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sinner-as-saint · 6 months ago

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no masters or kings - 3

Priest!Bucky x Reader

Read Part 1 and Part 2 here

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before.

Requested: “i really wanna hear more about priest bucky. what would be his reaction to the readers partner coming back to town suddenly? or what about readers spouse saying they should start trying for a baby?”

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff), breeding kink, jealous!bucky, slight angst

a/n: for @cadence-on-beat and @winters1917 (sorry this took so long ily)

Bucky was leading a double life, and he had never been happier.

By day he was the kind, gentle, compassionate priest he’d been for years in this small town. By day he was the man who had chosen this plain life rather than be the heir to his parents’ business empire. He still visited his family home over the holidays, and helped out with business stuff whenever he could. Like the good man he was. By day he prayed, and helped, and preached, and listened to all those who came to him, to confess, to lean on his shoulder, to cry, to repent. By day he was the priest the people in this small town knew and loved him as.

But then in the dark, he’d find his way to you. Always. Each night ever since those first few times. It was almost instinctual. Natural. Like Persephone finding her way back to Hades’ kingdom of darkness come autumn. Like it was destiny. A primal pull.

Bucky didn’t run at night that often anymore. If ever he did, he’d never come home. He would just run to you and stay the night, and leave right before the sun rose.

It all started that one night he found himself running in the dark in one specific direction – towards your luxurious home.

Your home was located in the rather quiet part of the town, which was a good thing. You didn’t have any neighbours, which was also good because no one saw him making his way to your front door.

His heart raced as he reached for the door handle. He thought back to what you’d once confessed to him: “Sometimes I leave the doors and windows unlocked or opened, even at night. Shamelessly hoping someone might just walk in…”

Surely not. Right? But what if–

He stopped thinking and froze the moment he turned the handle and the door opened an inch. Unlocked, just as you had said. Were you secretly hoping he’d seek you out one night?

He was here unannounced. This was not planned. He was sort of worried that he might scare you, given the boundaries he was crossing. But part of him – the long restrained, dark corner of him – was excited for this little game he was about to play. Hunter. Prey. Cat. Mouse. Something stirred inside him, and he quickly realised that his cock was harder than ever as he quietly stepped into your home.

It was dark inside, no lights were on. Except one upstairs, it looked like the soft, dim light in the hallway which lit part of the staircase. The house smelt a lot like you. Sweet. Soft. Warm. For a moment he pictured you moving around this space. And he liked it a lot.

He began making his way upstairs, he figured by the darkness and silence that you weren’t downstairs. He went to follow the dimmed light coming from somewhere, then two things happened at the same time. It began raining outside, the wind making the rain hit the windows harder than normal. And second, Bucky realised that the stairs were creaking with each step.

He went still for a moment. Every other sound around him became louder. His heartbeats, the rain hitting the glass around the house, and the muffled shuffling coming from upstairs.

You were awake. He figured. You were awake and aware that he was here. And you were trying to be as quiet as possible, not screaming bloody murder which meant that… you wanted to play as well.

Bucky smirked as he took his sweet time in making his way upstairs, making sure and letting each step creak as loudly as possible. He soon found himself in that dimly lit hallway, at the end of which were dark, double doors. One of them was partially opened. Surely your bedroom.

He could hear noises the more he approached the doors. And he was certain he even heard a soft giggle which warmed his heart, and made him smile despite the hard as rock erection in his running shorts which desperately needed attention.

He didn’t even bother knocking on the already opened door, he just pushed it open wider so he could step inside. And there, even in the dark room only lit by the street lights outside, he could see the shape of you in the middle of your four-poster bed, sitting, waiting.

“Father Barnes?” You called out softly.

“You shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked. You don’t know who might just walk in,” He spoke as he walked further into your room, approaching the bed. “You wouldn’t know it, but some people walk around with the most dark thoughts in their heads. You don’t know when they might just…” He braced a hand against one of the posters on your bed and leaned down just a little, “... give in.”

He didn’t see the slight smirk on your face. It was dark after all, the rain was getting heavier, trapping you two even more inside this perfect bubble.

Father Barnes spoke to you with that priestly voice of his, like he only had good intentions. Like he wasn’t here to fuck you, but guide you gently like you were a lost little lamb. It was comforting, that voice. Except right now, it only made you clench your thighs tighter together under the covers.

“I see.” You mumbled, faking the apologetic tone in your voice. All you wanted was to pull him down onto your bed and straddle him but if he wanted to play this little game, then fine. You could wait a little more. “But I’m safe with you, aren’t I? You’re here to make sure no one with ill intentions finds their way to me?”

You watched as he walked around the bed to come to the side, sat down on the edge of your bed and reached out to touch your cheek with his cold hand. “Of course, little lamb. You’re always safe with me.” He said, stroking your cheek. His hand was cold so you shivered against his touch, but didn’t pull away. He noticed and said, “Are you cold? Poor you, come here.” He patted his lap, “I’ll keep you warm, and safe. I promise.”

You wasted no time in getting out of the covers and finding your way onto his lap, straddling him and enjoying the way he groaned the moment your bare cunt brushed against his hard on. “Fuck,” You mumbled, unable to help yourself from grinding against him just once. Just to feel him between your thighs. It made your head all foggy.

“What is this?” He questioned, faking displeasure. “Is this what you wear to sleep? With the door unlocked? You’re practically naked.” He chided, fingers rubbing against your exposed back the moment he noticed you were wearing nothing but an excuse of a silky night dress, with the back open, the neckline dangerously low, and the length barely below your butt. “Good women don’t dress like this, you know? You’re a walking temptation. Is this what you want? To lure strange men into your home while your husband is away? Is that what this is?”

His hand found its way in between your legs, shamelessly toying with your wet folds and clit, making you whine and whimper as you ground your hips against his hand, seeking more.

“No,” You mumbled, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t do anything.” You whined as his finger slowly slid inside you. His other hand still stroking your back. This was all you wanted. To be here in his embrace.

Father Barnes chuckled, “Ah, see but you did. You lured me in. You tempted me.” He looked down and saw, with whatever minimal light was available, how his hand disappeared in between your thighs, and how your hips moved so perfectly, riding his finger. “Look,” He said, “Look at what you’re making me do.”

You moaned out loud when he slid another finger inside you, fucking you so slowly and perfectly that it felt like you might die. “But I–,”

“Shh,” He cut you off. “You should be thankful I’m not like other men. You see, they would just walk in and use you. But not me. You know me. You’re safe with me, remember?”

You nodded, shoving your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. “Yes, Father Barnes.” You mumbled in between moans.

“That’s it, lamb. Just trust me, okay?”

Fuck.

Bucky couldn’t take this any longer. He enjoyed this little game but he needed you. So it didn’t take much for him to twist around and place you down on the bed and hover above you. The little light coming in from outside allowed him to see parts of you. Your parted lips, the hunger in your eyes, the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, the way your thighs cradled his body. Fuck. He could live in this moment forever.

“How many nights have you waited for me to just walk in here and play with you, hmm?” He lifted the hem of your night dress and sighed at the sight of your naked body.

You easily removed the night dress and threw it aside, your hands finding their way into his hair as you pulled him closer. “Too many to count.” You whispered, lips brushing against his mouth. “I need you, please.”

You were barely done talking when he lazily ran his fingers down your wet folds. You shivered under him, squirming on the bed.

“Look at you, so shamelessly wet.” He growled, grabbing your face in his other hand as he slid two fingers inside you and making you gasp and moan. “Does this feel good? Hmm? This is why you leave your door open, and dress like that at night, huh? All because you want some man to show up and touch you however he wants? Does that make you feel wanted?” He stroked you in all the right places and had you coming all over his fingers in no time.You whined and squirmed as he kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm.

He pulled away for a brief moment, taking his clothes off but leaving his boxers lowered just enough to free his erected cock. You watched as he stroked it once, twice before finding his way back in between your legs.

One of his hands found its way to your throat and he wrapped his fingers around it carefully as he stared into your eyes. “You’re gonna let me fuck you just that easily, huh? You’re that hungry for it? I found my way into your house at night, unexpected, and you’re not even gonna put up a fight?”

You were trembling with need. Unable to look away from his intense eyes as he guided the tip of his cock over to your clit and circled it, smearing his precum and your wetness around. You whimpered at the sensation. “Please…” You begged.

He chuckled, teasing you a bit more by just pressing the tip of his cock against your tight hole. Not pushing it in, just pressing ever so gently until you whined and clawed at his shoulders. “See how bad you want it? Is this how good women behave?” He taunted before pushing his cock inside you. “No they don’t,” He whispered as he slid all the way in, “This is how good little sluts behave.”

He remained still for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of your warmth around him. Your breath was shaky as you felt him fill you up and stretch you out so deliciously, snug deep inside you.

He stared at your face, contorting in pleasure. Then he chuckled, and the slightest friction made you whine even louder. “I feel good inside you, don’t I?” He teased, rolling his hips just the slightest bit against you. When you cried out in pleasure, he tightened his grip around your throat and said, “I know, I know it feels good. Desperate woman like you, this is all you needed, huh?” He whispered.

Fuck, he felt so good. You nodded, going along with whatever he said because it was so hot – his body, his words, his touch, the depravity of it all. “Yes,” You mumbled, so overcome with pleasure even though he hadn’t started fucking you yet that you felt like you could cry.

“Then tell me.” He said, “Tell me I feel good inside you.”

Another whine, and a gasp, then you mumbled, “You feel so good inside me, Father Barnes.” A pause then, “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, desperately.

Bucky didn’t want to wait another second, he couldn’t take it anymore either. His entire body felt like it was on fire as he started fucking into you hard and fast, not bothering to be nice to you. Not this time, not right now he couldn’t.

He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear and telling you how good you felt. You could only respond with moans and whimpers, which only made him fuck you harder.

