#WH. BLASPHEMY

[shima-draws]

Me, on Bluesky: Haha this is fun! I wonder since it’s so similar to Twitter why I never liked Twitter?

Me, trying to edit a post bc I noticed a mistake and realizing I can’t edit the post: Ah. That’s why.

[cardigan-ns]

BATHE ME CLEAN

Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY - You came to him about your awful home life, how badly your parents and sibling treat you. He sees this as discrimination on him, and takes care of it for you. But you’re too vulnerable to notice his sickening ways.

WARNINGS - abusive parents, murder, blasphemy, father Charlie being unhinged as hell.

NOTE - Listened to a but-load of Ethel cain while writing this - “Family Tree” to be specific.

Father Mayhew’s eyes weakened as you sat there vulnerable and ripped open beside him, it was very late, so late that nobody was there, the sky had gone pitch black and there was nothing outside but the banshees and the looming creatures in the forests. You had on a pale pink dress and red heels, as if you’d just slipped them on and ran down the cobblestones to speak to him. And here he sat with you on the pew, watching you pour your innermost to him.

A sniffle came from your nose and your eyes faltered from the alter to his red boots, to your red shoes. The taint of the red carpet, as if you were drowning in a haunting memory you cannot let go of. “How long has this been going on for?” Father Mayhew swore to keep his anger in check as you, a beautiful girl, wept infront of him about how your father had hurt you, and your mother added salt to the wound by throwing your psychology books in the river behind your house. Your mother called it demons work, how you were figuring out the mind of the insane and sinned. Father Mayhew always credited you on it, when you’d come to him with awards and test scores you acccomplished, after every Tuesday mass. When he found out your mother shamed your academic passion, a wave of impurity took over him, he wanted to hurt her, so very badly.

“Since I was a little girl, maybe 5.” You breathed out as if that’s all you’ve ever known. Father Mayhew closed his eyes in pain at how your father had always hit you. He was a stern and troubling man, Charlie always clocked that everytime he walked through those wooden doors. But he was a good actor and he always played the role of the proud father who funds her education and always puts a smile on her face. “And yet you cannot escape them in college?” You shook your head at his question, your parents, for the sake of convenience and so they wouldn’t murder eachother while you went to a different state for university, forced you to pick a place closest to home, 5 minutes walk away. You couldn’t breathe with how trapped you felt.

“You aren’t going home tonight.” He was stern but soft with his eyes and the way his hand touched your knee, you slowly gazed to your side to see his somber tone, how he was adamant you don’t return home, a dead-of-night runaway. “Where will I go? I haven’t exactly got a good relationship with my older sibling.” Father Mayhew clocked your brother was a deadbeat, had a child young, and “supposedly” killed his girlfriend. You mentally disowned him, yet your parents praised him to the nines.

“Stay here, at the church, with me.” After every passing syllable his charm worked on you like a touch of an all powerful God. You were too struggled to think about the underlying connotations to his invitation. You just needed freedom. “Is that allowed?” His firm hand squeezed your knee, giving you a rush, and giving him the possession he needed to have you right where he wanted you. “Nobody will have to know.” His evil lips curled into something sinister, his eyes dark with sinful thoughts. “Plus I could use a little helper around the church. The nuns are on an exhibition in Rome, leaving me to my own devices.” He was convincing, you wet your bottom lip as it had gone dry from the crying, and you nodded, another small tear couldn’t help but fall. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

Father mayhews eyes became caring and wholesome once more as his thumb left your knee and reached up to your eye to wipe the stray tear away. “Hush. no time for tears. You’re in safe hands now.” His voice was husky as he whispered lowly, words barely audible by how nurturing he was being. You were so painfully wrapped around his finger, painted in his charm. You’d run to a werewolf down a darkened alley if it walked to you slow enough, ready to tear you apart limb from limb as you mindlessly apologise for being so easy to kill.

“I want you to go home and pack a bag. Silently, do not be seen or heard, are you listening?” The thumb that was wiping your face, now cupping your cheek, he felt protective over you, even though he was only a few years older, how dare your family hurt such a sweet and loving girl, all you ever wanted was to understand what made them the way that they are, and now you’re left in shambles under his touch. “I’ll be right back.” You shakily do what he tells you and you touch the hand on your cheek that heals you piece by piece. Your mind wasn’t even going to how touchy he was, just that a noble man like himself was seeing you truly without the mask on.

He watched you stand now, his eyes pained to watch you go, he knows you live walking distance away, you’ll be back quick enough but he can’t stand the thought of watching you walk so openly in the pitch black, any psycho could come and swoop you away from him, and the thought of never seeing you again brought a great darkened root pain to him. “Watch where you’re going now, my dear.” He stood and opened his arms for you to feel his full embrace, his big arms clothed you, capturing you in his sanctity. “I’ll be here waiting.” He kissed the top of your head and rubbed your shoulder for you to go.

While you made your secret venture back home, Charlie walked into his office, opened the wooden cabinet and opened a wooden box at the base of it. “The sinners of the world will feel the sickening vengeance of my wrath, as I heal the do-gooders of their demons.” He muttered to himself as he beheld the large blade he kept for emergencies, untouched, except for when it needed some care after sitting in a box for so long. He was going to christen this knife with the blood of the damned. All for his sweet angel.

As he thought out a plan he paced around the room, practicing the ways in which he was going to perform his slaughter. He himself was damned, but he would never hurt you the way your parents do. The way your brother’s envy masks the true beauty of your soul. He needed you to be loved, and he’d done that silently for the past year. He muttered verses to himself to delude himself he was the saint. Throughout his planning you’d come back, and you knocked on his office door, he quickly placed the knife back in its box and shut the cabinet just in time for you to make your entrance. “I’m back.” He smiled a glowing smile, seeing your back and how it seemed to be filled to the brim with things, he walked towards you. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying, follow me.” He locked arms with you and took your bag off your shoulders, you shouldn’t carry the weight of it, he put it over his own shoulder and walked you to his convent flat, he pat your soft hand as you walked.

He opened the door to his living area and shut the door, he wanted you, in every way, but you needed to settle first, and for that, he’d make you the safest you’d ever felt. You looked around and took in how plain but wonderful it looks, he seemed like a total neat freak, nothing was out of place, except the rather strange book choice he had on the coffee table. You shook your head and figured everyone was allowed some guilty pleasure. “It’s wonderful.” You smiled adoringly to the man who gave you a new start, and he gave you a proud huff, “it’s really nothing, if it were up to me, I’d have much more colour.” He clasped his hands together and rocked back and forth a little, “shall we get you to bed?” Your eyes perked up at the thought of slumber, and you nodded with a hum.

As you followed him down the short narrow hallway, you noticed this area was quite empty, you thought a convent would look bigger. But this wasn’t the convent, this was his quarter, but how were you to know the difference. “There’s only one bedroom, I hope you don’t mind.” Your brain spaced at his words, why on earth would he offer you to stay if he only had one bed. But his eyes were so inviting and innocent that they trapped you. “That’s okay. Where will I sleep though?” You figured he had a couch in the room. “Beside me, of course, I’m not going to banish you to the floor, don’t be silly.” He laughed a little to himself as he opened the door, your eyes landed on the bare room, white bedsheets, with a cross above the bed. You yawned at the sight of the bed, and Father Mayhews eyes graced your tired expression, he had such a soft spot for you it was making him weak. “Go lay down, my dear.” You ushered to the bed, and you obliged.

As your back hit the bed you closed your eyes, as heavy as they felt you opened them once more to see Father Mayhew at the end of the bed. His hands reached towards your heels and he slowly slipped the red heels off of you, patting your ankles when he took each shoe off. “Sit yourself up a second.” He spoke and you listened, back against the headboard as she pulled the duvet back and placed it over your body, almost poetically. His hands then touched your legs over the blanket. “Now rest, dear. I’ll come to bed in a while, I just have a few things I need to take care of.” His grin made you believe he was up to holy things, priest activities, like blessing the church for another safe night. But “take care of things” could also mean something that he was actually going to do, murder your family.

“Goodnight, Father.” You mumbled as he blew out the candle that was illuminating your sweet face. “Goodnight, may the angels rest your weary head.” He spoke as he kissed atop your head, and left you alone.

You heard a loud crash and bang that shocked you awake, it was coming from the living area of Father Mayhews quarter, you rubbed your forehead as you sat up, you didn’t know what time it was but that it was still awfully dark in your room. “Father?” You whispered a little scared, the noise was terrifying. Charlie threw his head back as he stumbled in and hearing your call made him curse to himself. “Fuck, I woke her up.” He thought.

“It’s just me, angel.” He called out from the living room, he decided he must come in and soothe your fears. He opened your bedroom door and his silhouette lingered at the door, he wasn’t dressed how he usually was, nor in pyjamas. He was in dark leather trousers, a black shirt, and something over his head which looked lack a cloth mask, but it was pulled up to his hair, a few stray strands peeking out messily. “You gave me a scare.” You mumbled from the bed, now sat up, he only tilted his head and smiled, flicking a miraculous medal in his hand, he shoved it in his pocket and took brisk steps to your aid, his firm hand touching your arm, the light of the open door brightening your face. “It’s safe now. You’re safe now.” He mumbled to you, as if assuring himself what happened in your childhood home was right and just, and you were none the wiser and would continue to be.

The more you looked at his darkened features you noticed a small speckle of blood on his nose, you reached your hand up and wiped it away, his eyes gazed at your touch and his mouth parted slightly, feeling dirty and guilty, having a touch so pure on his disheveled core, made him sick. But also gave him the impression god forgave him, by how welcoming your touch was. He then gained up the force to push your hands down to either side of your head, your eyes felt under watch, and trapped. “Father?” You questioned what he was doing, and his eyes lingered on yours for a little too long. He wanted you, that wasn’t unclear, but he’s drowning in guilt, having you after he’s sent your parents to hell…that’d be one hell of payback for them, it’d fill him with an ungodly amount of ego. But you looked so concerned for him, and then you uttered words he knew he couldn’t dampen. “Come lay down. You’re exhausted.” You expected he’d taken a midnight run, and that’s why he was so cold and worked up, the adrenaline was there but not because of good willed exercise. “I am.” His grip loosened on you and he sighed, he ripped the mask from his skull, and kicked his boots off.

“Close your pretty eyes.” He alerted you as he was about to undress. “Can’t have you tainting a priest, now can we?” He huffed a quiet laugh and you rolled over and let him get his sweatpants on. Once he was decent he laid down beside you and facing you, his hand cupping your cheek and your eyes consumed him whole, you felt like you still owed him every ounce of you, and he’d let you. But tonight was about seeking refuge, and you both had what you wanted, you had a safe home and he had someone to protect.

[vngelicc]

⊹₊ ⋆ “love it when he hit and smack, too, baby lemme lick on your tattoos,”

TAGS — squat-riding!oc, porn without plot, messy sex, slight degradation, dirty talkin, creampies, oc is a nasty pretty thing, she’s cute, jk is pussy-whipped here, oc rides him so good she has him MOANING out loud, blasphemy(?) idk jk is a little devious, oc as a cute coquette and jk as her hot grunge bf, mentions of cum eating

WORD COUNT — 1.9 k

Jungkook knew he was fucked the moment that soft “Jungkookie” left your lips, you were all he could think about for days.

Could anyone blame him though? Even as he sat behind you with his large hands massaging over your soft feet, he still couldn’t believe he had gotten this lucky. “You’re so quiet.” You softly hum while tossing him a look over your shoulder, “Somethin’ wrong?” You purse your glossy lips in a soft pout.

