#Witnesses await church

[storiesfromgaza]

Hello, everyone.

This may be the finest and most important article I've written since the creation of this blog, so kindly read it carefully and pay attention.

And share it so that everyone can see it.

There are many events happening tonight, and I will try to summarize them for you so that you have a complete understanding of what is happening.

Twelve days ago, a gruesome incident occurred, most of you have probably heard of it: the occupation forces shelled the Al-Ma'madani Hospital in Gaza, resulting in the deaths of over a thousand people, including patients, their families, doctors, and young children.

Has the occupation been content with this? The answer is no.

Since that day, they have been threatening another hospital, Al-Quds Hospital, with the promise of bombing it, leaving civilians and patients inside in a state of terror, awaiting death at any moment.

The first time this happened, it spread across social media platforms, especially Twitter, and many people protested, causing the occupation to halt its actions.

Today, twelve days after the Al-Ma'madani Hospital massacre, they have once again sent severe threats to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) for the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital, as it is destined to be bombed.

"🔴 Urgent: We have just received severe threats demanding the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital as it is set to be bombed.

Since the early hours of the morning, the vicinity of Al-Quds Hospital has been witnessing continuous airstrikes, resulting in the destruction of some buildings within a 50-meter radius.

📢 Please share, save Al-Quds Hospital! 📢

#GazaUnderAttack #GazaUnderSiege #Save_Al-Quds_Hospital

"

The second matter, three days ago, specifically on Friday, the twenty-seventh of this month, the occupation completely isolated Gaza from the world by cutting off the internet, telecommunications, and electricity. They were prepared for a brutal massacre that occurred that night and lasted for two days.

I'm talking about indiscriminate bombardment using all kinds of weapons on all areas of Gaza, whether they were churches, mosques, schools, or homes, regardless of their occupants, be they children, young people, women, or the elderly.

During that period, social media platforms and indeed the entire world were abuzz with the issue.

People from various backgrounds, nationalities, and religions unanimously agreed that it was inhumane to isolate them from the world and deny them the right to have a voice.

They were searching for solutions they could implement.

Some took to the streets, demanding the return of the internet, while others began sharing their plight on social media, primarily on Twitter.

They reached out to activists and officials who had the means to help.

One of the most prominent solutions that everyone turned to was contacting Elon Musk, the former owner of Twitter (X) and the current owner of SpaceX, to enable the people of Gaza to use the internet via Starlink's private satellites.

They hoped that he would hear their plea, as it was their only hope.

He tweeted:

"Starlink will support connectivity to internationally recognized aid organizations in Gaza.

[ComStar]

"

On the same day, five hours after the publication of this tweet, the Israeli Minister of Communications commented on it, saying, in essence, that they would use all available means to prevent the supply of Starlink internet to Gaza because Hamas would utilize it. He also threatened that if this were to occur, he would sever all his office's ties with Starlink.

Now, let's discuss the issue of hostages for a moment because it is of utmost importance to understanding the situation.

On the twenty-fourth of this month, Yasmin Porat, one of the hostages, came forward to talk about her experiences during her captivity.

I will now share some of what she mentioned in the interview:

She stated that Israeli forces eliminated everyone, including hostages, amid heavy crossfire and tank shelling.

She highlighted the contrasting behavior of Palestinian fighters who offered hope for safe passage to Gaza. Israeli forces disrupted this hope with a storm of gunfire.

Palestinian fighters treated the hostages humanely, offering them hope of a safe passage to Gaza, despite the chaos.

This compassionate act stands in stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded.

After the interview was broadcast, it was completely deleted and blocked from all social media platforms and even from Kan's website. Moreover, Yasmin's account mysteriously disappeared from the "Haboker Hazeh" program, raising concerns of censorship.

Below, you will find the interview recording.

During that period, the Al-Qassam Brigades continued their communication with the Israeli government in order to release some prisoners for humanitarian reasons, including their age and health, among them two elderly women, one of whom is named Yohav Levisheitz.

But the Israeli government showed no interest in the matter whatsoever.

As a result, they decided to release the two elderly women.

Before leaving, one of them, Yohav Levisheitz, insisted on shaking hands with one of the resistance fighters who she was their captor, as you can see in the following video.

-Tumblr doesn't allow me to post two videos in a single post, so I will provide the video link on the blog-:

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesfromgaza/732027117370572800/al-qassam-brigades-released-two-of-the-hostages?source=share

After this, she insisted on participating in a press conference to share her experience, saying:

"When we arrived in Gaza, they initially told us that they believed in the Quran and that they wouldn't harm us.

They said they would treat us as they do with those around them.

We were under tight security, and medical professionals arrived to ensure we had the medications we always took.

They showed great concern for our health.

Our place of rest was the mattresses.

We had an accompanying doctor who would visit us every two or three days to check on our well-being.

In addition to a paramedic who looked after us and provided us with our medications.

They took on the responsibility and made sure to provide the necessary medications.

They looked after our hygiene meticulously to safeguard our health so that we wouldn't fall ill.

It was they who took care of cleaning the restrooms, not us.

They provided us with everything we needed, and I acknowledge their help in that.

If equivalent medications weren't available, they offered suitable alternatives.

They were remarkably courteous (kind) and ensured we ate well, sharing the same food they ate (bread, cheese, and cucumbers)

We were treated with kindness, and they paid meticulous attention to every detail.

Women among them understood the importance of feminine hygiene and ensured we had everything we needed.

Hamas had meticulously planned everything for a long time, providing us with everything we required, even down to shampoo and conditioner.

The inefficiencies of the army and Shabak (Israel Security Agency - ISA) greatly impacted us; we were pawns in the government's game."

After this, Western media outlets, with CNN at the forefront, distorted Yohav's words and published that she said, "I went through hell."

BBC, on the other hand, released two versions of the statement.

They published the original statement by Yohav on their account dedicated to the Arab audience, while on their accounts for Western and Indian audiences, they published a manipulated version of her statement that included the same content as previously published by CNN.

These are the testimonies of two different women captives, both of whom unanimously agree that they were treated with excellent humane treatment, and no one tortured them or attempted to harass or disturb them.

On the other hand, both of them agree that Israel did not care about their safety in any way and, in fact, they would open fire in the presence of the hostages, leaving behind lifeless bodies hit by their deadly bullets.

Now, let's focus for a moment on the point of Israel and the prisoners.

Two days ago, Abu Ubaida, the official spokesman for the Al-Qassam Brigades, made a lengthy recorded speech in which he spoke about the prisoners.

He said:

"There have been numerous contacts in the prisoner file, and there was an opportunity to reach an agreement, but they delayed and did not show real seriousness in releasing the prisoners.

Instead, its barbaric shelling and continuous crimes have led to the killing of nearly fifty of them so far."

Do you understand now that Israel does not care about the prisoners at all, as it claims, and that their use of the prisoner issue is merely to prevent Elon Musk from providing internet access via Starlink in Gaza for its residents?

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[squinch-depraved]

priest schlatt I beg

we're not gonna talk about how long this took me to get to

happy national clergy appreciation day (in the u.s.) !! sorry if this sucks i was raised southern baptist and even then i sucked at christianity there's a reason i practice witchcraft now lol

hanging your head low as you ducked into the confessional wouldn't save you. sure, there was no one around to see you, but knowing that god had witnessed what you had done was reason enough to try and hide from the world as much as you could. but still you tucked yourself away into the corner of the booth, clutching your purse in your trembling hands.

religion was a something of a sore spot for you; growing up in a hyper-christian family was one way to ensure you didn't feel comfortable in a house of worship. you had always viewed god as an inevitable outcome, a fact that awaited you whenever you happened to reach the end of your journey here on earth. once you graduated high school and locked yourself into a four year program at a catholic college one state over, you came to realize that the reason you couldn't stand your religion wasn't because of overbearing relatives. no, it was the very idea of god himself. you found him sadistic, an egotistical prick who had nothing better to do than let horrible things happen to his creations. maybe it was true that most of the teachings you had heard were lost on you, that you didn't even make an effort to understand the lessons passed down for thousands of years. but so what? nobody had ever made an effort to understand you or what you were going through, why should you waste your energy extending that courtesy to a church that obviously didn't care about you?

but you know who did make you feel understood? the guys you had dated in the three years since you arrived at this prison. at least, for a few weeks, in the beginning. the first one was fine. he was the one who convinced you virginity was an outdated concept- which you still agreed with to this day, you decided. he was surprisingly "woke" about the whole religion thing, which was what drew you to him in the first place.

"my parents made me study here too," he sympathized. "i totally wish i could've gone on a mission trip instead of getting a degree. like, college will be here in a few years! those impoverished people might not, y'know? i just feel like god is totally calling me to go serve. like, 'troy, man, go feed those guys! tell them how cool i am!'" he stopped tossing a miniature foam basketball against your bedroom wall for a moment to look at you.

you smiled weakly at his sentiments and glanced up from your laptop to nod. "totally, troy."

turns out, (unsurprisingly) troy was a fucking douche. he stayed around just long enough to get into your pants a couple times, but then you caught him with the girl who lived in the dorm across from you, so he had to go. nobody ever found out who stole his clothes from the men's showers, but the videos of him streaking down the hallways while he ran to his room were sent around campus for months after that.

guys two and three were more painful than troy; you had actually grown attached to them. guy two lasted almost a year, and three was only a few months, but he felt special. and the half dozen guys you slept with while trying to get over them just added to the tally of sins you were keeping subconsciously.

so when your grades started to slip from depression in the winter of your junior year, and your counselor called you to her office for an appointment, it was no surprise that her words got under your skin as easily as they did. how could they not? getting students to go to church was part of her job. she was concerned that your grades were slipping because she hadn't seen you at mass in a long time, and the absence of the lord will do that to a young girl, you know.

so later that night, after drinking by yourself at a bar a few miles from the school, you stumbled into the church on campus and slunk into the confessional. realizing that the wooden box was incredibly uncomfortable, you winced and pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet gently as you waited to be listened to.

you shrieked quietly when a small lattice window on the wall next to you slid open. "oh, fuck... sorry! um, it's my turn, right?... yeah, i think so. okay, so, um. bless me father for i have... sinned? it's been, like," you paused as you counted back the time on your fingers. "almost two years since my last confession. oh, jeez, that makes me sound awful." you were hiccupping as you rambled, and you could have sworn you heard the faintest exhale of amusement if you weren't plastered.