“That little head of yours is filled with filthy thoughts only, isn’t it? Seducing a priest,” He said in a tone of pretend discontent, “You should be punished for that.” He whispered in your ear, in a daze as he pounded into you. Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, chest pressing into his.

You must’ve wanted him closer still because Bucky let out a soft chuckle when he noticed you raised your trembling legs and wrapped them around his hips. Pulling him deeper into you, if that was possible.

“You want me closer? Want me to fuck you deeper, harder? Hmm? Is that what this is?” He taunted. “You just want to be my dirty, filthy, little slut? Huh? You never want me to stop?” He held your stare, pressing the sides of your throat as he fucked deeper into you.

He watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your moans getting louder, your body heating up beneath him, your walls clenching around his cock in that way he loved.

“Well then, you don’t get to come that easily.”

Those words brought you right back to reality, just when you were right on that edge.

“What?” You questioned in disbelief, but not doing anything to stop him as he pulled out, grabbed you by the hips and flipped you around onto your stomach.

“Bucky!” You cried out as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your lower back with one hand. That earned you a smack on the butt. Hard. Stinging.

“That’s Father Barnes to you, you little slut.”

You moaned when you felt him guiding his cock back to your hole again.

He leaned over your back to whisper into your ear, sliding his cock inside you as he said, “You belong to me.” He said, like it was the most ardent prayer. He tugged on your pinned wrists, which made you whine in pain and pleasure. “So if you’re gonna leave the doors unlocked, and if you’re gonna wear these slutty things to bed, it’ll be only for me. You hear me?”

“Yes!” You agreed immediately, then yelped in pleasure as he pulled out and pushed back into you from behind.

Then he began fucking you again, hard and fast. Mercilessly. Like an ancient god taking what was offered to him at his altar. Like it was his right. Like you were there, open and willing only for his taking. Rough. Raw. The pleasure was overwhelming.

“Come for me…”

And you did.

Not just that night, but every night which followed.

Each time you heard those stairs creak in the middle of the night, your heart would begin racing in anticipation. Because nothing was as exciting as indulging in what was forbidden.

But naturally, things couldn’t go on like this for long without some kind of hindrance.

Then there was that phone call.

Your husband called and a conversation was had which soured your mood for the rest of the day. To a point where not even Father Barnes could take your mind off things.

The two of you laid in your bed that night, both sweaty and damp and in dire need of showers but neither of you wanted to move so there you remained. Limbs tangled. Your head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeats. His hand rubbing your back, while the other traced random shapes all over your thigh.

“What is it?” He asked after a good half an hour of just cuddling in silence.

The room was dark, and it wasn’t raining so the silence was too loud to ignore.

“Nothing.” You answered.

Bucky sighed. Of course it wasn’t nothing. “Tell me,” He insisted.

“It’s… complicated.” You answered.

“Try. We’ll make sense of it together, I promise.” He used that priestly tone, one he knew worked with everyone.

A moment of silence later you said, “My husband called.” And Bucky’s heart dropped. Suddenly he felt cold, empty, deserted. Like something, someone had abandoned him. And he didn’t even know what your husband had said yet, but he could tell he wouldn’t like it.

“I see. Has he found out about us?”

A humourless chuckle from you meant that that wasn’t the case.

“Worse,” You spoke quietly, “He met up with our parents for lunch recently and… they mentioned wanting grandkids.”

Bucky pulled away instantly like your touch burned his skin. It was childish, he knew, to be this jealous when he was clearly in the wrong. He sat up on the edge of your bed, and tried to get his emotions under control.

He had no right to be angry. To feel betrayed. To feel sad.

“Don’t pull away from me. Please.” You whispered, kneeling behind him on the bed and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the warmth of your skin. The feeling of your chest pressing against his back. The way you nuzzled his neck, leaving soft kisses all over his skin.

“Everytime I think I have you, I’m reminded that you belong to someone else.” He confessed. “And I have no right to be angry. Or expected anything from you.”

You sighed, letting your hands touch him all over his chest, caressing his shoulders, down his arms as you said, “I don’t belong to anyone but you. My husband and I… we talked about it earlier. We respect each other, but there’s no way we could get together like that. Maybe we can adopt. Or find a surrogate, but–,”

He cut you off, annoyed at the mere mention of another man. “There’s no place for me in your life.” He announced, calmly. “There is still time. We could put an end to this. Then perhaps you two could try and do right by your marriage and–,”

That calm tone pissed you off for some reason, “Oh stop trying to be all nice, calm, and priestly as if you weren’t fucking me like an animal just now!” You pulled away from him, glaring at the back of his neck even in the mostly dark room. “Do right by my marriage.” You scoffed. “Is that what you want?” You questioned, keeping your voice steady. “You want me to climb into my husband’s bed? Let him fuck me however he wants until–,”

You barely processed what was happening because that’s how fast he moved. One moment you were talking and the next his hand was around your throat and he was standing up, looking down at you still kneeling on the bed.

“Keep talking, come on.” He dared you, squeezing the sides of your neck. His voice was cold, and unlike anything you’d heard before.

Despite the chokehold, you smirked. “You don’t like the sound of that, do you, Father Barnes?” You taunted. “I’m just telling you how it’ll go.”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He growled.

You found yourself flat on your back again, with him above you. The little light available allowed you to see his silhouette. Broad and muscular, all that running made him just the right amount of lean.

He parted your legs and pushed his cock into you without wasting a second, stretching you out easily. Bucky’s thoughts were all over the place. How dare you talk about sleeping with another man? How dare he get jealous? How dare you even think about having someone else’s kids?

There it was. The thing that bothered him the most. Someone else’s kids. Not his. And suddenly he was nothing but a man – not a priest, or a considerate human being, just a man.

“How fucking dare you?” He questioned, his cock buried so deep inside of you that he was certain neither of you could even think straight. “I give you everything,” He spoke through gritted teeth as he began fucking you, “I take care of you, I fuck you whenever you ask for it, and this is what I get in return?”

There was nothing gentle or passionate about him. He was wild, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear while you were a moaning mess under him. Skin slapping, breaths mingling, it was so hot. So hot and you couldn’t think.

“You belong to me.” He hissed in your ear; speeding up again. “I don’t care what the rules are, if you’re gonna carry a child it’ll be mine. Do you fucking hear me?”

Your heart raced at what he said. What about the consequences? What about his job? What will you tell your family?

But none of that mattered right now, not with his body weight on top of you, not with how perfectly his cock moved in and out of you. You whimpered desperately as he fucked you, relentlessly.

He sped up into you, whispering into your ear, “I can already see it… you with a bump, my child growing, and safe inside you.” He spoke in a haze, his voice deep and growly. “We’ll go far away from here, consequences be damned.”

You nodded, agreeing.

Bucky had never thought about laicization before. Never considered it as an option. Never wanted to. But now? Now things were different. Now he was determined to make you his. He wanted this now, he wanted to have this forever, have you forever.

He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He slowed down just the slightest bit. He pulled away a little and stared down into your eyes. “You will be mine, forever. I promise you.” He whispered as he fucked deeper into you. “I’ll fix this, I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing, you hear me?”

He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing all your moans and mewls as he came inside of you. You felt his warm load shooting at your walls as he shoved his tongue past your lips. You cried out as that triggered your orgasm, and your walls clenched violently around him until you came undone as well.

Your brain was a foggy mess at this point.

He pulled his cock out of you and pulled away to reach for the bedside lamp, turned it on so he could admire you under him better.

A triumphant smirk appeared on his face as he stared at his cum leaking out of you while you panted under him, squirming still as you came down from your high and tried to control your breathing.

He slowly slipped his fingers back into you and watched how your face morphed into a frown as he fingered his cum back into you again, making you arch your back and whine in pleasure, “Please…” you whined, unsure if you wanted him to stop playing with your body or if you wanted him to make you cum again.

He didn’t care about how sensitive you were, he just needed to remind you that you belonged to him. He had to make sure you knew.

Bucky leaned in to kiss you again. “You will carry my child, won’t you, baby?” He whispered against your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. “We’re gonna find a way to make this work. But you are not fucking leaving me, you hear that?” He growled against your lips as you came again.

He kissed your lips gently, then your closed eyelids, then he left a final kiss on your forehead before he laid beside you, leaving the light on, as he pulled you into his arms. You were limp, and quiet, possibly closer to sleep than consciousness.

Bucky on the other hand couldn’t stop thinking. He wanted this with you, he’d never been more sure about something in his life before.

Money was not an issue, he was always going to inherit everything his parents have anyway, and they’ve always begged him to come home and take over the businesses. The only issue would be your family and husband, but he was certain that although some difficult conversations would need to be had, things would be sorted soon enough.

Then you and him could start your new life.

He couldn’t wait.

—

A/n: I won’t be writing more parts for this series, I like to leave some things open-ended. Have fun imagining the rest, if you want, I’ll leave that to you <3 Thank you for loving Father Barnes as much as I did, see y’all in hell. I’ll wait by the gates ;)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months ago

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Can i request follower!Narinder x follower!reader who's kind heart person? Like they always want to help other even tho they rude to them,and they forgive them eventually but Narinder cannot handle seeing his spouse being disrespectful.

I want this to be oneshot angst/fluff pls thank you and have a nice day/night🥰

"How goes...your marriage..?"

"Hmph..hello to you too, sister." Narinder rolled his eyes as he sat by the pond with a bowl of stew, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But of course, ever since his siblings arrived into Lamb's cult and learned that he was betrothed to a mortal..he hasn't known such things.

He could tolerate Heket at the very least, since Kallamar was off flirting with gods-know-who, Leshy was on a missionary, and Shamura was reading their usual books.

"It fairs well. I sometimes find it funny.."

"Hm?"

"Shamura surely couldn't have predicted that I would become wedded to a measly mortal..let alone find myself in my vessel's cult. I was to sacrifice them and all of Lamb's followers. Yet when I ended up here..[y/n] was the first to reach out a hand and help me find my place." The black cat huffed. "When others mocked me..they defended my name day and night despite my past transgressions, willing to lookover the fact I once thought of them as nothing but a pawn in my game."

