#The Last Blade Priest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 4 months ago

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a hand for a hand | knight!ghost x f!reader

in the year of our lord 1657, your king wields a weapon that cannot be reproduced. as your queen's lady-in-waiting, you steer clear of it, lest it cut you when it passes by. but duty and desire are rarely met in a man's world.

type: one-shot (6.5k)

cw: dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, mentions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, ghost is obsessed with your tits (18+)

It is not a secret that you are afraid of the king's men. There is a reason that they have a reputation of cruelty. Ravagers, conquerors, unruly and untamed–they train like dogs, and they live like them, too. By accident, you have wandered to where their barracks are, and if it wasn't for the happenstance of your king hearing your screams, they would've taken your virtue that night.

That one belongs to my wife, he had said, gripping you by the scruff of your neck. Spoil it, and I'll have your fuckin' heads. His queen had been much kinder when he returned you back inside, cradling your head in her lap and promising to have something fashioned for you to wear so none of his men would ever touch you again.

And they haven't. They do not bow to you, but they open the doors for you, move out of your way, try to keep their eyes off of the softness of your cleavage and the curve of your skirt. But there is one that does not, there is one that refuses, and this one you avoid the most.

You don't know him by any other name other than Ghost. The right hand of the king, his most trusted advisor and his most brutal of men. There are times when he barges into the throne room, his sword dragging along the stone floor and trailing blood in its path, and he tosses the head of the king's enemy onto the floor. You clutch onto the skirt of your queen's dress, tears welling up in your eyes, and when you look up, he is staring at you, heaving in the metal of his armor, and you look away as his men yell out proudly as they crowd the room.

His eyes are always on you when you are in his presence. They track you as you move behind your queen, follow you as you eat and drink and tend to her majesty's needs. He wanders the halls, and he observes you as if you are his next meal. And maybe you are–if he suddenly decided you would be his next conquest, you don't think a refusal is in order. Maybe that's the mercy he gives you; just the aggressiveness of his stare and his stare only, and not the strength of his hand or the cruelness of his demeanor.

There is always a party. Always a celebration for this brute. He is praised by politicians and priests alike, because he must be the hand of god, delivering whatever the king asks for when it is asked of him. He does not lose, all he comes back with is chests full of gold and new slashes to add to the growing collection on his skin. Sometimes you wonder if he puts them on himself. You wonder if he drags his dagger in a crooked line down the length of his arm, as if he is tallying his win, counting up to a number that already puts the men that came before him to shame.

He seems like the kind of man to do so–like the kind of man to do it even with the blood of his adversary still warm on the sharp edge of the blade, the kind to lick it clean when he's finished just to solidify the unease and the terror of the next man to have the unfortunate fate of ending up at the wrong end of his adrenaline.

He has no face. He has no name. And if he is coming for you, it's already too late; your fate has been sealed, and you should say your last rites. The only mercy he ever gives is that death is always quick. His sword is too sharp, and his hand is too heavy.

It is late in the evening when you hear it. There's screaming in the courtyard, yells and howls and cheers. You put down your hairbrush, getting up and padding to the window to look outside. The king's men are there, hundreds of them milling about and walking around. They share mead and wine, crusty bread in their muddy hands. They are bloody and bruised, but they are happy. They sing and chant, hold each other and crowd around fires. They left weeks ago, and they are back now, and you suspect it must be victory on account of their demeanor.

You are not surprised by this. They aren't kind, but it makes them good soldiers. They aren't afraid to die; it's a common idea in your culture that for a man to die in battle is the only way to true salvation, to actual ascension. You have always hated this idea. Boys become cruel, and men become unforgiving, and it is why you are so grateful to be her majesty's lady-in-waiting because it means she is your only duty and nothing more.

You are surprised by the knock on your door. You think about ignoring it, but then there is another knock, and then a familiar, low voice mutters, "Are you awake, my lady?"

You tie your robe and scurry. When you open up the door, you curtsy low and graceful, your eyes drawn to the floor as you tremble a little in the king's presence. You've never really spoken to him before, not without his queen at your side.

"Y-Yes, your majesty? I'm sorry for my appearance, I–"

"It's quite late," he says gently. "You don't have to apologize. Is it alright if I come in?"

You stand from your curtsy, blinking up at him. You think for a few moments before you nod, widening the door. He settles himself at the seat by the window, looking down into the courtyard. He has a hint of a smirk on his face as he looks down at his men, still singing.

"I have a request of you," he says finally. You take a seat at the edge of your bed, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. Whatever his request is, you don't know why he's putting it this way. You're not exactly allowed to refuse. "It is time for my most decorated men to receive their titles. They deserve it, after what they have done for me these past few years."

You swallow, "Yes, of course. You have such a fine army, your majesty. You must be...V-very proud."

He turns to face you, and he nods.

"These titles come with land. Money. Responsibility. And it comes with other things they might request," he explains. "One of these things can be a bride."

"They are most fortunate," you say softly, trying to smile. He stands, turning back to look down into the courtyard.

"You are to be wed tomorrow," he tells you. "I know you gave up much to accept your role at my wife's side, and for that, I have arranged for a sizable dowry on your behalf. Congratulations, my lady." he turns to smile at you. "By sunset, you are to be a duchess."

You're shaking when he goes. You clutch the sheets, sinking to your knees, and you cry. You cry because you know who asked for your hand. You know who wants you, you know who it is, because every time he comes back from war, he cannot take his eyes off of you. He eats you with his gaze, he violates you and has never even touched you, he takes from you, and you've never spoken to him, but you know it's him, you know it, you know it–

Your queen is ecstatic. She lends you diamonds to wear, and she fusses over the embroidered silk and cotton dress they've sewn for you overnight. She tells you she's so proud, that you will make such a beautiful bride and a beautiful duchess, and it takes all of your strength not to cry, to choke back your sobs. Your innocence will be gone by the next morning, you know this, and yet here she beams about colored fabric and your new, unwanted title and all of the duties you have never, ever wanted for yourself.

Marriage will be your prison, and you will never be free. You'll be hidden behind closed doors and forced to carry loud, chubby babies.

You are not the only bride that afternoon, but you feel like the most important. Your veil is the longest, your dress is the most intricate, and you are wearing the queen's diamonds. Not to mention, you are to become a duchess, and the rest will be lords and ladies, nothing more. You have always hated the hierarchy that society fits themselves into, but you've never despised it more than this moment.

He is waiting for you when you make it to the throne room. He wears his armor, polished and without blood, his face covered and his hood up to shadow his dark eyes. He wears his telltale insignia with pride, the skull motif of his belt gleaming and the paint of his mask fresh. He stands tall and menacing, a reaper in human skin, and you are so close to tears as you make your way to him. Your eyes find his, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You slip a delicate hand into his gloved one, letting the rough fabric warm you as he brings you to stand in front of him. He purrs, you think, a low rumble as his eyes look you up and down.

You are a prize. A trophy. Nothing more. A gift given for cutting the heads off of your king's foes, and that is all.

The ring on your finger is gold, and the ring you slip over his is silver. And then he gives you his first gift as your husband–a tiara, made of emerald and gold, and he slips your veil off to tuck it between the strands of your hair. The intricate pattern on the tiara matches the patterns along the iron of his armor, and you want to think of this as a gesture of good will, but you know it is given with possessive intent, a brand of ownership.

Because that is what this is. Not a ceremony of love, but an exchange, a transaction. You've been bought with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But one day he will grow bored of me, and maybe then, I'll feel myself again.

He narrows his eyes, glares, and your lips part, trembling, you are terrified. His response is to growl with delight, his eyes falling to stare at the laces that hold in your cleavage. You observe this fact–the fact that you have things that other ladies do not. You are not tiny like them, not thin nor delicate. You are warm, soft, and the squeeze of your breasts in your dress draw him in.

You are a prisoner, now. But perhaps, if you play this game correctly, you can be in your ward's good graces. This is the hand you've been dealt; perhaps there is still a way to win if you steel your bluff.

The party is lively. There is music, gold coins tossed haphazardly on tables, so much dancing and enough food to stuff yourself for days. There is endless wine, and there are brides seated in laps, hungry new couples kissing and whispering soft nothings into each other's ears. The king blessed you all, told you to enjoy your new lives, your new titles, to make your country proud and raise pretty, fat babies.

You sit aways from him. You don't speak, just stare at your dinner plate, sipping wine absentmindedly as you think about the rest of your life and how miserable you will be. You think about the control you have never had, the choices you have never been given, and you wish so badly that you were a man.

Men simply ask for, and then they receive. Women simply hope that their eyes don't meet a flame too hot to handle.

His eyes bore into your head. When you catch his gaze every once in a while, all he does is tilt his head to the side and observe you. The beauty that you are, the woman that no one can have, the supple tits that belong to him, and the perfect cunt he knows that you have under the multitude of skirts you hide it under. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy, you will give him everything that he needs, that he craves.

You'll look so beautiful carrying his heir. You'll look so perfect when you begin to wear the dresses he will buy you, when you sleep in the bed in the house that he gives you, when you stand in the kitchen that he builds for you. Although, a woman like you deserves to do nothing but relax, be pampered, to lay down on a bed of furs as he eats your sweetness and fucks you stupid.

When the morning is early, you sneak out. You scurry to your bedroom, closing the door behind you for a moment of peace. You take a seat on your bed, the bed you aren't sure you will have for much longer, and you sit there and stare at your feet until the door opens.

You know who it is right away. Coming in unannounced, because now he is allowed to, because everything in this room now belongs to him, from the thread holding your dress together to the very breaths you take.

You sit up straight, turning your head. Ghost slips through, taking up the space by the door as it shuts behind him. You watch him as he stands poised just like the soldier he is, looking at you illuminated by nothing but candlelight. His gloved hands rest at his sides, but he squeezes them in and out of fists, clicking his tongue. You hear the leather of them move.

You have never spoken to him before. You've never heard him speak. You wonder if he really knows how to; you wonder if he has a voice or if he's been whittled down to nothing but the sounds that a loyal mutt makes. You know why he's here, you know why he's come. You can't tell him no, you don't think, but he doesn't move from his place, so you aren't completely sure of what he wants.

But you have an idea.

"Y'abhor me," he says finally. He speaks. You swallow. At least he isn't stupid. It's rare that you see a brute with brains. Although, with all the battles he has won, you know he doesn't lack intelligence. He is seasoned, worldly, knows how to convince the politicians and to rile up the uneducated men that kill for him. He must have a quick tongue and a strong vocabulary. A leader bred for killing, a man taught to know his audience and how to deliver a persuasive message.

But has he been taught to tame a cat? How to please a woman? How to love her, how to have her?

Love. What a silly dream.

"Not as much as I fear you," you admit. He hums, his eyes crinkling a little, as if he's smiling. You watch him carefully as he finally moves, rounding the bed before he stands in front of you.

"Wot is it y'r afraid of?" he asks. His voice comes low, from the bottom of his chest. You tilt your head up to look at him.

"That you'll hurt me," you whisper. He shrugs, shaking his head.

"A beaten wife is no good t'me," he tells you, very matter-of-fact. "Need strong heirs. Which means I need y'fed and happy."

"I'll never be happy."

He grips your chin, shutting you up. A part of you wishes he would be meaner. That he would be the angry, possessive Ghost that he truly is and show the kingdom that there is no part of him redeemable or salvageable. You want to sport his bruises and tell the queen he is an animal, but his touch is firm and nothing more. If anything, he's gentler than you expected him to be.

"We'll see about tha'."

Your eyes water, and you stiffen at his touch.

"I know who you are," your voice cracks. "I know what you do. You're a pillager. You take women, and you kill men."

He tilts his head to the side, smoothing his thumb along your bottom lip. You aren't wrong. Since he was small, most of what he has known has been the smell of blood in the air and the sound of screams when he shows up at their doors. He's never been particularly gentle when he ravages. He takes, takes, takes–it tastes good and strengthens his bones. It puts medals on his chest and pretty, thick women in his bed.

But you are no village in an unfortunate land. You are the gift that his king has given him. The forbidden treasure that he had his eye on since he saw you standing there beside his queen. Poised, elegant, graceful, timid, untouched, perfectly soft. Ghost has never known this kind of thing, and if you had been any other lady, he would have married you long ago, but he had to wait. He had to be patient, win and kill enough that his king could not refuse his request–no, his demand–to have you.

He did not do the king's bidding for the glory or for the honor. He did it so he could bite into you, so that even if you screamed, you belonged, and no one would care.

"Just a matter of war, dear wife. They matter little," Ghost mutters. "Let me look at ya..." he tilts your head side to side, observing you. He guides his hand down your throat, arching you back so he could trace his fingers along the swell of your breasts. He hums with approval, reaching lower and squeezing the fat of one breast with one big hand. His eyes flash, and he fondles the other.

You are surprised by the sensation. No one has ever touched you this way before. It feels...good. His hands are warm, even under all of that leather, and you find yourself feeling rather sensitive. You lean back a little on the palms of your hands, looking down. You watch as he traces a finger around your nipple, and you bite your lip when it pebbles under his touch. He uses both hands now, cupping both of them, growling. Ohhh–it feels so nice.

"Gonna be so nice when they're full," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "All for our babe."

You don't know what comes over you. You don't know why you do it, but you do. You lift your hand, gripping the edge of the laces that tie the front of your dress closed, and you pull. The weight of your breasts unravel the ribbons, and Ghost groans audibly when they spill out of your corset. There is a tickle that you feel, some sort of sick satisfaction, knowing that you've pleased him in some way.

"Tha'sit...My beautiful bride..." he smacks his lips together under his mask, as if he's hungry, "Tits of a fuckin' angel."

You squeeze your legs together. You know what it is to feel aroused, but this is different. You feel wet, so wet, as if it's wetting the skirt of your dress. You've never felt it this strong. You whimper a little, and he chuckles, so mean.

"Y'like tha', my bride?" he asks. He reaches up and cups your cheek, bringing your soft eyes to his. The praise, it itches you nicely. "Y'r m'prize, swee'eart. I killed over a thousand men, and y'are what m'reward is, did y'know tha'?" he hisses. "Cut the heart out of a man's chest, like a fuckin' pig, just to 'ave this cunt."

Why does it feel so good? Why are you getting wetter and wetter, why are you whining, why are you giving into it? Why do you want it so bad, why do you ache?