"whatever, it's too late to stop now," you sighed, crossing your legs. "i let some guys sleep with me and now i'm all unpure and like. i'm supposed to show up here a couple times every week now but i don't wanna, i don't care enough about this whole god thing to waste the rest of my college life becoming a nun. i'm already worried i wasted three years coming here instead of a school where i could have felt like myself," you trailed off.

it was quiet for a moment before a gruff voice with a new york accent asked, "how many guys?"

you snorted. "9, i think," you said with a smirk, rolling your eyes.

the man on the other side of the panel felt his face heat up as he mumbled, "jesus." you couldn't hold in your laugh at how absurd this was. this was what you deserved for coming to confess at 2 in the morning.

"i know it's been a while since i've been here and all, but i'm pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to say," you giggled.

a chuckle was heard before he answered, "sorry. you're right, it's not. tell me more, what led you to sleeping with them?" at least now he was trying.

the two of you talked for about an hour, until it no longer felt like a confession and you were sure you had fallen for this priest you couldn't even see. eventually, he tried to dismiss you without giving you your penance, but something in your gut drove you to bring it up yourself.

he stepped out of the booth first, and you hesitated for a second before following him, freezing when you saw what he looked like. tall, scary, with gorgeous brown eyes framed by aviator glasses and fluffy chops adorning his cheeks. by some miracle, he also felt immobilized by his view of you hopping out of the wooden compartment- dress disheveled, fishnets ripped, heels in one hand and your purse slung over one shoulder. you were his worst nightmare, a temptation he simply could not resist. god had just placed a vulnerable young lamb like you in his midst; who was he to deny himself of the simple pleasures his lord had provided for him?

"father? father, my penance," you waved your hand in front of his face (after a bit of trying to get his attention), which had just gone dark. his eyes now looked hungry and cold.

"hmm?" he blinked and tilted his head towards you slightly. "oh. uhm," he let out a deep exhale, as if contemplating something. "y-y'know what? just come with me," he spoke gently, taking your hand and leading you to a back room with some spare furniture scattered about.

a part of you knew what was coming, and a different part of you never could have guessed the situation you were about to find yourself in. once you were alone in the room together, he pulled you close and pressed you against a wall, letting his hot breath waft over your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"god's telling me we should make it 10 men you've been with," he murmured, voice velvet smooth as it coated your eardrums. "so you can say at least one of them was a real man of the lord, hmm, doll?"

your breath, caught in your throat, sped up as he slowly, gently, tenderly took your wrists in one of his hands, bringing them to rest above your head. "father..."

"schlatt. my name's schlatt. but that's just a courtesy, hm? stick to callin' me father." you felt him smirk against your skin as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your neck, drawing out a frantic moan from you.

"careful with your noises, angel, there's two other guys here tonight, and if we get caught, i'm gonna have to share you," schlatt warned. he used his other free hand to pull down the top of your dress, smiling greedily at the sight of your exposed breasts. "no bra?"

"i-it didn't go with the outfit," you tried to defend yourself, but he just shushed you and fondled your chest lovingly, like he really was just appreciating one of god's creations. pathetic noises spilled from your lips as you watched him admire you, a hypnotized look on your face.

"you're so beautiful, doll. wha's your name?" he asked, glancing up at your face to meet your gaze.

you stammered out your response and he repeated it, running over the name in his mind.

"pretty," he said simply. "i'm gonna make you feel good now, okay?" it was more of a statement than a question, and you nodded with a gulp as he knelt down and slid his head under your dress. you felt your pupils dilate as you leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes fall closed. schlatt ripped a bigger hole into your fishnets and pulled your skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and tracing circles with his tongue on your clit. it was hard to keep your whorish noises contained, but clamping your hand over your mouth did a good enough job.

he ate you until you were frantically scratching at his head through the fabric of your dress as you came all over his face, sobbing from how good you felt. you didn't even know it was possible to feel this euphoric, but here this priest was to show you how. once he was satisfied, he pulled away from your cunt and rose to tower over you again. he reached into his robes and opened them enough so that his crotch was visible. you watched as he pulled out his length, stunned at the size of it, and let him pick you up and position you around his waist.

"father, i'm scared, i don't know if it's gonna fit," you admitted guiltily. schlatt locked eyes with you while he replied.

"it's okay to be scared. but you have to do it anyways." with that, he slid into you, stretching you out more than you ever had been before. you bit onto him in an effort to keep quiet; his robes did a good job of muffling the sound. after a generous amount of time to let you get used to him, he started moving.

he was gentle at first, but gradually got rougher and rougher. there wasn't a moment where he wasn't focused on making you feel good. his eyes pierced through you as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, and the attention he was giving you didn't make you feel objectified like it did when the other guys fucked you. it made you feel divine, ethereal almost.

grunts and pants, along with the occasional squeal, were all that could be heard as he rolled his hips into you time and time again. he coaxed another orgasm out of you just with his cock, and once he felt like he had pleasured you enough, he sped up, now thrusting at a frenzied pace.

"when i tell you, you're gonna get on your knees and take me in your mouth, okay angel?" he instructed, out of breath. you nodded, eager to please.

"yes, father," you gasped as he reached deeper and deeper inside you with every thrust. schlatt's eyes rolled back slightly at the title and he went impossibly faster for a few seconds before speaking.

"n-now! now!" he ordered desperately. he set you down hurriedly and you slammed down onto your knees to take him in your mouth, letting him burrow deep into your throat before he finished with a loud groan and grabbed your hair roughly.

he remained in your throat for a moment while he caught his breath, sliding out once his chest had stopped heaving.

"there's your penance, doll. i better see you here for a 2 a.m. confession next monday as well, yeah? i think that's what the lord's callin' me to do," schlatt said as he buttoned his robes. you straightened your clothes as much as you could and looked up at him sheepishly.

"looking forward to it. but, uh, is there a back door i could leave through? because i do not want to walk through the church like this." you gestured to your outfit, tattered and wrinkled, and winced.

he chuckled and nodded. "yeah, i'll show you to it. maybe it could be our secret entrance," he joked.

"oh, of course. i'll knock three times whenever i need to be let in," you retort with a grin.

maybe coming to church wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it Till you Make it | Part 16

Watching Eddie scope out his surroundings was… a sight to behold. He didn’t just walk from room to room like any normal person would, no, much like an adventurer, cautiously taking in their surroundings in a new place, in a new dungeon, stretching his neck to look around corners before stepping fully around them, gently touching walls to balance himself as he stretched.

Walking with his heel off the floor, quiet as a church mouse, going from room to room, appraising each one with varying sounds of approval while Steve watched in fond amusement.

It didn’t escape him, how lucky he was. How lucky he’d gotten, how rare it was for people like him, for people like Eddie, to feel comfortable enough to just be in a place that his parents also occupied. That running into his father on the second floor, midway through twirling Eddie from the master bedroom on one side of the hallway to the other where another door awaited his eager exploration, wouldn’t result in some kind of fight, that neither he, nor Eddie, had to hide who they were and what they were doing.

It didn’t escape him that he was lucky. Not just in the freedom he had either, but that he got to see Eddie comfortable. Got to see him light up like Christmas had come early, got to witness the exact moment downstairs when he’d relaxed in Steve’s space.

When he’d taken in all that stood before him and found comfort in it. Steve knew he was lucky that he got to see that. So he wasn’t about to take it for granted.

He wasn’t going to squander the opportunity to make the most of it. Of Eddie’s childish glee. Even if it was all based on a ruse. It was a mutual ruse. A ruse they were both aware of. There was no unfortunate reveal waiting at the end of the tunnel, no high school drama where some asshole pulled the wool from someone’s eyes to reveal none of it was real!!

He was going to make it as real as physically possible, and hopefully… just… continue. After the holiday. Maybe a conversation could happen to clear up any possible misunderstandings but… Steve wanted. He wanted the ultimate nerd currently scoping out the bedroom closest to the home theatre.

“We don’t want this one” Steve advised, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as Eddie poked the mattress with a single finger, as if that would accurately test the quality of the mattress, as he’d been doing for each room. “The home theatre doesn’t have proper sound proofing, if someone wants to watch a film later, we’ll be able to hear it through the walls.” It’d been a solid DIY job on his grandfathers part.

No professional involved, just ‘yeah I can do that, stand back Mags, let a man work’ and that was that. He'd even put it on the second floor, absolute madman.

Steve always pictured his grandmother just standing there, in the same pose he was currently standing in, watching with fond exasperation as her husband went to work on a project he was deeply inexperienced in, and completely unqualified to tackle.

The fact that it looked good in there was a miracle.

“Okay so, not this room, not the bunk bed room, and not the hot tub room, that leeeaves—”

“Master bedroom, or either of the two on the right side of the house.” The options were actually limited when other people were staying, if it were just him and Eddie they could have any room they wanted, but with his parents there it cut down the options.

“Tch, why’d you have me explore all of em then! We should probably just take the master bedroom, right? Since it’s apparently your house, oh great and powerful Master” Steve raised a brow as Eddie dipped into a low bow, theatrical as ever, his tone teasing, his hair bouncing around his face as he righted himself again. Cute.