“Nothing baby.” Jungkook gently squeezed your delicate calf, “Just lost in thought I guess.” He shrugs.

You stare at him for a few moments before pausing whatever was playing on your laptop, you turn on all fours and crawl towards him, “Tell me,” you stop in front of him—knees on either side and your face inches away from his, “I wanna hear it.” You softly say while eyeing his lips and chains appreciatively.

Jungkook admires your own dangling necklace with a tiny gold cross hanging so innocently. He licks his lips and sits up, “Do you? Or are you just saying that so you can distract me,” he chuckles breathily, “greedy little thing you are. Can’t even go one second without trying something.” He squeezes your cherub cheek gently.

You playfully pout and tilt your head, “I just wanted an excuse to say I’ll make you feel better,” you gently sway your hips side to side, watching with a tiny grin as Jungkook’s eyes follow your soft round cheeks sitting so perfectly in your pink silk shorts, “unless you don’t wanna..?” You softly breathe out.

Jungkook runs his tongue over his lip as he stares back at you with hooded eyes, “Don’t wanna what, hm?” He’s fucking with you of course, he just wants to hear it come out your mouth.

“Lemme ride it,” you innocently say, “don’t you wanna make it nasty and messy until your cum’s drippin’ out?” You purr softly while leaning in to kiss his cheek and then his jawline, inching upwards towards his ear, “ ‘m so wet for you Jungkookie, feel me,” you whisper while guiding his tattooed hand towards your shorts, exhaling shakily in excitement as he dips his fingers into your panties and slots them right up against your sticky pussy lips.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, letting you latch on to his neck as you marked him up like this was the last time you were going to see him, “You little fucking minx,” he grunts, “greedy little pussy can’t go one day without a fuckin’, baby’s so desperate for cock aren’t you?” He grabs your chin and forces you to face him, “Hm?”

You nod with a tiny ‘mm-hm’, “Always want you, can’t help that you fill my pussy so good… Always leaves me drippin’ n wanting more.” You softly say against his lips while grinding against his fingers, “ ‘s not my fault you made me like this.” You bat your pretty lashes at him and purse your lips.

Jungkook curses under his breath and meanly pinches your clit, “Then get to it since you wanna act like a little bitch in heat,” he pulls his hand out and lands a hard smack across your ass. You moan softly and eagerly clamber on to his lap, he attacks your neck in a flurry of kisses while wildly sucking over your soft skin, “so fucking soft,” he mutters, “there you go baby, go ‘head and take my cock out, wanna watch you ride it like the filthy little slut you are.” He whispers low.

You tilt your head and press your lips to his, your hand makes quick work of pushing his boxers down his thighs until they sit under his balls. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cockhead leaking precum, some of it dribbles down his shaft leaving a clear trail of pearly white on his cock.

“Can I..?” You ask ever so politely while begging him with those puppy eyes and your lip between your teeth.

Jungkook swallows harshly and nods, “Go on, not gonna ride itself.” He guides you over his cock, shoving your silk shorts out of the way and yanking your panties to the side with two fingers.

You bite your lip and position your sopping cunt over the head, sliding him through the sticky mess between your soft folds. There’s low squelching as you slide his cock over your sensitive clit and down to your winking hole. A low moan slips from your lips as your pussy hugs the tip, pink rim stretching to accommodate his thick cock. Your lips part in a ‘o’ after seating yourself firmly on his lap.

Jungkook huffs under his breath and lies back all the way while watching you with hooded eyes, “Not too loud baby,” he murmurs, “nice and slow—fuck, hear that, ‘s your little pussy dripping for me.” He lazily grins while throwing his arm behind his head, watching the way you rolled your hips in slow lazy circles.

“Mm.. ‘s not enough,” you quietly whisper while placing your hands over his abdomen, “can I? Pretty please, promise I’ll make it so good for you if you’ll let me,” you moan while rolling your head back, “ride it just the way you like Jungkookie.” You smile.

Jungkook bites down on his lip and holds back a loud groan, he can’t focus with the way you ride his cock like you’re trying to spell coconut on his dick. Your pussy hugs him just right as it drags over his sensitive cock, massaging his swollen shaft with the right amount of pressure and grip.

His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a muffled moan, “Fuck—yes baby, like that,” he grips your ass cheeks with both hands and moves you back and forth on his cock sensually, “feels so fuckin’ hot around me—nice n wet too.” He pants softly as massages both cheeks before smacking his hands against them.

You bite your lip—half-giggling, half-moaning—and move from his grip to bounce back on his cock a few times. Jungkook moans out and tosses his head back into the pillows, “Shit, like that—keep going.” You reach behind you to place your hands over his while you drag your pussy over his cock repeatedly, riding up to the tip before slamming back down.

Jungkook’s the one moaning and panting under his breath now, occasionally tiny little whimpers leave you but it’s nothing compared to Jungkook who looks like he’s getting the ride of his life. You slide your hips up slowly and then let your ass fall back on to his lap, your bubbly flesh rippling as they slap against his thighs. There’s a faint slick noise in the background as your pussy leaks over his fat cock, your creamy white slick dribbling down his shaft and to his balls.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out softly and pry his hands off your ass, he makes a wounded noise like it pains him to not be holding your ass. He lifts his head to look at you as if asking why, only to let out a long moan as his head slumps back, “Want you to fill me up,” you pout while placing your hands over his chest, knees knocked apart as you raised your hips, “want all of it in my pussy Jungkookie, promise I’ll clean my mess up,” your hips start moving sensually, you purposely clenched for that extra effect.

The bed rocked quietly under the weight of you two, it was accompanied by the dull thumping of your headboard knocking into the wall. To make things worse, your pussy was making these delicious little wet noises as his cock emerged with streaks of white creamy slick. He could see a white ring of slick form around the base of his shaft getting pushed back into your pussy and then coming right back down on his cock.

It was a fucking miracle your parents hadn’t come up to see what all the commotion was about. “Yeah?” He pants breathlessly, “Gonna be a good little cum dump and keep my cum warm in your sloppy little pussy?” He opens his eyes to look down at where your pussy meets his cock. You weren’t lying about making it messy..

“Mm-hm,” you moan, “promise. Not a drop ‘s gonna waste.” You huff and slam your hips down, rocking together before repeating the same thing over again. His cock hit that spot that drove you wild just right, and not wanting to lose the angle you kept fucking yourself back on him just greedily chasing the pleasure.

His eyes caught on to the dangling cross in his face, he watched it swing back and forth so innocently. Jungkook let out a poorly suppressed groan and looked up at your blissed out face in awe. You never failed to look so fucking pretty even in the throes of pleasure/sex. He’d for sure have a picture of you like this in his wallet or some shit.

“ ‘m gonna,” you quietly whine, “ ‘m gonna cum,” you whimper out while bouncing faster, “please, can I?”

Jungkook hisses as he slows you down, “Can you hold it in for me baby? ‘m so close too,” he whispers breathlessly while panting. He sees you give the tiniest of nods before he pulls you down so you’re lying over him, “Good girl,” he grits his teeth and begins plowing you from below, “good fucking girl.” He growls.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you hide your face in his neck, toes curling as he pounds his cock over and over again into your (already) sore pussy. “More, more, more,” you whine out while spreading your thighs apart a bit more.

Jungkook slaps his hips upwards as quickly as he can manage, his balls slap harshly against your ass as the sounds of skin on skin fill the bedroom along with your panting and breathing moans. He buries his face in your shoulder and bites down, not hard enough to bleed but enough for it to mark. His cock throbs and spurts of cum begin flooding your messy little cunt.

He doesn’t think he’s cum this hard ever since the night you both first started having sex.

You had let Jungkook take your virginity in the back of his pick-up truck, bent over with your bruised knees knocking into eachother while he fucked you like a man possessed from behind. Your poor little pussy was so swollen from the rough treatment, the pain and pleasure ended up becoming one and all you could do was beg for more while drool slipped from the corner of your lips. At a particular thrust Jungkook sent you squealing as you stood on your tippy toes, your pretty white sneakers contrasting Jungkook’s black boots as you whimpered and tangled your legs with his.

Jungkook’s mind blanks out as he reaches down to rub furious circles on your sensitive bud, he has you squirming in his lap as you clench down tightly before a low whine of his name escapes your lips. You both slump into each other until you roll off him and on to the bed next to him, “That was–”

“I know,” he replies, swallowing harshly, “you think they heard?” He turns to look at you.

You stare back with a dreamy look in your eye, “Dunno,” you shrug cutely before rolling over to climb over him, “but I feel empty,” you softly say and guide his semi-hard cock towards your pussy, “what? Gotta keep it in somehow.” You motion to your dripping cunt, you hiss in sensitivity before laying down on him, “So what are we eating?” You tilt your head with a cheeky smile.

Jungkook laughs breathlessly, “You’re seriously thinking about food?”

“Not me, I know what I’m eating.” You lick your lips deviously, giggling when you hear Jungkook moan in protest as his cock weakly twitches.

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[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ GLIMPSES OF THE LUSTFUL

𝝑𝝔 cw : blasphemy kink???, churchboy!Jeongin, toys, smut

𝝑𝝔 a/n : the years of my life spent in the Catholic church came in clutch with this fic

Growing up Catholic had its perks, but its drawbacks as well. The tradwife stereotypes for women along with the general theme of sexual repression.

You had grown up with Jeongin, going to church together and going to the same Catholic school with the boy. Over the years, you had lost your faith, Jeongin however only grew in his faith, it never bothered you, and your lack of faith never bothered him.

Eventually, you both went off to the same college, a few states away, and figured it would be easier to live together. It was easier then having to make new friends and less risky than having complete strangers be your roommates.

"My theology professor is trying to kill me, I think," you joke to Jeongin over dinner.

"How so?"

"Because I'm not religious, and I told him that, and he started like interrogating me, it was weird," you confess, taking a bite of cereal.

"Is he religious?"

"I suppose so, I mean I told him that I was raised Catholic, so he started assuming the worst," you explain.

"Isn't that religious discrimination?"

"I don't know what to call it, but it was weird," you shrug it off.

"Sounds weird, but any whom," Jeongin changes the subject, "tomorrow I'm leaving early to help with this fundraiser at church, so don't be surprised if I'm not here when you wake up tomorrow."

Jeongin's whole weekends revolved around church, whether it was because he was helping plan a youth trip or assisting the nuns or even helping run a fundraiser, he kept busy with the volunteer work. And of course he was also an avid participant in Sunday Mass, communion, and other traditions.

"m'kay," you figure, rubbing your tired eyes, "my mom and dad are coming over tomorrow," you inform him.

"Oh, fun," he retorts sarcastically.

"Yeah, fun," you say in that same sarcastic tone as him.

"D'you need help like hiding anything?" Jeongin asks timidly.

"Hiding anything?" you ask.

"Like," Jeongin blushes, hiding his face in his hands before he speaks, "s-sex stuff."

"Oh, I mean if you wouldn't mind?"

"I just don't want your parents to freak out on you, remember last time?"

How could you forget the last time your parents came over and they accidentally found a condom in your bathroom, immediately going into a five hour long lecture about how they expected better from you and that you needed to go to a confessional to be forgiven for your sins of sexual impurity.

"Yeah, trust me I remember," you chuckle, "that would be nice, I have all that shit in a box, so I'll just give you the box."

You rise up from your seat at the dining table and walk into your room, grabbing the medium sized box from the closet and walking into the living room with it when suddenly, you trip, and the contents of the box spill everywhere.

"Ow, fuck," you groan, clenching your knee, which you hit on the ground.

Jeongin is quick to stand up and rush to your side, helping you up. You watch as his face eventually turns to the spilled contents of the box. "What in the fuck is that?" he questions.