It hurts, it hurts–

"'s olright," he coos, so condescending. "Shhhh..." he puts a palm on your chest and pushes, making you lay back. You swallow, letting him put a finger between the laces of your corset and tug. It barely budges, fastened so carefully, and you gasp sharply when he uses two big hands and grunts, ripping your corset apart. You hear the crack of the whale bone give away under the strength of him, and it's a reminder of just how dangerous he is, how strong, and you know when he looks between your thighs, he'll find you wet and needy and captivated.

The corset comes loose, and he tugs, taking your skirts with it until you're naked underneath him. You want to feel shame, but you can't. You're so desperate, for whatever he will give you, and instead of covering yourself, you let your knees fall open. The groan he lets out makes you leak even more, and he watches with awe as your puffy hole pulses. He moves to shove his trousers down, but you stop him, putting a hand on the chest of his leather armor.

"Wait–" you meet his eyes. Your eyes flutter. "B-but...But I want..."

He eyes you curiously, narrowing them.

"Want wot?"

You swallow.

"I-I..." you reach down and slip your fingers gently through your folds. The squelch makes his eyes widen, and he's mesmerized by what he sees. "I want...Your mouth..."

He snickers, "Y'think a man will eat it so easy?" he raises a brow. "Doesn't work tha' way. Besides..." he shrugs. "I don't reveal m'face."

You sit up, blinking, smoothing your hands down his chest and tracing them along the hem of his trousers. His dark eyes follow you, and you realize he doesn't really say no. You need to remind him that you are not one of his men. You need to be kept happy, and he needs to give in, even if it hurts his fucking ego.

"Please?" you whisper, taking his hand and putting it back on your face, kissing the palm of his glove. Killed a thousand men to have me, so show me–show me, show me, show me. You nuzzle into it, giving him those eyes, and he stares for a long few moments. "Please..."

He sinks to his knees almost immediately. His armor stretches a little, the leather and metal moving rigidly with him. Your eyes widen a little at the position–the thing that he is knelt down in front of his wife, an act of submission.

"Turn around," he snaps. "On y'r knees."

You do as he says. You turn on the bed, your face squished against the cushions, and he yanks you back by your hips. You fist the sheets, sucking in a shaky breath, and your eyes squeeze shut when he puts two hands on your ass and spreads you wide. He plants a kiss on your folds from over the mask, and then you hear the shuffle of fabric before his warm tongue prods at your entrance.

He eats slow at first. Just drags his tongue through the slick there. He's exploring you, learning you. But then he is all-consuming. He hisses, gripping you by the thighs and suckling at your clit before tracing his name into the folds of your cunt. You can't help how wet you are–drooling, wetting his mask, crying so soft as he bobs his head and eats you, starving. He did not expect you to be so sweet, so soft. Every part of you is soft, and he associates the taste of you with the sound of your pleasure, and it's like a trigger. His brain ticks just the right way when he hears you moan for the first time. Not even battle quiets the tinnitus, but the ringing is nearly gone now.

He wonders if you're sent from heaven, even though he doesn't believe in it. But something had to have sent you, something had to have given you to him, because it's too much, it's too good, it's too real.

What he wants is in his hands, cumming on his tongue, crying because of his touch. Too real, too real, too real.

He pulls away. He smacks his lips gently, smirking, and then he pulls his mask back down. He stands up straight, watching you, still on your knees, squirming. He tuts, turning you onto your back easily. You're languid and a little breathless, and you giggle a little when you realize how easy it is for him to manhandle you, for him to move you. You've never felt very small, but he doesn't even strain, not even a little.

He's so scary, it makes you sick, but you can make this your own–you could make him love you, couldn't you? Someone this twisted, someone this insane, you could make him obsessed, you could drive him crazy, you could have the loyal dog you have always been yourself.

Killed a thousand men to have me, so I'll put you on your fucking knees.

It's what you're owed. For all the years of serving, for all the years of submission and pain and kneeling and curtsying, you're allowed to have something, you can have something, even if it's this monster of a man. He may have paid for you, but you won't let a thousand men die for nothing.

You will make him love you. You will make him love you. You will make him love you.

You sit up, a bit dazed. You're swimming in your own head, a little insane from the orgasm. You know what a man like him wants. You have doted on men like him all your life. You know what it is that arrogant people crave, what it is they desire, the things that keep them up at night, you know because you've soothed those fears all your life.

You just need to know how to make him purr. You need to know what clears the thoughts in his head.

"My husband," you whisper, meeting his eyes, and there's a little twitch in his eyes. He likes that title. "I–"

"Did y'like that, my bride?" he murmurs. "Your husband's mouth on y'r cunt, 'n now y'r singin' for me, eh?"

You bat your lashes, sliding your hands up his forearms. You drag your fingers over the sleeves of his armor, whimpering. The smell of leather is overwhelming, but you suppose you must get used to it. You have a feeling you'll be polishing it for the rest of your life.

"I've always been...Terrified of you," you whisper. "The way you come into court...The way you fight...Seeing you in all those places, you have always scared me..." he hums, his eyes intrigued. He smooths his hands up your thighs, gripping onto your waist as he tugs you closer to him. "But, I..." you reach for his shoulders, pulling on him until he bends, leans over you, crowds your space and shadows you like the eclipse he truly is. "I-I want more..."

He chuckles, "I know y'do," he echos. "Could see it in y'r eyes, darling girl," he sighs. "A pretty face like this one...Wasted on her majesty."

"I don't think we're allowed to say that."

"I deliver entire countries at john's feet, I'll say wot I bloody please," he snaps. You just blink up at him, before smiling a little.

This disgusting, murderous, possessive, immoral, treacherous piece of shit that is your husband is really the most beautiful man you've ever set your eyes on. Strong, resilient, unable to be killed, adored by his king and his men alike. He is everything a man is supposed to be, but nothing like how a gentleman should behave. He is built for war, built to take, so how can you get this nasty thing to love you?

Ghost does not seem the kind of man to bend to the desires of ordinary men. He may want to fuck you, but he has self-control. He may enjoy the praise of his men, but he doesn't require it. He may ache for the soft press of a woman, but he is self-sufficient and easily deterred.

So you do what servant women do best. You appease, because at the end of the day, Ghost is still a man, and men are all the same.

"A baby..." you whisper, holding onto the backs of his hands firmly. You dig your nails into the skin there, arching your back to get closer to him. He growls under the mask, metal biting into your soft skin as he grips you even tighter. "Want a baby..."

He cackles, so mean, and he leans down to kiss along your ear, down your throat, biting at the supple skin through the mask. He's still got all of his armor on, he hasn't shed one lick of his gear, but you cling to it like a parasite. He is one with it, and you realize this now, his second skin made of durable steel and patent animal skin, singed at the edges. He's such a fine soldier, too strong for his own good, too rough around all his edges to be anything but a masochist, but he's yours. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and it isn't until he slides the warmth of his length through your folds that you realize this, too.

You reach up with trembling hands, high enough to cup his masked face. He flinches, nearly throwing you off, but you shush him gently, cooing softly as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper there. It's so intimate, this position, and you know that he has never let anyone touch him this way by the feeling of his body under your hands, stiff and unable to move. You roll your hips gently, up against his, and you let out a soft keen at the squelch of your slick against his cock. "It's...It's everything I didn't know I wanted..."

He grunts, metal creaking as his nostrils flare.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. Affection, it's so unfamiliar that it startles him. That someone can be kind to him, something other than a hard hand and an impossible order, it's not something he knows, and he's not sure how he feels about it. His instinct tells him to distance himself, but his cock guides him closer.

"You," you whine. "So big–" you reach down between your bodies, pumping his cock gently. Your fingers barely meet around his girth, a true testament to his size, he lacks this largeness nowhere. "–there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Ghost snarls a little, gripping your thighs tight and securing them around his waist. You lock your ankles around his hips, pulling, and he hums as the head of his cock sinks into you easily.

"Naughty lil' girl," he laughs, standing straight as his thighs meet your ass. You whine, your back bowing like a taut string, and he slides his tongue over his teeth with a menacing click. "Not a virgin, are ya?"

"I-I am," you gasp, clawing at his forearms, and he hisses when you clench.

"Mm. Not a stranger t'this feelin' then, aye?"

You shake your head, and he nods, hoisting your legs up and over his shoulders as he gives you a firm thrust.

"Good," he mutters. "Don't much feel like pettin' ya."

And he doesn't. He's a menace. He snarls like a beast under his armor, his gloves squeezing your plush thighs as he pounds into you with no words to soften the blow. He isn't gentle by any means–he gives, and he expects you to take, and your legs shake as you try and crawl away from him. He doesn't let you–his fingers spread around your waist and he tugs, spearing you back onto his cock before he leans over you and starts putting his back into it.

Despite the roughness, he looks down at you, eyes focused on yours, and he doesn't look away. Your arms flail a little until you reach up and wrap them around his neck for stability, but it only draws his face close to yours. Your hand falls to grip his jaw, and he leans into it just enough that you know you have him.

"You'll make such a good little babe," he grunts, groaning when you tighten just that much. He's securing his place, making room inside of you so you can take even more. "Cunt was made to bear m'children, m'lady..."

"That so?" you squeak, and he smiles under the mask–you're falling apart on his cock, a good girl, just for him, just like you always are. "Have to finish what you started for that to happen, don't you?"

"Fuckin' brat–" Ghost snaps, but he presses his face to yours, needing to be closer, needing to have you, needing to make you his from the inside-out. A ring is not enough, no, he has to bind you to him forever by making you bear his kin. He will give you many, he's going to keep you fat and beautiful and pregnant, and his children will know that their father hungered for their mother so much that he destroyed a generation of men to covet one of his own.

Ghost has known since the first moment he laid his eyes on you that you would be it. You had to be his wife, no one else would suffice, because no one else could bear the weight of his name the way you would be able to. No one else would be able to carry his babies without dying, no one else could make the sun fall and the moon rise and the fire wane just long enough for him to feel human again, no one.

You start to think the same. You've never felt this way, so out of your body and so aware of it all at once. You're floating–you're somewhere else, you think. There's a pleasure so searing, that you can barely breathe. His cock is deep, touching places inside of you your fingers could never dream to reach, and there's a place that he touches sometimes that makes your eyes blur and your mouth make the most pathetic whining sound. You're crying, begging, asking him for more, please–! Nnghh–please!

He's never had a woman so wet. He has always had them for his own pleasure. He has never paid attention to what they feel or tried to make it nice for anyone but himself, but he knows he will never want it the same ever again. There's something so satisfying about the heavy plat, plat, plat that his cock makes every time his hips meet yours. He can feel his trousers sticking to his thick thighs, knows that there must be some thick, creamy slick coating his length and sticking to your skin that he suddenly wants to scoop up with his tongue and savor the tang of his bride, his wife, his pretty, pretty girl–tha's it, just right, like tha'–

"I...I-I–!" it's more intense than you've ever felt it. A crescendo of pleasure that is starting to grow in your belly, an unwavering warmth that he keeps flooding you with, so good that you can't stop crying for it. You're sputtering, drooling, clawing at the hood around his back because it's so fucking close, it's right there, it's mine, you're mine, mine, mine–

"Fuckin' hell–" Ghost groans, cradling your head against his chest as he stills his hips against yours and fills you nice and warm. You go cross-eyed, you think, shaking as you latch your mouth onto his masked jaw and suck. You need to put your mouth around something, need to fill it with the taste of him. He doesn't move, body heavy and suffocating over you, but you don't tell him to move and make no effort to push him off.

You think you want this. You think you want him to keep you here, just like this, underneath him, full of him, drooling from more than just your mouth from a fucking too good and the promise of something more.

He moves to take a seat on the bed, and you chase after him. You keep your arms around his neck, shuffle into his lap, and he chuckles under his breath as he wraps one big arm around you and tugs you close to him.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be bound to someone like this. Maybe it isn't so bad to belong, maybe it isn't so bad to be wanted this way, maybe it isn't the most unfortunate thing to not have the autonomy of yourself anymore in favor of being this thing's wife.

You slide your hand down his chest before smoothing it over one masked cheek. His eyes close for a moment, and he leans into it for just long enough that you recognize the gesture as one of need. Ghost aches, too–maybe not for the same thing you ache for, but he aches, and maybe it's for this.

Something gentle. Something soft. Something to bury himself into because the flames have burnt too hot for too long, and the voices in his head give him no reprieve. His hands are too dirty, too unclean, and you think maybe that's why he doesn't take his gloves off anymore–there is no cleaning agent enough for the blood caked under his fingernails.

He's more human this way. Less beast, more man, but you see that flicker of humanity disappear entirely when he sees the trickle of his cum slipping onto the fine sheets of your bed.

What a waste. What a loss. He has to fuck you again.

He will never be bored of me, I don't think. Ghost will want me forever–even when we are dead, because he cannot die, because he's already rotting inside.

You don't seem to mind your new position. No kneeling, no curtsying–your duty is on your back and on your side and on your stomach, presented for your husband, just for his pleasure, just for your own.

In all your life, you have never wanted this. You endured the burden of serving because you were at least needed this way. Marriage to you looked akin to death; when the veils fell over girl's faces, you never saw them again. They would be confined to their houses, made to spread their legs, forced to carry children they didn't want and die the slow death of giving their husbands everything they wanted while their dreams were buried alongside them.

Your dream is freedom. It always has been. Your dream is to do as you please, to go where you want to go, to say the things you want to say. There is an understanding here that you have, an opportunity that you could not see before. Before you had Ghost, you saw him as the thing in your way. He was the quicksand that would pull you under, the tide that sunk the earth, the dog that guarded his bone. But you know now, you understand, that Ghost doesn't have to be the wall in your way.

He is more animal than man, and in that fact alone, you feel power in your toes and something hungry knocking at the bone of your ribs, just waiting to come out.

Ghost will hold the sword. And you will hold the leash.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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greengoblinswifey · 1 month ago

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You’re My Religion- Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— what begins as a confession turns into a heated encounter at the altar with your mother’s priest. they say god forgives all but after this, you’re not so sure.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. degrading kink, praise kink, daddy kink, priest kink, unprotected sex, creampie, face fucking, face slapping, spanking, spitting, blasphemy, gaslighting, mentions of hell, mentions of drugs.

a/n— written while listening to religion by lana del rey. this is longggg but worth it <3

You stepped into the dimly lit church, your heels echoing off the stone floor, drawing the eyes of everyone already seated. Your mother sat in the front, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed in disapproval as they roamed over your outfit, lacy, white, and far too revealing for the sanctity of the place.