“Hmm, you looked like you were having fun, you’re cute when you’re having fun.” And his cheeks coloured so nicely whenever he was complimented, hid behind his hair in a way that made Steve’s heart do a funny little flip flop, he’d file that information away for later, continuing on as if he hadn’t just dropped a flirty bomb on the other man “but you’re right, we should probably just take that one, it does have its own private deck…” oh the things they could do on that private deck. If it were all real. “Usually I let my parents have it buuut…” he had company this time. He’d have more than enough of an excuse to get the private deck, even if he wasn’t going to use it for anything other than relaxing. He had a reason to want a little privacy. “I’m sure they’ll understand us wanting it more.”

Eddie rolled with it, quickly recovering with the out Steve had created for himself, or maybe the guy was just so smooth he didn’t even realise he was flirting. That was definitely it. “Or they’ll think they understand us wanting it more” Eddie winked all conspiratorially, which only served to make Steve laugh leaving Eddie looking upon what he’d done in pride. He made Steve laugh. He did that. He’d done that a few times and honestly the high kept staying pretty fucking high.

How had he been so wrong about Steve for so goddamn long? How long had Steve been this glorious thing, like sunshine in human form?

“Exactly” Steve chuckled before pushing himself away from the doorframe “let’s go get our bags then, our shit wont unpack itself.”

“Actually could you get them? I… I should probably call Wayne, let him know I’m safe. It’s not too late there so he should still be home, is that okay? I don’t wanna leave it too late and have to go through reception at the plant, it’s… not great.” Nine times out of ten he wound up speaking to one of the three other Wayne’s working there.

“Yeah, there’s a private line in the room, you go ahead, I’ll grab the bags.”

“My Herculean hero” it wasn’t even remotely fair how badly Steve wanted to kiss him for how little he did to earn it.

“Yer very quiet, Ed, considerin you called me.” He’d gotten through to Wayne after three rings, reassuring him about his safety had been the first thing on the agenda as he got comfortable on the frankly unnecessarily large king sized bed, but then Steve returned to the room with their bags.

All of their bags. In one go, and Eddie’s brain kind of short circuited. “Huh?”

“Yer quiet, somethin the matter?”

“Steve is carrying everything all at once.” It earned a scoff from the man on the phone, and an amused smile from Steve. “It’s awfully distracting, I dunno what to tell you, Wayne I am very distracted.” Steve’s smile only widened

“Uh huh, well, I’ll let you get on then, gotta head out soon anyway, money ain’t gonna make itself. You sure everythin’s alright though? No red flags?”

“Nah… all green flags here, they’re… they’re nice, y’know?” He hadn’t expected it, so many stories of rich people being awful, but… they were just two extremely hard working people who’d had their hard work pay off. Even on holiday they were still working, it was both exhausting to watch, and deeply admirable. Eddie could never. “I’ll call you again tomorrow to check in.”

“I’ll be waitin. Be safe, son.”

“Say hi to Garfield for me” there was a short laugh on the other end, before the line cut off, leaving Eddie smiling as he put the phone down

“Who’s Garfield?” Steve asked, “other than the fat cat.”

“He’s the fat cat shaped mug I can no longer drink from after the great mug smashing of ’86. That stupid earthquake killed him, but we had superglue, so it was fine, just can’t drink out of him anymore cause he’s fragile.” No amount of superglue could fix the tiny areas they hadn’t been able to fill in with pieces, slivers of pot lost to the dark underside of the cabinets. “Need any help?”

“Nah, you just sit there an look pretty for me.” It had the desired effect, Eddie’s eyes widening, a pretty blush blossoming on his cheeks and the final kicker, he hid behind his hair. Adorable. Perfect. Beautiful. Had they actually been dating he’d have pressed pause on the unpacking, instead, he snipped that last thread holding Eddie’s composure in place with a smoothly delivered “just like that, yeah, God, you’re such a good boy.”

The consequences were immediate.

Part 18

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi as a best friend who is obsessed with you, so when you tell him you've never ridden someone he offers to let you practice on him. On his face, abs, thigh, on anything that you can ride, he'll train you before you take his cock

a/n: sorry if this didn't come out good, I wrote it under a half-hour since I'm sick.

He's your best friend, the little boy you grew up with in the same neighbourhood — everyone knew the two of you were attached at the hip, everyone also knew that Sanemi would never let a single boy near you and so, no boy ever tried.

Your earliest memory of him is when you were both three years old, standing in a long queue on a hot Summer's day outside an ice-cream van in the park.

He had been right behind you, humming a tune, and you had turned around and said, "I love that song!"

The boy had the lovliest, archangel-white hair with the softest, lilac eyes; his cheeks all soft and squishy. He had smiled shyly and gave a small nod, though the two of you ended up holding hands as you took him to play in your sandpit.

Ever since, the two of you have been inseperable.

He always held your hand — tight, firm, like a kite he was afraid of letting go — and he looked at you like you had been weaved out of starsong and rose dew and the most honeyed siren song.

God, in his eyes you were this shimmering moon that he yearned to touch, you felt like what heaven must be like — he'd heard so many stories of heaven when he went to church with his mother, he imagined God had a face like you. There couldn't be anything else.

He was a sweet boy, you realised very quickly. Always helping you put pretty flower clips in your dishevelled hair, always using his own chubby hands to try and tuck your hair into a lopsided ponytail and smiled shyly as you squealed and squished your cheeks together to his.

He didn't mind being the subject of your childish eyeshadow palettes either, letting the cheap glittery gel being smudged across his eyelids though it did help him learn his own talent for eyeliner.

You're always over at his house or the other way around, too, and you're always making the loveliest drinks and snacks so you can watch Cinderella together, tiny hands weaved with his as you gush about how pretty the sapphire-blue ball gown is.

Soon enough, school starts, and Sanemi remains your best friend, sitting right next to you and saying no to playing football with the other boys in favour of reading a story book with you in the corner of the classroom.

You also witnessed him grab a boy bigger than him by the hair and hurting him because the boy had tripped you over and made fun of you in the playground where you had been awaiting for Sanemi.

Even when he'd gotten in trouble, he'd given you that smile that only got wider as you kissed his cheek.

He'd always been a serious child, a happy child but mature, and when he got a younger sibling, he was ecstatic, taking his newborn brother out his cot and running over to your house carelessly to show you Genya.

When his mother had rushed out in a panic a few hours later, she found you and Sanemi in your room, Genya bundled up safe and warm. The newborn safe in your arms as Sanemi snoozed against your shoulder, you looking at the newborn with bright eyes.

When Sanemi awoke later on, Genya now in his mother's arms, something inside of him stirred seeing you hold a baby with such care. He didn't know what.

Ever since he was a child, he'd give you flowers, braid your hair, kiss your cheek shyly when he was feeling very bold but one thing remained the same in highschool, that firm grip he had on your hands.

Everyone knew you two, nobody dared come near the either of you as Sanemi made it abundantly clear that his only interest was you and made it clear to everyone else - much to your obliviousness - that you did not need for friends and you especially did not want for any boys.

You never thought much of it.

You were more than happy being with him, cheerful nature and bubbly personality meaning you'd cling onto his arm anyway, doe-like eyes looking up at him as he kept an arm around your waist as he walked you from class to class.

You're bright, like the Sun, and he burns just looking at you, but for now, he's more than content helping you study for maths (you're hopeless) in the library, slipping you sweet treats every few minutes that make your eyes light up though his own shine brightly when you give him the after-school snack you baked for him in the morning.

You always give him so much — often making him bentos with all his favourite foods; spending time in his house to help take care of his six younger siblings whilst his mother worked — bathing his little sisters, changing his baby brother's nappy, singing songs and playing games with his siblings to keep them occupied so that Sanemi can finish his essays in peace, and you coming into his room after putting them all to bed, giving him dinner.

Though he rolls his eyes as he sees how you've made your notes all colourful and pretty.

"You're finding the equation of the tangent of the curve, you're supposed to do that by finding the y co-ordinate, differentiating it, calculating the gradient, and finding the equation of the line not... drawing flowers and galaxies on the page, doll," he says, exasperatedly fond.

"What's a y co-ordinate?" you ask innocently and he bangs his head against the table.

"How can you be good at fucking politics and biology and literature but be so utterly shit at maths?" he groans though you only look at him with that sweet expression of yours. "Hell, how are you good at Physics and not good at maths?"

"...I just copy your answers in Physics, and I only understand the theoretical stuff," you tell him and he glares at you, causing you to giggle. "I'm kidding! I sometimes copy your answers."

He flicks a sweetie wrapper at you then so you shriek as it touches your lashes. "You almost ruined my mascara!"

"You don't need it, anyway! Your natural lashes are like spiders anyway."

He snickers as you pull a strand of his snowy hair. "Sorry, dumpling," he says teasingly.

"You're the dumpling here! With your big, mochi cheeks!" you say with a huff.

"Next time when we go to the gym, I'm turning your treadmill to the highest speed," he threatens and you blanch, causing his laughter to grow louder.

Soon enough, you're both adults, sharing a dorm for university even though Sanemi was rather upset about having to leave his siblings and mother behind at home. Thankfully, you're adamant to keep in contact with his family which means an hour-long video call to his siblings and mother alongside your own family.

And even now, as you share a dorm for university, both wanting to become teachers, you're glued to the hip.

And now you're both twenty-one, still virgins, and you're currently cooking, calling for Sanemi who is lazily sitting on the couch, reading a book about teaching.

"'Nemi?" you say in that sweet voice of yours, calling for him as you cook something — usually Sanemi would cook but you wanted to try out a recipe this time yourself.

He puts his book down, taking a moment to come into the kitchen, thinking you had probably burned something though he's pleasantly surprised to find that's not the case though he tries to not let his jaw drop at the sight of you.