Jeongin never swore. He thought swearing was pointless and made someone sound trashy, but here he was, swearing.

"It's a dildo," you whisper an explaination.

"B-but wh-why does it l-look like that?"

"It's supposed to look like a dragon, like, uhm, dick," you explain with an embarrassed tone.

"That's really weird, I hope you know, also that thing is so like big how does it- how do y- how can it- how-"

"A lot of lube, and a lot more patience," you half-joke.

"And what is this?" Jeongin exclaims as he picks up the rose shaped toy.

"I-it's a clit sucker," you explain as you grab it from him and put the toy back in the box.

"And what are these?" he holds up a pair of nipple clamps.

"Nipple clamps," you inform him.

"Why in the hell would anyone ever use something like that," Jeongin speaks to himself.

"Don't knock em till you try em," you insist.

You take the nipple clamps from his grasp and put them back in the box before Jeongin is picking something else up, "and what is this?"

"It's a butt plug."

"But why does it have a tail? Ew wait this thing has been in your butt!?"

"It's clean!" you exclaim, "it has a tail because- well-well because I just like it I d'know?"

"Weird," Jeongin mumbles as he puts the toy in the box.

"And what is this?" he holds up a flogger.

"A flogger, you hit people with it," you explain as you take it from the boy.

"But wouldn't that hurt?"

"That's kind of the point, Jeongin," you hum, "hold out your arm, it's not as bad as you think it is, I promise."

After a moment of thinking it through, Jeongin holds out his arm, you lightly hit him with the flogger, "oh that isn't bad at all," Jeongin hums.

"Mhm," you nod, placing the flogger back in the box.

"Oh, what's this?" Jeongin holds up a tentacle grinder.

"It's a grinder," you tell him.

"What does it do?" he asks sheepishly.

"Well," you pause, embarrassment creeping onto your face, "you like grind on it, like you grind your clit on it."

"Oh," Jeongin's face falls before putting the grinder back in the box.

"I hope you don't think I'm weird or gross or anything now," you confess to him.

"I-I d'think y-your weird," he promises, "I promise, y-you're not weird for having s-sex. It's n-natural."

"But you don't have sex, so I j-"

"Who said I've never had sex?"

You stare at him blankly, "you-you've..."

"Well like it's not sex but like I've masturbated before," he confesses.

Your lips make an o shape as you nod your head, "oh, th-that's good?"

"That's good!?"

"I d'know what to say! I was just surprised!"

"Well I mean I'm human y-you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"No! Of course not!" you insist.

The silence that passes between the two of you is almost deafening. You glance down and that's when you notice it, the bulge in Jeongin's pants. "Je-Jeongin," you mumble.

"I-I-I should go to my room!"

Just as he's about to get up you grab his wrist, the way he looks at you tells you a thousand words. "Stay," you practically plead with him.

"I-I haven't, I don't know how-" he whimpers under your intense gaze.

"I'll teach you," you reassure him, "anything you want, I'll teach you."

No words are exchanged between the two of you as he leans forward and slams your lips onto his own. He's messy and sloppy and inexperienced. "Calm down," you muse to him, "enjoy this, we have all the time in the world," you reassure him.

You gently cup his jaw with your left hand, your right hand running through his hair, "darling, calm down," you mumble against his eager lips.

"Can't get enough of you, d'you know how many nights I've had to listen to you whining and whimpering and falling apart on these things? Hm?" he groans into a kiss, "how I've beat my cock to the thought of you? D'you know about that?"

"Jeongin," you murmur, melting further and further into the kiss, "thought of you too," you confess.

"Want to watch you," he states, breaking apart from the kiss, "I want to watch you fuck yourself, the way you do at night."

That is how you find yourself naked on your couch, Jeongin watching you intently as you ride one of your dildos. "Hmm, so all you do is ride that toy and think of me? That's pathetic," he scoffs, watching you like he's disinterested, but you can tell from the tent in his pants that he is anything but disinterested.

"And all you do is what? Hm? Stroke your cock?" you remark.

"You know, filthy whores like yourself shouldn't fucking talk," Jeongin stands up and kneels next to you, taking your nipple in his mouth, making you gush around the toy, "recite first Corithians 6:18," he demands.

"J-Jeongin," you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Jeongin is pulling you by your hair, making you look at him, "recite it."

"Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body," you quote.

"That's it honey, yet here you are, riding this fucking toy every night, thinking of me," Jeongin's words are venom, "don't worry though, I'll make a good girl out of you."

You can only whimper at his filthy words.

And that is what started your little taboo tradition, every Sunday night you'd be face down ass up on Jeongin's bed, getting pounded from behind, and you'd only get to cum if you could recite five Bible verses for him.

Jeongin was definitely no priest but he brought you closer to the pearly gates than any real priest ever could.

[hp-hcs]

• smut• and lead us nott into temptation — asshole! pureblood! dom bottom! theodore nott x male! muggleborn! catholic! sub top! reader

requested by 🦈 anon! (aka my silly goofy lil guy <3)

WARNING: if you don’t like sacrilegious shit or gay male reader inserts, KEEP SCROLLING

i’ve got enough religious trauma to last me many lifetimes, so writing this one was just like ✍️🥲📿

tws: ⚠️dub-con⚠️, 🔞smut mdni🔞, literally no plot, manipulation, coercion, amab reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, pure blasphemy ngl, inappropriate use of religious prayers, lot of shit talking about the catholic church, gratuitous use of em-dashes, gratuitous use of the pet-name “angel”

you and theo are dormmates or something? idfk man this is literally just 2.2k words of depravity

not edited cause tbh i’m hella embarrassed that i wrote this

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“…hallowed be thy na— Theo?”

“What are you doing?” your roommate asked as he stepped inside your shared dorm, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze focused on the rosary in your hand. 

“Praying,” you mumble, cheeks flushing under his heavy stare. 

“You’re religious?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You believe in all that Muggle deity bullshit?”

“Yes.” You stiffened, lips twisting in distaste at his choice of words. 

You could physically see his pupils dilate at your affirmative answer. 

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. “So you’re…what, celibate, or whatever it’s called?”

You startled at the sudden change of topic. 

“Um…abstinent, yes,” you corrected, taking a step backwards as he moved closer. 

“Shit,” he cursed again. “That’s fuckin’ hot.”

He kept moving forward, crowding you back against the wall. You squeaked when he rested his hand against the wall beside your head, blocking you in on one side. He gently, but firmly, gripped your jaw in his other hand. His gaze raked up and down your body.

You gulped. “Th-Theo, what’re you d—”

He cut you off with a harsh kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was Theo biting your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, tightening his grip on your jaw to wrench it open, and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You were frozen, the rosary slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. After an aggressively…passionate? possessive? minute, Theo pulled back. 

“My sweet little angel,” he cooed, gently stroking the side of your face. “So pretty and pure.”

Your skin prickled under his touch, at the way his eyes darkened with hunger. The way his gentle caress belied the drop of blood running down your chin. 

He looked like sin. The way his hair curled above his ears, his pretty pink lips dotted red with your blood…

He looked like the Devil himself. 

“I want you to fuck me, Y/n,” Theo murmured unabashedly into your ear. 

Your knees trembled. Your heart raced. Your eyes were so wide, it was near painful. “Wh-what?”

“Please, angel? I want you to fuck me,” Theo whispered against your lips, a sensual tone in his voice. 

“Or,” he sighed over-dramatically, really playing it up, “if you want to remain a prude, you can tell me to stop right now and I will; no hard feelings.”

You trembled. What were you doing? Why were you even considering this?

Theo’s hand remained on your waist, and he ran his thumb across your bottommost rib in a steady pattern, back and forth, as he waited for your answer. 

“L-Leviticus 18:22,” you spluttered, doing your damn best to ignore the way the sunlight streaming through your dorm window highlighted and accentuated Theo’s gorgeous bone structure. “Th-thou shalt not lie with m-mankind, as with womankind: it is a-abomination.”

“That’s not a no.”

“That’s not a yes!” you argued. “Besides, lust is a sin of its own!”

“No, this doesn’t count.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an abomination, not sex. Says so right in your little book. So therefore…” his fingers wandered down to the waistband of your trousers, dipping teasingly underneath to ghost over your hip bone before retreating. “Therefore it can’t be lust.”

It was the most backwards logic you’d ever heard. 

But it was hard to think about turning him away when the heel of his hand was suddenly pressing against the front of your trousers. 

“I-it…it isn’t?” you choke out, a confusing new sensation sparking in your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Of course,” Theo said, so confidently that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I-if you’re sure…” you trailed off, eyes widening as Theo dropped like a rock, his knees hitting the flagstone with a resounding crack that you wished you could record, just so you could listen to it over and over and over again. 

His impatient fingers fumbled with the button of your trousers, yanking them and your boxers down to your mid-thigh in a single smooth motion. 

You flushed bright red at the mere notion of being naked from the waist down in front of another person; let alone Theo, the boy who’d been your roommate for the last eight years. 

He kept his gaze firmly locked with yours, those unnervingly dead eyes framed with sinfully long lashes, as he flattened his tongue against the base of your dick and licked a long, slow stroke up the length of it. 

“Oh, fuck—” you cursed, your head falling backwards and hitting the wall behind you with a solid thunk. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.” He grinned, his thumb swiping over the head of your dick and collecting the dribble of precum that was steadily leaking from the tip before spreading it around. 

You whined pathetically, your thighs shaking as a moan was wrenched from your lips. Theo grinned wickedly at how debauched you already looked. 

Without a speck of hesitation, he closed his mouth around your dick, his clever tongue teasing the underside. He hollowed his cheeks around you and you gasped out a choked-off moan. 

Theo’s hand snaked up and found your wrist, guiding your hand to the mess of curls on the top of his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping onto a handful of it for dear life just to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. Honestly, the only thing keeping you from falling over was Theo’s tight grip on your hips. 

“Shit shit shit shit—”

He pulled off of your dick with a sinful pop. 

“Keep reciting,” Theo rasped, his voice already rough and breathless. 

“Wh-what?”

“I interrupted your prayer when I walked in here. Keep reciting.”

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you tried to remember where you’d left off before fully giving up and just starting the Our Father over. “O-Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Th-thy kingdom come, thy w-will be done, on Earth as it— hah~”

Your head fell back against the wall again as Theo sucked furiously on the tip of your dick, all of your thoughts going out the window. 

Theodore, that bastard, pulled off again.

You whined at the loss. “No- d-don’t—”

“Ah ah ah,” Theo chided, patting your thigh. “You stop, I stop. Keep going.”

You hissed out a displeased grumble before returning to your prayer as he returned to his S-tier dick sucking. “O-on Earth as it is in H-Heaven. G-give us this d-day our— Theo— daily b-bread—”

His fingers slipped down from your hip to brush against the sensitive skin behind your balls. 

Your hips jerked forward on instinct, and Theo moaned like a cheap whore around your cock as it was shoved down his throat, his nose suddenly buried in your pubes. 

“And f-forgive us our tre-trespasses…” you panted, fingers tightening their grip on his hair as your eyes squeezed shut. 

There was an odd sensation, like a coil tightening, behind your belly button. It was strange, although not unpleasant. 

“…as we f-forgive those who— who trespass aga-against us.”

Theo pulled away again. You opened your mouth to curse him out—Heaven knows he deserved it, the damn tease—when he got to his feet and promptly shucked off his shirt and trousers, dropping his boxers without a hint of modesty or insecurity. 

You stared, mouth agape, as Theo wandered over to his bed, seemingly in no hurry. He slowly splayed himself out on his bed for you, casting a wandless lubrication charm with a sly grin and an easy, relaxed posture that was belied by his achingly hard cock practically touching his stomach. 