You could feel the heat of judgmental stares as you made your way forward. A white garter peeked out from beneath the hem of your dress, resting against your thigh like a silent rebellion. It wasn’t just the dress; it was everything, your lateness, your attitude, your recent choices. Smoking behind the house had been the last straw for your mother, who was determined to have you confess your sins to Father Charlie Mayhew. You’d done worse but she hadn’t found out, might as well do as she asked.

Father Charlie stood at the altar, his presence imposing yet alluring. He was young for a priest, with sharp features softened by the flickering candlelight. His eyes briefly lingered on you as you approached, dark and inscrutable, before his expression returned to one of serene composure. His hands clasped in front of him, holding a Bible, as though the words inside it could shield him from whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind.

You slid into the pew beside your mother, her disapproval palpable. “You’re going to talk to him after the service,” she whispered sharply, not even glancing your way. "You will confess and make things right."

You barely heard her. Your attention was fixed on Father Charlie. Something about the way he looked at you, even for just a second, made your pulse quicken.

He stood at the pulpit, his voice echoing through the quiet church as he continued his sermon. The congregation sat in attention, but his eyes kept flickering toward the front row, toward you. You sat beside your mother, legs crossed, the lacy white dress slipping higher as you adjusted in your seat.

His words wavered for a moment, his gaze slipping to where your dress had risen, revealing more of your thigh. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the subtle heat of his attention even from across the room. A wicked thought crept into your mind, and slowly, carefully, you parted your legs, revealing the scarlet lace of your thong.

For a brief moment, Father Charlie’s voice faltered. His eyes caught the sinful glimpse of red beneath your dress, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. His fingers tightened around the Bible, knuckles white as if he was trying to anchor himself to its holiness.

He paused, then spoke, his tone harder now, deliberate. “We must be wary, brothers and sisters, of the dangers of lust, of temptation. Of the Jezebels who seek to lead good men astray with their wicked ways.” His words cut through the air like a blade, but his gaze briefly darted to you once more, betraying the battle raging beneath his composed exterior.

Your mother shifted beside you, her disapproving eyes narrowing as she looked over at you, suspicion flickering across her face. She didn’t know what you had done, not fully, but she felt something was wrong. The sermon had taken an oddly personal tone, and she wasn’t oblivious to it. You could feel her judgment creeping in, but it only fueled the excitement that stirred within you.

Father Charlie continued, though his words seemed to be more for himself now than the congregation. “We must resist. Resist the lure of sin, no matter how enticing it may appear. For we know that the path of temptation only leads to destruction.”

As he spoke, his eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire room had disappeared. There was no congregation, no mother, no church. Only the two of you, caught in the tension that simmered between righteousness and desire.

As the sermon ended, Father Charlie closed his Bible, but the tension between you lingered in the air. You bit your lip, feeling his gaze burn into you even as he tried to avert his eyes. Throughout the sermon, you had kept your legs parted, teasing him, the red lace of your thong on full display. He’d stolen glances, his composure faltering more than once, but somehow he had managed to make it through. Now, with the service over, the real test was about to begin.

Your mother, determined to show her righteousness, practically dragged you over to him. Her hand clutched your arm as she led you to the front of the church, where Father Charlie stood, his posture stiff and his expression carefully neutral.

“Father,” your mother began, her voice stern, "this is my daughter Y/N. She’s been...not of God lately. I’ve begged for her to come here so she can cleanse herself, confess her sins, and find her way back to the Lord.”

Father Charlie’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before he straightened, clasping his hands together. “I understand,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker, in his tone.

“Since she found her way into church late,” your mother added, giving you a pointed look, “I trust she can find her way back home. Keep her as long as you need, Father, until you’re sure she’s, renewed.” Her eyes darted to your dress, her distaste clear, before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, you watched the door close behind her, leaving you alone with Father Charlie. He stood there, silent for a moment, before finally speaking. “Confession is a powerful thing,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It requires honesty, humility. Are you ready to confess?”

You gave a slow, deliberate nod, your lips curling into a soft smile. “I think I have a lot to confess, Father.” Your voice was low, teasing, as you looked at him through your lashes.

His jaw tightened, but he motioned for you to follow him to the confessional booth. Once inside, he slid the screen between you, his silhouette barely visible through the latticework. “Speak, my child,” he said, the formality of his words clashing with the tension between you. “Confess your sins, so that you may be forgiven.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to push further, testing the boundaries. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you said, your voice soft and sultry. “I’ve been thinking wicked thoughts. Lustful thoughts.”

He was silent on the other side, but you could sense his tension, feel the weight of his conflicted desires.

“I’ve done things, drugs, other things,” you continued, your tone growing more seductive. “Things I shouldn’t. With people I shouldn’t.” You shifted in your seat, your legs parting slightly, knowing full well he could sense it even if he couldn’t see. “Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. The temptation is too strong.”

Father Charlie cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Temptation is the Devil’s work," he said, though his voice wavered. "You must resist it.”

You bit your lip, leaning closer to the screen, your voice barely above a whisper. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”

There was silence. You could hear his breathing, shallow and uneven. His hand shifted, and you imagined him clenching his fists, fighting the very thing you were offering. “You must,” he finally said, though it sounded more like a command to himself than to you.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous smile on your lips. “But daddy, don’t you want to help me?”

His breath hitched, and you knew you had him. At the same time you both exited the booth, his face looking flushed as he did.

As the tension grew between you and Charlie, your fingers brushed lightly over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath his clothes. You leaned in, close enough that your lips barely touched his ear. “Daddy,” you whispered, your voice filled with temptation, “I’ve been such a bad girl. A dirty sinner. Punish me. Give me a preview of eternal punishment.”

His breath caught at your words, his hand grabbed your hair as he pulled you back to face him, his eyes dark with restrained desire. “You don’t know what you're asking for,” he growled, though his grip on you betrayed his true thoughts.

You smiled up at him, your lips curling in a teasing smile. “I think I do,” you murmured, arching your back to press against him, your hand slipping around his neck as you pulled him even closer. “Right here, in front of the cross, I don’t care.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked toward the large cross behind you, but his gaze quickly returned to your lips, unable to resist the pull. “You’re going to hell,” he muttered, before gripping your waist firmly, lifting you onto the altar as if he couldn't control his actions any longer.

Your legs parted naturally, and you wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in as his lips finally crashed against yours. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat of everything you both had been holding back. His hands roamed over your body, but even as he touched you, he still kept control.

“You're such a bad girl,” he said between heated kisses, his voice low and commanding. “here, of all places.”

You grinned against his lips. “I wanted you,” you admitted breathlessly, “and I knew you couldn’t resist, I always get what I want.”

Charlie’s grip tightened, his hand moving to your throat in a possessive hold. “You need to learn some discipline,” he growled, pulling you closer. “And I’m the one to teach you.”

Your pulse raced as you felt his control over you grow. The cross behind you seemed to sway slightly, but all you could focus on was the fire between you. His hands were everywhere, and every touch made your breath catch, your desire building with each second.

“You wanted to be bad?” he whispered harshly against your ear, his voice filled with both heat and command. “Then you’ll have to take what comes with that.”

Before you could respond, the cross behind you shifted, tilting dangerously. You gasped, glancing back just in time to see it tumble forward, crashing to the ground. The loud thud echoed in the church, but neither of you moved, the sound only fueling the intensity between you.

With one final, wicked smirk, Charlie leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s no turning back now.”

He shoved you to your knees and you ripped your thong off, your fingers dipping to your sopping pussy as he rid himself of his robes and presented himself bare in front of you. “Suck this priest cock,” he demanded. Without waiting for a reply, his cock was sent into the back of your throat making you gag.

“That’s it little bitch,” he groaned, “take whatever the fuck I give you.”

You took him in, your mouth working around him, your cheeks hollowing as you surrendered to his brutal rhythm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.” The way he spoke made you want to please him even more, and you found yourself pushing back against him, eager for more.

But then he pulled back, looking down at you with a mixture of pride and mischief. “I think you need a little discipline,” he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Before you could respond he grabbed your hair and pulled you over his knee as he sat at the altar, he then delivered a sharp smack to your ass, making you gasp.

“Did you like that?” he asked, watching you closely. You nodded, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “I thought so,” he replied, his hand coming down again, the sound echoing in the church.

“Let’s see how many more you can take,” he taunted, giving you another hard spank, each one leaving a burning sensation behind. The mix of pleasure and pain made your head spin, and you found yourself craving more.

“Daddy,” you gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I can take it. I want more.”

“Such a naughty whore,” he chuckled, the heat in his gaze intensifying. “But I’ll give you what you want. Just remember, you asked for it.”

He placed a kiss on your ass before his hard hand came down again, causing you to yelp. He chuckled darkly at the sounds you made before he gripped your jaw, making you open your mouth and spat inside. He continued his assault on your ass whispering darkly to you.

“This is what you like? Is this what whores like you enjoy? To be violated by their priest? Hmm?”

“Y-yes father,” you moaned, feeling his sharp hand come down again, you weren’t sure how much you could take but you didn’t want to let him know.

“Alright whore, back on my cock, make me cum and maybe I’ll give you what you so desperately desire.”

As you knelt at the altar, the irony of the moment didn’t escape you. Typically, this was a sacred space meant for prayer and reflection, a place where you sought forgiveness and guidance. But here you were, on your knees, not in a plea for redemption but in a silent prayer of your own worshipping the man who stood before you. Worshipping his big, thick, leaking cock. Thank God for him.

The flickering candlelight casted shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his lips curled into a smirk. You felt a thrill rush through you, knowing how wrong this was, yet wanting it more than anything.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and teasing. You got to work, spitting on his cock and taking him as deep as you could in your throat as tears left your eyes, as you did so he ripped your little dress off you making you gasp. The little sounds you made on his dick made him moan in pleasure. You continued sucking and not long after he held your head own as you gasped for air and came down your throat.

He clearly hadn’t released in a long time because there were still small ropes of his cum he pumped onto your face. With a smack, his hand came down across your cheek then he spat on you, making you stick your tongue out.

“Disgusting whore, you’re fucking filthy, sent from the devil himself.”

“Make me yours then,” you panted and Father Charlie smiled down on you.

With a swift motion, Charlie gripped your waist, bending you over the altar. The cool wood pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within you. You felt exposed, your heart racing as you heard him move behind you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “So willing to give yourself to me right here in God’s house. I wonder what He would think of this.”

You could barely focus on his words as anticipation coursed through you. “I don’t care,” you managed to reply, your voice breathless. “Just please, Father.”

He chuckled, positioning himself behind you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. “You might need to repent after this,” he teased, his tone playful yet filled with raw desire. “But I’m sure God will forgive me for what I’m about to do, you, a fucking slut, not so much.”

You shivered, knowing this was all so wrong, yet feeling every bit of it was right for you. “Just take me,” you urged, your body craving his touch.

As he pushed into you, a loud gasp escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and guilt flooding your senses. He was so deep inside your pussy, tearing you apart with a burning stretch. “Holy—” you started, but he interrupted.

“‘Thou shalt not commit fornication,’” he quoted, almost mockingly. “But we’re not fornicating, are we? We’re just, exploring.”

You could only moan in response, the feeling of him filling you pushing all thoughts of right and wrong from your mind. “Yes daddy,” you breathed, lost in the moment. “Just exploring.”

He began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. “You know, sometimes the line between sin and pleasure is blurred,” he murmured. “But I think we’re in good hands. God will forgive me, won’t He?”

“God can’t see us,” you managed to say between breaths, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Exactly,” he growled, picking up his pace. “And you’re going to come for me. Make it worth it, bitch.”

He slapped your ass harshly, making you moan and open your eyes to look at the holy water on the altar that fell to the ground and splashed on you. You could swear it burned your skin.

As the pleasure washed over you, the world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of Charlie’s body against yours. You felt yourself tightening around him, waves of ecstasy crashing through you until, with a final gasp, you came undone.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re like this,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath for a moment before lifting you effortlessly. “Now, let’s take this to a more fitting spot.”

With that, he guided you toward the chair where the priest would usually sit, its authority mixed with your reckless abandon. He sat back, pulling you onto his lap in one smooth motion. The air was electric with anticipation, and you could see the flickering candles casting shadows around the room, the only witnesses to your sin.

“Get ready to worship,” he growled, guiding you down onto him. As you sank onto his length, a loud moan escaped your lips. The thrill of the position combined with the sinfulness of your surroundings sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you, taking me right here,” he said, gripping your hips. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Just my bitch to fuck.”

You nodded, feeling the words stir something deeper within you. “Yes, I’m yours,” you breathed, moving your hips to find your rhythm.

He thrusted up into you, each movement deliberate, as he leaned closer. “And you love it,” he stated with a smirk. “You love being my temptation, my little distraction. If God didn’t want me to be tempted, He wouldn’t have created you for me to enjoy. This tight, wet, leaking pussy for me to enjoy.”

With each thrust, the sensation built, and you felt the heat of his words mingle with the heat of your bodies. “You’re going to take all my cum inside you, aren’t you?” he commanded, his tone a mix of dominance and desire. “You want me to fill you up, to pump my cum into your tempting little pussy?”

“Yes, father,” you gasped, your body responding to his every word. The sensation of him filling you pushed you closer to the edge once more.

Just then, the cross above you trembled, tilting ominously before falling upside down. A collective gasp echoed in your mind, but you were too lost in your desire to care. The flickering candles burst into flames, sending wisps of smoke into the air as if the universe itself was reacting to your sinful act.

“Look at that,” he chuckled darkly, his thrusts relentless. “Even God can’t help but take notice of what we’re doing here.”

“Just don’t stop,” you urged, feeling the intensity build again and tears fell from your eyes. The mix of danger and pleasure was intoxicating.

“Never,” he promised, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to remember this forever.”

With a few final powerful thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, moaning your name as he released, filling you completely.

As the final waves of pleasure rolled through you, you both collapsed against each other, your bodies slick and exhausted. Breathing heavily, you felt the weight of the moment settle in. The reality of what just happened hung in the air, a mix of satisfaction and consequence.

Charlie pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “You know this is all your fault, right?” he murmured, his tone both teasing and dark. “You tempted me, made me filthy.”

You shivered at the heat of his words, the intensity in his eyes igniting something deep within you. “I didn’t make you do anything,” you replied, a challenge in your voice. “You wanted this just as much as I did.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You made it impossible for me to resist. Look at you, so innocent yet so depraved.” His fingers traced your cheek, a contrast of softness against the edge of his words. “You walked into this church, dressed like a temptation itself, and now look where we are.”