Pale-pink off shoulder top showing him just your left shoulder, all smooth and pretty, and your apple-green, pleated skirt had you looking so girlish.

"Hmm?" he says, deep voice all thrumming and rich, like smoked apples and wind-swept ash. "Oi, if you're cooking, you should do your hair back, do you want to be set on fire?"

With the words, he's already come behind you to start doing your hair in a loose braid — you're used to it; he always does your hair, helps with your make-up, most of the time he'll blow dry your hair as you study.

"What's it you called me here for? Ya missed me?" he asks behind you.

"I was just wondering," you begin. "But how come I've not had a boyfriend yet? You've not had a girlfriend either, ever... Mitsuri's dating Obanai; Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma are all with Tengen... And- and Shinobu's been seeing that Tamayo. Even my little sister has a boyfriend and I don't..."

Sanemi has frozen up behind you before he continues finishing the braid. "Why are you thinking about this?"

"I wanna love someone, too!" you tell him. "I wanna be loved! Is that so bad? I've never had a single man ever like me. I've never even kissed someone, how am I supposed to even have sex when the day comes? I have no experience and-"

"-You're seriously thinking about sex?" he interrupts, voice a little cold.

"Well, yes, I want a lover, too, and I have no practise! I know you don't either so it's not like you could actually help-"

"-I could," he whispers, mouth suddenly grazing your ear. "It'd be nice, no? Learning with me? We could learn together, it'd be fun." You don't have to look to know his eyes are hot and intense and bloodshot, that rabid grin on his face. "I'll be good to you. I'll help you learn whatever you want, hmm?"

You've entirely stiffened up, pretty eyes blown wide. It's no secret you're head over heels for the man but you didn't think...

"I'll let you think about it," says Sanemi, leaving a wet kiss on your jugular that makes you shiver, and he leaves the kitchen to finish his studying.

Though it takes only till night-time for you to agree and Sanemi gives you that tender smile of his, gently taking your hand and guiding you to his room.

"I knew you'd agree, since you're just the best," he laughs gently as he sits you down on the soft mattress, reaching over to brush some hair from your face. "My darling girl..."

You hadn't known Sanemi could look so sweet, so ravenous; his hunger a bottomless abyss, his love an endless well. He thumbs at your lips.

"Though I'm worried," he croons, suddenly gripping your jaw and making you face him. "You're such a delicate thing, you won't be able to take my cock so quickly. Tch, what a shame."

Your eyes are doe-wide now, blood rushing across your cheeks and making your cunt hot — you've never felt like this in your life. Sanemi... you hadn't expected him to be so filthy with his words immediately.

"That's fine though, I'll help you," he says with a sweet smile, as if sin wasn't clouding his eyes. He leans forward and he looks at you tenderly before capturing your lips with his; it's shy and a little awkward but god, Sanemi is desperate, grabbing your face as he peppers wet, feverish kisses against your lips. Taking your first kiss, your second, third, fourth, fifth...

You don't even realise he's deftly taken off your shirt and unclipped your red, lace bra, allowing your breasts to come spilling out and you whine, shy, trying to cover them up in the eyes of your best friend who only grins but removes your hands gently.

"No, no... You can't be doing that," laughs Sanemi. "I like'em, they're pretty, though that's only expected."

He takes your small hands and covers them with his larger, rough ones. He brings your fingers closer to his shirt, urging you to unbutton them with your own fragile fingertips, grinning as you starts kissing his chest with unsure, intoxicating lips that cause him to moan softly as you take off his shirt.

"So pretty," he coos, rubbing the base of your head as you kiss all the way down to his abdomen. "So good to me, always giving me the best gifts."

"'Nemi, I... 'm scared," you whispers against his skin and the rough pad of his thumb strokes the shape of your brow.

"So am I," he says softly, in that sincere tone you've known since you were young and he gently lifts you up so you're eye level as you both kneel on his bed. He holds your face like it's the moon. "But I trust you, and you trust me, right?"

You nod in his hands and he grins. "Atta girl." Then he's kissing you, languid and slow, keeping a hand on the back of your head so that you can't pull back. His other hand reaches for one of yours as you kiss him, lacing them together, teeth grazing your jaw momentarily as your free hand comes to drag nails against his skin.

Between those slow, sweet kisses from your best friend, you find that he looks so sweet with his wintry, moon-kissed hair from the dim light of your unconcealed window. He freezes, looking at you as though you were radiance, as you trace a finger from his strong forehead to his stronger nose — silvery scars almost glowing under the light as large hands made you shiver as he cupped your breasts, making you whimper under the searing heat of his hands.

Your delicate finger traces down the hollow of his throat and Sanemi's restraint begins to wave, his desire increasing tenfold.

You've been driving him crazy with want since the day he met you at that god forsaken ice-cream truck. His voice comes out rich and dark and thick with insanity, "You are sure about this? I do not want... God, I don't want you to regret this. We will only go as far as you please, only do whatever you want, I swear it."

You give an eager nod and he plants a chaste, lingering kiss against your mouth. You're not stupid, you know this isn't just 'practise', you know so badly what it really is. He loves you, too.

"'Nemi, please, touch me," you whisper.

"Okay, okay," he says with the lilt of murmuring brooks as he puts his svelte lips on your hair once, then twice, before move down to touch your soft stomach, tracing a line down to your belly button as he nips at your hips causing you to let out stuttered, breathy moans of his name.

"Nngh- 'N-Nemi," you say between choked breaths as his finger press against your lower back, almost moulding dimples into it.

"I know, baby, god, I know," he whispers, kissing directly above your womb, and it sends liquid lava — coarse and hot — through your veins, making you gut twist with pleasure. "We'll like this, I promise..."

He presses shaky fingers against your hips and you finally notice that dark, crazed glint in his eyes.

"'M gonna fuck you nice and good, 'm gonna fuck you full, you hear me?" Before you can even answer, he's ripping at your skirt and underwear, chucking them to the side. "I've gotta prep you first though."

You whine at the words, trying to grab at his erection though he stops you with three fingers — catching your wrist. "'Nemi, I- I don't need to be prepped."

"Sweet thing, you gotta be prepped," he says, and he gives you a dry, teasing smile, "I wouldn't be a good friend if I just shoved my cock inside you, dry and raw."

"What're you gonna do?" you ask through short, choppy breaths and he chuckles.

"Let's see..." he says, almost playful but he gives your nipple a sudden squeeze that causes you to jolt in his arms.

He's quick to lie down on the bed, still clothed by his bottom half, and he has you right against his rocky abdomen that is all smooth, supple skin and ridged muscle.

"Ride me," he says, one hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles against the plump flesh. "Move your hips for me, my girl."

You place your delicate hands on his hardened chest, rippling scars flexing as you begin to shyly move your cunt against him. He hisses softly, cursing under his breath, vulgarities spilling like prayers from his mouth.

"You pretty thing," he whines, holding the sweet fat of your hip in his large hand, guiding you back and forth on his body — he wants to be used like a fucking toy, he doesn't give a shit, it's you for god's sake, you're all he's ever wanted.

His thumb tries to search for that sweet pearl between your legs, he almost panics that he might embarrass himself but you cry out as he brushes a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves. He grins.

"There, baby?" he asks as he begins to swipe at your clit as you ride his abs. Your toes are curling into the sheet as you hump desperately against him, crying out as you feel his bulge nudge against your rear as you move back and forth, nodding deliriously to his question, tears leaking like falling stars out your eyes.

Though it's his fingers that have you coming undone as you squirt over his body deliciously, nectar coating his body like a divine sheet.

You don't even have the chance to recover as he grabs both your hips and lifts you onto his face, you squeal and try to scurry off but his strong, veined arms keep you clamped onto his face.

"Fucking sit," he sneers and you whimper, the sound making Sanemi drunk.

You feel something hot and wet flatten against your folds, his tongue silky and burning as he drags it up and down, inhaling like a man starved. "Always wan'ed to try this," he murmurs into your gorgeous pussy as he laps at it and you let out a high keen.

The sound seems reverberate in his lungs. You're all he fucking needs, wants.

You, and this sweet pussy of yours that's suffocating him in the most sweetest way possible, your hips bucking against him.

"Nngh-! O- oh god, 'Nemi," you cry out, trying to hold onto something as he keeps you firmly planted right atop his pretty face as your juices smear across his jaw and plump lips.

He's practically set you alight and crying with his tongue prodding inside your fluttering cunt, tasting you, nose bumping your gushy clit.

"You're so sweet," he groans against your pussy; the tender, pink muscle of his tongue hard at work as he made you see stars. All that left your panting mouth was feverish cries of his name to the point it was more like you were blabbering random syllables.

When you release onto his tongue, he doesn't waste a single drop — teeth almost gnashing at your cunt in his desperation to have it all inside him.

He gets you off his face and simply kisses you, nice and long, you desperately panting into his mouth, tasting your own nectar on his tongue but he just kisses you like a man starved.

"Baby," he whispers as he kisses the fat of your cheek, suckles on it a little before moving to that lovely curve of your jaw. "Wanna fuck you on my finger, my thighs-" He can barely breathe- "Wanna do it all but let me fuck you full first, hmm? We've practised enough for now, yeah?"

And you're quick to nod along to his frenzied words, causing him to lay you down, kissing your neck sweetly before kneeling on the bed to kick off his boxers.

His cock is a pretty thing ― thick, pale; strong veins across the shaft, an angry, throbbing tip. At least seven inches or so, pearls of precum falling down as he holds it.

"You... Are you ready?" he asks gently. "We can stop now if you want, I don't mind, dumpling."

You freeze, tears welling your eyes. God, you really do love him. Dumpling. Even after all this frantic lust, he looked at you like you were his world, his best friend.