“Close your mouth, angel,” he purred, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You might catch flies.”

You took a small step forward, entranced by the sight in front of you.

“Keep praying, angel,” Theo murmured, running a hand through his already-disheveled curls—which only served in making his just-fucked hairstyle even more pronounced. 

“A-and lead us n-not into temptation,”—Theodore Nott was nothing if not temptation in its purest form—“but deliver us from evil.”

 You took another step closer, then another, until you were by his bedside. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Theo echoed, reaching for you with one hand. His fingers knotted themselves in your shirt, yanking you down on top of him. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours. You wiggled, kicking your trousers and boxers off from where they were still stuck around your knees before pulling back to gasp for air. 

Theo grabbed the front of your shirt again, yanking on it. “Off.”

You complied without a second thought, tugging your shirt off over your head in one fluid motion. 

Theo groaned at the sight of your body as you tossed your shirt God-knows-where. He grabbed the back of your neck again and tugged you into another passionate kiss. 

“One day, ‘m gonna ride you,” he mumbled against your lips, running a possessive hand over your stomach. “My fuckin’ gorgeous boy. But today, you’re gonna fuck me.”

He pulled you fully on top of him, your knees between his, your forearms flat against the mattress on either side of the boy underneath you. 

“Y’know, I never told you to stop praying,” Theo murmured, reaching downwards. His fingers tightened around your cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it closer to his ass and pushing his body down against it. 

You swallowed nervously as you took the not-so-subtle hint, taking a deep breath before slowly pressing the tip in and continuing your Rosary. “H-Hail Mary, f-full of Gr—ah!—ace—”

You had to pause then to bury your head in the crook of his neck, your breathing coming in shaky gasps. Your body zinged with pleasure, your toes curling. 

“That’s it, baby,” Theo cooed, petting your hair gently. “Doing so good. Keep going. Makin’ me feel so good.”

“Th-the Lord is with thee. Blessed art th-thou amongst women—” you whispered breathlessly against his sweaty skin, pausing again for another second to compose yourself before you very slowly and hesitantly pressed in further. 

Theo’s knees tightened around your hips as he dug his heels into the backs of your thighs, urging you closer. “Sh-shit— angel, I need you to go in all the way. C-can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

You nodded and took a deep breath, and slowly and carefully pushed yourself all the way in, bottoming out inside of him after an agonizingly long moment. 

Theo gasped sharply as soon as you were fully seated inside of him. His fingers tightened their grip on your shoulders until his nails managed to break the skin. You leaned down to press your lips against his—much more gently than he had—and moaned into his mouth at the slight sting from his nails. 

Theo sighed in pleasure against your lips and returned the kiss. “M-move, angel. Need you t-to move.”

You slowly pulled nearly all the way out, your eyes fixed on his face. You wanted to document every facial expression, every muscle twitch, everything that Theo did while underneath you. 

Watching his lower lip tremble as a moan spilled out of him had to be your breaking point. Your hips snapped forward of their own accord, quickly filling him back up. “A-and blessed- is- the- fruit- fuck- of thy w-oh!-mb, Jesus.”

His head fell backwards with a loud cry, his nails raking up your back as he scrambled for anything to cling onto. “Yes! Fuck— harder!”

“H-Holy Mar— shit! M-Mary, Mother of G-God…”

You sped up, driving into him faster and harder with every frantic demand that left his lips. You let out a high whine as Theo leaned up to suck on the tender flesh under your jaw with a feral-like possessiveness. Red and purple marks had already begun to bloom along your neck and jaw. 

The coil in your stomach tightened even further.

“Th-Theo, I don’t— wh-what’s—?” you stuttered, panicking at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“Y-you about to cum, angel?” he panted. He stroked a gentle hand over your lower abdomen. “You feel s-something funny right here?”

You whimpered and nodded frantically. “P-please— I’m gonna—”

“No. Hold it, angel.”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t get to finish until you finish your prayer, baby boy.”

You hissed in discomfort. “P-pray for us sinners—”

Your words were interrupted by a high-pitched moan from Theo as his back arched off the bed. He started chanting your name, over and over again, like a prayer of his own. 

His fingers scrabbled for a hold on your shoulders as he tightened around you. “Shit shit shit— ‘m not g-gonna last— fuck! Cum for me, angel,” Theo pleaded, his nails digging further into your back and leaving long marks that quickly blossomed into a rich pink color. 

“Nowandatthehourofourdeath!” you rushed the last line with a near-shriek as the coil in your abdomen exploded, your toes curling again and your vision going white. Your arms buckled and you collapsed on top of Theo, who was experiencing the exact same thing as you.

You both just laid there in a sweaty heap, limp and boneless from your respective mind-blowing orgasms. 

“Amen,” Theo said softly, finishing your prayer. He casted a wandless cleaning spell on the both of you before gently wrapping his arms around you and stroking your scratched-up back as you both came down from your highs. You let out a pleased purr at the feeling of his soft touch gently brushing over your stinging scratches, a wordless spell from Theo methodically coating the marks with a numbing topical ointment. 

You echoed the sentiment after a moment of catching your breath, content to just cuddle with him in this moment. You pressed a kiss to the side of Theo’s throat and whispered a singular word against his skin, “Amen.”

[angelkissiies]

nectar of angels

abby anderson x reader

cw : modern!au , church girl!abby , church girl!reader , dom!abby , sub!reader , religious imagery , blasphemy , corruption kink , religious guilt , purity culture (mentioned) , god / power kink , oral ( r ! receiving ) , probably more ?? read at your own discretion !

wc : 3.2K

Her leg bounced restlessly, hymn book almost completely forgotten, as she stared at the cross decorating the altar. It was hot, the heat of the sun burning her skin as it filtered through the panes of colored mosaic, making her shift uncomfortably as she tried to keep her eyes off of you. Something about the sweat tempting her brow made her instinctively tense her fists, the rolling sensation taking her back to the feeling of your core pulsing around her fingers. She was too far gone, the words of her father passing through her, body occupied with an untameable craving. 

“Abigail?” The man beside her whispered, a sharp edge in his voice as he craned his neck to speak to her– eyes still trained on the man pacing behind the altar. 

She froze, hands coming to attention in her lap. “Yes, sir?” She murmured, slowly angling her face away from the floor to take him in. It was one of her father's friends, a man she saw around often. Moore, she thought his last name was– not that it mattered because the scorn set in his face was enough to make her wither away on the spot. 

He tore his eyes from the preacher, steely gaze landing on the blonde. “You are being distracting, Abigail, you should know better.” He berated, the grip he had on his bible tensing, narrowing his eyes as he took her in. “What is wrong with you, girl?” 

Abby straightened up in her seat, shaking her head as she tried to make herself smaller in his lingering gaze. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just feeling rather plagued by the spirit today.” She hummed, clearing her throat slightly as she spoke. “God is speaking to me.” Her thoughts shot back to you. The tender flesh of your breasts in her hands, the cries for God you’d released into her mouth, the angelic halo of ecstasy on your face– it was hungry work to be as devout as she was. The only God she’d ever come to know sitting across the aisle, begging for her worship, it took everything in her to not give in. 

“Is that so?” 

She nodded quickly, taking a shallow breath, crossing her legs to dull the growing ache in her cunt. She knew how devious her thoughts were, she’d spent many restless nights begging for God to take them away, but she’d come to realize that this must have been God’s will. He wouldn’t give her something so beautiful and expect her not to satiate herself on the divinity. “Yes, sir.” Her voice cracked, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. 

The man gave her a curt nod, relaxing back into his seat, eyes glued back to the preacher. It was unlike anyone to really give her much trouble, seeing as she was usually the star of the sermon– with her girlish looks and obedient soul, it was hard not to like her. So most would brush off her odd behaviors lately as the musings of a young girl, even though she had grown well beyond that of a child, now sitting at 20 years of age. To them, she was being crafted into the perfect wife. To her, she was being unshackled from the chains– her mind woven into one amassed of ‘deviant’ love for a woman. 

“That will be all for today.” Her father wrapped up his lecture, setting his bible down on the lectern with a loud thump. “My daughter, Abigail, will be staying to collect canned donations for the food bank– which is next week, in case anyone missed last week's flyers.” He smiled, moving a hand out to wave towards Abby– who looked lost for half a second before giving a small nod. “God bless you all.” 

The church immediately lit up with light chatter, the shuffling of feet sending Abby out of her seat and towards the doors. There was nothing she wanted more than to be out of there, her feet moving on autopilot as she took the stairs two at a time– almost falling when she met the carpet at the bottom. She took a second to catch her breath, hand shaking as it gripped the railing, at this point she had evaded anyone who possibly would have stolen her attention– leaving her to fight the growing heat in her cunt alone. 

“Shit.” She hissed, backing up to rest against the concrete wall of the stairwell. The cold seeped through the knit of her cardigan, erecting a small sigh fall from her lips. She was burning up, still, using the back of her hand to wipe away the beads of sweat collecting at the nape of her neck. You were like a fever, coursing through her body and setting off alarm bells, sweating her out of her faith. 

The sound of the door swinging open made her jump, quickly smoothing down her hair to appear more put together as she feigned busy. Her legs carried her over to the table in the corner, picking up the clipboard to gaze at as the person made their way down the steps. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she flipped the pages gingerly, not taking anything in. 

“Abby–,” You began, eyes cast on her turned figure, slowly stepping down off of the last stair. 

She spun around, an incredulous look on her face, letting the board clatter down onto the table. The growing fever cast a desperate haze over her, making her legs tremble slightly, the things she’d do to have her hands on you were too blasphemous to even think. The sight of you was too much, making her look away in shame. “What are you doing here?” She asked, glancing towards the side door– just in case anyone was close enough to hear. 

You let a small smile pull at your lips, hand still sitting on the railing, tilting your head at her avoidance. “I came to see you.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, the golden cross necklace shifting further into the divide of your chest as you swung slightly on the metal pole. “I needed.. to ask you for something.”

The girl felt her heart drop into her stomach, urging her to look up at you. “W-what is it?” She spoke quietly, taking a small step away from the table as she allowed herself to really look at you. The soft pink and white of your floral skirt hid the curves of your hips, long white sleeves concealing your untroubled skin, cardigan protecting the virtues she longed for. You were so pure it hurt. She tried to get you out of her head but every glimpse of your body sent her over the edge, needing lessons in temptation from the devil himself before she’d ever be able to look at you without a burning lust. 

“I was wondering if you’d mind helping me out.” You hummed, releasing the railing as you took a couple steps toward her. From this distance, she could now see the tabbed bible poking out from under your other arm– making her press her thighs together. “The feeling... it’s back again.” You felt oddly nervous, shifting on your feet as your panties clung uncomfortably to your drooling cunt, you knew she could help– seeing as she’d done it before, just a few nights ago. You didn’t understand the feeling that bubbled in your tummy, only knowing that it was caused by the glimpses you’d caught of the girl before you– the image of her silken skin beneath her lacy skirt made a heat rush over you– it was unfamiliar, unlike anything you’d ever felt in the presence of a man. 

Abby’s breath caught in her throat, her hand coming to grip the edge of the table so hard she thought it might break. She felt dizzy, your words sending a pulse of need into her cunt, her eyes fluttering slightly as she tried to find the restraint to not take you right there, right now. “Y-yes, please.” She practically whined, kicking herself for how desperate she sounded. “I mean, yes. I will.” 

You giggled, rushing up to wrap your arms around the blonde, taking a deep breath as you squeezed her. “Thank you so much, you’re the best friend ever.” You said matter-of-factly, not noticing how her entire body tensed up. 