His gaze flicked toward the now-upside-down cross, a symbol of your defiance. “You should be ashamed, everyone would chastise you if you said anything,” he continued, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. “But I know you’re not. You loved every second of it, just like I did.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Maybe I did,” you admitted, unable to hide the thrill coursing through you.

Charlie straightened up, adjusting his posture, the authoritative presence returning. “Good. Remember that when you’re here alone, naked and exposed.” He smirked, taking a step back, his eyes dark with desire. “You think this is the last time I’ll see you? You’re wrong. You’re mine now. Your very being belongs to me. I am your God now.”

“You’re my religion,” you whispered.

With that, he turned, walking away toward the back of the church, leaving you breathless and alone. You stared at the cross, the flickering candles around it now extinguished, a stark reminder of the boundary you had crossed.

Naked and vulnerable, you felt a mix of fear and exhilaration wash over you. The reality of your actions hung heavy in the air, but the thrill of the moment lingered in your veins.

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badjokesbyjeff · 2 years ago

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A physicist, a mathematician, and an engineer are all found guilty of treason and sentenced to death by guillotine.

The priest reads them their last rites, then the king orders the executioner to kill the physicist.

The executioner offers the physicist two choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The physicist replies, "I spent my whole life studying the heavens. I would like to face the sky, with the hood on like night!"

The executioner positions the physicist and drops the blade... ... and it stops inches from the physicists' neck.

The priest cries, "It's a sign from God! This man is innocent! Set him free!", so the king pardons him, and orders the mathematician executed next.

The executioner offers the mathematician the same choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The mathematician replies, "They all result in an equivalent state, but hood off face down is the most elegant solution!"

The executioner positions the mathematician and drops the blade... ... and it stops inches from the mathematician's neck.

The priest cries, "It's a sign from God! This man is innocent! Set him free!", so the king pardons him, and orders the engineer executed next.

The executioner offers the engineer the same choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The engineer replies, "I have always loved machines, and there is no more elegant a killing machine than the guillotine. I will spend my final moments marveling in its beauty!"

The executioner positions the engineer and, as he's about to drop the blade, the engineer shouts:

"I see the problem!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

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unforth · 8 months ago

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Danmei and Baihe C Novels and Manhua Officially Licensed in English

Things are getting licensed fast enough that keeping a list like this up-to-date is basically impossible, but I saw someone asking in the tags so I figured I'd try. All titles are danmei unless otherwise noted (very little baihe is licensed so far). I've included Chinese titles, but sometimes publishers change the original titles so much that I can't track them down, apologies. I've hit the link limit on this post so I've had to remove NovelUpdate links, but they're still in the version of this post on Wordpress. Note that Taiwanese titles are not included on this list.

This is everything I know of as of October 24, 2024. There might be more. I tried. Resources used to compile this list: Danmeinews.com; this Carrd, last updated in March 2023; this other carrd last updated October 23 2024; list of danmei with official licenses on NovelUpdates; a similar list on Goodreads; danmei-specific list on Reddit that to my eye looks accurate for the larger publishers but isn't thorough for some of the smaller ones.

Seven Seas:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Seven Seas is here. The full list of danmei manhua licensed by Seven Seas is here.

These titles are in various stages of publication, from "entire series released" to "license literally announced less than a week ago." As far as I know, all Seven Seas titles are available world-wide, through major distributors and libraries, and in e-book and print formats. Seven Seas translation quality varies but the editing is general strong and the editions are sturdy and nice. Note that Seven Seas isn't without controversy, especially for treating their contractors poorly resulting in them unionizing. Some people have also been unhappy with the fidelity of their translations compared to the original Chinese (I've been satisfied personally but ymmv).

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu titles:

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) manhua

Heaven Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat titles:

Case File Compendium (Bing an Ben)

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun)

Remnants of Filth (Yuwu)

Meng Xi Shi titles:

Thousand Autumns (Qian Qiu)

Peerless (Wushuang)

priest titles:

Guardian (Zhenhun)

Silent Reading (Modu)

Stars of Chaos (Sha Po Lang)

Fei Tian Ye Xiang titles:

Astrolabe Rebirth (Xing Pan Chongqi), written under the pen name Arise Zhang

Dinghai Fusheng Records (Dinghai Fusheng Lu)

Dinghai Fusheng Records (Dinghai Fusheng Lu) manhua

Joyful Reunion (Xiang Jian Huan)

Legend of Exorcism (Tianbao Fuyao Lu)

Mu Su Li titles:

Copper Coins (Tong Qian Kan Shi)

The Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years (Bujian Shang Xian San Bai Nian)

Lv Ye Qian He titles:

The White Cat’s Divine Scratching Post (Shenmu Nao Bujin)

The Wife Comes First (Qi Wei Shang)

Other titles:

After the Disabled God of War Became My Concubine (Canji Zhanshen Jia Wo Wei Qie Hou) by Liu Gou Hua

Ballad of Sword and Wine (Qiang Jin Jiu) by Tang Jiuqing

BAIHE: The Beauty’s Blade (Meiren Jian) by Feng Ren Zuo Zhu

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish (Canji Baojun de Zhangxin Yu Chong) by Xue Shan Fei Hu

I Ship My Rival x Me (Wo Kele Duijia x Wo de CP) manhua by PEPA

HET: Love Between Fairy and Devil (Cang Lan Jue) by Jiu Lu Fei Xiang

Mistakenly Saving the Villain (Lun Jiu Cuo Fanpai de Xiachang) by Feng Yu Nie

My Husband and I Sleep in a Coffin (Wo he Laogong Shui Guancai) by Wu Shui Bu Du

Run Wild (Saye) by Wu Zhe

There’s Something Wrong with the Chief (Du Zhu You Bing) by Yang Su

Thrice Married to Salted Fish (San Jia Xianyu) by Bi Ka Bi

The Villain’s White Halo (Fanpai Baihua Guanghuan) by Hao Da Yi Juan Wei Sheng Zhi

You’ve Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post (Fei Ge Jiao You Xu Jin Shen) by Blackegg

Rosmei:

Rosmei licenses are Singapore distribution rights only. There is a list of international partners organizing group orders here. I've personally placed my orders through Yiggybean, as discussed in reply to this ask. Most of these titles are only being released as print editions, tho titles that weren't originally on JJWXC (of which there are several here) WILL have e-book editions. My first book from Rosmei arrived, and I found the translation and editing to be very strong. I can't speak to how accurate it may be to the Chinese original, but it read smoothly and had very few errors. Overall, though they've made some mistakes, they've been communicative and responsive.

Ning Yuan titles:

BAIHE: At the World's Mercy by Ning Yuan

BAIHE (I think???) The Creator's Grace by Ning Yuan

priest titles:

Coins of Destiny (Liu Yao)

The Defectives (Can Ci Pin)

Drowning Sorrows in Raging Fire (Lie Huo Jiao Chou)

Other titles:

Albert, from Earth (Aerbote Laizi Diqiu) by Jie Mo Jun

The Bat (Bian Fu) by Feng Nong

Breaking Through the Clouds (Po Yun) by Huai Shang

Don't You Like Me (Ni Shi Bushi Xihuan Wo) by Lv Tian Yi

The Earth is Online (Diqiu Shangxian) by Mo Chen Huan

Everyone Loves the Cannon Fodder (Chuan Cheng Wan Ren Mi de Paohui Zhuma) by Qie Zai Shan Yang

Global Examination (Qianqiu Gao Kao) by Mu Su Li

Gold Class Enforcers (Jinpai Dashou) by Pao Pao Xue Er

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuanyue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ruhe Huming) by Yi Yi Yi Yi

Kaleidoscope of Death (Siwang Wanhuatong) by Xi Zi Xu

The Killer of Killers (Sha Qing) by Wu Yi

Nan Chan by Tang Jiuqing

Obsessed (Ki Ma) by Wu Chen Shui

Wine and Gun (Jiu yu Qiang) by Mengye Mengye

Wow, You Guys are Really Good at Gaming (Nimen Nansheng Da Youxi Hao Lihai O~) by Yi Xiu Luo

Peach Flower House:

Peach Flower House titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. Whether titles are e-book only, print only, or both varies by title. In my opinion, Peach Flower House has inconsistent inconsistent editing quality, but the books are very readable, and I'm excited that they're working with translators such as E. Danglars. I haven't bought any of their special editions so can't speak to their extras, but I've bought all their print translations and will continue to do so going forward.

Da Feng Gua Guo:

The Imperial Uncle (Huang Shu)

Peach Blossom Debt (Taohua Zhai)

Other Titles:

Golden Terrace (Huang Jin Tai) by Cang Wu Bin Bai

In the Dark (Zai Hei An Zhong) by Jin Shisi Chai

Little Mushroom (Xiao Mogu) by Shisi

University of the Underworld (Yinjian Daxue) by Ziloi

Via Lactea:

The partial list of danmei novels licensed by Via Lactea is here, but there are titles I've seen them selling that aren't on this list.

Via Lactea titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. All titles are either print-only or e-book + print. Only a handful have actually been released, the rest are licensed and presumably in progress. I've now read three titles published by Via Lactea and while the translations are decent I could wish the editing was more consistent. Everything reads as if it would have been improved by one more thorough proof read.

Jing Shui Bian titles:

Salad Days (Jing Jiu)

Silent Hearts (Mo Mai)

Other Titles:

Apocalypse (Quanqiu Jinhua Hou Wo Zhan Zai Shiwulian Dingduan) by Qi Liu

As I've Told You Before by Sheng Jiang Tai Lang

Dawning (Liming Zhihou) by ICE

Embrace You Till the End of the game by Hu Yu La Jiao

Euthanasia (Anlesi) by Feng Su Jun

The Fall of Summer (Ting Shuo Ni Hen Nan Zhui) by Jue Chu

Falling (Luo Chi) by Yu Cheng

Psycho (Feng Zi) by Xiao Yao Zi

Limerence (Wo Xichen Ni Nan Pengyou Henjiule) by Jiang Zi Bei

Lingering Game (Chanmian Youxi) by Tao Bai Bai

Lip and Sword (Chun Qiang) by Jin Shisi Chai

May I Touch Your Spirit? by Qing Mei Jiang

The Missing Piece (Maoheshenli) by Kun Yi Wei Lou

The Omega Who Wants His Baby Back by Yao Yao Yi Yan

Raising Myself in 2006 by Qing Lv

Rose and Renaissance (Wo Zhi Xihuan Ni de Renshe [Yule Quan]) by Zhi Chu

Killing Show (Sha Lu Xiu) by Fox

Soul Vibration (Linghun Saodong) by Dr.solo

To Rule in a Turbulent World (Luan Shi Wei Wang) by Gu Xuerou

A Tyrant's Cover-up Plan by A Ci Gu Niang

Was I a Scummy Bottom? by Cheng Zi Yu

Aloha Comics:

A tiny, Hawaii-based press focusing on manhua. Titles are available through major retailers such as Amazon and Bookshop.org. I've purchased one of these titles - Nirvana in Fire - and was please with the quality despite a couple minor errors.

All these titles are manhua!

Day Off by Qing Cai

Heaven Official's Blessing Animation Manhua by Bilibili and Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (this is a manhua made based on the donghua, using donghua art)

Here U Are by DJUN

Link Click by Li Haoling and Haoliners (not technically danmei!)

Nirvana in Fire (Lang Ya Bang) by Hai Yan (not technically danmei!)

Monogatari Novels:

Monogatari Novels is based in Spain. These titles can also be ordered from at least some major retailers. Note that there has been some controversy about Monogatari Novels. I'm personally not ordering these works until more information is available.

BAIHE: A Clear and Muddy Loss of Love (Jing Wei Qing Shang) by Please Don't Laugh

BAIHE: Female General and Eldest Princess (NuJiangjun he Zhang Gongzhu) by Please Don't Laugh

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

The Silent Concubine (Ya Nu) by Qiang Tang

BAIHE: Soulmate manhua by Wenzhi Lizi

BLoved Publishing:

ngl I can't figure out exactly what is up with this, and there seems to be some controversy related to them and their relationship with Monogatari Novels. Their website is depressingly low on details. However, this list is for completeness, so here we are. I'm not ordering from them based on the information currently available. There's more about the conflict between them and Monogatari here.

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

Chaleuria:

As far as I can tell, Chaleuria has not updated their webpage since April 2023, so the current status of in-progress titles is unknown. All titles are digital and/or e-book, and I'm not sure how to purchase them as I haven't tried.

The Complete Guide to the Use and Care of a Personal Assistant (Zhuli Shiyong Zhinan) by Why Radiance

Deep in the Act (Ru Xi) by Tongzi

Fake Slackers (Wei Zhuang Xue Zha) by Mu Gua Huang (no longer available)

From Body to Love (Leng Yan E Nan: Xian Shenhou Ai) by Wan Wan Yi Xia

Interstellar Power Couple (Xingji Qiangli Lianyin) by Kun Cheng Xiongmao (no longer available)

Intoxicated Friends (Zui Qing Zhi Pengyou) by Ye Shu Ying

The Long Chase for the President's Spouse (Zongcai Zhui Fu Lu Manman) by Three Thousand Crow Language

No Money No Divorce (Mei Qian Lihun) by Shou Chu

Reborn into a Hamster for 233 Days (Chong Shengcheng Cangshu de 233 Tian) by Yi Shu

Records of the Dragon Follower (Cong Long Ji) by Yueren Ge

Urban Tales of Demons and Spirits (Dushi Yaogui Lu) by Qie Er

World Hopping: Avenge Our Love (Ni Wufa Yuliao de Fenshou, Wo Du Neng Gei Ni Song Shang) by Xiaomao Bu Ai Jiao (no longer available)

Webnovel:

When I first made this list, I heard that Webnovel had a few titles but couldn't actually find them - but now I've found them, thanks to a list someone else put together. I'm including direct links to them, since I had so much trouble finding them at all.

