sell some of them to earn a little pocket money

If it’s too much, no worries. just ignore this. Have a great day

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This is such a lovely idea tbh, now i kinda of want to do something like this with my friends aaaa. This was supposed to be posted at 6am as always and i forget to queue it lol. Anyway, enjoy it darling!

The Ramshackle Dorm had never been busier nor more vibrant than now. It all started with a simple idea from Ace: “Hey, why don’t we grow some pumpkins here?” he had said a sunny afternoon, eyes glinting with mischief as gestured to the dead garden of his dorm.

“We can carve them for Halloween, and maybe even sell a few. Easy money, right?” He turned to Epel, who, just as mischievously, nodded.

With a few enthusiastic nods from Jack and Deuce, the plan was set in motion. Soon, even Sebek, who had initially scoffed at the idea as "a frivolous waste of time," found himself secretly invested when Malleus found out and praised him for having a hobby with a bunch of friends.

Days turned into weeks, and the once dead, wild yard of the Ramshackle Dorm was transformed. The first-year gang tilled the soil, planted seeds, and tended to their patch diligently. They took turns watering the sprouts, pulling out weeds, and shooing away curious crows. It was hard work, but there was a certain joy in it.

Jack took special pride in watching the tiny green shoots grow into fat, round pumpkins, while Epel appreciated the physical labor - he said that in that way he could gain muscles. Ace and Deuce made it a game, challenging each other to see who could grow the biggest pumpkin, which led to much bickering and laughter.

The yard was filled with the warm, earthy scent of pumpkins, and the air was filled with laughter. Each carved pumpkin was a reflection of its creator, scattered around the steps and windows of Ramshackle, glowing with flickering candles as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As the pumpkins ripened, the dorm's front yard slowly turned into a sea of orange, each pumpkin unique in size and shape. On one particularly crisp afternoon, as Halloween approached, they gathered around to start carving. Carving tools in hand, they sat in a circle, some humming, others chatting about what designs they’d make.

Ace boasted that he would create the scariest face, while Deuce shyly admitted he wanted to make a pumpkin with a cute smile so he could take a photo and sent it to his mother. Epel’s was, of course, carved with incredible detai l— a miniature masterpiece of intricate patterns, as he was used to carve apples. Jack’s was simple and classic, just like him. And Sebek, determined to outshine the rest, carved an elaborate dragon that he claimed was a tribute to his master, Malleus.

“Not bad, huh?” Ace said, admiring their work. “I mean, I could probably sell mine for way more than any of yours, but still.” He smirked, dodging a playful punch from Deuce.

“We’ll see about that,” You shot back, wiping your hands on your overalls. “Who wouldn’t want to buy one of mine?”

Throughout the day, the first-years ran the stand, chatting with students and selling their carved pumpkins. Sebek was surprisingly the best salesperson, his loud voice catching everyone’s attention and his pride making each pumpkin sound like a royal treasure. Epel made sure every customer left with a smile, slipping them a little extra vine or a perfect pumpkin seed as a token. Even Grim, though not directly involved in the growing process, found himself helping out, lured by the promise of sharing in the profits.

With their pumpkins carved, the group turned to the next phase of their plan. They set up a small stand by the gate, decorating it with the leftover vines and smaller pumpkins. A hand-painted sign read, "Pumpkins for Sale! Buy 1, Get 1 Free (if you can guess who carved it)!" It was Ace’s idea, of course, to add a little game to attract more customers. They were soon joined by curious students from other dorms, many who had heard about the little farm project and wanted to see the fruits (or rather, gourds) of their labor.

You still were surprised that their idea really attracted people. Even Sam was there, examining the pumpkins.

By the end of the evening, the pumpkin patch looked a bit emptier, but your pockets were a little heavier. All of you were tired, but it was the good kind of tired, where your cheeks hurt from smiling and your muscles ache in a satisfying way. As you sat together on the steps of Ramshackle, trapped between Deuce and Ace, watching the last of the daylight fade, there was a warm sense of accomplishment between them.

“This was a good idea,” Jack said, breaking the comfortable silence. “We should do it again next year.”

“Yeah,” Epel said, stretching out his arms. “Maybe we’ll even beat the big guys at their own game. Imagine if this little patch becomes the talk of Halloween.”

"What if other dorms try to do something like this, though?" You asked them.

You had so much fun those past few months, working at their side after clubs ended and the homework was made. You laughed, you chased them when they teamed up to tease you. Overall, it was the most fun you had since coming to this world.

Ace, who was using your left shoulder as a pillow, leaned up so he could see your eyes. "If this happens..." he looked at the other boys before catching your eyes again. "Then we'll crush them, no doubt."

"Figuratively speaking, right?"

Deuce smiled spread through his face as Epel laughed and Sebek and Jack tried to hide their face from you.

"Yeah... Figuratively speaking, of course, Prefect."

The others nodded, their eyes bright with ideas about what to do if the other students tried to do something like that.

As the night settled in, the carved pumpkins flickered warmly, casting playful shadows across the yard. And you felt as if, for just a moment, like you were back home with your small, happy family — gathered around a shared project, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air with something brighter than any candle could provide.

If you were here the next year, then you wanted to do the same thing with them again. And if you aren't... You wanted them to continue that little tradition.