“Thanks,” She sighed, patience growing thin as she felt your breasts press into her, moving one arm to wrap around you gently. It was pure torture, temperature skyrocketing as she looked to the statue of Mary for advice– before rolling her eyes. She was a virgin, how could she help? “Would you do something for me?” 

You pulled back, nodding, doe eyes making her look away. “Of course, what do you need?” 

She knew better, she knew that this would be the thing that sent her to hell out of all things she found herself doing. It was a perfect sentence, just to taste the nectar of an angel, and she welcomed it. “Go check to make sure everyone is gone, lock the doors, and come back.” She instructed, her mind slipping from guilt to desire– no longer willing to beg for stronger resolve. “I can help you now, would you like that, angel?” 

You were immediately shuffling away, nodding vigorously as you took back steps towards the stairs. “Yes, ma’am, I'll be right back.” It was needed, the warmth in your panties soaking through to coat the inside of your thighs, making you practically run up the stairs. As you popped out from downstairs, you glanced around, feeling a familiar heat rise in your cheeks. She had called you angel again, something that hadn’t clicked until now, making you struggle to continue to breathe properly– eyes making a b-line for the cross in the middle of the room. You were just a girl, not an angel, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy at the status she’d given you in her eyes. 

Abby could’ve run after you, forcing you on your hands and knees before God and man alike, hands winding in your little skirt as she carnally hungered for the mere sight of your pretty cunt. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, nothing compared to the softness of your walls and the warm arousal as it dripped down her hand– making her let out a soft groan at just the memory. She knew how fucked up this had to be, seeing as you didn’t understand the significance of allowing her to touch you like this, making a momentary shame wash over her. You were just a poor sheltered girl, one she needed in the most unholy way, unknowingly betraying your covenant to God. “Fuck.” She sighed, her tense grip on the table releasing as she took a small step away, pulling off her sweatshirt and dragging the sleeves of her black long-sleeved shirt up her forearms. 

You had checked every room upstairs, finding nobody hanging around, your mission coming to a halt at the front doors– fingers turning the lock into place before bounding back to the stairs, letting the door slam behind you as you took them two at a time. “I did it, there's nobody.” You affirmed, moving to the couch on the other side of the room, plopping yourself down before grabbing at the frills of your skirt– pulling them up hastily. “Now please, please? I can’t take it anymore.” You whimpered, the cold air of the basement hitting the soaked cotton of your panties. 

Abby fought back the moan that tempted her lips at the sight, your big doe eyes filled with frustration and the massive wet spot darkening the white fabric– making it almost completely see-through, giving her a borderline pornographic sight of your cunt. “God, what have you been thinking about?” She asked, coming to stand before you, eyes locked onto the desperation lacing your soft features. “What has you so worked up, angel?” She brought a knee up to the cushion between your legs, kneeling on it as she leaned down, her hand moving to caress the flush of your cheeks. 

“I can’t stop thinking..” You paused, biting your lip slightly as you angled your hips towards the tense muscle of her thigh. You didn’t want to stain her in the sin of your gaze, knowing it was born from a stolen glance into her privacy, making you close your legs around her knee. 

The girl cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing at your reaction. “About?” She prompted, her hand coming down to toy with the chain of your necklace, turning the golden cross in her fingers. The slight shake of your head made her click her tongue against her teeth, winding her fingers in the chain and yanking it towards her– cutting off your air as she bent down closer to your ear. “You wouldn’t deny me the chance to help you, would you?” Her tone was saccharine, practically dripping into your parted lips as you gave her a tiny nod, tears welling in your eyes. 

The chain loosened around your throat, making you gasp, chest heavy with big breaths as you peered up at her. “Can’t get the sight of you out of my head, Abby.” You confessed, a stray tear falling down your cheek. You were beyond ashamed of your reasons for needing her, seeing as it was caused by her, it seemed like some extremely cruel cycle of torture. “You–you’re so beautiful.” 

Abby felt her stomach twist, your words sinking into her heart as she looked up to God for help, the sentiment rolling into her cunt. She was long gone, there was no absolution for her now, hell called to her– and she was answering. She dropped onto her knees, peering up at you with hooded eyes. “Open, angel.” She instructed, using her now free hands to gently push your legs open– feeling the release of tension in your muscles as she did so. 

You sunk into the couch, her touch sending chills down your spine, a whine slipping from your lips. “I m-mean it.” You whispered, feeling her soft breath puffing against your inner thigh as she took the seeping wetness onto her tongue. It took every piece of restraint you had not to buck your hips towards her face, craving the feeling of her tongue. “Y’so beautiful, It makes me feel funny.” 

The girl groaned at the taste of you, hands navigating to the waistband of your panties– dragging them down effortlessly before tossing them over her shoulder. She was unstoppable at this point, your tiny mewls of need urging her to dip her head down and claim you as hers all over again but she resisted. Her hands moved to grip your hips, pulling you further down on the plush couch, now level with your cunt as it dripped arousal onto the ancient floral of her skirt. She took a deep breath, letting the divinity wash over her, before sinking down to lick a broad stripe over your cunt– taking her time as the rough pad of her tongue came to your clit. 

“A-abby..” You gasped, hands clenching the fabric of your skirt to contain your impulses, head falling back to rest against the cushion. The ache had spread, now sending goosebumps onto your velvety skin, nipples hardening at the sudden stimulation. “Oh, my God.” 

A snicker tempted her lips, but she muffled it as she used a hand to spread your sticky folds, tongue dipping down to trail over your puffy slit. Here you were, cunt out for her taking, still praying to God. Something inside of her longed to be your creator, your God. She wanted you to fall at her feet, kiss the ground she walked on, look at her like she hung the stars in the sky– but she would never admit that. It was blasphemous, as nobody could be God except the man himself, the last guy who tried got a worse sentence than hell. She would settle for being the sole source of your pleasure, I’d keep you running back to her, and that would work for now. She brought a hand up to swipe some slick from your soaked cunt, using her thumb to massage the swollen bud. “Manners.” She tutted as she brought her head up, just barely hovering over your heat. 

You panted slightly, the feeling just as overwhelming as you remembered it, screwing your eyes shut as you nodded. “M’sorry, ma’am.” You whimpered, not brave enough to look back to her as you felt her blowing icy air onto the sensitive bundle of nerves– your cunt clenching around nothing, making her chuckle darkly. 

She dipped her tongue back into the warmth of your folds, lapping up the messy arousal that had continued to seep from your slit– the muscle dipping in to press against your soft walls. It was so euphoric, the way you managed to get so wet for her, it was somewhat of an ego trip– if she was being honest. A moan slipped from her chest, the vibrations making you squeak in pleasure– hips shuddering away from her, as she dug her fingers into the soft skin, holding you in place. Of all the ways to be sinful, she thought this had to be the best one, squeezing her thighs together to control the pulsing your little noises sent through her. 

The sensation made you moan, a burning tension in your stomach as her fingers continued to work on your clit. You couldn’t help but chase the feeling, legs shuddering around her head as her tongue stuffed itself into your aching hole. “Oh, oh.” You breathed, eyes fluttering with the sheer force of the pleasure rolling over your body. You didn’t understand how something so simple could feel so good, the precision of her movements making your legs tense around her head– squeezing as you felt the tension grow harder to handle, hips bucking against her mouth. “Please, ma’am, please.” You begged, hand coming to grip her loose braid. 

Abby removed her tongue, more than satisfied with the reaction she was getting from you, moving her free hand to slip a single digit into your tight cunt. The walls instinctually clenching around it as she began to pump it in and out, curling it when she felt it come knuckle deep inside your heat. “You feel that, angel?” She asked, licking her lips. “Only I can make you feel like that, nobody else.” 

You nodded, tears springing in your eyes as her finger dug into the spongy spot in your cunt, your back arching off of the couch– borderline screams pulling from your mouth as you felt the burning course through your body, hips jerking as she continued to thrust– walking you through the familiar euphoria. “Oh God, Oh God.” You moaned through broken puffs of air, hands shaking from how tightly you were gripping, feeling your cunt release a gush of liquid onto her hand. 

“That’s right, angel, cry out to God.” Her voice was heavy, slowing her motions to a stop as she peered up at you from her place on her knees. “M’right here.” 

[spoiledleaff]

cw for angst featuring dew and aeon. it's one of those nights, lads uwu

additional tw for self-mutilation ft. short haired dew + fears of abandonment and the desire to cut imagined losses.

"don't look at me," dewdrop begs; he's kneeling shattered on the floor, scraps of his own burnt hair lying dead between his claws while his entire body shivers with the weight of unacknowledged sins.

aeon is quiet—he doesn't know what to do. he's never heard dewdrop beg before, not like this. never like this.

"wh-why?" he asks, soft. fragile. as though the sound of his voice would extinguish the embers of dewdrop's flame if he spoke too loudly. "what's wrong?" he asks again, genuine in his curiosity and fear.

there's smoke falling from the gaps between dewdrop's teeth. it reminds the runt of the haze of a cigarette he shared with a brother of blasphemy; it reminds him of death, that the brother could die tomorrow from poisoned lungs and aeon would have to move forward with his damnation. it scares him. it smells foul.

"what happened to your hair?" aeon gasps, wide eyes falling on the rotten gold strands in dewdrop's hands.

"i- i don't know," dewdrop sobs, and aeon honestly can't tell if the ghoul is lying or not, "i think i pulled it out."

"why?" aeon asks again. his voice quivers, and the little ghoul wonders if he might start to cry.

"i think- i think i deserved it." decaying gold spills from the spaces between dewdrop's claws. "i think it needed to go."

aeon's quiet, thoughtful. everyone in the ministry knows how prideful dewdrop is of his appearance. whether or not it's a facade is known only to the chosen few—namely mountain and aether, who share a bond with the ghoul that aeon could never hope to worm his way into; he doesn't want to in the first place, it would feel immoral. even rain or swiss don't seem to know the full extent of dewdrop's tendencies, let alone most of the ghoulettes.

but dewdrop's hair is a favorite pastime of everyone in the ministry. aeon can't count how many times he's seen cumulus fawning over how much better he's taking care of it, or the occasional sibling who gets to twirl the sun-kissed strands between their fingers or braid a small section without fear of a revenge prank.

dewdrop's hair, to aeon, is like a physical manifestation of his connection to all those he holds dear.

"can i keep it then?"

"...wh-what?"

"uhm," aeon fumbles; he wasn't expecting his vessel to say such a thought aloud, "can i keep it? your hair, i mean."

"my... my hair?"

"yeah." aeon stumbles closer, though his eyes don't leave dewdrop's once. "i could- uhm, i could take care of it for you. so... so when you want it back, i'll have it. i'll give it back to you when you're ready."

dewdrop's silent, and aeon thinks he might've started quietly crying five minutes ago.

"o...okay."

aeon's crouching besides dewdrop in a manner of seconds; their shoulders bump together and aeon selfishly basks in the dull warmth of his fellow ghoul. he cups his hands, holds them out for dewdrop to drop the burnt strands of hair in. his hands are shaking. aeon wants to hold them once they're done.

"i'll take care of it for you," aeon babbles, though he doesn't care, "when you're ready, you can come back; i'll give them back to you."

aeon can hear the way dewdrop's breath hitches, how dew's skin lingers against his fingers. dewdrop's nose is running, and aeon thinks a glob has dripped onto his wrist; he doesn't care.

'when you're ready, i'll be here waiting for you.'