"You've..gotten soft..brother.." Heket lightly teased, earning her a scowl from him. However, something in the distance caught her eyes, and she tensed. "Go."

"What? Go away, you mean?" He blinked in confusion, taken aback by her command as he sneered. "I open my heart up to you, and you have the nerve to-?!"

"[Y/n]." She simply pointed, and he followed her gaze to the drinkhouse where you were trying to help a drunken follower stand on their own two feet.

While you could normally handle that sort of thing, something about it didn't sit right with Narinder. They were acting rather belligerent, babbling nonsense and causing a barrel to topple over, all while refusing to surrender their empty glass.

Only then he remember you were the bartender for today and were trying to close up shop.

He got up, deciding to let Heket finish his stew, and began walking over. His footsteps were silent as to not draw attention to himself.

He wanted to observe how you'd handle the situation.

"Please, go rest." You gently tried to urge the inebriated follower. "You've had enough."

"Don't touch meeeeeee...I ain't-" A hiccup interrupted them as their face became redder, words so slurred you could hardly understand them. "I ain't gonna..go anywherrre.."

"I'm afraid you must, I'm sorry-"

"Nooooo...I don't wanna be handled by some...idiot who slept with the One Who Waits!"

You froze. "Pardon?"

"Whatdya see in that guy anyway? He haaaates us all..he was..gonna kill us, right? And Lamby, too?" They grumbled, now sounding completely serious and irate. "Why don't you wanna be with Lamby? Or me? Or someone who isn't a monster...do ya hate us, too?"

"No, I don't hate anyone." You tried to reassure them. "But it's rude to speak of Narinder that way."

"But his stupid siblings..they...they hurt us so much because of him!" Tears began filling their eyes, their expression growing angrier. "Why did they have to come? What they did to us...was 'cuz of HIM! EVERYTHING is his fault!!!"

"I hear your pain, my friend. I really do. But Lamb believed-"

"WHAT ABOUT WHAT I BELIEVE?!" They raised their empty glass in a threatening manner, and you flinched, taking your hands off their robe in preparation for an attack.

But before anything could happen-

A black paw grabbed their wrist, claws digging into their flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but just enough to make it hurt and divert their attention to a certain angry feline.

"How irritating.." A trio of red eyes pierced through Narinder's veil as he scowled down at the follower. "I don't know whether you're more annoying now or when you're sober. You may scorn Lamb to your heart's content..but to threaten my spouse is a line you'll regret ever crossing. Now go lie down before I make you."

With a nod and a quiet whimper, they shakily set the glass down on the counter. And the moment he let their wrist go, they took off stumbling all the way to their shelter.

You frowned a little. "Darling, it's my job to lead them to-"

"They'll find their own way. Whatever they break can be fixed in no time." Narinder dismissed as he went to clean off the glass, while you plugged up the beer kegs for the night.

But as he rubbed and twisted the rag, he began thinking about what might've happened had he not intervened when he did..and it only made him angrier.

What if the glass was still full and they decided to spill it?

What if they threw it at your head?

What if they left tiny shards in your flesh and caused blood to pour down your face?

What if-?

*crack*

A sudden sharp pain in his paw pad made him wince slightly, realizing that the cup broke apart, a piece of glass now embedded in his own flesh.

Great.

"Oh no, let me take care of that for you, love."

He perked up at your voice, seeing you pull out a pair of tweezers and a roll of bandages from your robe pocket. "I can do it myself, you know."

"And risk getting more blood on the counter?" You pointed out the red splatters on the oak. "Heavens no."

Narinder chuffed, eventually turning his paw over and allowing you to tend to his injury. "Why do you allow them to speak to you that way? And being drunk is no excuse. They knew damn well what they were saying. They've disproved of our relationship from the start."

"So have plenty of others, including your own siblings, Nari. They'll come around eventually. I have all the faith in them."

"[Y/n]..they almost smashed a glass over your head. And I stopped them from doing so." He growled, frustrated at your lack of outrage. "You are content in letting such disrespect continue without punishment? Without consulting Lamb? If we cannot do anything about it, surely they can."

"I will let it go this one time. But only because I believe they won't do it again. I think they learned their lesson thanks to you." You simply reassured him, before you finished wrapping the gauze around his paw.

With a smile, you brought it up to your lips and kissed it, eyes flickering up to him. "You needn't worry, my darling. I am okay."

"...I'm not worrying about anything." Narinder scoffed, having difficulty hiding the blush beneath his fur. "I simply refuse to tolerate imbeciles who make obscene assumptions about us, thinking there'd be no repercussions."

"Of course, but in any case..thank you for coming to my defense."

"Hm.."

"Now come." You gently tugged him away from the drinkhouse, looping your arm around his. "I believe we have some farming plots to attend to. I promised Lamb I'd work on them in Leshy's steed, but what say...you pick out the seeds you wish to plant this time?"

Narinder's ears perked. "Hah. I thought you were about to tell me to gather fertilizer." He chuckled quietly. "You are too good to me sometimes."

"Well, I figured you could use a break. Come, come!"

And so he followed you to the farming area. While he could sense Heket still staring at him, knowing her grin was smug as ever, he didn't care about what she was thinking--or what anybody in the cult was thinking for that matter.

All that he cared about right now was vegetation would prosper best on this warm spring day.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #narinder x reader #cotl narinder #cotl narinder x reader #fluff #angst #angst/fluff

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yanderes-galore · 5 months ago

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Do you think you do a request for Cult of Lamb?

I was wondering if you could do a senerio/short of a romantic or platonic Lambert

Who just brought back one of their most precious/first follower to life after said follower being dead for X amount of time because the lamb didn't choose/ or learn of the revial ritual until now. (Think like post game)

And they are overall very protective/overbearing/needy toward this follower. For various reasons.

Sure! I can write more for The Lamb :)

Back From Death's Claws

Yandere! The Lamb Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Cults, Religious themes, Necromancy/Resurrection, Manipulation, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Forced companionship/relationship.

When you defeat death... what is there to be scared of?

The Lamb no longer had to worry about being controlled when they rebelled against The One Who Waits and won. After all, The Lamb is undying and all powerful. Death follows them, but not in the way it does most.

With merely one ritual, death does not matter to The Lamb. With the bones of the deceased and a Ritual of Resurrection, the dead can be restored. Only after defeating The One Who Waits did The Lamb conquer death.

Such a ritual was a goal for The Lamb for a long time. As they grew their cult they had many they were fond of. Many Followers came and went, snatched away by death for a variety of reasons under The Lamb's care.

But only one earned The Lamb's reciprocation... Only one Follower captured their leader's heart...

You were said Follower, one of the first in the flock. One that was saved by The Lamb and converted to the doctrine. Ever since then, you've been nothing but loyal.

You used to tend to farms, pray every day, you went out on expeditions...

You were even given a Marriage Ritual by your leader.

In The Lamb's eyes, you were their most loyal Follower. You loved them as far as they know. The Lamb gave you everything...

Yet you were killed during an expedition when The Lamb was away.

Upon gathering your remains, The Lamb kept your grave beside their tent. They demanded everyone to respect your final resting place. Every day, every night, they'd sit beside the dirt and stare at the wooden cross.

The Lamb took no other spouse once you died. Instead they focused on taking down The Old Faith. They needed to grow their cult, improve their skills...

Become stronger.

Now, The Lamb is much more powerful. One could argue they're stronger than any previous Bishop. They own this world now.

Which means they have the power to defy death... to take back what was taken from them.

Their Followers do not appreciate The Lamb's efforts much. After all, you've served well, it's time to let you go. However... The Lamb does not care.

The Lamb will have you back.

At the cost of some faith and your remains, The Lamb is careful upon bringing you back from the dead. You return to youth completely baffled by all the faces around you. You don't recognize any of these faces... well...

None except for The Lamb.

Upon your resurrection, The Lamb gives you a skull necklace to prolong your new life. Afterwards you are walked around the cult, the area looking much larger than before. Everything's grown, thrived even in your absence.

But you keep looking to the faces of all the new cultists... an uneasy feeling in your gut.

You don't... understand why you were brought back. Why would you need to be? Why would your leader bring you back... the afterlife wasn't bad... you miss all of your long dead friends....

Instead you were brought back here. The Lamb happily bleats, a hand covering yours as they show you around. You feel like this wasn't even the same cult you were part of....

Did you even want to be brought back?

Some things shouldn't be messed with.

Ever since your resurrection, The Lamb never lets you leave the area. You're never assigned for work, another Follower always taking your place. Instead... The Lamb asks you to stay with them, and when they're gone to stay in their tent.

It's as though The Lamb no longer trusts you to fend for yourself. You're too weak. You could easily die out there again.

But, let's be honest, will that stop them?

They'll simply bring you back to them.

The Lamb never leaves you alone, as if scared to lose you to some unforeseen threat. They cling to you as though they can't live without you. The only time your great leader is vulnerable... is with you in their arms.

Other Followers are not allowed to be around you. They know you as their glorious leader's spouse. Some envy you... but many pity your inability to rest.

Your work is never done for The Lamb.

The Lamb is always needy for affection. The Lamb is all you get to ever see. You only live for The Lamb.

The Lamb is the reason you are alive, again and again. The Lamb, the very same one who conquered death, will never let you experience it again. The Lamb will always save you, again and again.

Death will not help you or save you. The only one who will is The Lamb. To them, keeping you alive and pampered is mercy.

As you age you only feel dread. Old age is a concept you yearn for, not fear. Sacrifice is a blessing to you. Yet The Lamb does not answer such pleas.

The Lamb simply gives you more gifts, more kisses, more unwanted adoration.

You're forced to watch all your friends die, forced to be undying. Immortality is a curse. A curse you wish you could break.

Instead you find yourself staring at that dreaded red crown. You silently wish your leader would be more merciful. They only keep you alive because you are their favorite.