He smiles against your mouth when you kiss him and he keeps at it as he slowly pushes his bulbous head through that first tight ring of muscle that has you crying into his mouth.

"You're doing so well, my sweet girl," he hisses through his teeth as he kisses your neck, pushing in inch-by-inch, all slow and languid in hopes to avoid hurting you but he was inexperienced man, he couldn't help but thrust himself all the way in when he felt you squeeze him so tight.

"See, look, such a good girl, took all of me," he groans, smiling down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

He begins to drag his cock out and then in, soon enough slamming into you over and over and over as you cry out, toes curling. He holds one of your hands with his, fingers interlacing as he cries out into your neck, too, your body causing every primal instinct in him to become this burning thing.

"F- fuck, y-you think 'm gonna let you- let you go to anyone else after this?" he says as he holds your waist to slam your cunt back into him with force, causing you to let out loud gasps as you keened his name. "You're fuckin' wrong. I'll be the only one to- to see you like this."

He knows he's muttering nonsense but you're so damn pretty as you come undone around his cock, squirting against his abdomen a second time and he's sobbing softly as he cums for the very first time right inside your gummy walls.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries and he starts peppering kisses all over your face. "I love you, I love you, I love you, ever since we were fucking kids, I love you."

He collapses next to you on the pillow, kissing your forehead a last time. "Thank you, baby," he murmurs.

As you catch your breath, Sanemi suddenly asks, "So... when should we get married?"

The question would shock anyone else but you're cute as always.

"I always wanted a Winter wedding!"

[mavrintarou]

[1:39PM] Kita Shinsuke

It's my (our) man's birthday! Of course, I couldn't forget his birthday. I don't think I can write a non-smut fic for him at all. Or more like... a non-breeding fic. This man just reeks of breeding kink, convince me otherwise. Oh and this is my first Soulmate au

Warning: 18+ let us just leave it at that (if you have been following me this long you know I rarely ever right sfw stuff...); older Shinsuke; as mentioned, soulmate au . Soulmates operated in a rather amusing manner and had a peculiar way of working. By purposefully parting a couple destined to be together and presenting them with formidable obstacles, no matter the cost or the duration, they would invariably defy the odds and ultimately find their way back to one another.

As soon as an individual reaches the age of seventeen, akin to the legendary red string of fate, the initials of their soulmate will manifest in red on their left pinky fingers. Once the pair entwines their pinkies, their initials will vanish, symbolizing the fulfillment of their destined connection.

While a few are fortunate enough to find their soulmates nearby, others must search the world to seek their destined partners.

Kita Shinsuke, at the age of thirty-three, has not found his soulmate. Each day, he is greeted by the persistent sight of red initials, serving as a reminder that his destined partner is still out there, perhaps patiently awaiting his arrival or diligently searching for their connection.

After his grandmother’s death a few months ago, he finally opened the letter she left behind.

My dearest Shin-boy,

By the time you read this, I will no longer be on Earth with you.

My kind-hearted boy, please go and search for your soulmate. Find them and do not waste any more time. I promise I will be at peace.

Love,

Your granny

It wasn’t that Shinsuke didn’t make an effort to find his soulmate. He firmly believed that their destined connection would eventually manifest, but he had limited time left with his grandmother and wanted to ensure she had the best life possible before he embarked on a lifelong journey with his soulmate. He trusted his soulmate would understand and empathize with the priority he placed on his grandmother’s well-being.

He cast a glance at his pinky, their initials glaring at him as if he kept them waiting for over sixteen years.

Shinsuke chuckled softly, speaking to himself, “I’m on my way, I’m on my way to you. Just hold on a little while longer.”

. .

As the gentle music played through the church, signaling the commencement of the wedding ceremony, Shinsuke turned his gaze. His cousin Tenkin, who shared a similar journey, had found his soulmate in his thirties, despite the challenges they faced along the way. And now, it was Shinsuke’s moment, his turn to find his soulmate.

Observing his cousin standing at the altar, eagerly awaiting his bride’s arrival, Shinsuke finally noticed the uncanny resemblance. Being born just weeks apart, with their fathers as brothers, it was clear why many considered them to be almost like twins, with Shinsuke being the elder of the two.

One by one, each bridesmaid walked down and stood in their position.

In the blink of an eye, the small smile on Shinsuke’s face vanished, replaced by a sudden jolt in his chest that felt like a punch to the heart. His right hand instinctively pressed against the racing heart, feeling its profound beats pulsating beneath his palm. Meanwhile, an aching sensation emanated from his left pinky, prompting him to turn his palm upward and witness the radiant glow of his soulmate’s initials.

He turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the final bridesmaid making her way down the aisle.

As the world around them faded into a blur, his focus narrowed solely on her. In that moment, she became everything he could see, the embodiment of his desires. She was undeniably the one – the soulmate. His soulmate.

. .

Y/n’s grip tightened on her left hand, attempting to shake off the persistent tingle that pulsated in her left pinky.

Her soulmate’s initial glowed and her heart has been racing nonstop at the mere thought of, they’re here, my soulmate is here amongst the crowd at Tenkin and Jessica’s wedding.

As she gracefully walked down the aisle, her heart started pounding, not from nervousness, but from a deep instinct that whispered her soulmate was seated among the pews, awaiting her arrival.

Maintaining her composure and pace as they had rehearsed, she reached a specific area, only to feel her heart racing and a tingling sensation coursing through her pinky beneath her pristine white gloves. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed a head turning, and her knees nearly buckled in response.

When she made it to the altar and stood beside the rest of the bridesmaids, her eyes immediately fell upon a pair that was looking directly at her.

There was no mistaking that he felt it as well, that he was her soulmate.

“You okay, Y/n?” Victoria, the other bridesmaid ask, noticing how quiet she was when they found their seating at the reception dinner.

Y/n looked up and quickly nodded and smiled, “yes, it’s been a long day and the wine isn’t helping – just making me tired.”

“That means you need to dance then!” Jessica grabbed her wrist, tugging her up from her seat and to the dance floor. “Dance off the tiredness, the night is still young!”

Despite having a glass of wine, Y/n remained sober, which was unusual for her since typically even a single glass was enough to make her feel slightly tipsy. As she swayed on the dance floor with the bridesmaids, her eyes meticulously scanned the crowd, yet she couldn’t catch a glimpse of those unique eyes or the silver hair that closely resembled Tenkin’s. It made her wonder if they were related.

Another thought crossed her mind, perhaps he left? She allowed herself a moment of relaxation, releasing the tension that had built up.

The music transitioned to a slow melody, and a flurry of couples hurried onto the dance floor to partake in a waltz.

Y/n glanced at the girls, ready to join them in leaving the dance floor, when she noticed their penetrating gaze fixed upon her. A slight frown formed on her face as she struggled to decipher their expressions. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jessica swiftly grasped Y/n’s wrists, twirling her around, causing her breath to hitch in surprise. It was then that she realized the man she had been looking for was standing behind her all along. “Shinsuke, this is Y/l/n Y/n,” Jessica hurriedly introduced, “Y/n, meet Tenkin’s cousin, Kita Shinsuke.”

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, no doubt that he was her soulmate. His name matched the initials that is throbbing on her finger. “Shinsuke, would you like to dance with her?” Jessica added, squeezing Y/n’s shoulders in excitement.

Y/n hastily attempted to mutter an excuse but Shinsuke confidently stepped forward, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he extended his left hand. “I would be delighted to dance with you, Y/n,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.

Y/n groaned as she could feel the girls quickly fixing her hair, and smoothing her dress. Jessica reaches to pull off her gloves, “you don’t need to wear these anymore.”

Y/n’s fists quickly clenched preventing her from taking them off. “No – my – my hands are cold.”

They frowned but nodded their head, not wasting a second longer. “Enjoy your dance!”

Y/n locked eyes with Shinsuke, letting out a shaky breath before placing her gloved left hand in his. Immediately, her heart raced faster than before and her hand zapped as if she was shocked by electricity.

Shinsuke’s hand closed around her small ones and gripped it tightly, pulling her closer and placing her hand on his shoulders. “Thank you, for sharing a dance with me,” he murmured,  he pulled her close, “is this okay?”

Y/n looked away, blushing profusely under his gaze. “Yes,” she murmured. She could not hear the music yet her body swayed with his lead. Her ears feel hot as it rang with how loud her heart was beating against her chest. His touch felt hot yet cool against hers and she yearned for more.

“Y/n.”

She hummed and looked up, catching his eyes, and noticing how they glowed at her.

“Do you feel it?” He whispered, his words resonating loud and clear as if they were meant only for her to hear.

She nodded her head, biting her lip, not trusting her voice at that moment.

A smile spread across his face, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. “I feel it too,” he whispered, leaning in gradually until their foreheads gently touched. It was a simple yet intimate gesture between the two individuals who had just met but felt as though they had known each other for a lifetime.

To any onlooker, it would be evident that these two were soulmates. The intensity of their gaze and the effortless grace with which they waltz spoke volumes as if their souls have finally reunited in perfect harmony.

Once the music ended, her heart dropped slightly, her mind racing with what do we do now?

Shinsuke held onto her hand, a silent acknowledgment of the shared connection they both felt. “Will you come with me? Please?” he asked, his voice filled with earnestness.

Without a moment of hesitation, she nodded in agreement as he guide them away from the dance floor.

He guides them to an empty bench out on the garden terrace. He immediately shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders. “Please, have a seat.”

Y/n blushed under his gaze, God, he’s so handsome.

A gentle chuckle escaped Shinsuke’s lips as he gracefully lowered himself to one knee, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. He reached out for her gloved left hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “May I… remove it?” he asked, his voice filled with warmth and anticipation.