Comrade: Almost a Cat-astrophic Love Story (Jintian ye Yao Nuli Dang Zhimao) by Demonic Fire (link)

My Boyfriend is a Dragon (Nanpiao Shi Tiaolong) by Chubby Strawberry Sauce (link)

The National Sweetheart Livestreamer is a Pro! (Quanmin Zhubo Shi Duiba) by Mo Shang Wang (link)

Honorable Mentions:

There are a handful of titles I know of that are official translations of C Novels. These are not books with contextual queerness, but for folks with an interest in Chinese history and culture, they are worth checking out anyway, especially because understanding these stories can help understand the above books. Also, some have active shipping fandoms (for example, I've written for Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Daomu Biji). I've included two above under the entry for titles from Aloha Comics (Link Click and Nirvana in Fire) and here are a couple others I currently know of:

Dream of the Red Chamber (Hong Lou Meng) by Cao Xueqin, available in translation for free from Project Gutenberg

The Grave Robbers’ Chronicles (Daomu Biji) by Nanpai Sanshu (six volumes are available in English from Things Asian Press)

Journey to the West (Xiyou Ji) by Wu Cheng-en, in four volumes from University of Chicago Press

The Legend of the Condor Heroes (She Diao Yingxiong Chuan) by Jin Yong, in four volumes from St. Martin’s Press

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguo Yanyi), attributed to Luo Guanzhong, available in translations for free from Archive.org

The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants (Zonglie Xiayi Chuan), attributed to Shi Yukun, available in translation for free from Archive.org

Water Margin (Shuihu Zhuan) by Shi Nai’an, from Tuttle Publishing

RESOURCE: List of Chinese speculative fiction in English translation

RESOURCE: More Chinese speculative fiction in English translation

I will add to the "Honorable Mentions" list if I find any other more mainstream titles with official translations.

Rumored Licenses:

Sometimes, I hear rumors about titles being licensed before the license is announced - and thus before we know which publisher has licensed them (assuming the rumor is even true). I thought I should note these somewhere. Titles I know of rumors about currently are:

A Certain Someone (Moumou) by Mu Su Li

Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know (Mozun Ye Xiang Zhidao) by Cyan Wings

The Fourteenth Year of Chenghua (Chenghua Shisi Nian) by Meng Xi Shi

Guide on How to Fail at Online Dating (Wanglian Fanche Zhinan) by Jiang Zi Bei

Immortal Koi is Going to Debut (Jinli Daxian Yao Chudao) by Mo Xi Ke

Mist (Bowu) by Wei Feng Ji Xu

A handful of other licenses are mentioned on the Carrd I linked at the beginning of this post; I have no idea the status of those titles and wasn't able to find information on them while putting together this post other than what was listed on that Carrd, so I've omitted them.

Now go forth, and buy some books!

#danmei #baihe #mxtx #priest #priest novels #tang jiuqing #mu su li #meng xi shi #yi yi yi yi #this probably needs a billion other tags but oh well #i've been meaning to write something like this for ages #like there's literally a similar post saved in my drafts #but apparently today is the day i don't have the willpower to not #as also evidenced by my literally buying some of these books while in the middle of putting the post together lmao #i broke a windshield wiper on sunday and SHOULD spend money fixing that instead but here we are #at least it's the passenger side wiper???#anyway as always just tryin to do my part to get people to read more than just mxtx #not that i don't love mxtx #but please guys there's so much amazing stuff out there READ MORE BOOKS

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littlexdeaths · 5 months ago

Text

the car troubles saga continues…

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

a continuation of this and this.

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: shoutout to @uglypastels for helping me come up with reader’s brothers name, i appreciate you 🥰

so you agree to let him take you home.

your heart is pounding in your ears as he opens the door of his van, ushering you in with a wide grin. and your palms start to sweat when he reaches around you to click your seatbelt into place, making the excuse that it’s finicky— when really he just wants the excuse to be close to you.

he can smell the floral perfume and sweat lingering on your skin, and he has to force himself away before he does something drastic. when the car starts you wince as the sounds of judas priest pierce your ears, and he immediately reaches to turn down the volume.

“sorry, ‘bout that.” he chuckles, resting his arm on the back of your seat as he backs out of his driveway.

his fingertips graze over your shoulder blades when he turns back around, beginning to drum them along the steering wheel as you drive through hawkin’s. you find yourself continuing to glance at him out of the corner of your eye, fiddling with the hem of your work vest.

“sorry to make you go out of your way like this, eddie.” you say finally, as the van rolls to a stop at a red light.

you dare another peek over, but he’s already looking at you. his dark eyes are practically drinking you in, and you know that you’re both fucked.

“hey, it’s really no trouble, mouse.”

you inwardly cringe at the use of your childhood nickname, something your brother still used just to get on your nerves. and you’re suddenly feeling very stupid, because of course eddie still saw you that way.

as sid’s annoying kid sister.

“he still calls me that, huh?” you sigh, shifting as the back of your thighs begin to stick to his leather seats.

“aww, come on now. it’s a cute nickname.” he grins, nudging your side before turning down the street.

“yeah, maybe when i was twelve.”

eddie frowns, now realizing his mistake as he pulls into your driveway. the windows are dark, and only his van remains idling in the driveway. no one’s home.

you both sit there in silence for a beat, neither of you quite sure of the next move.

“well… thanks for the ride, ed.” you utter lamely.

you turn from him then, your hand hovering over the door handle. but you aren’t ready for him to go just yet. and if you were being completely honest with yourself, this might be one of the last times you could be alone with him like this. without the watchful eye of your older brother.

so as nervous as you are, your desires outweigh the possible fear of rejection.

it’s now or never.

when you turn back to him, he looks a little surprised. but the corner of his mouth begins to lift into a soft grin.

“do you want to come inside?”

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: it’s a recipe for disaster 🫧#brothers best friend!eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot

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gegewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Dr.house- a proper fuck(smut)

I apologize for how long it took me to write this. I hope you enjoy!

6-14-23

Words-3.1k

Kinda(?) edited?

Your pov-

It's been a month since Greg's been shot, he hasn't gone to work. I've taken over for him, but sometimes Cuddy or Wilson will use the team for extra help. Greg's new favorite thing since he realized he could run again...was running. I'm not arguing, he's got some nice legs. But, he like to go for runs at night. Just getting up, throwing on his running shorts and shoes, grabbing his iPod and earbuds and just leaving.

Like tonight, I was finishing up a patient report on the couch, resting against him as he watched Tv, his legs kicked up on the coffee table. Then all of a sudden, he pushed me off of him simultaneously kicking his legs off the table. I just watched him leave. I'm not gonna stop him from running. He's finally got free mobility, let him enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

"I'll be back." He pointed at me as he opened the door and quickly walked through it, closing it behind him. I rolled my eyes and laid down on the couch,the arm of it below my shoulder blades, I put my knees up resting the file against it as I continued writing.

He didn't get back till eleven thirty and He left at ten. He didn't come to the bedroom first, he went straight to the bathroom and showered, It's very appreciated. I was laying in bed, my knees up as my book was against the front of my thighs, which was covered by the comforter. I flipped the page of my book, the Tv was also on, anything to keep me awake at this point. If I fell asleep, I'd soon be woken up anyways to move my position because he demands to have a hot women laying against his chest at night. But I also demand to have an arm draped over my back and hand sat on my ribs to sleep anyways.

Two people desperate for human touch, it's kind of perfect. Though some interactions in the workplace can inappropriate, like a grab to my ass as he walks past me, even if I'm actively with a patient. He's the gropey one, I just like to be near him when I can.

I started reading the next page as the bedroom door pushed open, the only light being the lamp on my nightstand. His hair was damp and fluffy from being towel dried,said towel wrapped around his waist. Yum.

He walked past the bed to the dresser throwing me a glance, I was still trying to read this book.

"How was your run?" I asked as the top dresser drawer opened.

"It's was good." He looked back at me as he threw his boxers to the bed. Closing the drawer and going to his pants drawer,"where'd you get that book?"

"Cameron, she finished it. Gave her one of mine and she gave me one of hers." I explained , turning the page. He hummed, I was waiting for some snarky remark, but it didn't come. He just tossed the towel to end of the bed and put his boxers and pants on. I didn't watch him, this part of the book was good. Pretty blasphemous, but who doesn't wanna get fucked by a hot priest?

He stepped out of the room to put the towel back in the bathroom, walking back in quickly after.

"What's it about?" He asked as he walked to his side of the bed. I slid the tip of my finger under the page as he pulled up the comforter snd sheets, proceeding to get under them.

"I don't think you wanna know." I glanced at him as he rested on his side, his right forearm was sunken into his pillows. He leaned in as I looked back to the page and I saw his eyebrow raise from my peripheral view.

"By the words wet, priest, and cock...It's religious erotica." A light chuckle tinged the word erotica. I shrugged before grabbing the bookmark from the night stand, my right leg straightening out. I slipped the decorated piece of paper into the bind and closed it, placing it next to the lamp.

I looked back at him, his left hand now snaked under the cover, placed on my thigh.

"run didn't tire you out?" I asked, my left leg falling a bit more open subconsciously.

"Not even close." I leaned closer to him to catch his lips on mine and he sat up a bit taller. His left hand moving to my right hip pulling me closer to him. My left hand came to hold the back of his head as his lips moved heatedly with mine.

The smell of his body wash filled my senses. my finger carding smoothly through his dry,yet damp, hair. Moments like these remind me on how stupidly obsessed I can be about him. My right leg straighten out as I pushed up closer to him, propping up on my left arm. My hips twisted, my right leg sweeping over his. I slowly started coming up to my knees, pushing him into the head board and his pillows. His hands sat on my hips, my hand was still on the back of his head, though my right was on his bare shoulder.

Now would be a good time to mention what I'm wearing. Dark red panties, bikini style. And his black Mötley Crüe T-shirt. A rather usual sleeping outfit of mine, his shirts were just comfier, plus I do the laundry.

He pushed my hips down to his thigh, I didn't realize I was hovering over it. Force of habit. I pulled away from him as he took hold of the bottom hem of the shirt. he sat up closer to me as he pulled it off and threw it to the left side of the room. Placing a kiss to my lips as a hand slid around to my lower back, pulling me closer as we kissed down my jaw.

"As much as I love the sweet shit," I started, he didn't look at me or stop, his beard tickled my skin, his lips nipping at my skin, taking his time to find that spot on my splenius," I'd prefer to just be fucked."

"Or you could just shut up?" He pulled away from my neck only to say that sentence before going back to my neck. His right hand sliding up my ribs to grab my breast in his hand, his finger tips pressing into it. I pushed further in his palm, Gaining a small hum from him. his tongue swiped over my skin before he placed an open mouth kiss to his favorite hickey area, his teeth soon joining in as he sucked on the skin.

I could feel myself getting wetter and in desperate need of more. if he wasn't wearing pants he'd probably feel how wet I'm growing against his thigh. He placed a kiss to the new hickey on my skin. his left thumb hooking in the band of my panties, his finger tips pressing onto the plush of my ass. Then his hands slid up to my waist.

"Get off." I lifted my right leg off and over him. I came to stand at the edge of the bed and he came up to standing as well. I slid my panties down my legs and kicked the away towards the wall. He was looking down at me, his right brow raised and then he glanced to the bed, then back to me. The right corner of his like curling up, getting that lusted gleam in his eye.

I got the hint, if he can run...he fuck me properly, especially with no pain. Don't get me wrong I love riding him, but now he's got the full control to fuck me how ever he wants.

I crawled onto the bed, resting down on my forearms, my chest sinking into the mattress as my ass stayed in the air. My legs spread apart perfectly for him.

"My god." His tone was almost star strucken. Which would make sense,in these few years he's never seen me like this. I've ridden him reverse and been bent over his desk, but it's not like this. My right cheek rested on the top of my palm as I looked back at him, his pants already off, his eyes stuck on my ass.

"Stop ogling and Fuck me already," I wiggled my ass a little to encourage him,"I'm tired."

"I can tell, you're getting bitchy." I rolled my eyes as He took hold of my hips, pulling me closer to him. He let his right hand slid down my ass and thigh before grabbing his cock. Stroking it a few time before letting his head slide through my folds, spreading my slick over my clit and lips. His left hand slid up and down my waist, as his head rubbed my clit. His tip finally sat at my core, no words have been exchanged. He being entranced in what he's about to do, and me excited for what's about to happen. If he's good with his mouth and his fingers, and his cock already makes me crumble...well then this must be the Fuckin golden goose.

This position was actually quite comfortable, pretty relaxing. I pushed back into him a bit, perfectly timing it when he pushed into me. Sliding way more then just the tip in, taking me by surprise.

"Oh-God!" I choked out, grabbing the sheets in my hands, my forehead on the top of my left hand.

"Now that's good." He slid out, keeping his tip In and pushing in again, deeper this time. My walls clinging around him as he stretched me out. He didn't stop if give me time to settle, just kept sliding out and pushing back in, his tip never leaving though. My moans built up from simple breathy ones to elongated pleasure filled ones as his pace increased. Hit tip hitting that sweet spot deep inside me each time he bottoms out.

I could imagine what he looked like. Eyes closed, head back. His lips parted as groans left his mouth. He'd look down occasionally, Watching his cock thrust in and out of me, seeing how my cum soaked him. watching how creamy was pussy was getting because of him.

"This is why I like fucking you." He said, leaning down, rolling his hips into my ass as he placed an open mouth kiss to my shoulder. Goosebumps spreading down my right arm and side, his lips were down by ear,"pussys always so damn good."

My right arm straightened out as I grabbed the sheets in my fist, also giving myself some support. my body pushing and pulling on the bed, my backs arch deepening into the mattress.

"Fu-uck." I choked out, my brain completely focused on the way his hands gripped my hips, the way each time he cock slid back In, a tinge of electricity shot up my spine and to my brain, completely obsessed with how his cock felt inside of me in this position. It just felt better.

Groans left his throat more frequently as his speed increased, mine were near unstoppable. A lot of it was about how good it felt, how good it was. I could hear the bed frame starting to creak a bit, skin slapping together. His left hand slid down my side, running down my stomach, his middle and ring finger coming in contact to my clit, wasting no time to rub it generously.

"Aah yes!" I pushed back into him more. The feeling his tip hitting and rubbing against my g-spot paired with the quick rubbing against my clit was perfect. I didn't have to work for this orgasm, it was just coming. My abdomen tightening, my walls fluttering around him, my thighs twitching from the constant attention against my clit.

A whine left my throat as my Forehead buried into the mattress, my left arm extending forward like my right. My hand clinging to the sheet. My head dizzy with pleasure, the inside of my thighs getting wetter. I yanked my right arm towards me, gripping the sheet as a rip of electric shot my spine. A moan yanked out of me which I let out in the mattress, pushing my right arm into the mattress more. I used it to push myself up a bit.