You wish you could crawl back into Death's embrace again. It would feel infinitely more comforting than your leader's grasp. Instead... you're forced to persist.

You're forced to continue to love your leader, even if your love has died just like you once did...

But that's okay...

There's a ritual to fix that too.

#yandere cult of the lamb #yandere cotl #yandere the lamb #yandere lambert

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sweetlysimss · 1 year ago

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► NOT SO BERRY x BERRY PASTEL RAINBOWCY - AN UPDATED VERSION

as some of you might know, I've written updated versions of the not so berry challenge and the berry pastel rainbowcy before. however, I keep wanting to switch between the two challenges or abandoning my one save for the other. so, on a random Monday evening I figured, why not combine the two for the ultimate updated challenge experience? my lovely fellow simmers over at @berrygameplay convinced me to write stuff down and... the NSB x BPR updated rules was born!

credit goes to @lilsimsie and @alwaysimming for the original nsb rules and @berrysweetboutique for the original berry pastel rainbowcy rules!

►WHAT ABOUT THE RULES

as with my two other updated challenges, i've written the rules in a google doc (that you cannot edit! stop asking for permission to edit the file!). if you want to save the rules for yourself, go to file > create a copy and you're able to save the rules wherever you want and edit them. this will not change the original document.

there are disclaimers, a list of packs you need for this challenge (most packs are optional) and an index to move through generations quickly. each gen has their own introductory story (you don't have to adhere to these stories!), required traits - aspirations - careers, the generational rule (bpr), reward traits to buy, and the list of objectives catered to that generation. feel free to edit these objectives to your hearts desire! this challenge is supposed to be fun :)

► NSBxBPR

if you want to play this challenge, please tag your posts with #nsbxbpr so I can follow and share them!

so. let's get to it:

► SEND ME TO THE RULES

For easy access and to show an example of the rules, here are the first generation’s rules all written out. If you want to look at the other generations, click on the “send me to the rules�� link!

generation one: white

coming from a long line of privileged sims, you’re ready to break away from your family and pursue your own dreams. you’ve only really felt close to your grandparent and never told anyone you were the sole heir to their old, rundown farmhouse. starting off with nothing, you pick up the hobby you were never allowed to put into practice: painting. you find it difficult to let other sims in and may come across as rude sometimes. you just need that one special sim to make you feel like it’s all worth it. slowly but surely, your own family starts to grow, but not without its ups and downs…

traits: creative, mean, [open slot]

aspiration: painter extraordinaire OR chief of mischief

career: none (sell paintings, produce, and harvestables)

spouses career: [open slot]

rules

GENERATIONAL RULE: paint a portrait of your heir REWARD TRAITS TO BUY: mentor, speed reader, super green thumb

move into a lot with the ‘simple living’ lot challenge (size is up to you)

max painting skill

max gardening skill

max mischief skill

max logic skill

have multiple different love interests, but do not settle before having a child

date with a purple, pink, AND/OR red sim

have only 1 child with purple, pink, or red sim and 1 alien child

become enemies with the spouse you decide not to go long-term with

optional: make at least 2 enemies

marry a purple, pink OR red sim

sell at least 5 masterpieces

have at least 2 different animals on your farm

choose from the following: horse, goat, lamb, cow, llama, bunny, chicken, cat, dog, rodent

if you choose a horse, max the horse skills: temperament, jumping, agility, endurance

become good friends with all of your children and animals

adult or elder: max the knitting and/or cross-stitch skill

adult or elder: become good friends with at least 1 grandchild

#nsbxbpr #nsb #bpr #not so berry #berry pastel rainbowcy #sims 4 challenge #sims #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #legacy rules #legacy challenge #not so berry x berry pastel rainbowcy updated

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intynidad · 2 years ago

Note

The cult leader yan fic is so @#*")-/_+&-?! I can't explain it but *eats fic from how good it is*

Also, I would like to know what does the deity think about the influx of followers, but not for him but for them?

-teacher anon (am I really an anon if I don't ask anonymously LMAO anyways)

I hope my fix tasted well lol

I’m glad you like it so much! Welcome teacher anon!! Also have anyone play cult of the lamb? Because this is inspire by it lol

Yandere cult x cult leaver reader x yandere deity pt2

You sink to your knees, your hands clasped in prayer, as your consciousness begins to drift away, transcending to the ethereal realm of your master.

In the depths of this mystical connection, a resounding voice booms around you, its source elusive yet all-encompassing. It speaks with a commanding presence, echoing from every corner of your being, as if the very fabric of existence is alive with its words.

"Little lamb..." the voice reverberates, its power resonating through your core, drawing you deeper into its enigmatic embrace.

“Master, may I speak freely?” You said still looking into the ground

“You may, my little priest…” Only when your master gives you permission do you dare to rise from your feet, no longer in you cabin but in a dark void where you feel the very fabric of darkness crawls and grabbing your body, not in a malicious way but in a way of making sure you don’t fall.

“You did what I asked you…?”your master say with difficulty

“Yes master, your flock is growing and many people have done the oath in your name”

“Yet they do not follow me” your master booming voice rise in volume

You get to your Knees again and put your hands together.

“They are-are just mindless lambs that do not understand the magnificent of your presence my lord, give them some time and they shall learn” you say not fearing for your life, yet for the ones of YOUR followers

You felt an invisible hand take your cheek delicately

“Make them understand, little lamb and i shall reward you with pleasures and salvation that your human mind cannot comprehend yet”

And with a movement of the same hand you were gone,back into your cavin with a small tear falling down your face.

Meanwhile, in the ethereal realms of your master, a powerful figure gazes upon the chains that bind their form. The once unyielding iron seems to have weakened, but its grip remains firm and unyielding. Despite the exertion and relentless struggle, every attempt to break free is met with the unrelenting resistance of the chains that hold them in place.

However, your master is a patient and tenacious being, having endured the weight of captivity for what feels like an eternity. The longing for freedom courses through their veins, fueling their determination and resolve. They refuse to surrender, even in the face of imminent liberation. The shackles may hold them for now, but the spirit of liberation burns brightly within, ready to seize the moment when the chains finally yield.

When he amasses a multitude of devoted followers and receives the offerings and sacrifices needed, the barriers separating the mortal realm and his ethereal existence will weaken. With each loyal disciple and every sacrificial act, his power grows, edging closer to the coveted goal of manifesting in a tangible form. The anticipation of that transformative moment fills him with an intoxicating mix of anticipation for when he finally gains a physical presence in the mortal realm, he will unleash his divine influence upon the world…

And claim you as his rightful spouse, he dreams of the day he might finally claim you and hear you scream but not from pain but from the pleasure he is planning to give you.

Once he get a physical form he will not let you go,his little lamb

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deadboyfriendd · 3 months ago

Text

I Hope This Letter Finds You Well.

Summary: It is already so hot that it burns. The sheriff had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn't decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heatstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this.

A culmination of letters shared between family and new friends turns into a stand-off at the tarmac of Tucson, Arizona.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sheriff/Wyatt Earp!Steve Harrington x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, death of a spouse, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, feminine rage embodied (I couldn't give her a gun this time because, if I did, everyone would be dead), eventual discussion of The Civil War and the politics that came from it.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: This is it. Bisbee is here and it feels like I'm breathing life back into my cowboys through my sheriff. This is so, so special to me and @dr-aculaaa, and I cannot wait to tell you all their stories.

Find the series masterlist here!

“When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.” Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Nellie,

I believe that the face of death is a woman, and that she is beautiful.

I believe that she may have loved my betrothed, at least as long as there was breath in his lungs and a thrum in his chest. I believe that William looked into her dark eyes and followed her into that unknown place, and I know, there, he might finally find something to still his mind.

I believe that she kissed him good and hard, Nellie, in a way that I could not have done– that she danced her spindly dance clear across the desert, through the plains of the midlands, and splashed in the bayou of Louisiana until she found him.

I believe that death is a friend to our family, that her sinewy arms loom over our men in an embrace that we can not provide, and I believe that she is warm. Much warmer than you or I have been created to be. I believe she walks alongside us, whispers into the ear of our husbands, and laughs as they dance their troublesome dances.

I believe she is kind, much kinder than us, for why else would our men leave the safety of us for her? I cannot fathom it, Nellie.

I no longer believe that death is cold and harsh, for I know that no man could be as cruel as she.

We were always cut from the same cloth, in life, and now in death.

Signed, your cousin.

He could have said that he never wanted any trouble, and he could have said he didn’t go around picking fights, yet both seemed to find him with speed and vigor. He sought them out, begged for the metallic heat to seep from behind his teeth and drip down his lips like ambrosia. The boy could not read nor write, yet also harbored a taste for mindless violence– his gangly teenage frame a harbinger of death.

The monsoon was fast approaching, dark clouds filling the sky in an apocalyptic haze, though the Lord knew this land needed it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, droplets weighing deep against the flesh and warm in strides. The powder dust beneath it stirred and settled in waves, and he prayed for no wind, for the wall of dust that would overtake them in the future just might suffocate him. He cried out in thirst, having mistaken this anguish for freedom. All he could do was turn his mouth towards the sky and hope it would wash away the rawness in his throat.

This heaviness did not go away with time nor age. The boy-now-man sifted through the powder silt of the remnants of his life the same way he sifted through these crises as a child, though with more sure steps and a heavier hand for subtlety. He no longer craved ambrose violence gilded in the candied sheen of shed blood, though it did not stop searching for him.

He was out with lanterns, in search of himself.

There used to be nothing here but a broad expanse of mirage, the heat rising from the sand and warping the distance into a false lake like a sick joke. He remembered the settlement. The miners came first, then the saloons, and dance halls. The cattle drovers and thieves would follow suit to reap their fortunes, but the plume of the mines came first.

Still there is hope, an old miner had said to him, for I know of two Bibles in town.

Though men of God and men of war both have strange affinities, it would seem.