“Yes,” she whispered. A smile adorned his face, revealing both of his dimples and Y/n’s head tilt back as she lets out a groan, exclaiming, “you’re absolutely torturing me with your dimples.”

Shinsuke made a mental note of her weakness against his dimples, etching it into his memory. With a swift motion, he gently removed her glove and turned her palm upward, his gaze fixated on the initials engraved on her pinky.

His initials.

KS

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he locked eyes with her before glancing down at her soulmate mark. His thumb tenderly brushed over it, and this time, instead of tingling or jolts, a sense of calmness, warmth, and peace washed over him. Shinsuke’s breath trembled as he lift his left pinky, revealing his own soulmate mark – the initials that belong to her.

Y/n blinked, fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes. She reached out and tenderly touched his mark, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “It took us sixteen years, but we finally found each other,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotions. “I shouldn’t complain,” she murmured, holding his hand, “some people wait an eternity to meet their soulmate. Sixteen years may have felt long, but what truly matters is that we found each other.” With determination in her eyes, she raised her pinky, a symbolic gesture. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” she declared, her words filled with a sense of urgency and desire to embrace their newfound connection.

“Me too,” Shinsuke whispered, linking his pinky with hers.

. .

The ring on Y/n’s finger shimmered, catching the light with a radiant sparkle. Just a few weeks after their fateful encounter, Y/n and Shinsuke exchanged vows in a small and intimate wedding ceremony. It was customary for soulmates to marry soon after finding each other, and both Shinsuke and Y/n were eager to seize the opportunity and avoid any further separation. Time was too precious to waste.

Stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, Shinsuke’s eyes widened as the dimly lit bedroom was suddenly brightened, illuminated by the flickering candles on the cake being carried by Y/n. After a tiring day out in the field, he indulged in a long shower, craving the comfort of his home and spending the rest of his day with his wife.  

“Happy birthday Shinsuke!”

He couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday with a cake and candles.

“Make a wish, Shin,” Y/n whispered, eyes gleaming with love.

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and blowing out the candles. Shinsuke takes the cake out of her hands and set it on their dresser before approaching her.

Y/n gazed into his eyes and immediately recognized the familiar look within them. Y/n discovered that Shinsuke wasn’t as sociable as Tenkin, but he spoke through his silence, specifically through his eyes.

As he was at the moment.

She lets out a hesitant laugh, knowing what is about to come with those dark and dilated eyes. They are illuminated with passion and love. Love just for her. Y/n backed up until her back was pressed against the wall and Shinsuke reached out to grasp her hips, pressing himself against her. “Shin…” she half moaned and gasped when his towel dropped from his waist, allowing her to feel his erect bulge pressing against her.

His fingers slowly began bunching up her nightgown from below the waist. “Y/n,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, his voice barely audible, “I’ve made a wish…”

Y/n feels his fingers rubbing between her legs, she can feel his smile against her cheek as he discovers she wore no panties underneath. It has become futile wearing panties when he was just going to throw them at the end of the bed. “Y – yes and…”

“And are you going to make my wish come true?”

“If I can…”

“Oh, I know you can…” Shinsuke hooked an arm underneath one knee, hiking her leg around his hip. He rubs his cock along her pussy and she can feel his precum smearing along her slit. “Will you let me make love to you without a condom?”

Y/n trails her hands up and along his muscular tanned arms until she can cup his face, pulling his head down for a kiss. “It’s your birthday, my body, heart, and soul is yours, do as your please.”

With her permission, Shinsuke thrust inside her, feeling the complete rawness of skin-to-skin contact. “Fuck, you’re so tight… how are you so tight when we make love practically every night?”

Y/n kissed him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lifting herself to wrap both her legs around his waist. Shinsuke easily held her, slowly creating a pace and savoring the euphoric bliss. “Can we throw away the condoms? I don’t think I can… go back to using them.”

“Do you want to make a baby, Shin?” Y/n rolled her hips, meeting his thrusts. “We will make a baby at the rate we are going if we don’t use condoms anymore.” She runs her finger through his hair, “you can’t get enough of me just as I can’t get enough of you…”

His breath is heavy as he contemplates her question, “I wanna have more time with you before we have kids,” he whispered against her lips, “we have only just found each other and we still have time before we start making babies.”

Y/n hummed, agreeing. “Babies?”

Shinsuke shifted her against the wall and began to fasten his thrusts. “Of course… babies… as many babies.”

Their bedroom began resonating with their moans and the sound of skin on skin.

“Shin,” Y/n moaned, “I’m – I’m ovulating – it may not be the best time to cum inside of me.” His hips only seemed to increase with deeper and harder penetration. “Shin… Shin – oh… I’m so…”

His grip on her thighs tighten as he came inside of her, and the thoughts of Y/n ovulating and him cumming inside of her fertile womb tipped him over the edge. Forget his words moments ago about waiting on making babies. “Let’s make a baby now…”

Y/n’s laugh echoed throughout their room as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist, Shinsuke assisted by gently helping her back on her feet. “There’s a high chance we just made one now.” She leaned herself onto the tip of her toes to press her lips against his, for a soft kiss. “But I would love to make a baby with you.”

“Babies,” he corrected, pecking her lips and walking backward, and pulling her along as they both fall onto their bed. “I want babies with you.”

. . .

E/n: I swear, he's just the sweetest man in my head. Now back to editing my other works... or creating new stuff...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

[creatorofarcadia]

I just finished Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield and it was wonderful. Definitely recommend, especially if you're a fan of the magnus archives.

Spoilers/theories:

I don't know about anyone else, but as a fan of call of cthulhu I can't see 'the centre' as anything other than a cult for the creature, similar to the cult that forms around cthulhu. The biggest indicator of this for me is the insignia for the centre - an eye. I can't see this corresponding to the creatures primary feature being a coincidence. To me the eye insignia has the same air as a religious symbol. The centre already knows what awaits the submarine when it sends them down - meaning this expedition might not be the first.

I also think the centre being a cult makes more sense in terms of Leah's release. If you're a research centre, dedicated to knowledge without moral concerns, why let Leah leave quarantine rather than observe her metamorphosis? They could have told Mirri nothing and kept Leah for months rather than risk missing anything. However, if these passangers aren't lab rats but sacrifices to a god, you don't need to keep her, you know her fate is sealed. She has been made a follower against her will - destined to become part of your gods domain.

The last thing that makes me view them as a kind of cult is this quote from the get together before the expedition:

During the toasts, I saw several people from the Centre standing with hands clasped in front of them or under their chins, the way you might expect to witness at a church event.

Anyway I'm kind of obsessed with this book if you couldn't tell.

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: A Sanguinala, Cardrean Penal Legion style.

Genre: Drama/fluff/wholesome/angst/Romantic tension/Bit of smut

TW: Foul language, blood, angst, wholesome, bittersweet, smut

Pairing: Commissar Gallius x Dormath(?) and Cardrean Penal Regiment (found family dynamic)

Note: I well try to cram some holidays special for my lovelies, pray Santa gifts me with writer inspiration

Goblin tag squad: @meervalv0 @echo-of-damnation @artemisareia

@finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock

@druidwolf21

Drunken monologues

The commissar exhaled exasperatedly at the impatience of his troops, they hadn't waited for even the slightest order before the shuttles had opened and Cardrean had welcomed it's lost sons and daughters back just in time for Sanguinala. Days of coordination and orderly practices for that anxiously awaited moment had been thrown out of the window as soon as the regiment guardsmen had seen a fraction of their homes and Hive cities. No threat or yelled orders could had ever deterred their hearts and minds from disconnecting completely from their usual otherwise obedient forms.

Dormath, who had been standing by the sidelines with the widest shit-eating grin on his face, made his best attempts to calm his superior down, reminding him of the fact most of those guardsmen had barely touched their native planet in over a decade or more, like him; if Gallius had gotten over their fights and discussions over the most inconsequential things, he could more than well cut them some slack for behaving the way they had done as soon as they disembarked. In addition, just to throw more persuasion over at Gallius, the second in command reassured his superior that he would personally oversee the troops to reunite in a spot of the city they wouldn't turn into a mess once they left the planet and a cozy place to keep everyone in, reducing the chances some High Axe would randomly get in trouble at the other side of the Hive World with no possibility for Gallius to convince local Arbites to not shoot the Axe on sight. Groaning at how keen Dormath had used his words, Gallius made the commander swear three times upon his honor and his family's name that everything would go exactly as Dormath had told him; sighing and chuckling, the Cardrean made all the swears and promises, even offering his badges as a token of confidence in case Gallius needed more reassurance and then; with one slip of the finger an a salute, Dormath disappeared between the crowd of people passing all over the ship bay.

After saying a temporary farewell, Gallius went on foot to the only church in Cardrean, a semi-destroyed structure, corroded by years of constant shootouts happening all around and inside of it, there were some holes on the walls being worked on by servitors at the moment the commissar entered the holy building, the air smelled of gun smoke and the distinctive aroma of disintegrated flesh product of plasma shots, a mixture of odors far too familiar for the officer who paid no mind to it. At the feet of one of the shrines dedicated to Yumer Ishmel, the best Planetary Governor Cardrean had ever witnessed, Gallius took off his service hat, pulled back a few strands of hair and grabbed the pendant in which hanged a silver heart with a photo inside of it. His wife and child. The commissar sighed, how many years would that kid had if it wasn't for what had befallen them, how intelligent they would be and the remarkable student for the Schola Progenium the universe had missed out on. Gallius yearned for the touch of his late wife, specially in those holidays like Sanguinala represented; with talks of friendship and family all around people's mouth. He kissed the picture gently, letting a few tears roll down his cheek before tugging the photo close to his chest and beginning his prayer.