"Greg I'm-"

"Fucking give it to me." His words elongated, tone dripping with ecstasy. if I didn't know better, I'd think he was stoned. But I did just that, I gave it to him. He didn't change his pace, his didn't change anything. His finger still rubbing quickly at my clit, his hips snapping into my ass as his tip pounded my g-spot. My eyes were clamped shut, my face shoved into the mattress. He let out a chuckled groan, and I felt his cock Twitching inside of me.

“Com-come on, come on please.” I lifted my head, catching my breath as I spoke. My hairline was damp, so was my spine. His fingers left my clit as he grabbed both my hips.

Instead of getting rougher or whatever, he slowed down to a stop. He Pulled out of me and using his left hand pushed me from my hands and knees to my back. I let out a little “oh” as he Grabbed my left thigh, hooking it over his right hip, standing in between my legs. His cock his his hand as he lined it back up to my core and pushed in again.

“So fucking good.” He held both my legs on his hips, I pulled him in closer, pressing my heels into his lower back. He came down on his left hand propped up on his arm , holding my left thigh still.

I reached to the back of his head and pulled him to me, pressing my lips to his as he rocked into me, starting to regain his original pace. My right hand reached under his arm, holding onto his back, my nails wasting no time to claw onto his skin. My finger held onto whatever hair I could grasp, heatedly and breathlessly making out with him. I arched up into him, feeling his cock Twitch again. My walls were tight around him, sucking him in, waiting to be filled up by him.

I felt his pace start to falter t and he pulled away from me, his fingers dug harder into my thighs. I still held him close to me, his face hovering over mine. Eyes closed, sucked into his pleasure, tranced in it really. He regained his pace, taking in a sharp and deep inhale from his nose, letting it out as a sighed groan, coming down to place a kiss to my forehead before standing back up to his original position, my hands fell away from him, grabbing at the sheets by the thighs. He put my right leg over his shoulder, keeping my left his hip, slowly leaning down to me.

“Flexible.” He noted, as his hand made contact to the sheet just above my head.

“Oh fuuck!” I whined out, god it felt fucking good. My eyes were clamped shut again, my teeth biting down at my bottom lip. Moans erupting from my throat, but not leaving my mouth. The only sounds that came out of my lips were gasps.

So Yeah, him being able to fuck properly is the golden goose. He’s holding himself back, it’s why he’s not talking. He wants me to cum again, with him. The sleep is gonna be good after this so it’s worth it.

I could already feel my next orgasm building up, that dizziness in my head coming back, my body temp rising, My abdomen muscles tightening, my right hand taking it placed on his back again, nails clawing at their original spot. If he’s leaving hickeys, I’m leaving scars.

“I’m gonna-“ apparently I can’t announce my orgasms tonight since he just cuts me off right away.

“For the love of god, please do.” Breathy and elongated, tinged with desperation and a bit of annoyance.

It didn’t take long before I was cumming on his cock again, my walls fluttering around his deprives cock immediately setting of his own orgasm. He didn’t stop pounding into me, his warm cum coating my walls, mixing in with my own juices. his grip on the front of my calf tight, his hand held a fist full of the sheet. My ears were focused on the sound of his groans, a muttered “That’s it, that’s fucking it”, trailed off his lips, the obscene wet sounds coming from where we were connected. I’ll change the sheets tomorrow morning.

He slowed down slowly, savoring those last moments and I wasn’t arguing. I was seeing stars behind my closed lids, my chest rapidly rising and falling as I caught my breath, my pulse pounding in my neck, hearing it in my head, but it wasn’t a headache. He guiding my leg off his shoulder, holding it to his hip as he slid out, letting them both fall down gently. He stepped out from i between my legs and fell down onto the mattress next to me on his back, also catching some much needed breath.

“Still got it.” He chuckled to himself and I giggled, letting my eyes opened, feeling the tiredness creeping into my body as my high wore off.

“That was good.” I smiled, it was the remaining bit of high, as I tilted my head to look at him, he was glancing down at me. He had one hand on his chest, his right arm laid on the mattress a few inches above my head.

“I’ve been informed quite a bit.” He marked and I scoffed, pulling myself up to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling how wet the inside do my thighs were, especially how wet the sheets were.

“Mm, come back.” I felt him grab my shoulder and pull me back down to the mattress and I let him, I turned on my side to rest into his arm and side, resting my hand on his chest and he placed his hand on mine. We stayed in silence for a bit, listening to each other breathing, my eyes fell closed but I opened them again, they fluttered a bit.

“So running and screwing, is that your plan?” I asked him, glancing up a bit to look at him better. He raised his brow, a slight frown on his face from thinking, still looking wth the ceiling and then sharply nodded, a smirk now replacing the frown.

“Definitely.”

#gegewrites #fanfiction #smut writer #dr house smut #greg house #greg house smut #greg house x reader #house md #house md smut #dr. house

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yanderefarm · 8 months ago

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pinned comment activate!! please read the rules

this is an nsft account MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

do not repost my fics. do not feed them to ai. including chat bots.

there will be some dark content and dead dove because of the nature of yandere content to begin with. please be careful and always check content warnings.

i feel like this should go without saying but. I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THIS BEHAVIOR OR ACTIONS IN REAL LIFE. this is all fiction and for fun.

be nice. be patient when sending in requests i can be slow and easily distracted.

im ok with fem aligned people interacting and even requesting content just please understand that i will only write male readers.

comments, replies, tags, etc are welcomed and encouraged. if you want to talk in my messages please feel free to!! I'd love to talk to you.

you have my permission to draw or write stories with my original characters if you want to!! id love to see these things

anon list -

🐀 , 😼, 🐙, 🏳️‍🌈, 🥺, 🪐, 🐝, 🍚, 🦇, 🦎, 🦑, 🐕‍🦺, 🎵, 🫥, 🦉, 🦈, 🥄, 🐻, 🧚‍♂️, 👻, tall anon, 🥔, 💍

i will not write: fem!readers, gn! readers, bottom readers, female characters, graphic depictions of violence, graphic descriptions of blood, scat, vore, inflation, graphic depictions of throw up, period blood

i will write: chubby!reader, fat!reader, ftm!character, disabled!reader, yandere!reader, monster!reader, slasher!reader, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, horror, kidnapping, breeding kink, daddy kink, dub con, non con, spanking, free use, pet play, forced fem, objectification, bimbofication, cervix penetration, knife kink, primal kink, dark content, hucow, lactation, dry humping, other freaky shit im not remembering right now

if you're curious if I'll write something feel free to ask!!

(and if i end up writing something i said i wouldn't don't look at me)

you can call me bunny, im 25, i use he/him pronouns and im transmasc. i love men and i love yanderes. i also like weird shit im so sorry in advanced. i post a lot of oc content and shitty art so enjoy the show

if you have any questions feel free to ask!!🐇🐰

last updated; 10/23/24

Original Characters

Ares (Housewife Yandere)

Emil Landorr (Mad King Yandere)

Nephite (Omega Cultist Yandere)

Silvan (Vampire Pet Yandere)

Ajax (Pornstar Yandere)

Noemie (Follower Yandere)

Achilles (Crime Lord Yandere)

Fandoms

Honkai Star Rail, Genshin Impact, Degrees of Lewdity, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Jujutsu Kaisen, What in Hell is Bad, Nu Carnival, Creepypastas,

Genshin Impact;

breeding dottore

————

Honkai Star Rail;

jing yuan x jiangshi

blade x yandere

boothill x cyborg

skott x supervisor

dan feng/dan heng x mate

————

What In Hell Is Bad

for heretics (lucifer)

————

Hazbin Hotel

priest vox x his god

valentino x bull demon (with yandere vox)

————

Original Characters;

ares #yandere housewife

house wife yandere & part 2 & part 3

housewife yandere introduction

extras: spanking ares, ares getting jealous, finding ares mid kill, pampering and breeding, ares with another yandere, distracted, arguing with him, the collection, wrong name

art: thank you, kisses, ref sheet, halloween costume

emil #yandere king

yandere mad king & part 2

yandere mad king introduction

extras: emil getting jealous, cuddling with emil, morning wood

art: halloween costume, kisses

nephite #yandere cultist

yandere omega cultist

yandere omega cultist introduction

extras: nephite getting jealous, temptation

art: halloween costume,

silvan #yandere pet

yandere vampire's pet

yandere vampire's pet introduction

extras: silvan getting jealous, comforting silvan, warmth, putting on a show, spanking, collars, petting

doll au: doll saga, wedding doll

art: doll, halloween costume, gold star, kisses

ajax #yandere pornstar

yandere pornstar

yandere pornstar introduction

extras: biting ajaxs chest

art: halloween costume, tattoos

sable

noemie #yandere follower

yandere follower

yandere follower introduction

extras:

art: halloween costume, tattoos

achilles #yandere crime lord

yandere crime lord

extras:

art: halloween costume, tattoos

all of them

baby trapping (ares & nephite)

what if (ares & silvan)

piggy club (ajax & noemie)

art: expressions

references: hair, measurements,

sfw: if you were a worm, asexual reader, chubby reader,

secret admirer, if the reader died, their voices, jealousy,

reader snaps, abused reader, your face in their neck,

ftm reader, on halloween, petting them, their favorite pets,

whos a good boy?, getting a shot, tall reader, presents,

coming home drunk,

nsfw: the one with lactation, the one about butts, freak in the sheets,

himbo reader, service top, top au, the loudest,

ftm au: coming out

divider credits:

hearts & labels & content warning & dark content warning

#sub yandere #dom male reader #dom reader #sub genshin #top male reader #amab reader #yandere x male reader #yandere ideas #seme male reader #male reader

354 notes · View notes

sin-tax-errotic · 9 days ago

Text

Supernatural Fics

LEGENDS: 💦- SMUT | 💗- FLUFF | 💔- ANGST

DEAN WINCHESTER

💦AN ANGEL by sleepyangelkam (Dom!Dean)

💦Still Love Me? by dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (MoC!Dean)

💦Until My Dying Breath by winchester-fantasies (MoC!Dean)

💗Trust Me by carryonmywaywardcaptain (MoC!Dean)

💦Fiend by fatecantstopme (Demon!Dean)

💦Sexy F*cking Nerd by whimsyfinny

💦Please, don't...Daddy by c1eepypas1a (Dark!Dean)

💗Welcome Home by deanstead (Dad!Dean)

💗💔 Not a Lot Just Forever by take-it-on-the-run (Dad!Dean)

💦P*ssyDrunk!Dean drabble by bunpuppe

💦Sweet Affairs by mxilkyways

💦If I Catch You by thirdsaltyhunter (Ghostface!Dean)

💦Caught in the Act drabble by figthoughts

💦 Playing with Fate by wayward-dreamer (Demon!Dean)

💗Too Many Beds by mind-empty-just-fictional-people

💔Empty Eyes by glorystark

💗 Under Control by kaleldobrev (MoC!Dean)

SAM WINCHESTER

💦Size Difference Sam Winchester {SFW & NSFW} by sammyslovergirl

💦I'm Better by nikkisheep (Soulless!Sam)

💦P*ssyDrunk!Sam drabble by samsno1

💦₊˚⊹♡ mean by ohsc

💦 Hair Pulling by ryrywrites

💦Go Easy by negans-lucille-tblr (Dom!Sam)

💦 Pollen by nuemanfilms (Dom!Sam)

💦I Got You by sammyluvr (Dom!Sam)

💦Worship You by sammyluvr (Priest!Sam)

💦 Body Worship drabble by rubyvhs

💦 Plaything by sleepyangelkami (Dom!Sam)

💦 Break by nuemanfilms (SoftDom!Sam)

CASTIEL

💦 Obedience at its Finest by bunnysbrainrot (Casifer)

💦Takeout Tuesday by gilverrwrites (Human!Castiel)

💦Your Whore by kdfrqqg (Dom!Castiel)

💦Sin, Virtue, and Vice by the-writer-ofthe-fandoms

💦Dream a Little Dream of Me by everything-is-by-design

💦Imagine: Castiel’s serious-minded idea of post-sex pillow talk by webcricket

💦Imagine: Castiel really really likes your inspired idea of compromise when it comes to solving a long standing bone of contention persisting in your otherwise copacetic coupledom by webcricket

💦 Last Night on Earth by hollybell51

💦Experience by gallavichsreddie1128

💦Don't Bet On It by hollybell51 (Virgin!Castiel)

💦Sweet Angel by beanthesprout (Sub!Castiel)

💦 Blessing by gabriels-blade (Soft Dom!Castiel)

THE BOYS

💦 Wet Dreams (SPN pref!)🩷 by via-l0ve

💦Private. (SPN Pref!) ❤️ by via-l0ve

💦💗.⋆｡When They Realised That They Loved You｡⋆. by hannibals-favourite-meal

💦Unholy Night 1 | Unholy Night 2 | Unholy Night 3 by holylulusworld (Dean/Sam/Castiel)

💦Hellnight by holylulusworld (Demon!Dean, Casifer, Soulless!Sam, Demon!John)

💦Teach Me by jessybarnes (Dean, Castiel)

💦Finally Giving In by grilledcheeseandtomato (Dean, Sam)

💦Guessing Game by bunnysbrainrot (Dean, Sam)

💦Why Not Two by nuemanfilms (Dean, Sam)

💦Sharing Father and Son by naughtyneganjdm (John, Dean)

💦Birthday Pie by negans-lucille-tblr (Dean, Sam)

#dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel x reader #supernatural #spn #fanfic #smut #fluff #angst

72 notes · View notes

little-diable · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil is Among Us - Tom Riddle (smut)

I just love writing priest!Riddle, he's def my fave. Nevertheless, remember: Don't like it, don't read it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is in a desperate need, asking the Devil himself to help her with the daily struggles she keeps on facing. But what will she do when suddenly her local priest turns up?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unrpotected piv, blowjob, loss of virginity, praise kink, sex in a church, mentions blood, power play, religious connotations, biblical beings

Pairing: Priest/Devil!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (3k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

The candles danced in the thick blanket of darkness surrounding (y/n), knees pressed to the ground, hands tightly gripping the leatherbound book she was reading. No sound could be heard, nothing but a bone-chilling silence that made goosebumps rise on her skin, unsure if she should keep on doing this.