War, much like God, was here long before man. It crouched its ugly pose and waited for his arrival. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate practitioner.

Today, the oak planks, rotted from years in the sun, groan in the same anguish beneath his boots and he ignores it as much as the God he prayed to ignored his own cries. The bright orange of globe mallow presses its way between the planks, soft resilience even in this heat. When he reaches down to touch it, it crumbles between hardened finger pads.

This township felt like a tunnel, a vignette blurring the Gaussian edges of its structures that settled like graves. His boots sunk a lowly sulk through the banks of the roads where wagon wheels had pushed them from their packing. He still felt the nothingness here, vast openness in which he awaited a tomahawk crowning, sinking into the same sand on his knees, candy-coated in that gilded red gloss.

Through the nothingness there was a stirring, his eyes fixated on the microburst brewing along the mountain's edge in the distance.

Thunder fades to wheels along tracks.

You’d watched the land turn from green to brown and back again. You’d watch the sun wick the water from the soil and feel it warm your skin. There’s a certain disdain that fills your chest like liquid when you picture Nellie on this trail. There was no train west to take. There was no railway.

Did Nellie still look like her mother? Had her mouth begun to crease with a perpetual smile? Was her hair still long and did she still let it fall in ringlets down her back? Surely, she had not sounded the same in her letters, though, this sullen stranger had still signed the letters with the same swooping motions.

As the trees became sparse and turned into gangly, reaching boojums, you realized just how far from home you had been. You had never left the great state of Louisiana but, had run those riverbeds and marshes ragged with bare feet, had run heels hard against the hollow tomb of that old paddle boat. Could you be as wild as the West? Would it love you in the same way the marshes had? Wrap you in its mossy embrace and let you sink beneath stagnant water in wait?

But for what?

The sharecropping had been a logical by-product of everything your father had fought for in the war, rock salt and nails and hand over first for years under the lead of General Benjamin F. Butler, though no one could foresee the way the plantation had hemorrhaged money after he took on nearly ten hired men, or the way the land had would have dwindled to nothing had you not taken that ghastly, ugly burden against your back, one heavy enough to spur you west. One heavy enough that even the sting of the sunburn did nothing to quell the ache that you still felt in your chest against it.

You watched the life drain from this land, music and the lush green of the coming summer turning to sweltering, daguerreotype daydreams. You pressed your palm against the glass and sighed.

It was already warm enough to burn.

When you pressed your face against the glass, you could feel the rumble of the hardened earth beneath the sodden tracks. The dried parchment of letters scraped against themselves where they pooled in the makeshift reservoir of your dresses ruched into your lap– just high enough so that your ankles could feel any movement within the waning stagnation of air in the train car.

You tore the one on top open with your thumb– the last one to remain unopened. Its straight edge was too sharp and angled perfectly as you pulled at it, the edge of your thumb already pooling cherry beads of blood where it rippled.

“Shit.” you cursed.

Gilded eyes peered towards you, slicing through the silence of this welling heat like ice. Had it been dark, they would have glowed. Ladies in Parisian hats tailing the woeful gazes of their well-tailored merchant husbands turning towards the spectacle that was you. Young. Unmarried. Unaccompanied and profane in your lack of grace aboard the train to the lawless lands. Maybe, by God’s hand, you had been cut from the same cloth as this lawless place– the rumble of the tracks a song to the listlessness that stirred in your chest like silt in distant waters.

You dismissed the judgment, the venom of it all sliding off of you like that same water against a duck’s back, turning your attention back towards the product of your own disdain: Nellie’s letter, signed, sealed, and delivered to your last known location.

Cousin,

Your father has sent word about your arrival in Tucson, and I will meet you at the train depot in due time. I do hope that, in time, the heat of this land may dry your tears in the same way it has mine.

I fear that you may not recognize me upon your arrival to Tucson, my face has grown harder and my body less soft. You will become this way, too. I am tough. I am afraid this place has weathered me like old leather.

I have asked the sheriff to accompany me to the train depot in Tucson, and he has happily obliged. I didn’t think you would mind much, either.

The sheriff is a nice man, as I am sure you have come to find, however, this land has hardened him in the same way it has hardened Edward and I. In the same way, it took Wilhelm as payment for some grander, more horrendous scheme. I do not ask you to excuse his shortcomings– or mine– but I do ask that you try to understand us.

Though it is better now than it has ever been, this place is still not like Louisiana. This land is lawless. This land is tough. This land does not make promises or send prayers. It exists as it is, rough and unbinding– blistering for all it is worth.

We are the law, here.

If we lose our morality, we lose everything.

I will see you soon. I love you.

Nellie.

It was an unspoken truth that there was something broken much deeper within them that they had shared some form of solidarity within. Somehow, in some way, Nellie and Steve had shared something they never wanted you to see, but, even now, something was different about her in more recent letters that you couldn’t quite differentiate.

Perhaps it was the way she told you she loved you. She hadn’t written those three words since writing of Wilhelm’s death. Maybe she said it then in search of the love she had lost, had looked for shreds of it to mend herself back together. Maybe Edward had done that for her, and maybe now she had some left to give. You hoped that much for her.

Edward was an entity unknown to you– a phantom in his own respects. He reaped his own form of morosity in the way he loved Nellie. He did so in a way that was devouring, in a way that encompassed her in every respect. You had been well past the persuasion of beautiful faces, for a face much like his was the face that launched a thousand ships. Another puppet wielded by The Devil, he was. That holy shape becomes a devil, best.

It was an unholy thing, to resurrect the dead. And, you supposed, Edward had done just that. Nellie’s letters came to an abrupt halt after the announcement of the Death of Wilhelm. Your family, the only remaining kinship to her lineage, had not received a letter from her in over a year.

You’d thought of all of the ways she could have died, but the most plausible cause was a broken heart. Even now, as rolling hills turned to planes and back again, as you watched the horrors that this land reaped, you could not see any of them taking your cousin. No, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even this land could break her will. No, if she were to die here, now, it would have been by her hand.

And then, by some unforsaken force beyond even your father’s control, Nellie breathed once more. Her letters were flowery, her writing curling into crashing waves of stories told. You watched as this solemn stranger breathed life back into Nellie, something as cruel and unusual as beauty in this place unseen and unheard of for years, beauty unseen to Nellie since Wilhem was killed.

You knew of only unholy things that fed upon the dead– that breathed an ugly, hot breath back into their lungs and pulled them from the sodden earth in which they lay. Edward was not entirely truthful, that much you could tell.

You supposed you and Edward had shared that sentiment, in some way.

The Whispering Sands was still not the ritzy bar. That was still located in the lobby of The Grand Hotel, just footsteps from where The Sheriff stood now, planks still singing their groaning songs of protest beneath his legs, still stiff with sleep or nerves or years of failed prayer.

His footfall fell heavy against the hollow floors, the weight of him reverberating against the early hum of the bar. The dealer was still as straight as a Christmastime wreath, though, now, he knew that this one could at least shoot in the right direction. You no longer needed to carry when you walked through, your spare now confined to below the counter out of sheer caution and the guiding hands of ghosts alone. The doors didn’t hang crooked anymore, the dealer making fast work of fixing all of the things Nellie had pushed to the back burner in relentless disembowelment of her own self-preservation that she so readily gave to him in the form of softened twine and spoken promises tightened around ring fingers.

The Sheriff would not be so easy. His self-preservation ran deeper than that.

Nellie knew it, knew that his roots were wrapped around something vital within him, something deeper than hers– something from a time before her, before this town, and before the West was wild.

The echo of him reverberated off of the walls of the bar, bounced off of the piano, and rattled the windows. It demanded her attention long before the brass bell of the front door rang and the heavy oak clattered against the frame.

8:50. Like clockwork.

In the times before, just after Wilhelm, he would stop in and buy a cigar, though, to this day, she had never seen him smoke. She never inquired it, and he never inquired her.

There was a solidarity in their grief, and it never quite, even now that she felt happy more times than not. She had a sneaking suspicion he was there for something other than a cigar every morning, but she pulled one from the humidor and took his money anyway. There had been a time where she insisted it was on the house. It wasn’t worth the fight, now.

He looked different today. Still sullen is his strange, tortured way, but there was almost something beautiful about it, about the way he ruminated in this state of torture. Even in the way his stagnation had turned into just that with time, something seemed to still sit there in wait, leaden in the pit of his chest.

He looked like the face of a handbill like this, enveloped in all black. Square-toed boots with black trousers that made him look ganglier than he was, made him loom over Nellie more than he already did. His black frock coat dusted his calves at a three-quarter length, and a black bolo tie covered as much of the stark white high-collar as possible. On the hat rack by the door sat his usual wide-brimmed Stetson, and, from just behind the plain silver of his belt buckle, the Colt Burtline Special shone in the light.

He looked fit for a funeral.

He walked like he beckoned the apocalypse in clouds of rolling thunder behind him. When his heels pressed into the softened sand, the earth quaked beneath it. The weight of him made the stagecoach groan on its hinges– leaden and heavy with the weight of something bigger than settled silt within his chest, kicked up like the sand behind horse hooves and stagecoach wheels.

Parchment sat like lead in his lap, curdling there and souring something that had sat too long. Cracking fingers curled around your words like poison, sweetened with sasparilla whiskey, golden ambergris letters seeping into him and warming his throat like bile and molten gold. He opened the first one with a nimbleness unlike one he had ever known, and read it once more:

25 April, 1894

To the Sheriff that this letter finds,

I am afraid your letter has found me in a state of disrepair. I have never been one for niceties and I am afraid I do not have it in me to start now.

My betrothed had never known peace in life, and I am afraid that he may not ever know it in death, wherever that plane Hell may be.

Maybe it is I that has died, and maybe it is I that walks across this Hell. Maybe it is my own doing that brought me to this. Maybe I am the creature of my own undoing. I am not a nice girl, Steve. Not the nice girl you think I might be.