"I know it has been some time I haven't talked to you..." Gallius whispered, sniffing "But hey, I'm still alive honey...the Cardreans haven't been annihilated yet so I guess I have been doing my duty well. These days are the worst, like the year before this and the one before that one....I miss you and the kid...I miss you both still, there is not a day where I don't think of what we had and what could be if only....if only you two were here. It's not all bad news...I know I tend to say those first and spend more time detailing those that the ones you actually wanted to hear...but I've...met someone...got closer to them if I'm being honest; Dormath, remember him? The one that always wrote you about my health and if you could make me go soft on the regiment...that one...I've grown more than fond of him, too much, to the point some thoughts have been...troubling my mind lately"

The commissar wiped some sweat off from his forehead, he hadn't been this nervous since his final tests to become an officer of the Imperium, yet this felt much more complicated to even put into words. He perfectly understood there was nobody there, that the picture wouldn't spring to life or that there was anyone listening to his prayer, yet he endured; he had to get that off from his chest.

"I know you will laugh at this, probably tell me I'm that fool you fell in love with talking right now...but I wanted to ask you if you could forgive me...for loving him; for wanting to be with him. Our marriage vows said we would be together forever...but now there is someone else here I want...need to share with; I love you too, I always will...but you said I needed to continue on living and-" Gallius stuttered, looking down at the photo again and closing his eyes as he clenched his fist to not be overwhelmed by his emotions "And he...he's the one...I can go on with..."

Gallius stopped, hearing the echoes of distant hymns and Sanguinala carols that were beginning to fill the dirty streets of the Hive City; it was the sign he had spent too long reminiscing about the past and that his prayer had to be cut short. Sniffing into a handkerchief with the Imperial Aquila on it, the commissar blew all of what he had inside of his nostrils into the cloth, that then he proceeded to fold and throw away in one of the servitors close to the exit; he then turned one last time to look back at the statue of the Saint, nodded and walked down the busy streets towards the place where he had told Dormath he would wait him in.

The walk was a good excuse to glance around and see what changes Cardrean suffered on those holidays; which much to Gallius amusement it was not too much, the streets were still infested with drunkards that stumbled from door to door singing carols into the night, Arbites and soldiers alike got together to play a few rounds of the popular local game "Fool's roulette", consisting in passing around a blank gun and either accepting a challenge or telling one embarrassing truth, otherwise you tested luck with the gun to see if you hut yourself with a blank or the other option being there was nothing in the chamber of the gun; there were still bets being wagered on who would last longer in the Penal Legion, some soldiers testing the "fresh bloods" by giving them the beating of their lives to see if they would complain or not, Eternal Sisters making their rounds either returning kids to their homes or stealing little girls to recruit for their gang and, the most mundane thing Gallius could find before arriving at his intended destination. families putting the last decorations under their apartments rows or single floor rooms. That sight brought a tiny smile onto the commissar countenance, for a moment seeing part of his past life reflected in those little families and children so vigorously helping their parents.

The sound of guitars tuning, gangs speaking with each other in sensible tones of voice and mumbling between each other welcomed Gallius back to the people he knew the most; some crude decorations had been posted on the front of the city row that had been assigned to the regiment, with a single light sign that said "958TH" dangling in a very precarious position that the commissar knew it wouldn't last all night hanging there. Cheers received him, people patting the man in the back or saluting respectfully, not many mingled with Gallius at first, as the liquor hadn't kicked in any of the men boldness yet to have casual conversations with his superior, although that wouldn't last forever. They all formed a circle, moving chairs around and taking over the space they were inhabiting, making it theirs completely, with bodily fluids spreading everywhere being pat of that deal. A big, messy, loud, violent, crazy family with all sorts of types of stories, lives and relationships between each other.

"Well? What are you all waiting for opening the Amasec?!?!" Gallius beckoned, receiving hurrah's in response "Let's get this party started, Cardreans!!!!"

With his encouragement, the party began; the first drinks were passed around, a few games were played, some fights were made, people were already crying and laughing together, the whole regiment was present in the same room, enjoying each other's company, forgetting the horrors they had witnessed and the nightmares that kept them awake every single day. This was the only night were the commissar was just like one of the men, drinking, playing, fighting and laughing until his stomach hurt, he took care of his own clothes and washed them with his own hands, he ate with his own hands and he even played a few rounds of "Fool's roulette". Dormath had to come up behind him at some point and give him a piece of advice about what he should do if someone betted a dare he couldn't handle, something the commissar took in good faith and even joked about it.

Everything was going well, people were having the time of their lives, some were even already sleeping on the floor, others taking pictures and sending them to their families or loved ones, the place was slowly getting filled by the aroma of food being cooked in the back, Gallius even got up from his seat and walked towards the kitchen to see how things were coming along, he saw the food cooking away on the huge pot the regiment used for those occasions and smiled, he took a plate and loaded some of that delicious smelling food on it.

"Hey, don't eat everything, I'll go get my own plate!" Dormath joked, pushing the commissar away from the pot and towards the dining area. "What are you doing? I'm hungry…" Gallius giggled, drunkenly following the other man, sitting on his designated spot, which was next to Dormath, something he hadn't even noticed at first. "Today you aren't getting the special treatment sir, you're one of us, so you fucking eat like one of us!" Dormath joked around, pushing the officer to the side "And like one of you I get to flirt with whoever I want?" Gallius smirked, getting some reactions from everyone around "Sir, the kissing under the mistletoe already happened sir, I don't think Dormath here could handle another one" Kell chimed in, trying not to laugh at his own joke "I wouldn't mind" Dormath shrugged, causing everyone around to start cheering at him

Gallius just rolled his eyes, laughing at the comment as he dug into his food, stealing glances at Dormath from time to time and smiling when the other man would look back at him. He wasn't too sure if the other soldiers were making fun of them or genuinely thinking that something was going on, but whatever the case might be, the commissar didn't mind it. There was something nice about it, knowing people knew about how he felt and that he wasn't keeping it a secret anymore. The prayer had helped a hell of a lot with his confidence while the amasec had done it's thing to encourage his reckless behavior.

The dinner went on as any other, with jokes being told, insults being thrown and food flying from one side of the table to the other; Gallius was happy, truly happy, for the first time in many years. That feeling got to a boiling point when someone threw a joke about the commissar having feelings for Dormath, something that Gallius responded with a smirk and an "I'll tell you about it tomorrow"; causing his second in command to bury his head on his jacket out of embarrassment, making everyone laugh at the scene. The night was progressing and the amasec was now being shared with everyone that wanted a taste of it.

"Hey…Gallius…" Dormath mumbled, his voice weak and barely audible above the music, the noise, the conversations and the laughter around them "Hm?" The other man looked up, seeing his officer in a very peculiar state of mind, something that made his stomach flutter in excitement "What does my loyal soldier need from me?" "We can go later to your quarters…yeah?" Dormath drunken mumble got a laugh out of the commissar "My dear officer, you can't even stand on your feet, I doubt you'll be able to do anything if we get there" Gallius responded, caressing Dormath's cheek and feeling the heat emanating from him "Then let me stay in your room tonight…we can talk more there…" Dormath muttered, laying his head on the other man's shoulder "Sure…we can talk more about this later…" Gallius said, smiling as he kissed Dormath's forehead

The two men were interrupted by a few comments from the men around them, some saying "Don't fuck in front of us, take it somewhere else!", "Get a room!" or "Hey, save it for the bedroom, you two!". The commissar responded by saying a middle finger and taking a sip of his drink, Dormath was too intoxicated to respond, or even know what was happening, only that his head was on top of the man he loved and that he was tired. The two remained like that for a while, Gallius talking with everyone else, drinking and laughing, while Dormath tried to hold on to consciousness, only failing at that every now and then, getting a kiss from the commissar whenever that happened.

The party went on, people slowly taking it easier, with the music starting to brew up again from the mumbling mouths of the musicians, who now abandoned the most known Imperial carols and instead going with local lyrics.

"Oh mother, you who taught me everything I watch the lights up above and I think of you Those wonderful days under your warm arms I saw the crammed room, at first, the one that welcomed me home It came the beauty of the fire, taking my hand and showing How the world could be fine, could be beautiful like it My brothers and sisters on the Hives, who await for my arrival I ask for forgiveness, as we lay up here Hugged in warmth, with our souls resting at last I love you all, my friends, but I must return to war We'll see each other where the roads cross under the sun This I promise you, for all that we've been through Goodbye, at last, earth, who loved me whole"

The lyrics were nothing short of an ode to Cardrean and everything the planet had given to the regiment, but it was the perfect time for Gallius to say goodbye and get up from his seat, with a few people noticing it. He didn't say anything, just waved at them and left; he carried Dormath in his back towards his quarters, with a few whistles being heard behind him, something that got a smile out of him.

Dormath woke up soon after he had been laid on the bed, extending his arms out to Gallius while giggling drunkenly; the commissar just smiled at the display and decided to play along, giving his officer a kiss on the forehead and pulling him into a hug.

"You're…a very good person, Gallius" Dormath slurred, looking up at the commissar, eyes half closed "And you are an excellent soldier…the best I could have ever wished for" Gallius whispered, stroking his lover's clean shaven head "You promised…some…action…hmm?" Dormath cheeks flushed red "I…I can still be awake for a couple more minutes…heheh" Gallius took the little clothes he still had on him and slipped on the bed, smirking at Dormath who already looked at the commissar with the fire of desire in his eyes. Gallius moved closer, pulling Dormath by his shoulders and placing him on his lap, getting a moan out of the other man. The commissar kissed Dormath very roughly, biting his lips and pushing his tongue inside the officer's mouth, tasting everything he could in that heated embrace; Gallius started to caress Dormath's back, making his way to his shoulders and chest, where he stopped and began to grope and squeeze at his muscles and joints careful to not touch the switches of Dormath augmented arms, which made the officer whimper loudly into the kiss.