For a moment (y/n)’s eyes flickered up from the page she was reading, studying the pentagram she had drawn on the ground, following every step of the ritual. Her heart was pounding, roaring in her chest in hopes of ripping her away from this scene before she could take the last step. But she was determined, set on following through with the ritual she had been studying for nights on end.

With a deep breath sucked into her lungs, (y/n) reached for the knife laying next to her, trembling hand pushing it closer to the candles. She watched the reflection of the flames dance in the shiny blade, heating up the material before she brought the blade back to her wrist. A hiss rolled off her tongue as she cut her skin, collecting drops of her blood in the old goblet she had thrifted weeks ago.

The first words began to roll off her tongue, latin words she knew by heart, forcing them into her brain. Her eyes fluttered close as (y/n) rose to her feet, positioning herself in the middle of the pentagram, letting the blood drip down onto the candles, while she kept speaking the words.

Her body couldn’t stop trembling, sensing the danger before her mind could pick up on it, but (y/n) couldn’t stop now, not after waiting for this very night to come upon her for weeks. She had prepared everything, carefully, not daring to tell anybody about what she was doing, trying to summon the Devil, the one that could help free her from the mess she found herself stuck in. All she needed was some of his help, ripping those from (y/n) that talked down on her, that pushed her away from gatherings, treating her like an outcast.

As soon as the last word was spoken, the goblet fell from her hands, clashing to the ground with a sound so shrill, (y/n) couldn’t help but jerk in surprise. She held still, kept her mouth shut, waiting for something to happen, anything, and yet nothing did. Seconds kept fading by, seconds turning into one minute, then two, then three – till the first wave of defeat began to flush through her.

With a sigh leaving her (y/n) found herself groaning, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion, wondering what she had done wrong. But before another sound of hers could echo through the dark basement, the sound of somebody slowly clapping their hands filled the room, making her eyes snap towards the dark corner across from her. The sound of chuckles rang in her ears, eyes desperately trying to focus on the person hiding away from her.

“I have to say, (y/n), I’m impressed.” A familiar voice filled the basement, and yet (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint where she knew the male voice from. Fear filled her body, thumping through her veins as she began to take a step back, almost knocking over the candles. “What? First you summon me, and now you’re afraid of me? C’mon, (y/n), I expected better from you.”

The sound of a chair being pushed back left her gasping, boots meeting the cold ground till the man’s frame was exposed to her. Her eyes met an all too familiar pair of pupils staring at her, making her gasp in surprise.

“Priest Riddle? What are you doing here? How did you –” the sound of laughter once again interrupted (y/n), forcing the young woman to keep quiet. The man kept walking closer, till he came to halt in front of her trembling frame, staring down on her with a smirk tugging on his lips. He picked the goblet up, thumb collecting a few last drops of her blood before he pressed his now red digit against her parted lips.

“So naive, so stupid, don’t disappoint me, (y/n). You know why I’m here.” Shaky breaths left her, shaking her head as if she was trying to wake from this nightmare. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“You’re a priest, how – how could you possibly be Him?” It was nothing but a whisper, a sound so quiet even her own two ears struggled to pick up on it. He tilted his head, didn’t break eye contact once as his hand began to move down her throat, finding its way to her chest. (Y/n) felt her heart skipping beats, a power so strong was pressing down on the strong muscle, she failed to keep on breathing.

“Haven’t you heard? I like to keep those close who fear me, I enjoy their whimpers, how they ache for guidance because they fear ending up in my claws. It's pathetic.” Only as he pulled his hand away did she manage to suck another breath into her lungs, glassy eyes searching his firey ones. “You asked me here, because you want something from me. Speak freely, (y/n).”

“I,” she stumbled over her words, no longer able to remember why she had tried to call the Devil himself, no longer remembering the pain she was forced to endure day in, night out. Her eyes couldn’t leave his features, the smirk that had an awfully unfamiliar touch to it, not fitting the face of the priest she had known for years. “Do you remember what I told you last month? In the confessionary?”

“I do, of course I do.” The softness of his voice left her heart roaring, torn between her fear and her curiosity, body moving closer before her mind could pick up on the movement. His eyes followed her around, like a moth drawn to a flame, like a sinner drawn to the Devil, a perfect match.

“I want it all to stop, the rumours, the pain, everything.” A hum left the tall man, he pondered over her words, eyes flickering down to her fingers, watching her fumble with the fabric of her blouse. His cold hand found her chin, forcing her eyes back to meet his, the pupils that have seen more pain than one could even begin to understand.

“You know it’ll come with a price, don’t you?” Her pupils grew wide once again, clearly (y/n) hadn’t thought about the price she’d have to pay, wondering what he may ask of her.

“Do I have to sell my soul to you?” The words leaving her lips in nothing but a whisper left the man chuckling, head thrown back to release the sound. He shook his head, clicking his tongue as if he was trying to keep her frozen to the spot, not daring to let go of her warm skin just yet.

“Whoever told you that clearly wanted to frighten you, sweet (y/n). No, I don’t want your soul, but your body. Give yourself to me, and I will follow your request.” She choked on her breath, unable to rip herself free as he tightened his grip even further. Her heart once again picked up its pounding pace, roaring in her chest, begging (y/n) to pull back. No man had ever touched her, not one man had been able to reach for her heart nor her soul, hidden from greedy eyes and greedy fingers.

“Can I think about it?” He shook his head, wordlessly circling her in even further, forcing (y/n) to make her decision right there, right then. “Okay. I will do it.”

“Good girl,” the praise left her shuddering, straightening her back as goosebumps rose on her skin. All he could do was laugh, watching her body tense at his words, very well aware that he’ll have his fun with (y/n), the one he had been watching from afar, expecting this very day to roll upon them. “I’ll expect to see you tomorrow for my morning service, (y/n).”

And with a nod thrown his way, (y/n) watched him disappear in front of her wide eyes, leaving her to wonder if this had been a dream, a trick of her brain.

……

With her eyes set on the tall man, (y/n) followed the others, walking closer and closer to receive the body of Christ. Her heart was pounding, wondering if he’d say something to her, if he’d tease her once again. Just the mere thought about what she had experienced yesterday evening left her feeling uneasy, thighs trembling.

“Open your mouth, (y/n).” The command forced a sigh from her, lips slowly parting to expose her tongue to him. Without breaking eye contact he pushed the host down on the strong muscle, making him smirk as he watched her pupils dilate. With a nod thrown her way, he allowed her to turn back to the waiting crowd, none of them seemed to pick up on the shudders his touch shot down her spine, none of them seemed to pick up on the way her skin grew hotter with every passing second.

The Devil had her trapped, caught in a dark web of lies, of pretending, a web she couldn’t break from.

No longer could (y/n) spare any attention to the end of the service, hanging onto his every word without picking up on what he was actually speaking, imagination running wild, forcing sinful pictures into her mind. She could only guess that he’d be ruthless with her, he will take what he is aching for – that much she was sure of.

Only as he ended the service with one last “Amen” leaving him did (y/n) snap out of her trance, eyes watching the others pour out of the church, while she stayed seated. He leaned back against the altar, arms crossed in front of his chest as he wordlessly forced her to walk towards him, almost stumbling over her feet as the pull inside her grew stronger and stronger.

“Kneel.” The word echoed through the empty church, making her eyes snap up to meet his as (y/n) fell to her knees in front of him. She watched him loosen his white collar, plastic placed down on the altar before he began to roll up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. “Will you stick to your promise, sweet (y/n)?”

“I will.” Her whisper left him smirking once again, eyebrows raised as he waited for her to keep on speaking. “I will give myself to you. But how will I know that I can trust you? You’re fooling those around you, all of it is blasphemy, is it not?”

The man’s deep laughter rumbled through him, shaking his head as he reached for her jaw just like he had done yesterday evening. His thumb was forced into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue to make (y/n) suck on the finger, drawing a raspy groan from him. “You’ve always been my favourite, (y/n). I knew you’d be good, such a good girl for me. A deal is a deal, I won’t back out, you have my word.”

Trusting the word of the Devil, how pathetic, how naive of her.

“What should I call you?” Her whispered question was left unanswered, drowned out by the sound of him undoing his trousers, exposing his throbbing cock to her curious eyes. She stared at him without moving, unable to speak another word, mouth growing dry, throat growing tight. She had never seen a man naked before, had never even dared to imagine what she was seeing now, and yet (y/n) couldn’t stop the anticipation from thumbing through her veins, making her tremble for more.

“Part those pretty lips for me, darling.” He pushed his cock past her lips, leaving her to instantly choke. Water filled her pupils, blurring her sight for a moment. The man didn’t hold back, his hand found the back of her head, forcing her to pick up a bobbing motion. Without seeking any further guidance her hands moved up his thighs, grasping his cock.

It took her a few tries to adjust, but (y/n) was determined, set on pleasing the man who’d help her out, the being with a soul so dark, her mind couldn’t even begin to understand what he was capable of. Her hands trembled, struggling to move in sync with the speed of her bobbing motion, taking him deeper and deeper. He was a groaning mess, producing sounds that left her cunt begging for his attention, needing to be touched like she had never been touched before.

“Mhm, I should keep you, make you mine for eternity. I know you’d do well serving me.” (Y/n) could only whimper around him, not expecting him to jerk his hips, fucking her mouth without a warning rolling off his tongue. Spit dripped from her mouth, strings of saliva connected her lips to the tip of his cock as he allowed her to pull away, catching her breath as her hands kept moving. “Fuck, look at you, so oblivious, so naive, and yet your hands know how to touch me.”

An unfamiliar sense of pride flushed through her, taking him into her mouth once again. (Y/n) was eager, set on proving her worth to the king of darkness, the one all sinners followed through the darkest night. She was his, had sold her soul without knowing so, and yet (y/n) felt protected, safe, and appreciated by him. A trick of his mind that forced her to do whatever he asked of her.

“Tell me, are you ready to take me?” The question left her swallowing, unable to reply, not knowing what was awaiting her. He didn’t give her any time to ponder on the question, pulled away from her to pick her up, setting her down on the cold altar. Her gasps rang in their ears, making him chuckle with a dark expression tugging on his features. There was no way out, she was stuck, forced to the being without any chance to snap the unbreakable bond.

He spread her legs, hands disappearing underneath her skirt, feeling the damp fabric of her panties. She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, wondering what would happen, how he’d touch her, how he’d make her feel. Her heart was pounding, mind racing, paying attention to his every touch.

“You’re soaked, dripping for me, so inexperienced, but your body knows just what it wants, doesn’t it?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, allowing him to pull her panties down her legs, making the cold air hit her warm skin. A moan ripped through her as his fingers brushed through her slit, pumping into her without giving (y/n) the chance to adjust. He fucked her with his fingers, rubbed her pulsing bundle of nerves with his cold thumb, making her writhe.

“Oh god, feels good.” Her head rolled back, hands finding his forearms, desperate to hold onto the ancient being. She barely picked up on the teasing words he spoke, couldn’t care about the things he was speaking, fully focused on the new sensation, hoping that this moment would last forever.

“God isn’t around, He won’t help you, not as long as you’re mine.” Darkness engulfed her as (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, drawing sobs, moans, and whimpers from her body, sounds growing louder as he pulled away, as he stopped touching her. Her hazy eyes watched him align himself with her cunt, slowly pushing into her, making her body tremble in pain.

It took her a while to adjust to the stretch, needing to breathe through the pain, while he slowly fucked into her. With their eyes connected, he placed one hand down on the altar, while the other found the back of her neck, forcing her lips to meet his, officially sealing their deal without (y/n) knowing so. He had claimed her, had made her the devil’s toy, nothing would ever free her from him. The being tasted of darkness, of a rich darkness that was so unfamiliar she’d never taste it again.

Curses left her, words he found himself chuckling about as he built up the pace of his thrusts, ruthlessly, merciless fucking (y/n) on the holy altar. There was nothing sweet about the first time she was touched, and yet (y/n) felt grateful that he was the one touching her, that she had given herself to him, to him only.

Her walls clenched around his cock whenever he nudged her sweet spot, murmuring a soft “Touch yourself” against her neck. With trembling fingers she began to rub her clit, eyes fluttering close once again, arching her chest against his. (Y/n) felt him suck marks into her skin, marks she’d carry around with herself till her last day on this very earth, forever marked by the Devil himself.

No words helped her express the intense feeling building itself up inside of her, thumping through her veins, making her quiver. She came with a gasp, clinging onto her orgasm in hopes of prolonging the feeling. He kept on fucking her, even as her body trembled from the overstimulation, begging him to give in.

With his hand finding her jaw, holding onto her, he came inside of her, painting her walls white with a deep groan clawing through him. She felt his heat filling her, stretching itself through her body, a sensation she’d forever remember, stuck in the holy halls, closer to God than she had ever been before.

“I expect you to return, you’re mine now, you belong to me. I will take care of my end of the deal. But know that there’s no way back.”

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle imagine #priest fics #Tom Riddle x reader #harry potter

636 notes · View notes

mothiir · 6 days ago

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homecoming

For @remembrancer-of-heresy

Hope this is okay ! I’m not completely pleased with it but if I don’t publish it now I never will.

cw: threats of cannibalism, dubcon.

Sevatar, like all his brothers, is accustomed to a war fought from the shadows: striking into the soft underbelly of the foe, departing like mist at dawn, leaving them to find the strung-up bodies of their children in the rafters, and warnings daubed in blood on the floor. If you do not obey the Emperor, you earn his justice — so goes a somewhat tongue-in-cheek saying from Nostramo, for only the most starry-eyed idiots of the legion truly believe that what they do is just.

To be a Night Lord is to be a killer: a defiler, a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent. Sevatar has known this to be true since the moment he took the midnight; indeed, he knew before that, when he was naught but a neophyte, battling for scraps with his brothers, all fresh-grown muscle and sharp teeth.

He knows who he is, and he feels no shame in it. He knows what sort of war he is bred to fight, and he feels no shame in that either — the term ‘fair fight’ is a tune that means nothing, sung only by fools.

And yet there are times — like this — when he cannot help but bemoan his lot just a little. This campaign is challenging; they face not an isolated world in rebellion, but a confederation stretching across worlds. A whole system, grown complacent and fat through Imperial protection. They stopped paying their tithe, and the Emperor was merciful, sending a diplomatic envoy to explain the error of their ways.

The diplomats were executed as the red sun rose, and the message could not have been clearer: we do not want your peace.