We were raised like leather, stretched and scraped to be tough in the way that our mothers were, unbending and unbreaking as they had been. They were not forgiving, nor were they kind. Nellie was once that way, too. Though, I fear that your desert sun has softened her. That it changed something deeper within her in a way that she may be someone I no longer recognize.

I plan to arrive in Tucson by train on the first of October. Maybe this sun will soften me in the same way it has softened my cousin. Maybe I don’t want it to.

Though I hope for my tomorrow to be kind, I have an inkling that it never will be, for this life had never had a kindness to offer.

I’ll be the one in white.

I will see you then, Sheriff.

He pictures the way you will step off the train, white linens spilling over the threshold of it by some sickened grace of the hand of an unkind God. He both relished in it and could not bear the thought. He thought of linens hiked over knees and rucked up under the fabric of itself, a depiction of the implosion of his world.

He had already lived this, soft hair against soft legs and white linens shed in a dustbowl around shared space and soft, breathlessness passed between lips. He had felt this kind of softness before– had known this tender touch of a woman outside of the mother he never had.

It was the first time he had ever been touched gently.

Even Nellie’s hand seemed gruff as it gripped his shoulders in a grounding movement, his eyes slowing with the movement of reading and dissipating into blankness an indicator that he had gone somewhere that even she would never be allowed to see. It was a look she had known all too well.

“I’m afraid she might not like me much.” He whispered, low enough for Eddie to not be able to hear– or, at least, low enough so he could pretend not to. She knew what he meant by this, another feeling chased after her own reanimated heart.

Nevertheless, she avoided the philosophical nature of it all, answering him with the only thought she had: “I’m afraid she might not like anyone much, Steve.” She starts, and the questioning gaze he gives her urges her to continue.

“It wasn’t easy for her, either, Steve.” She starts with another sigh, now more like the weight was being pressed out of her lungs from the weight that she felt, “Most of the time, it was out right hard.”

“We’ve all had it hard, Nellie. Nothing about this life has been particularly easy.” Steve says back. He didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it was. She knew that, though it didn’t stop that initial sting of his dismissiveness.

“William wasn’t a nice man, no matter how much she loved him.” She tells him, louder this time and too fast. Eddie couldn’t help the the way his eyes are drawn to her from where they are fixed to the periscope of landscape before them, “Forgive her if she isn’t welcoming.”

To the Lady that may find this letter, I hope it finds her well

Tucson still radiates heat at this time of year, the mirage at the end of town makes the expanse of land between here and the mountains feel both endless and right in front of you at the same time. It warps like the heat is melting space and time itself. Nevertheless, the first blooms of orange mallow have begun to open in a patch where the stagecoach stopped.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he was inclined to plock them from the ground and brush the dirt from their roots.

It seems the desert knew you would board the train in New Orleans and set west for us, and wanted to welcome you with its kindest hello. The desert is not kind, but she would make an exception for someone like you, I would suppose.

The wheels screech along the wrought iron of the track as they slow to a halt– and he swears, just for a single, fleeting moment, his heart stops with them. There is a stream of people that step down. Ladies with large hats and square-shouldered men in frock coats not unlike his. He wonders if you will know your face before Nellie does– wonders if he knows who you are just from the curls of your letters.

And then, you were there.

You were unremarkable in every way possible, though, at a closer glance, you had chosen to forego a bustle and corset. Instead, the pliant lines of your body undefined against a white buttoned shirt and a long dark skirt. A plain, flat-brimmed stetson sat against the crown of your head, just enough to obscure your face from his view.

Your cousin is very kind. I like to think that you are kind like her, though, I also hope that you are tough in the same way that she is.

He steps forward, his hands sticky with sweat or the sap of the stems of the orange mallow crushed beneath a pressing grip, he isn’t sure. As he steps on to the tarmac, he remembers his manners– remembers that he isn’t an animal and you are not inherently dangerous, and pulls off his hat, pressing it to his chest as he holds an arm out stiffly towards you without any further introduction.

You see the star against his chest, pressed silver pinned there like a placard on the spectacle of the man before you, and know that this is him– that this is the entity whom has spilled his heart to you over parchment and ink and blood, “Well, now, those are awfully pretty, sheriff.” You say to him, looking down at the crushed orange matter in his hands. They have already begun to wilt.

“I have an affinity for pretty things.”

He flirts shamelessly with you, and something deep within you stirrs. It is not the schoolgirl crush you harbored with William. It isn’t even akin to love, but something worse and something ugly. His letters and flowery words and then his backtracking and condolences meddle into one ugly mass of insult. No, this thing that rose in you was not love, nor was it even a cousin. It was hate. Blinding, furious hate.

“And I have an affinity for men who can make up their minds.” You nod towards him, reaching towards the tarmac for the cracking handle of your green steamer trunk, especially now that the gangly, lean man you presume is Edward reaches for it.

There is a moment in time where everyone freezes. Both Nellie and her husband, as well as the sheriff before you. They are walking a thin line, one akin to the silver thread between life and death. The tension is palpable, and Nellie shatters the thing you cling to for resolve like glass:

“Now you’re being outright childish–”

She sucks in a breath when you snap, the wild dogs that live within your chest writhing and pulling against chains as you release whatever hurt and pain you held in your heart towards her. Everything you had wanted to say, everything you wanted to scream back at her once she had resurrected. You weilded them now as weapons against her.

“You sure are one to talk about childish, Nellie. You ran in the other direction when things got hard, and then you up and died on us.”

“I’m not dead. I was never dead.”

“Well, I have a hard time believing that.”

The Sheriff and the tall man take a step back behind Nellie, shrink away from your thunderous roar as if you might actually bite. The leather of your handle and the steamer dropping from your hand with had resonant patriarchal basso against the tarmac. Time has frozen in place, but people continue to swirl around you in a flurry of haste and posthaste annoyance. Silver tears well against the pink line of her eyes, and you are acutely aware that yours are a mirror image.

Steve had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn’t decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heartstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this– his wife was only ever tender.

He can see the rage drip from your mouth like hot, molten tar, can see the tears well in your eyes like casted silver against the mold of your face– the way a single one cools and leaves a residual streak against the ashen skin of your cheek. You want to love Nellie, in the same way she wanted to love Edward, and in the way he loved his wife. He can see it, that burning want so bad that it becomes hatred. That kind of love whose flame burns blue.

He knows Nellie loves you, too, but also knows how dangerous it is to speak it aloud– lest that vile maiden Death may hear it.

Your eyes stare holes into him, burn against his abdomen from where you fix them. He had heard of women becoming alight with lust born from rage before, but had not though of you to be insane enough to eye him in a familiar way right here on the tarmac. That blue flame affixed to him and warming him from the inside, as well.

“That’s an awfully ugly belt buckle, sheriff.” You speak, finally, breaking the silence and restoring some semblance of order to this congregation.

This place is not forgiving, nor is it kind. I hope that your heart is not faint, and I hope that this place is kinder to you than it has been to us.

With warmest regards,

Steven Harrington

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #sheriff!steve harrington #cowboy!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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plasticfangtastic · 7 months ago

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My Masterlist

Howdy my name is Kay and I write fics for the boys (mostly just Homelander centric) this is a directory of my old and new fics, any projects am working on have worked on can be found here.

I hate short stories and I write long Chapters, I love Butchlander and Butchie content.

I'm currently on a writing hiatus

Old pin post with the following works can be found here:

Of The same Poisonous Ilk (A Butchlander/self-cest fic-- on hiatus)

Building Blocks (a Butchlander fic-- on hiatus)

Anybody Else Won't do (An Ashlander fic-- on hiatus)

Can We be Lonely Together (A HL x reader fic or Homelander x Joe Goldberg from YOU fic-- completed)

American Royalty (A dadlander x reader fic with a homelander daughter OC-- completed)

Carnivorous Lamb (A Homelander x Male! OC priest kink/ntr fic-- completed)

Thicker than Water (A Soldier Boy x Homelander fic-- one-shot)

No Codiciaras los bienes ajenos (A HL x Ashley x Butcher fic-- one-shot)

Behind the Scenes (A Hometek fic)

When the Lion loved the lamb (A HL x Male oc prequel to Carnivorous lamb one-shot)

This wasnt in the job description (An Ashlander fic one-shot)

My current fics:

Quiet Room-- A Homelander fic about him and Jonah Voguelbaum going to see Shrek.

A Garden Without Impurity-- Homelander X GN Reader fic, he is a polygamist and reader is his favorite spouse

Lemon Scented Messes-- A Butchie fanfic (my first one ever)

Charred Steaks-- A Butchlander fic short and sweet involving a partially depowered Homelander

Thank you for reading!

#Homelander #the boys amazon #my fic tag #personal #my pinned post #apologies for clogging tag but this is mostly for me #butchlander #the boys fics

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myheartsstories · 6 months ago

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NOT SO BERRY x BERRY PASTEL RAINBOWCY SPEEDRUN

Generation 1: White

Lily Everheart

Coming from a long line of privileged sims, you’re ready to break away from your family and pursue your own dreams. you’ve only really felt close to your grandparent and never told anyone you were the sole heir to their old, rundown farmhouse. starting off with nothing, you pick up the hobby you were never allowed to put into practice: painting. you find it difficult to let other sims in and may come across as rude sometimes. you just need that one special sim to make you feel like it’s all worth it. slowly but surely, your own family starts to grow, but not without its ups and downs…

traits: creative, mean, lactose intolerant aspiration: painter extraordinaire OR chief of mischief career: none (sell paintings, produce, and harvestables)

rules GENERATIONAL RULE: paint a portrait of your heir REWARD TRAITS TO BUY: mentor, speed reader, super green thumb

move into a lot with the ‘simple living’ lot challenge (size is up to you)

max painting skill

max gardening skill

max mischief skill

max logic skill

have multiple different love interests, but do not settle before having a child

date with a purple, pink, AND/OR red sim

have only 1 child with purple, pink, or red sim and 1 alien child

become enemies with the spouse you decide not to go long-term with

optional: make at least 2 enemies

marry a purple, pink OR red sim

sell at least 5 masterpieces

have at least 2 different animals on your farm

choose from the following: horse, goat, lamb, cow, llama, bunny, chicken, cat, dog, rodent

become good friends with all of your children and animals

adult or elder: max the knitting and/or cross-stitch skill

adult or elder: become good friends with at least 1 grandchild

Family tree

Rules by @sweetlysimss

My computer borked on me (I did manage to rescue my save files) but I therefore decided to play some new save files/different save files and included in that was me attempting to speedrun this challenge. Aka having it on short life span. At this point I've finished generation 1 (minus the befriending a grandchild but there is no grandchild yet) so it felt like a good moment to just post it here

#nsbxbpr #nsbxbpr gen1 #lily everheart #berry #ts4 #the sims #sims 4 #legacy challenge

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fictionkinfessions · 6 months ago

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Finally kinfirmed the fucking Lamb (thanks, kingods), so here! Info!