[ask-gardenview]

TOONS! I HAVE RECOVERED FROM MY LAST INJURY, BUT GAINED ANOTHER. I HAVE BEEN POISONED AFTER DRINKING A SMALL AMOUNT OF ICHOR. I'M DIZZY, BUT ALIVE! ALL IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE!

COLLECTOR TOON, WHAT ITEM DO YOU HAVE THE HIGHEST STOCK OF?

TWIN TOONS, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING SINCE YOUR SEPARATION? ALSO, WHEN YOU WERE TOGETHER, HOW DID YOU DEAL WITH ARGUMENTS WHEN YOU COULDN'T WALK AWAY?

SHRIMP TOON, IS THERE ANYTHING YOU ACTUALLY LIKE DOING?

SHELL TOON, WHO WOULD YOU SAY WAS THE BEST PARTNER TO BRING WHEN EXCAVATING FOSSILS? WERE THEY GOOD FOR PRODUCTIVITY OR CONVERSATING?

ROBOT TOON, DO YOU RUN ON BATTERIES, OR DO YOU HAVE TO CHARGE YOURSELF?

FLOWER TOON, IS IT TRUE YOU HAVE TO STAND ON A BOX TO REACH THE TABLE OF YOUR SHOP?

MOON TOON, WHAT DREAMS DO YOU GIVE THE BOX TOON THAT HE THINKS OF AS NIGHTMARES?

TISSUE TOON, DO YOU ENJOY CLEANING OR IS IT A CASE OF GERMOPHOBIA/OCD?

MUSIC TOON, WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG, ALSO, HAS YOUR KEY EVER BEEN BROKEN?

DETECTIVE TOON, HOW MANY CASES HAVE YOU SOLVED AS OF NOW?

-🧫🐩

"Wh- DON'T DRINK ICHOR?? Th- sorry. I- hm. well.. I.. wish you a fast recovery. As for the dreams..? Well.. hm. I don't actually remember. I try to manage everyone's dreams, and that's 21 people.. hard to keep track of the specifics.."

"Highest stock..? Gumballs. So. Many. Gumballs."

"Well we're back together now, but while we were split, he wouldn't leave my side.." / "We don't argue much, but when we do, we just.. don't talk to eachother.."

"UH- NO!!!! I HATE EVERYTHING!!!!"

"Well I usually went on my own, since it's kind of my specialty, right? And everyone else just happened to be busy when I was doing it.. I did take Pebble with me once, though. He ran off with a fossil and I haven't seen it since.."

"I have batteries for emergencies, but I usually just charge myself at night."

"-No!! Blasphemy. I'm not that small!!"

"I do it as.. kind of a hobby? But it gets so messy around here sometimes it's unbearable, I have to do something!" "I think I already mentioned my favorite song once, and yeah, my key broke once.. Glisten helped me fix it, though."

"Ah, i've lost count. So many." (-🔍)

[crowfeatherquill]

Slavish Devotion

The fight to escape Creche Y’llek was grueling. This is undeniable. A drawn-out and anxious affair, taken a single room at a time and scouring constantly for healing draughts, and even still, some of them cling to life by fraying threads -- Astarion most of all.

Somehow, though, in the face of all this, Tathlyn still thinks the walk back to camp has been worse.

Their course is a delicate balance between their need for rest and their need to press on at a decent pace to make camp before nightfall. Astarion’s body does not radiate heat in the way that living things do where it presses into Tathlyn’s support. This, in itself, is not new -- he’s known about Astarion’s cold flesh since that first night in the woods that feels so far away and further still with every sunrise -- but it reminds him of carrying a corpse in a way he can’t quite stomach as easily now. He tries to remind himself that he is not carrying anything. That he is supporting Astarion’s weight while he walks on his own, and that he is still alive, and that he will be fine.

It doesn’t stick.

What does catch in his mind, though -- perhaps more than anything else; perhaps more than it should -- is the fact that for the entire journey, Lae’zel has been silent. At first, he had occupied himself trying to tease any kind of reasoning from her position. He remembers well how it felt under the Matrons’ yoke, and it had seemed, at least on the surface, that Lae’zel was in a similar position. He had dug deep for compassion -- for empathy to give her in the face of her world as she knew it being shaken to its foundations.

But he has only so much to give, and as he has continued to dig, he has found the fertile soil for olive branches waning. Rapidly.

Every hitch in Astarion’s breath as he tries to contain pained sounds he doesn’t want the others to hear adds to the simmering pressure that Tathlyn’s ribs strain desperately to contain. With every step drawn closer to camp, it becomes more and more clear that Lae’zel is not in contemplation. She is not processing what has just happened, nor taking the time to choose her words. She simply has nothing to say.

It makes Tathlyn want to scream his throat bloody.

By the time the flicker of the campfire draws into view, the sun has nearly set and the evening chill is beginning to creep in on them. Tathlyn barely feels it with how hot the fury in his gut has grown. It feels as though it’s taken his entire throat from mouth to stomach in one burning hand and squeezed until he can barely breathe.

He surprises himself with how quiet he is when he speaks.

“Wyll? Take him. Please,” he says, handing Astarion off in a way that has both of them looking at him, confused.

Lae’zel moves to pass them -- as though she means to enter camp; as though nothing that happened today should change how her evening goes -- and if he hadn’t reached the last straw hours ago, that would be enough to break whatever restraint Tathlyn still has left.

Phalar Aluve is in his hand before he really notices he’s drawn it. He rests the point of it feather-light where Lae’zel’s throat meets the underside of her jaw, and she lifts her chin. He knows it is instinct, and stays his hand, but the beast behind his ribs roars at the image of defiance.

“Woah,” Wyll intones, “Tath? Wh-”

“Give me one good reason why I should let you take another step after what you did today,” Tathlyn says in that same soft voice -- the quiet of a predator on the hunt.

Lae’zel does not speak -- only stares at him with a fire in her eyes that he badly wishes to snuff.

“One reason, Lae’zel. That’s all I’m asking for. Give me something. Because I have been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to forgive you for this, and I can’t work it out.”

“Forgive?” Lae’zel spits the word like blasphemy, and Tathlyn can’t hear Wyll’s soft ‘oh no’ over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, “There is nothing to forgive. I acted as bidden by my Queen, as is my honor. To do otherwise would be to disgrace myself, and for what? For the madness of istyk?”

“Listen to yourself!”

The quiet shatters with the force of Tathlyn’s shout. The landscape is not conducive to an echo, but somehow it seems to anyway. What follows after is a moment of breathless silence before he speaks again.

“Do you hear how you sound? Do you hear what you’re saying? We knew -- we have all known from the very beginning that these godsdamned tadpoles can’t be removed. They’re magic. They’ll kill us. It’s one of the first fucking things we learned, and still you kept pushing. Insisting we go find this fucking creche so you could get your precious cure. Your purification.”

By now, the sounds of jogging footsteps are approaching. Karlach and Halsin, summoned by the noise and unsure of the trouble.

“I tried to wait you out,” Tathlyn continues, “I took every opportunity I could to gather more information about them. Followed every offer as deep as it would go without putting myself at mortal risk because I figured maybe if enough people told us in no uncertain terms that they couldn’t be removed, one of them might stick. That you might listen. But it never fucking ended, did it? No, you had to keep prying and needling until it came down to threats and even then I mustered grace to give you.”

Lae’zel opens her mouth, surely to voice her objection to the idea that anyone need ever give her grace, but Tathlyn is far from finished. He moves the tip of his blade just-so. Lae’zel’s teeth click together when her mouth closes.

Karlach and Halsin have reached the unseen edge of the confrontation, standing level with Wyll -- who is looking to Karlach with something like desperation -- and Astarion, who cannot seem to take his eyes off Tathlyn. Tathlyn is blinded to anything but Lae’zel standing before him.

“If I had let you wander off into the Cursed Lands on your own, you’d have died. Much as you try to act like you’re invincible, I know you know that. And you knew I’d never let that happen -- that if you insisted you’d go with or without me, I’d be forced to follow. And so I did. Because I thought…maybe if you heard it from your own people, you’d believe them. I so badly wanted to believe that you had it in you to change your mind. To see you were wrong like I did.”

“To betray my Queen and my people as you did, you mean?”

Tathlyn sees red and doesn’t quite realize he’s moved until there’s a hand on him, forcing him backwards, and a voice in his ear.

“Easy, soldier…”

Karlach speaks soft, slow, and even, like coaxing a frightened animal. When Tathlyn can see properly again, there’s a streak of fresh blood running down Lae’zel’s throat, shining and wet over what’s already dried there.

“Say it again,” he snarls, already fighting Karlach’s restraining arm, “If you won’t give me a reason to forgive you, I’d be just as happy with a reason to--”

“Oi!”

Karlach steps fully in front of him, breaking his line of sight on Lae’zel, and Tathlyn realizes just how far his vision had narrowed as he becomes suddenly aware of his periphery again.

“Karlach…” he says her name through bared teeth -- a warning he doesn’t mean to issue -- and she presses into his space until he can feel the heat. 

“Step. Off,” she replies, and her words are just as firm as the physical barrier she presents, “This isn’t you.”

If Dammon hadn’t tuned her engine, she’d be searing him with how close she’s standing, but as it is, it’s only enough to make him start to sweat. He stays rooted to the spot as he feels it start to gather at the nape of his neck and between his shoulders. He can’t seem to force himself to move -- some part of him stays locked onto Lae’zel like a bear trap even with Karlach obstructing his view of her.

It’s too much. His better judgement locks horns with the beast in his ribcage, howling for justice that can only be dispensed at the edge of a blade. He wants nothing more than to walk away. He cannot seem to move his legs.

With a guttural shout, he hefts Phalar Aluve and drives it into the dirt. In the same instant, he feels the ground upheave itself beneath him as thick vines burst upward and tangle around his legs and waist. He blinks, confused, and turns just in time to see the glow fading from around Halsin’s hands.

His ears are ringing. He can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Time seems to bend out of shape -- one second stretched out to eternity and obscuring how long they stand there, frozen, before he feels a pressure against his back and a pair of arms twining around his middle, just above where the vines stop.

“Darling…?” Astarion’s voice, quiet and only a breath away from his ear, cuts the fog in his head as cleanly as any knife. “If it’s all the same to you…I think I’d like to go and lie down now.”

Tathlyn nods, stiffly, laying one arm over top of Astarion’s and lacing their fingers.

“Halsin?” His voice comes ragged from his throat. He sounds gutted, even to himself.

The vines retreat, and Tathlyn shifts to let Astarion lean against him once more as they turn toward camp -- bedrolls and a sorely needed rest only paces away.

Lae’zel shouts something at their backs in her native tongue, and Tathlyn hears Karlach’s boots in the dirt and a low reprimand. He’s already too far away to make out the words.

He doesn’t quite realize he’s shaking until they’ve made it to Astarion’s tent. Astarion has almost certainly noticed, but doesn’t comment. He deposits Astarion as gently as he can manage onto the bedroll and finds he can’t bring himself to let go. There is a bone-deep need to feel the rise and fall of Astarion’s breath under his hands. To know he’s safe.

Astarion’s hands find his face -- gently caress his cheeks -- and Tathlyn sinks into the hold.

“You know…as thrilling as all that was, I have to ask,” he probes, “You’re not usually the one to reach for a blade like that. What happened?”

“You happened,” Tathlyn blurts before he really even realizes what he’s saying.

Astarion cocks his head, confused.

“What?”

“You got hurt. Could’ve died. I couldn’t…”

The bemused expression on Astarion’s face intensifies, and Tathlyn’s words catch in his throat. It feels silly. Childish. But there’s something more to it that he can’t quite name.

“Darling, I’ve been hurt plenty of times on any number of these foolish little sidetracks. I didn’t see you threatening Karlach after she almost brought a burning building down on our heads. What’s so different about this?”