And so the Emperor had sent Konrad, instructing him to keep as much of the infrastructure intact as possible — this is a valuable system, rich with resources, with cities that span entire continents. This is no barbarous benighted rock, which Mortarion can scour clean with his latest pet virus, or the Lion can turn to charred rubble.

No: this operation requires a scalpel.

All of this to say, that Sevatar has been busy these last few weeks. Skipping from world to world, with barely time to clean his blades between kills. He led his claw from assasination to assasination: flaying some noble in his quarters, leaving his lover to wake up beside a red raw corpse; obliterating an entire barracks worth of elite soldiers, sparing only one to carry the story on. He has not stopped; he has not rested. He has subsisted only on nutrient paste and the occasional bite of one of the rebels.

By the time he’s arrived back in his quarters he’s half-delirious with exhaustion, ravenous, and twitching with the desire to gut something. You’re sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly. It’s unusual to see you splayed about like that; whenever he is around you curl in on yourself, knees to chest, forehead to hands.

Seeing you sprawled out, legs akimbo, hair sticking a little to your face…it’s decadent. Saliva pools in his mouth. You’re the most appetizing thing he’s seen in weeks, and he focuses on removing his armour to avoid doing something he will probably end up regretting.

He murmurs the rites to appease the machine spirits of his armour as he disrobes; unlike other legions. Night Lords wear armour designed to be removed without the assistance of a tech-priest. No son of Nostramo worth his salt wants to be dependent on another for help clambering in and out of the suit that will save his life.

The bodysuit is left in an ignoble pile of fabric by the bed. You’ll pick it up in the morning, tidy it away. He missed that when he was on campaign; those tiny insignificant acts you perform that make his life that much easier.

Not that he needs you there, of course. It’s just pleasant not to have to think about these things.

The only light in the room is the faint neon lights from the power-cables running along the walls; but to his eyes, it’s bright enough to see you in intricate detail. The slight downy hair on your cheeks; the movement of your eyes beneath your lids. Your breathing, steady and slow.

He sniffs along the curve of your neck, your skin goose-pimpling at his exhalations. You smell sweet as cinnamon. He’s careful to suppress his Betcher’s Gland, not wanting to drizzle acid onto your flesh — but he is still drooling. Moisture drips onto your shoulder, runs down towards your clavicle. You twitch at the movement, starting to blink towards wakefulness. He hears your heart-rate change, speeding up; your scent spikes with delicious stress-hormones. This does nothing to assuage his hunger — fear makes every meal that much sweeter.

“Shhhh,” he breathes, his nose buried in your hair. “Do not leap away.”

His blood is up; he has more control than most, but he is still a hunter. Should you bolt like a prey-animal — well. He cannot be responsible for his instincts.

You’re well-trained. You freeze at once, every limb rigid. “My lord,” you whisper. “Welcome home.”

He hums softly, still sniffing along your throat. The blue of your jugular is a tempting velvet ribbon, begging to be torn open and sucked dry.

“Welcome me properly,” he coos. He’s teasing, though you would be forgiven for thinking it a threat. The hissing cadence of his voice always sounds like it promises swift violence. ”Like I showed you.”

You’ve been in his keeping for a little over two months, plenty of time to learn precisely how he likes you — and you’re a quick study. Without a moment of hesitation, you roll onto your belly, lifting your hips up in clear invitation. Your spine is one elegant curve. He runs his fingers along it, feeling the knobs of your vertebrae through the thin fabric of your nightgown, reminding himself that you’d make a brief meal —

(—a delicious meal—)

— a brief and unfulfilling meal and then he would have no one to arrange his bodysuit or polish his armour or swallow his cock down at the end of a long day.

He plants a kiss just behind your ear, before reorientating himself, kneeling behind you, dragging you into the V his thighs make. He flips your nightgown up, revealing soft, plush flesh — and your cunt, hidden away. He never gets tired of the sight of your cunt before he wrecks it: pink and soft and small, and yet capable of taking so much. His thumbs dig into the cleft of your arse as his fingers splay down your thighs.

“You’re so tiny,” he says, half to himself, pressing your cheeks together and pulling them apart once more, just to see how your cunt twitches and stretches. “You’d barely be a mouthful.”

Your body floods with cortisol; your heart rate spikes. Testament to your self control — and survival instinct — you do not attempt to squirm free. Instead, you go limp: utterly pliant. Fight, flight, freeze: those are the options humans pick from, when all else has been stripped from them. All those ancient chemicals squirting around in your amygdala, keeping your pretty heart beating.

“My lord,” you say, your voice a little muffled against his bedding. “I don’t think —“

”Hush. I’m not planning to make a meal of you,” he says — but immediately contradicts himself, sinking his fangs into the warm flesh of your upper thigh. You stifle a scream into your palms. Normally, he’d rebuke you for that — he likes the miserable squeaky noises you utter — but he’s too busy sampling fear-ripe blood, swallowing down a drought like he’s one of Sanguinius’s self-righteous self-depriving bastards.

When he pulls away, his chin is scarlet.

“Not yet at least,” he says — you peer back at him, wild-eyed, unable to see anything in the gloom but his pale bulk. You cannot see the grin he throws your way, insouciant and knowing. Still, you don’t do anything as embarrassing as beg for mercy — so he assumes you know he is joking.

He nips at your buttock, then licks a broad stripe across your cunt. This time, your squeal rings sharp and clear.

Sevetar licks his way into you with very little grace, more concerned with loosening you for his cock than bringing you to climax. One hand holds you open, the other strokes his cock, and by the Throne, he’s as eager as a neophyte about to take his first skin. He’s practically quivering. He wants to cram himself inside you, fuck you until you scream and beg for mercy and that will only make him fuck you harder —

A few more shoves of his tongue, then he’s pulling back, spitting noisily onto your hole to give himself a little more lubrication. You whine protest at the loss of his mouth, lifting your hips, seeking out more sensation — then, too late, you realise that you are demanding something of him, and you begin to gibber an apology —

“My lord, forgive me —“

”Hush,” he says, smacking your thigh affectionately, a honeyed mess of your slick and your blood dripping down his chin “Nothing to forgive. Missed me, did you?”

“—yes, lord,” you say, hesitating slightly. He imagines your fretsome mind whirling, trying to work out what it is that he wants you to say. He licks across your neck, drinking in the wine of your terror-sweat. “Missed you my lord, I —“

He pushes in, and you gasp, words lost in your sudden exhalation. Your cunt is a panicky clutch around his cock, trying to keep him out, but only succeeding in drawing deeper, inch by inexorable inch.

“My lord,” you manage, propping yourself up on your elbows “I —“

Sevatar adjusts himself minutely, careful not to bring his full body weight down on you, but eager to cram more of himself into your guts. Your breath staggers out in pained bursts, like you can’t heave in air around the girth of him — as if, against all biological probability, he’s fucked your lungs flat into the top of your rib cage.

“Take it,” he growls, like you have any choice in the matter. Halfway in, and he pulls himself out, slowly, slowly, slowly, watching your flesh cling sweetly to his prick — and then in again, just as slowly. Only this time, he fucks in a little deeper. And then he does it again. And again. And again. Your huffing breath soon turns to squeaks, and then full on cries as he sinks deeper into you.

“Y-yes, my lord,” you manage. “Th-thank you and —“

Your voice breaks into a cry as Sevatar fucks into you harder, losing himself in the delicious cling of your cunt; the feeling that nothing — not battle, nor torture, nor even the momentary approval of his Primarch’s gaze — can best. Your innards are warm, pliable, perfect, shaped around every thrust — with just the right amount of resistance to add the thrill of conquest.

“—thank you,” you whimper. And — and —“

To be a Night Lord is to be a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent; sadism comes as naturally to Sevatar as shadow-stalking and skin-carving. You never sound sweeter to him than you do when you’re like this: pinioned under him, whimpering and hiccuping. His only response to your aborted attempts to speak is to fuck you harder, grabbing hold of the headboard to steady himself. His balls slap against your thighs with obscene fleshy sounds; his exhalations are more snarl than breath.

“ — and — my lord — welcome home.”

Pleasure overtakes him in a blinding wave; he cums so hard that for a moment he sees the silvery outline of stars, a flurry of crows taking flight. His cock pulses his release into you, filling you to overflow.

“Welcome home,” you repeat. He pulls out, and luxuriates in the sight of your puffy fucked-out cunt leaking his spend. It drips down your thighs, snagging on the wounds his teeth left. Briefly, he considers scooping it up, pushing it back inside you — but he decides against it. After all, he has been away for too long — and he has more than one load to cram inside you tonight.

#Sevatar/reader #my writing

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theworldofotps · 11 days ago

Text

Call in the Night

Pairing: Damian Priest x Reader Word Counter: 1,321 Description: Y/n gets a flat tire in the middle of the night so she calls her last hope for help.

Requested by @madhatterbri hope you enjoy love!

________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @99hook @madhatterbri @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @surdelcielo @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @terrortwinunicorn @alyyaanna @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars @thatnerdwriter @sjwrites22 If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. ______ Rain hammered against the windshield in thick sheets coming down almost faster than the wiper blades could handle. The road stretched ahead in shadows and flickering reflections, illuminated only by the sweeping beams of Y/N's headlights. She hadn’t planned to take the backroads tonight, but after nearly two hours on the interstate in bumper-to-bumper traffic, she took the first exit onto a winding, narrow path that carved its way through the thick woods. It would be faster, she’d told herself; besides, the quiet was a relief. But now, as thunder cracked overhead, and a chill seemed to settle into the car despite the heat blaring, she regretted it.

Then came the bump—a sudden jolt that yanked the steering wheel sharply to the side. She cursed under her breath, clutching it with both hands to regain control, the car slowing to a stop as she drifted to the shoulder. The dashboard light flashed up at her, mocking: Low Tire Pressure.

“No, no, oh come on!”

She groaned trying to push back the wave of defeat creeping up on her, y/n’s breath fogging up the inside of the window. Leaning forward she tried her best to catch a glimpse of the front right tire, but the rain made it nearly impossible.

She sighed, grabbing her phone from the passenger seat.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

She thought, scrolling through her list of contacts, unfortunately this wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with car issues on her own. But it was certainly one of the worst places for it. With no jack, her usual independence was out of reach. One by one, she called her friends hoping that one of them may be able to come to her rescue.

Straight to voicemail. No answer. Or, in one case, a quick text back: “Sorry babes, too far from you. Stay safe!”

She dropped her phone on the seat in frustration, leaning her head against the steering wheel as she tried to figure a way out of this. Midnight was approaching, and here she was, stranded, with no way to change her tire and not a soul in sight. The rain was relentless, pounding against the roof as if to mock her situation. Sitting there in silence for a few minutes she picked her phone up again and reopened her contacts. Her thumb hesitated over the list, drifting down to the name she hadn’t let herself think about in months. Damian.

Her ex.

Calling him would be a mistake, he didn’t owe her anything, the thought that he would pick up was almost laughable after everything they’d been through. But there was that persistent memory of him coming through whenever she needed someone. Reliable. Capable. Even after things had ended between them. Before she could talk herself out of it, she tapped his name, listening to the dial tone ring, she wasn’t sure if he’d even be awake this late. He may not even be in town since his job took him on the road a lot. The weight of their memories crashed over her. But just as the fourth ring started, she panicked and ended the call.

She stared at the screen, her heart racing, a mix of regret and something warmer, unbidden, just underneath. Her thumb hovered wanting to redial again, but instead she locked the phone, pushing it onto the passenger seat.

“You don’t need him y/n, you’ve handled worse it’s not fair to drag him into your problems.”

She told herself, closing her eyes and leaning back against the seat as she tried to figure out how to get out of this. The silence in the car stretched thin, filled only by the heavy patter of rain on the windows. Her breath fogged up the glass, the rain was making it much colder than when she left work a few hours ago. The only options she could think of was wait there until someone hopefully passed by, or sleep and call a tow service in the morning. Neither idea was very appealing, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

Across town, Damian dropped his keys onto the table he was just getting home from the road after a few grueling weeks. He glanced at his phone, still lit up from her missed call. His brows furrowed as he glanced at her name, his instincts kicking in before he could process the urge. He hadn't spoken to Y/N in months, and yet, the sight of her name on his phone stirred something in him. It wasn't like her to reach out, especially now. A quick call? He could brush it off as an accident but the unusualness of it nagged at him.

With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and decided to check her location this one time. It wasn’t something he ever did, at least not since they broke up. But they'd shared it during their relationship, and neither had ever removed it. He told himself he was just checking to ease the faint worry he could feel growing in his chest. When the map pinged her location on an empty stretch of road, miles from anything and anyone, that faint worry turned into something sharper.

She was out there, alone, on the backroads, in the middle of this storm. Without giving it really any thought, Damian grabbed his jacket and his keys again, shrugging against the wave of hesitation. It’s just checking on her, something had to be wrong for her to just be sitting there. That’s all, he reasoned, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline kicking up inside him. As he slipped into his car, he couldn't shake the feeling that something about tonight would be different, that the familiar path would somehow feel like new ground between them.

The rain had turned the roads into slippery rivers, but he didn't care all that matter to him was getting to her. His headlights cut through the sheets of water as he drove, the sound of his tires slicing through puddles as he made his way to the blip on his map. Back in her car, Y/N rubbed her hands together for warmth, the car was completely fogged up. She didn’t want to run the heater out of fear that the battery would die. The solitude, once a comfort, was starting to wear on her, a reminder of how isolated she was out here. The battery on her phone was at 15% now and she needed to save it to call for help in the morning.

When a set of car headlights appeared in the distance, lighting up the road with a glow that grew stronger as it approached. Y/N squinted, shielding her eyes from the brightness, her heart leaping in a confusing mix of hope and anxiety. It was well after midnight now and any hope of a car appearing had vanished a while ago.

As the car pulled up behind her, she watched the driver’s door open, a tall, familiar figure stepping out into the rain. She felt a strange pang in her chest as Damian came into view, silhouetted against the headlights, his gaze intent as he walked toward her door. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella, and the rain poured off him as he approached her car, tapping on the driver’s side window. Y/N rolled down the window, just enough to see his face, a surge of warmth spreading through her chest despite the cold air rushing in.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

He said, his voice steady, unaffected, as if this wasn’t strange for him at all, that it was natural for his ex-girlfriend to call him in the middle of the night. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she just nodded, the warmth of his familiar voice chasing away the lingering chill.

“You came?”

“Of course you called that’s all I needed.”

#damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest fanfic #wwe

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