Nari and I were married! He was very Tsundere, similar to many fanon interpretations! Cared for Aym and Baal a lot more than the game implies.

Headbutts. Lots of headbutts. From actually hitting something with my horns to nuzzling things (a habit I picked up from my spouse <3), I always headbutted things.

Tried to be caring towards my followers. But… time and power change things, and I started caring less and less. Don’t get me wrong, I still valued them, but I started being slightly less benevolent as time went on.

I still know how to care for and manage cults! …somehow.

I became the God of Death after usurping Narinder, but chose to remain small and unassuming. I got godly blood, though, and more control over my form.

Little fangs!!!

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #cultofthelambkin #lambkin #shipping issue #kin gods #cults cw #death cw #mod party cat

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kichimiangra · 7 months ago

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If your Lamb marries almost all the cultists, does that impact how the cult is run?

Or does your Lamb treat them all as beloved spouses regardless?

You mentioned that you like taking care of everyone, so I figured that it was the same as before + more kissing.

I actually thought I was married to more followers but turning the game on and checking I'm only Married to Fear, Hauras, Bremerbre, and his brother Hubrena out of my 28 followers. My other wives might be in the crypt tbh. Nothing is really impacted so it's just the usual plus more smooching. Smooching for all! I gotta get some more bones. Can't get married without bones....

I did start being a bit bad in post game because the sin meter got introduced, and my guys just kinda make sin overtime and I had a bunch defect all at once and I had to go chase them on crusades to get everyone back, so I kinda started recruiting followers for the sole purpose of using the sin consolidation ritual and if they defect it's no biggie as long as it keeps my guys sin low :x I'm as bad as that spider in the woods...

#kc answers stuff #cotl

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darkmaga-returns · 1 month ago

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Trump Admin Insider Exposes EVERY LEVEL of the Deep State with Glenn Beck and the next head of the FBI Kash Patel - no wonder the left deep state is shaking in their boots about the prospect of Patel leading the FBI - Trump should call a recess and make all the appointments he wants because the left and the RINOs will sabotage his appointments - the left surely would do it - 48 in. VIDEO

BREAKING: UnitedHealthcare (Change Healthcare) CEO Shot Ahead of Possibly the Largest Data Breach Settlement in History - Today on Matt Wallace’s X account he said the following: “What are the chances Nancy Pelosi purchased $250,000 of Palo Alto Networks on the same day there was a cybersecurity breach at United Healthcare? Then she makes big money when that is one of the companies tasked with investigating what happened.” I do not know if what Matt said is true or not but is it possible there is a lot more to this than a possible disgruntled customer? But there is evidence the stock purchase is true. ARTICLE (be sure to read this first)

Nancy Pelosi bought $PANW options on Feb. 21, 2024 - ARTICLE

Nancy Pelosi’s Spouse Gathers Palo Alto Networks Stock Options - this article was posted on 2/27/24 - ARTICLE

Henry Lamb: The UN’s 1995 ‘Global Neighbourhood’ plan for a One World Government - I was very fortunate to know and be friends with Henry Lamb. Henry is the first person to warn people about UN Agenda 21. He had been attending meetings at the UN since the early 1970’s and on his own dime and at times eating nothing but crackers - he was not a wealthy man but he was a dedicated American patriot that sacrificed a lot to educate people on the globalist agenda. Such a shame people just refused to listen. Henry and I worked on “ICLEI FREE IN TENNESSEE” together and he wrote legislation to stop the implementation of UN Agenda 21. The legislation passed in Alabama but after 2 years of trying in Tennessee it failed to even make a committee meeting. BUT just last year the updated version of the bill passed. The updated version included UN Agenda 21 Sustainable Development, 2030 Agenda and Net Zero. I only wish he had lived long enough to see the bill passed but I am sure he knows. ARTICLE/VIDEO (10 min.)

New Details Emerge On Trudeau’s Meeting With Trump, Canada To Become 51st State? - not that I want Canada or Trudeau to be a part of our country this is exactly what we elected Trump to do - ARTICLE/VIDEOS (1=34 secs.- 1=3 min.)

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stolencrownsofplenty · 3 months ago

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@skyfallstarlights : x

“ Oh! Is that the case? Then you wouldn’t mind if I keep chatting then ” Jewel, Jewel no. The fires of Pyro being a menace are increasing! Which is kind of strange since the guy doesn’t have a mouth yet he’s talking a mile per minute. He’s purposefully adding more words then needed as he keeps the one sided conversation going without a hint of slowing down.

Oh god, oh goodness. The persistent giant prick is actually starting to follow her. She so wanted to grab onto her little ears and drag them down to her cheeks as she shook her with the lightest jingle of her golden horned beads shaking with her strong disapproval. Jewel wanted nothing to do with him, and she wanted not to listen to ANOTHER nonsensical tune he sang into her unwilling eardrums. His voice was about as colorfully grating as his taste in clothes were to cause her constant headaches.

The Witness quickly starts picking up the pace to try and earn a bit of distance between them both in some peaceful attempt for their Lamb’s sake. The crops could always wait a little for someone else to harvest them. The pumpkins always needed this extra time during harvest season to widen their growth, right? Her ears flick at the constant barrage of the jester’s words, most of it feeling like a stubborn buzz she couldn’t shake off as she grabbed a nearby broom to move onto her daily cleaning into the church.

At most something to get herself as far away as possible. Anything was better than being near this freak. The Witness couldn’t see why the lamb loved this asshole so much, and she intended to KEEP it that way. He was more annoying than their slug spouse!

Her ears flatten against her head. The little deer lets out a growl. This was so not how she wanted to start her morning with this clown so close on her cottontail.

“I'm still ignoring you..! Don’t you have a crowd of heretics to burn already, runt?” She hisses out with a touch of venom. With a set of brows furrowed, she shoots the other a sharp dagger over her shoulder with a single glare. “You tell sermons waaay worse than my husband’s sleeping habits.”

#rp thread #canon #ic #witness jewel #long post cw //#skyfallstarlights #((they have such chem with being absolute gremlins to each other))#((Jewel is suffering and the Lamb is watching it unfold u_u))

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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(hi uh sorry i sent that ask very prematurely on accident could you delete the previous one? sorry i just had to rephrase it-)

i was wondering if you were interested in doing a Sozo x reader fic (GN preferably) where the reader tries to help Sozo kick his mushroom habit (as you have done before but i would really like some more in-depth mental support for ant boy) or at least help him not to lose himself even more. This next part includes spoilers for the Sins of the Flesh update so if you haven't played that feel free to wait or skip this part. I would especially like to see his Dr. Sozonius personality starting to shine through again as he gains more clarity, kinda nerding out on mushroom stuff but also extremely sorry for everything he did while under the influence of the Mushrooms

YEAH SOZO REDEMPTION ARC <3

.....

"I promise...no more shrooms...please.."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I just can't take your word for it." Sighing, you gazed hopelessly at your spouse: the belligerent ant locked up in the pillory for the third straight day now, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

This all started after you returned to Spore Grotto one evening, finding the Mushroomos there in a panic, one of them eventually leading you to the inside of Sozo's "home".

He had succumbed to the infection, as his body was laying there in such a grotesque display, covered in fungi and rotting away. Of course, the followers didn't know what to do and begged you to bring Lamb back here, as they haven't visited this place in a while.

At first you didn't want to, thinking they were the reason he was dead. You assumed he was still giving him mushrooms behind your back when you specifically told them not to do that, explaining how you're trying to get him to stop. You made him promise not to consume anymore.

It had to be Lamb's fault.

But the Mushroomos revealed something quite shocking: since he wasn't getting mushrooms, he turned to eating them all alive to satisfy his needs instead, unable to stop. The parasite that held him hostage demanded it so.

And it ended up killing him.

You grieved for a little while, before seeking out Lamb and asking if they could accompany you to Spore Grotto, explaining what happened. Yet by the time you both returned, there was hardly anything left of Sozo's body.

Nothing except his skeleton, backpack, and the smiling mushroom.

You decided to take the large fungi back to their cult, carrying it as a sort of "ironic" memento of your lover.

During the walk back, Lamb asked you if Sozo had a life before this addiction of his...and you tell them something rather surprising.

He was actually once a brilliant man: Dr. Sozonius. His research on mushrooms was known all throughout the Old Faith. He's written books, lived with family members in an ant colony, and was very wise. You two fell in love through your research and explored Anura together.

Then he brought you to his camp at Spore Grotto, the very heart and soul of Anura's fungal outbreak. He was studying the Mushroomos and their behavior patterns. They were actually very passive and social creatures, offering you two stews of menticide mushrooms.

You declined, having already ate before your journey. But Sozonius--thrilled to discover a new mushroom specimen--decided to indulge in their generosity for the sake of science.

And things haven't been the same since.

Something in that soup took root in his brain and turned him into a shadow of his former self.