The words rise to Tathlyn’s tongue before he’s even fully thought to say them.

“You didn’t trust me then,” he admits, “You’re trusting me now. And I trusted her. I thought…I thought I could trust her to figure it out, but it just kept getting worse and I kept not stopping her, and you could’ve died. And if you had, it would’ve been my fault.”

“Oh.” The single syllable falls breathless from Astarion’s chest. “Oh, sweet thing…”

“Don’t. You don’t have to--”

Astarion passes one thumb over Tathlyn’s lips, silencing him as easily as if he’d cast a spell.

“I rather think I do,” he insists, “You haven’t stopped shaking since we walked away. Tell me what you need, darling.”

Tathlyn reaches up to grab onto Astarion’s hands, still framing his face. He shuts his eyes -- tries to take in every detail of the way those long, delicate fingers feel against his skin.

“C’n I stay?”

“Of course you can, my sweet. As long as you like.”

Tathlyn lingers in Astarion’s hold a moment longer before pulling away and beginning the arduous process of removing his armor. Every twinge of wounds and overworked muscles makes itself known to him over the next few minutes and by the time he’s done, he’s more exhausted than he thought he could still get.

Astarion has reclined on the bedroll, and watches him now with care. He rolls easily onto his side as Tathlyn shuffles in next to him and twines his arms around Astarion’s slim frame. It’s not the ideal position to mediate in, but feeling the way Astarion’s ribs expand and contract as he breathes seems to be the only thing that settles the frantic worry that’s made itself at home under Tathlyn’s skin. Astarion tangles their legs together -- an additional offer of proximity -- and Tathlyn lets his forehead come to rest against the back of Astarion’s shoulder.

Rest is hard to come by as the evening drags on into the night. Every sound from outside Astarion’s tent has Tathlyn alert, assessing for threat. But Astarion’s breathing stays steady. one hand firmly laces fingers with his own, and Astarion allows himself to be cradled close to Tathlyn’s chest. Eventually, his mind settles enough to drift for a few hours.

In the morning, Tathlyn finds Phalar Aluve laid unassumingly across the threshold outside Astarion’s tent. He chooses not to attempt reading meaning into it, and slides it back into the scabbard where it belongs. They have a long walk back through the mountain pass ahead of them. Better, he thinks, not to spend it in suspicious silence.

[pyropsychiccollector]

Sayaka: Makoto's ahoge's just so cute~ nwn So soft. Stands at attention when I pet it. (人◕ω◕) Chiaki:(๑`н´๑) Sayaka: ... You disagree? (人◕ω◕) Chiaki: Hajime-kun has the superior ahoge. (๑`н´๑) Sayaka: ......... (❋•‿•❋) You do realize... (❋•‿•❋) No. No, you don't really mean that. I will give you the chance to retract your problematic statement... Chiaki: Hajime's ahoge twitches at the sound of my voice~ No. It can sense whenever I'm near. So precious. (๑`н´๑) Sayaka: ... War it is, then. (❋•‿•❋)*** I can't speak on Hajime's ahoge... But Makoto's is on a completely other plane of softness. You speak blasphemy. Chiaki: Hajime's ahoge is plenty soft. It's like a member of the family. (๑`н´๑) Hajime's ahoge was the first, Makoto-kun's is a pretty copy, but a copy nonetheless. (๑`н´๑) Sayaka: (❋•‿•❋)*** Just because he's ONE year older than us...! Chiaki: FIRST! (๑`н´๑) Sayaka: Well, TECHNICALLY speaking~... (❋•‿•❋)*** *can't finish that argument without breaking the fourth wall* Chiaki: First. (๑`н´๑) Kirumi: My apologies, but you are both fundamentally incorrect. (ᴗ_ᴗ) Chiaki: Ne? ಠಿ_ಠ Sayaka: Kirumi-chan? ಠಿ_ಠ Kirumi: Most regrettably for you, Shuichi's ahoge is superior in every facet. Softness. Sophistication. Resplendence. Grandeur. Its refined movements. (ᴗ_ᴗ) Sayaka: That ratty looking thing?! Chiaki: Heretical nonsense. (๑`н´๑) Kirumi: (╬≖_≖) I will overlook your indiscretions this once. Know that further petty assaults will be brought to court. Sayaka: I was about to say the same to you!!! (╬≖_≖) Chiaki: For the honor of Hajime-kun's ahoge, I won't lose. (╬≖_≖) Kurane: U-Um... Er... Ah... >_< Waruna: Tell them, Kurane!!! Yoshiko: (✿◠‿◠)*** What Kurane was trying to say is that Yuma-kun has all those boys beat. His ahoge changes with his emotions~ Kirumi: ... Sayaka: ... Chiaki: ... Co-op is totes unfair in a 1v1 tournament. (๑`н´๑) Sayaka: Y-Yeah!!! You didn't see us bringing pals along!! Yoshiko: That falls on you chumps. (✿◠‿◠) Kirumi: ... I will have to bring in reinforcements to put down this insurrection. (╬≖_≖) Kurane: J-Just you try it... >.< Kirumi: (╬≖_≖) *glares at Kurane especially* You will be sued for copyright infringement. This was MY look first. *referring to hair* Kurane: Wh-What?! Our hair isn't that similar...! (╬≖_≖) Kirumi: Tell that to the judge. (╬≖_≖) Waruna: Just you try it, Super Nanny. (❋•益•❋) Akari/Kaede: Nagisa doesn't have an ahoge, but I turned his hair into cat ears like mine~ (✿◠‿◠) Everyone: (⊙▂⊙✖ ) Sayaka: Why didn't we think of that?! Σ('◉⌓◉’) Chiaki: Mmm... But if I play with Hajime-kun's hair, the ahoge would disappear. >_< Kirumi: ... I must confess I feel conflicted. Although as Shuichi's maid, I do have the right to fashion his look in the manner I deem most professional and appealing... Yoshiko: ... I'm not comfortable tempting fate again. Waruna: Why? He dressed as a chick once already. (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) Kurane: No. Never again. >_< Akari/Kaede: (人◕_◕) C-Crossdressing? *thinks about how Rio would react to some other guy crossdressing* F-Forget I said anything. This conversation never happened. Everyone: (人◕_◕) *nodding sagely*

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Adrift || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1444 Summary: My friend @shadowphoenixrider fell hard into the world of the Xmen thanks to a certain card-wielding Cajun and it got me speculating what my mutant powers would be and uh.. Meet Mutant Drifting I guess. -----------------------------------------------

There was only one thing you could be certain about at the mansion; weird things tended to happen almost daily. Maybe it was because of that truth that Gambit didn't really look up from his card trick at first when a seemingly floating t-shirt, pair of jeans and some shoes went on by. After the initial double take, red eyes set in black sclera followed the set as it wandered down the hall.

It genuinely seemed like something Morph would pull, but if that were the case they would have made some sort of comment about the look on Gambits face by now. And with Shadow popping out of the danger room, Gambit decided it was probably best to do something about this before these mystery clothes turned out to be something far less benevolent.

"Oi," the tone of his voice just sharp and authoritarian enough to make the unknown entity halt in its movement, "and where do you think you're going?"

"Well, the plan was to look for either Professor Xavier or the scientist around here- I guess you found me first. Didn't see you, there," a lower but still feminine sounding voice replied.

Curiosity got the better of him, which was the only reason Gambit hadn't thrown a charged card their way yet. He was however holding onto one, flitting it between the fingers of his hand in debate on what to do.

"Well, mind turning that invisibility thing of yours off before you do that? You're making people antsy; can’t let you do that on Diable Blanc’s watch."

"Yeah, uhm, that's kind of why I need either of those two."

Hm. Shooting Shadow a glance, it became clear to Gambit that both of them could wager a guess as to what that meant. Shadow also seemed to be staring at this invisible being as if trying to figure out something about it.

"... You don't know how to turn it off, do ya?" Gambit suggested, slightly amused by that turn of events.

"Right on the money, sir. I've got no clue; I've been like this for two days. Some help would be appreciated."

Raising an eyebrow, Gambit looked over at Shadow, who needed another moment to process that the Cajun was offering her up as a solution to this problem

"Chère?"

"Wh- no, thank you. I don't mess with mutant powers, who knows what'll happen."

"Fine. Gambit'll go fetch Rogue, then."

"Good- wait a minute, Rogue?" Shadow asked, immediately halting Gambit in his process of getting ready to leave, "that's quite the overkill option!"

"Do you want their powers off or not?"

"By putting them in a coma? Again, overkill much?!"

"What would ya have me do, punch their lights out instead?"

"No!! Look, can you just go find Charles, or Ha-"

In the middle of this argument, the air between the three people suddenly took on the faintest hint of sulfur; it was the only warning anyone had before Kurt popped into view, having teleported himself over from wherever he had been previously standing. A startled yelp of 'Jesus Christ!' was all that left the invisible one, and as soon as it had left their mouth the spell seemed to have been broken as everything about them reappeared all at once.

It revealed a tall ish, pale woman with wine red hair and green eyes, who was now observing her hands with quiet awe and surprise as she genuinely hadn't seen them in at least forty eight hours.

"Oh, hey, I can see my hands again."

"You can thank me by not using blasphemy this early in the morning, Fraulein," Kurt responded with an easy smile. "Noted. I was raised in a harbor town, I apologize in advance for all the times I will end up being blasphemous."

"Ohh," Shadow chimed in, "it's a startle response. Interesti- Wait. Miranda?!"

"Sup?" 'Miranda' casually responded, throwing up a peace sign as she shifted her weight to her other leg. With her now visible, Gambit took another moment to really take her in. She had somewhat of a pear-shaped body and stood high on her legs, but she was definitely shorter than him. If he had to wager a guess she was somewhere between six to seven inches shorter than him, probably closer to seven. Crossing her arms over her chest, Miranda had an attitude about her as if she shook off a lot of things as they came to her; she didn't seem that perturbed by the looks of either Gambit or Kurt for starters. "You know her, chère?" "Yeah, she's my friend, she works in catering at my old job."

"Worked," Miranda corrected, running her thumb over the edge of her middle fingernail to check it for any dents, "they don't exactly like it when you no show for two days with no explanation, but I couldn't exactly explain 'well I don't know where my limbs went for starters' without being clocked as weird, in serious life threatening danger or possibly a mutant- not even necessarily in that order."

"Pardon me, anyway," Kurt politely interjected as he actually needed the answer to his question, "Gambit, are the two of us still on for that mission tonight?" "Yes, mon ami. Don't keep me waiting, now." "I never do," and with that he left as quickly as he had appeared. Miranda startled once more at the teleportation, her invisibility immediately clicking back on in response. It brought a groan out of her that seemed to come from the deepest recesses of her soul. Shadow just blinked, as Gambit desperately tried to keep himself from laughing at her predicament... and failed. Shadow immediately started shoving at him to get him to move instead of laughing at her friend. "Will you just go get our doctor, Cajun?!" With now just the two of them left, Shadow watched as just the set of clothes leaned on the nearest corridor wall with a sigh. Well, that certainly was an interesting set of abilities and turn of events. And then there was also the matter of... "So, what happened? The first time, you know, where you turned..?"

"The cabinet where I hold my kitchenware decided to give up on life at like, three am. Scared me half to death but as soon as I figured it was just something in my apartment that broke and, you know, not some intruder I went back to sleep intending on dealing with whatever it was the next morning. Next morning comes, and all I see when I tossed a look in my wardrobe mirror is my pajamas looking back with me. For a second I wonder if I got down with a bout of fucking vampirism, only to then realise I don't see my hands, or really anything but my clothes when I look down either. And then I figured it's probably some superpower thing and I'm better off looking for someone to fix it." "And your first instinct was to find the X-men Mansion?!" "It was that or Stark Tower; I decided to try my luck with the building least likely to vaporize me with its home security system as soon as I step on the porch."