He never came back to the colony, or the home you two shared, devoting himself entirely to all things mushroom-related...while that stupid smiling fungi puppeteered him around. Some days you'd visit him, and he does remember you, but as of late he's been forgetting more and more of your lives together, giggling and not taking any of your words seriously.

He tried getting you to bring him mushrooms, eat them, etc. and if you refused, his eyes turned red and he'd start yelling nonsense.

Despite all of this, you never once blamed the Mushroomos. They were only trying to be kind hosts; they didn't expect such an advanced fungi to take control of him and turn him into their "leader".

After he died, most of them dispersed throughout Anura, but some stayed behind in the hope of seeing you again.

Once you finished sharing your story, Lamb was surprised that you wanted to take the fungi back at all. They figured you'd burn it to ashes for what it did to your husband.

Yet....you didn't blame it either.

Mushrooms aren't inherently evil. It's how nature made them, and you're a strong believer in karma, deciding to instead nurture this one in hopes that it may grow into something better.

Who would've known that mentality would bring Sozo back to you a week later?

Unfortunately, as you anticipated, he was still up to his old habits and never fully understood that they killed him. He tore up the mushroom farm plots and ate any Mushroomos Lamb rescued during their crusades.

Least to say..he was being an utter nuisance in the cult. He never did any work, and none of the followers liked him.

But that's not how he really was.

You knew him better than anybody else.

Ultimately you and Lamb realized that you had to break this addiction of his for good, otherwise the cycle will just repeat..and you might lose him all over again.

Talking to him wasn't enough.

He had to go cold turkey.

Sozo got angry when you shielded a Mushroomo from his bloodlust and told them to hide in the temple, accusing you of denying him happiness and saying he'd rather be put back in the ground than look at you--and that's when Lamb locked him up in the pillory while distracted.

As much as his words hurt..you knew it was only the fungi talking, trying to trick you into thinking that's what he was feeling. But you weren't so easily fooled.

You had to starve it out.

Might it kill him, too? There's a good chance. But you had to try.

Ever since getting imprisoned, he's been shouting and begging passing followers to free him all day and all night, the fungi looking more withered as time went on. Even its smile turned upside down.

Lamb tried using the same reeducation techniques they used on dissenters. Yet they weren't quite sure how to help Sozo, as he babbled over their speeches and wanted them to go away.

You offered to take over instead, and while they hesitated..they eventually handed you a copy of one of their gospel books and said they'd pray for his healing.

If anyone could get through to him, it was you.

For a while you've kept a close eye on him, making sure he had food--all of which you cooked yourself in case anyone tried sneaking in mushrooms. He no longer screamed his head off, but he still tried bargaining with you to free him, each plea growing weaker than the last.

By the time the sun went down, most of the followers were heading to their sleeping quarters for the night--although a couple were having some concoctions at the drinkhouse. But they could usually hold their liquor and not get too befuddled, so you weren't worried about them.

Instead you just focused on Sozo..who was already looking tired. Your energy was very much spent, too, although you didn't wanna abandon him.

Alas Lamb had no moon necklaces to spare, and even if they did...they would hesitate to give it to you.

Speaking of whom, you heard their footsteps and glanced over, smiling. "Hello, Lamb."

"You can go rest, [y/n]." They nodded. "I'll watch over him for you."

"...alright." Sighing, you closed the book and looked back at your spouse, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed the opposite one. "Sweet dreams, Sozo. For what it's worth..I'm blessed you are back on this earth with me. I promise to keep helping you."

"[Y/n]...loves Sozo that much..huh?" He huffed, sleepily opening his eyes, and you were astonished to see that they were no longer red like the eyes of dissenters.

Even so, you weren't letting your hopes get up too high. He still had a long path ahead of him.

"Of course. There's no one I love more than you. I just hope and pray...that you haven't forgotten the love you felt for me."

As you parted from his side and began walking back to the Lamb, you were confused by their dumbfounded expression. "What? Was I supposed to say-?"

"Look." They pointed behind you, and you turned back around, gawking at what you were seeing.

The fungi had completely decayed, falling off Sozo's head into a withering husk in the grass; the smaller fungi buried in his collar died off, too. It didn't cause him any pain, surprisingly enough.

Then you looked directly at his face, noticing signs of him aging rapidly judging by the wrinkles and graying furs of his collar.

But he was still alive.

And he was back to his old self.

"Wh..Where am I? Where is...my family?" His voice was quiet and raspy as he looked around, confused by the wooden contraption he was locked in.

However once he saw your face, he recognized you and smiled, feeling at total ease.

"Oh, my love. You're back."

"I-I never left.." Tears immediately blurred your vision as you rushed to unlock the pillory. "I was here the whole time. I thought you were gone forever..."

"I hope I didn't go too far." He hummed, although he felt an ache in his back from being hunched over for so long and winced. Lamb was quick to fetch him a cane so he could better support himself, but you looped your arm around one of his own to help.

"Thank you, you're very kind.." He gazed at the sheep. "My name is Dr. Sozonius. We were...studying the Mushroomos. Fascinating creatures, they are. Neither plant nor animal. They gave my partner [y/n] and I some menticide mushrooms...and.....that's the last thing I remember.." He frowned slightly.

'Ah..so he doesn't know...' You realized, but you kept your worries pushed down, too happy to care about any of that right now.

"I can't help but feel that I have you to thank for...something." He continued, smiling at Lamb. "You have my loyalty. I will remain here and serve you."

They smiled back and bowed their head respectfully. "Thank you, doctor. Welcome back."

..........

While it was such a relief to see Sozonius' sanity restored, it wasn't too long before he ended up becoming bedridden, his bones too weak to support him anymore.

You realized that the fungi somehow managed to disguise his true age, as Lamb discovered he was actually 100 years old via mindreading--making him the eldest follower in the natural sense.

Now you feared losing him again..just when you finally got him back, and wondered if Lamb could do something to help.

Sure, resurrecting him may be the easiest option, but it would be the most painful for you. They couldn't put you through that, as it would take a few days for them to be ready for the ritual.

Luckily they managed to find a quick solution:

A fountain of youth in the form of a simple egg dish.

After Sozonius ate it, the magical properties somehow reversed the clock, giving him back the energy he needed to help out with cult duties. And you didn't have to worry about losing each other again, as Lamb gifted you two golden skull necklaces as a "belated" wedding gift.

Of course, the ant was ever jubilant about his mushroom studies and continued to pursue them alongside you--in a far more controlled environment, obviously. He was allowed to tend to the plots and observe how their effects impact followers during brainwashing rituals, although he was forbidden from tasting one himself or participating in those..

At least for right now.

Even though it's been about a week since he was "cured", the few Mushroomos that lived on the cult grounds were still fretful upon seeing him, thinking he was going to eat them alive.

The one you defended couldn't believe that he was genuinely sorry and not under the fungi's influence anymore.

They were so terribly scared that Lamb mentioned that they gained a "cowardly" trait, always flinching upon you, them, or Sozonius approaching, begging to be spared from....some nonexistent threat they made up in their head. They tried to please you two how ever they could, yet were easily frightened by him simply breathing around them.

Your husband was confused until you clarified that he ruled over the Mushroomos for a long time, cannibalizing them and making threats should they fail to bring him more mushrooms--but he found it hard to fathom that he'd ever do such a thing and abandon you and his family..

Even so, he felt guilty and hoped to make things right.

.........

It was late at night when you and Sozonius were having some light brews at the drinkhouse, feeling relaxed but not entirely befuddled.

He was rambling about some of his latest discoveries in mycology, and you listened with such a loving gaze in your eyes, smiling so big your face was starting to hurt.

You were so, so grateful he came back to you..and that Lamb could save him.

But one particular Mushroomo, however, arrived in hopes of drinking their worries away...and instead found you two at the counter, disappointed.

They tried to sneak away, although Sozonius spotted them and whistled. "You, Mushroomo! Come sit with us." He offered. "We don't bite."

"Eek! I-I mean, of course Mast---I mean Sozo..I-I mean....urrgh!!" Already they were fumbling over their words, scratching at their mushroom cap and sweating. "S-Sorry, sorry! AH!" They nearly tripped over a rock on their way to the drinkhouse.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, dear?" You glanced at your husband, who just nodded reassuringly.

"It will be fine."

Even as the Mushroomo sat down and took one of the drinks left on the counter, they seemed too anxious to take a sip. Instead their gaze going to you--and Sozonius, especially. "I-I feel like I'm interrupting something.."

"No, you are not. But listen-"

"D-Do you need more 'shrooms for your studies, Sozo?? More menticide-?"

"No, no. Listen. I wanted to...apologize for what I have done to you and your fellow Mushroomos."

"Wha.....y-you do..?"

With a soft sigh, Sozonius grasped both of their hands, and although they squeaked in surprise, they didn't try running off. "I scarcely recall what I did while under the influence of the mushrooms. But...it's no excuse. I treated all of you poorly, ate your friends...and I'm sorry. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old fool."

They meekly nodded. "W-We understand..mast-"

"From this day forward," he cut in gently, "I am no longer your master. You serve the Lamb now. Not me. And that goes for all of you Mushroomos, okay?"

"....yes, doctor." The mushroom creature exhaled a shaky breath, looking utterly relieved to have official freedom from his servitude.

"Good, thank you." Sozonius let go, smiling. "I'm glad you understand. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"I think..I will." They stood up and stared down at their untouched drink, before sliding it back over to you. "You can have this. I...don't feel like I need it anymore."

You nodded, bidding them goodnight as they headed back to their shelter, before gazing at the ant. "Seems you broke their habit, too."

"Well, I am a doctor, after all." He chuckled. "I wanna help whoever I can."

All you did was smile, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence, finishing your drinks and admiring the golden shrine at the center of the cult grounds.

Finally, everything was as it should be.

#yall dont understand how unbelievably happy i am that we can help sozo #clanask #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #sins of the flesh spoilers #cult of the lamb spoilers #cotl sozo #cotl sozo x reader #sozo x reader #cotl sozonius #hurt/comfort

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