"You're incredibly lucky Logan isn't here, then. That said; Gambit got close."

"Then I'll thank him for not vaporizing me on the spot when he gets back." Despite not being able to see her, Shadow swore she could feel that Miranda was staring at her trying to figure something out. It's not exactly easy to shake the feeling that someone is watching you, whether visible or not. "What?" "You, and Gambit?" "Are just friends," Shadow immediately snapped in return, frowning at the light scoff coming from her invisible friend. "Uhuh." "Don't you take that tone with me when it took less than five seconds of you being visible to see that you were looking at Nightcrawler." "Lord forbid the plush toy granted sentience piques my interest in any way." "Look," Shadow replied exasperated, "How about we both stop talking about this for a while?!" "Deal." What was meant to be a pleasant silence was quickly interrupted when Gambit reappeared, somehow without Beast in tow to which Shadow frowned. "Gambit, I thought I told you to-" "Not to worry!" the voice of Beast coming from up high and behind Miranda, startling her back to visible as she had her attention pointed the opposite way to Shadow and Gambit, "I am here to offer assistance." "I told him to sneak up on her, it seems to work," Gambit dryly remarked. "Fucking hell, there's got to be an easier way to turn me back than this!"

[howlingday]

The Schnee Family

Whitely: According to the schedule, in less than five minutes, we will begin family discussions regarding the company's global control.

Weiss: I really doubt we'll actually discuss anything.

Winter: I'm willing to bet lien that you're wrong.

Jacques: (Enters) Children, welcome. The others should be joining us shortly.

Winter: Others?

Bleiss: (Walks in) Ugh, this place still smells like old people taint... (Sees siblings) Oh! Ahem! ...Greetings, dearest family.

Weiss: What is SHE doing here?

Jacques: She is just as much a part of this family as the rest of you, Weiss.

Weiss: That's easy for you to say; I've actually LIVED with her!

Jacques: And YOU literally threw me in prison!

Bleiss: Really? Shit, I wish I was there.

Weiss: He's exaggerating.

Winter: Is he, though? You did throw him pretty hard into that cell with your glyphs.

Bleiss: (Laughs) I forgot what it was like having a family! And how much I fucking hate it.

Jacques: Enough bickering! You're all gathered here for one purpose...

Schneebling: To help take over the world.

Jacques: Okay! Well... Yes. Yes, that is why you are all gathered here.

Bleiss: Okay, no. I have a better idea, Jackie. Why don't we all participate in a nice, healthy family activity?

Jacques: I refuse.

Bleiss: Come on~! A little family competition never hurt anyone.

Whitely: I... can't help but agree. There are innumerable statistics to support her claim that competitions are healthy. I suggest a contest to see who can suck the most dick.

Bleiss: Up-bup-bup! Don't listen to him! Let's start with something simple. Perhaps a family game?

Whitely: Hide and suck dick?

Bleiss: Wh- No! Dammit, Whitely! That is not a family game!

Winter: I refuse to associate myself with this degenerate.

Bleiss: Oh, come on, Winny! I'm just as much your sister as you are mine~.

Winter: All the more reason for me to throw up elsewhere. (Leaves)

Bleiss: Hmph... What about you, sister? What's your suggestion?

Weiss: Oh, so now my opinion matters?

Bleiss: Okay, look, I was kind of preoccupied-

Weiss: Debasing yourself until you were Jaune's pig-slut?

Bleiss: That's not what he calls me.

Weiss: That's what you are, and you know it!

Bleiss: I didn't intend for those photos to be leaked! They were for my private collection!

Weiss: I'm aware, because you only share them with me!

Jacques: Enough bickering! Children, we must seize this opportunity to take over- WAH!

Willow: (Drops glyph, Jacques falls down) Oops! Was that me? I'm so sorry... Sometimes I forget my own strength. (Notices Bleiss) You're... Gelé's girl, aren't you? My, look at how you've grown. Last I saw you, I was holding you in my arms. Who would have thought you'd have grown to be so beautiful?

Bleiss: Haha, yeah... Uh, who's the MILF?

Weiss: Oh, that's right. You never officially met our mother.

Bleiss: Wait... HE FUCKS?!

Whitely: Uh, I can confirm that, for a time, our father did indeed fuck.

Bleiss: OH GOD, I SEE IT WHEN I CLOSE MY FUCKING EYES! ARGH! (Falls backwards)

Willow: Fufufu... I've heard you've become quite the huntress, and have even managed to court a handsome young man at that. Perhaps you can bring him to the manor for a proper introduction? If you permit, of course.

Bleiss: Ahem! Uh, y-yes, of course.

Jacques: This is blasphemy! I will not be usurped in my own home! AGAIN!

Weiss: (Readies glyph) I regret nothing.

Bleiss: Okay, can we all calm the fuck down?

Knock, knock, knock

Gyeiss: Oh, um, is this, like, a totally bad time?

Jacques: ...I can explain.

Bleiss: Oh, you mother FU

[hachigram]

003 VD — TREMBLING CONVICTION

ICHIKA: O-Oh? Is that you, Warden-san? I heard the door open…

LUKA: Yes, it’s me. You’re… Ichika Yuki, right?

ICHIKA: Yeah… Hey, Warden-san…

LUKA: Go on.

ICHIKA: Can you… um… stop staring at me? I can feel your e-eyes on me, and it’s freaking me out… P-Please just… look away.

LUKA: Eh..?

ICHIKA: I-I hate e-eyes on me. I do-don’t like being the center of at-attention…

LUKA: Alright. I’m not looking. Better?

ICHIKA: Th-Thank you.

LUKA: Now. Prisoner Number Three. Ichika Yuki. Is something troubling you?

ICHIKA: ……!

LUKA: You’re shaking something fierce. Constantly fidgeting, stuttering… It’s concerning.

ICHIKA: H-Huh… Ah-! Well… It’s a… long story. I-I’d rather not talk a-about it…

LUKA: Sigh. Well, I can’t force you. But I do have to ask these questions. Name, age, occupation?

ICHIKA: ……I-Ichika Yuki, t-twenty-one, and… I-I can't hold a j-job to save my life, ehh...

LUKA: Oh? Why’s that?

ICHIKA: M-My body won’t let me.

[ Almost as if confirming his own statement, Ichika coughs rather violently into his hand. ]

LUKA: Yikes. That’s not…

ICHIKA: Don’t p-pity me.

LUKA: I wasn’t trying to. Promise.

ICHIKA: Liar! E-Everyone says the same damned thing. They pr-promise they don’t pity me, but th-their voice gives them away.

LUKA: ….Can you not see, Yuki-san?

ICHIKA: I’m bli-blind, Warden-san. I don’t reme-remember ever being able to see.

LUKA: Ah… That must be hard. It almost makes me wonder how you were able to commit that crime of yours…

ICHIKA: That wasn’t me.

LUKA: Huh?! What do you mean?

ICHIKA: I-I didn’t kill him. It was God’s divine punishment against him. I didn't do anything!

LUKA: Funny how you’re the one in the jail cell, huh.

ICHIKA: Y-You must believe me! I don’t deserve any of this…

LUKA: That’s based on my own judgment. But don’t expect your pleas alone to sway me. Now, onto the interrogation. How is life here?

ICHIKA: A-Ah… Well… It’s going alright for c-certain, but…

LUKA: But…?

ICHIKA: Sawayaki-chan is t-too damned noisy…! Having her two cells away is de-detrimental to my health…

LUKA: I see.

ICHIKA: Akio-san is cool, th-though. He reads me bits of his manuscript d-during our free time.

LUKA: Interesting. He didn’t mention that.

ICHIKA: H-He probably forgot, that silly man.

LUKA: Mmhm. Hey, Yuki-san…?

ICHIKA: What?

LUKA: Do you truly believe in God?

ICHIKA: —! O-Of course I do…! Wh-Why wouldn’t I?!

LUKA: Because it feels off to me that someone who puts so much faith in God would turn around and blame Him for their sins. Does that not sound like blasphemy to you?

ICHIKA: Wha-wha-wha—?! Aha… D-Don’t look at me like that, Warden-san…! I-I can f-feel your d-disapproving gl-glare burning through me…!!

[ The mechanical bell pervades the air, causing the cowering Ichika to leap up from his seat. ]

ICHIKA: N-NO! P-PLEASE DON’T….!

LUKA: I have no choice. Prisoner number three, Ichika Yuki… sing your sins.

[ MV: EMPTY PRAYER. ]

[brownhairedbookworm]

“Wh- how dare you! Maybe you should be bird food for such blasphemy!”

"Tell me our goofball of a wife, who is currently out shopping with and teasing a new potential partner, is not as silly as can be."

[gaslightgallows]

Softer blasphemies please!! (Also what is it??? tell me more please omg sounds delicious)

Thank you!!! Softer Blasphemies is a Victorian-era Ineffables fic that takes place at Aziraphale's 'discreet gentlemen's club in Portland Place'. Despite not having spoken for 30-odd years at this point (1890s), Crowley goes there to warn Aziraphale of an impending police raid, and once that's cleared up, things, er... ensue.

“Would you…” Aziraphale cleared his throat; he seemed to be having trouble actually looking in Crowley’s direction. “Would you like to stay the night?” Crowley tipped his head to one side. “I’m already staying the night, aren’t I? ‘S why you paid that ridiculous guest fee—” “I meant would you like to stay the night with me. After all, we are here and… well, you’ll probably get a massive commendation out of convincing an angel to give in to six thousand years of temptation. Possibly even a promotion.” Blue eyes finally flickered his way and Crowley saw the hunger there. “Oh, y—I wh. Hgk. I… well, I can’t say no to that—” Crowley couldn’t actually say anything; Aziraphale was kissing him.

[grisailledreams]

Ghost Hunting

Content Warnings: Dom/sub dynamic, voyeurism, biting Pairing: Karl Heisenberg/F!Reader Insert Word Count: 276 words Phasmophobia/RE8 AU Crossover! You and Heisenberg take a little break from ghost hunting~ UwU

The dryer banged on the wall in time with Karl’s machine hips as he pistoned in and out of your lady-meat. You were on a job and sneaking away from the work made everything feel so much better. His love-pickle felt like a full-sized cucumber in your love tunnel, he was so hard. The rest of your team could have walked in and caught you at any minute with your pants forgotten on the floor and your panties hanging from the storage shelf where he tossed them. He’d ripped them off like they’d left a horse head on his pillow. A crucifix sat at his feet. It made his rough, heavy kisses taste like sweet, sweet blasphemy.

The rest of your equipment laid scattered around the room: your spirit box, two flashlights, an open book lying face-down on a shelf, a camera. The lens stared at you, watching. Egging you on.

“Wh…” you pant. “What if s-someone’s watching?”

He pummeled your doorbell with his thumb until your worries dissolved into screams. “Then we’re giving them one hell of a show.”

Karl fisted your hair and ripped your head back with all the force of a ball smacking you dead in the face during gym. You shrieked his name. His teeth sank into the hot flesh of your neck, marking you, making sure any ghost floating around knew you belonged to him. Your legs trembled, overwhelmed with the new world of pleasure his mushroom-tipped spear tattooed into your body.

“You close, baby?” he grunted hot and heavy in your ear. “You fucking close?”

Static crackled on the floor near Karl’s ankles. A quiet voice breathed, “I’m close.”