The commissar moved one of his hands down to the officer's crotch, unbuckling his pants and releasing the officer's member, stroking it in a rush to get a reaction out of the other man. Gallius let go of the kiss, now focusing on kissing Dormath's neck, getting a moan out of him when the officer felt Gallius bite him and leaving a mark there, a very rough mark that wouldn't disappear easily. Gallius stopped for a moment, seeing the other man's reaction; Dormath was breathing heavily, sweating profusely, with eyes closed and a smile on his face, he looked absolutely delicious like that. The commissar didn't want to wait any longer and took off his shirt, letting Dormath admire the view; the officer tried to reach out for Gallius body, but his arms failed him, so the other man did it for him, pulling Dormath in a hug and laying him down on the bed, beginning to lick his body from head to toe, leaving no part of him untouched.

Dormath couldn't take it anymore, he was burning up, his mind was racing and he felt like he could pass out at any time, yet he endured, whimpered for every little rough touch Gallius could give him, the officer desired that more than anything, the imposing hands exploring his most intimate parts, the mouth that gave no quarter to his body sucking it dry, the cock making its way into him, stretching his insides as much as it could.

The pleasure was almost too much for the officer to handle, he could barely move or form coherent words, only managing to moan and whimper when Gallius did something he really liked, that combined with the commissar's cock entering him again and again, made for an explosive cocktail. Gallius himself was going at it, the liquor made him feel very lustful and the rough treatment didn't seem to stop anytime soon, his thrusts became more powerful by the minute, Dormath's moans encouraging him to keep going, to push as far as he could go, to make the other man go crazy with his rough touches, kisses and bites.

The two were in heaven, or hell depending on the point of view from their unique form of "pleasure", the whole world forgotten, they had each other to satisfy their needs and nobody else mattered, not even the regiment itself. This kept going until both men couldn't hold it anymore, they came at the same time, Dormath's cock exploding its juices all over the place while Gallius filled up his partner once more, moaning loudly as he did. The two stayed like that for a couple of seconds before Gallius pulled out of Dormath, who whined at the sudden emptiness inside him.

The two panted, trying to catch their breaths, their minds slowly returning to earth from the high of pleasure they had reached, the two looked at each other for a moment, smiling and laughing at what they had done; later came the aftercare, with Dormath cuddling up to Gallius chest and the commissar caressing his head, gently. The officer fell asleep rather quickly, leaving the commissar alone with his thoughts, groggy as they were by the amount of amasec both of them had in the party, but there was one thing he still needed to do.

Gallius got out from the bed carefully, trying not to wake Dormath up as he dressed himself, put on his boots and went out for a smoke; the officer had woken up briefly, but he couldn't do anything except watch the man he loved go away. The cold outside hit Gallius face like a ton of bricks, it was nothing compared to the hot atmosphere inside his room, certainly not the temperatures he had endured on his native Agri-World as well. The commissar walked towards one of the balconies on the side of the building, where he took out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a puff out of it. He looked down at the city, seeing all the lights and the people walking around, going home with their families.

"Gallius…?" Dormath yawned, hugging the man from behind "Are you okay?" "Yeah…just…needed some fresh air" Gallius whispered, smiling as he felt the other man's hug "And a smoke" "Can I have one?" Dormath asked, giving the other man puppy eyes over his shoulder "Here" The commissar placed the cigarette on the other's lips "Can't we stay in here until festivities are over?" Dormath exhaled some smoke that dissipated into the city below "No...no I could only afford to insubordinate for one day" Gallius giggled faintly "The warmaster got all furious on me for it" "What a fucking-" "Hey, language" The commissar looked over his shoulder and smirked "I was just going to praise his huge chest and manly features" Dormath replied with all the sarcasm he could muster at the moment

There was a moment of silence, then the gentle snoring of Dormath told the commissar the man had finally given up on his own tiredness; Gallius gently retrieved the cigarette and gave it another few inhalations before snuffing it out on the handrail and throwing it to the ground, carefully shifting in place to carry the officer sleepy form back to bed and lay next to him. There, he intertwined their legs together and closed his eyes too, letting slumber take him away. For once, Sanguinala had tasted as sweetly as it had been all those years ago with his first family.

"First" family, the commissar subconsciously smiled at the implications of that.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

12th December >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Thursday, Second Week of Advent (Inc. Matthew 11:11-15): ‘A greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’.

Thursday, Second Week of Advent

Gospel (Except GB & USA) Matthew 11:11-15 A greater than John the Baptist has never been seen.

Jesus spoke to the crowds: ‘I tell you solemnly, of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is. Since John the Baptist came, up to this present time, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence and the violent are taking it by storm. Because it was towards John that all the prophecies of the prophets and of the Law were leading; and he, if you will believe me, is the Elijah who was to return. If anyone has ears to hear, let him listen!’

Gospel (GB) Matthew 11:11-15 ‘There has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist.’

At that time: Jesus said to the crowd: ‘Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John and, if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.’

Reflections (10)

(i) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist was never one to praise himself. Indeed, in the gospels he declares that he is not worthy to untie the sandals of the one who comes after him, the long awaited Messiah. In today’s gospel reading, however, Jesus is not slow to praise John the Baptist. He praises him in glowing terms, declaring, ‘I tell you solemnly, of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Why is John so special? Jesus goes on to identify John the Baptist as the one who ushered in a new era in God’s dealings with humanity. ‘All the prophecies of the prophets and the Law were leading’ towards John, and, since John began his ministry, ‘the kingdom of heaven’ has been drawing near. Yet, if Jesus’ statement about John the Baptist is remarkable, he makes an even more remarkable statement about all those who are his disciples, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than’ John the Baptist. John had been executed before Jesus began his public ministry. He didn’t live to hear all that Jesus said or to see all that Jesus did, whereas we have access to all Jesus said and did through the gospels. It is true that John did not live to witness the horror of Jesus’ passion and death, but he also didn’t live to witness Jesus’ triumph over death through his resurrection. In contrast, our lives have been deeply touched by the risen Lord, and in the light of the resurrection we recognize Jesus’ passion and death as an act of supreme love, of God’s love for all humanity. We are more blessed than John the Baptist, not because of anything we have done, but as sheer gift, total grace. Having been so greatly blessed and graced by God, in ways that John the Baptist was not, we are called to live out of all the blessings God has given us through his Son, to live graced lives, and in so doing to grace and bless all whom we meet, especially those in greatest need.

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, second week of Advent

In this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus has high praise for John the Baptist. He is greater than all the children born of women. Yet, for all his greatness, John the Baptist pointed to someone greater than himself, Jesus. He did not live to witness Jesus’ death and resurrection, and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost which flowed from those events. He knew nothing of the church, what Paul calls the body of Christ. That is why Jesus says of him that the least in the kingdom of heaven, which Jesus proclaimed and inaugurated, is greater than John. We have all been more privileged than John the Baptist. What John pointed towards we look back on and, indeed, experience in the here and now. In and through the Eucharist, the death and resurrection of Jesus is present to us sacramentally. The Spirit of God’s Son has been poured into our hearts through baptism and confirmation. We possess the written gospels, the letters of Saint Paul and the other documents that make up the New Testament, all of which we venerate as the living word of the Lord and none of which John the Baptist knew. We have indeed been greatly blessed. As Jesus says to his disciples at one point in the gospels, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!’. It is a beatitude that embraces us all. Having been so greatly graced, we are called to appreciate and value the graces we have received and to allow those graces to touch our lives and make us graceful and grateful people, so that our lives may bless others as we have been blessed.

And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; all the prophecies led towards him; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he was put to death before Jesus was put to death. He didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of the death and resurrection of Jesus and of the coming of the Spirit; we are all part of the church, which for all its failings, is a wonderful privilege. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John, but because we have been more greatly blessed. We pray this morning that we would never take for granted the ways we have been blessed, but, rather, live generously in response to what we have received, as Jesus said, ‘You received without charge, give without charge’.

And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

The praise that Jesus gives to John the Baptist in this morning’s gospel reading is high praise indeed, ‘of all the children born of women, greater than John the Baptist has never been born’. John is deserving of such praise because, as Jesus says in that reading, he is the prophet whose coming all of the Jewish Scriptures looked forward to. He is the Elijah figure who, it was believed, would immediately precede the coming of the Messiah. Yet, having praised John the Baptist for his unique status, Jesus goes on to make an even more remarkable statement, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. John had been beheaded before he could really hear and respond to Jesus’ preaching of the kingdom of God. However, through the written gospels and through the coming of the Holy Spirit upon us, we have heard and responded to Jesus’ preaching of the kingdom of God. Our union with Jesus through faith and our commitment to living as his disciple leaves us in any even more privileged place than that of John the Baptist. Advent is a time to give thanks for the gift of the gospel and of our faith response to it. It is also a time to heed the call to grow in our appreciation of that gift and in the quality of our response to it.

And/Or

(v) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; all the prophecies led towards him; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of the death and resurrection of Jesus and of the coming of the Spirit; we are all part of the church, the community of those who acknowledge Jesus as Lord, a community, which for all its failings, is the sacrament of the Lord’s presence in the world. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John or are living better lives than he lived, but because we have been more greatly blessed than John. With that greater blessing goes a great calling. We can never take for granted the ways we have been blessed, because such blessings call on us to live generously out of the riches of what we have been given and have received. As Jesus says, ‘You received without charge, give without charge’.

And/Or

(vi) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In today’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; it is towards him that all the prophecies were leading; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit has been poured into our hearts. Through our baptism, we are members of Christ’s body, the church. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John or are living better lives than he lived, but because we have been more greatly blessed than John. As Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see and the ears that hear what you hear’. With that greater blessing goes a great calling. We can never take for granted the ways we have been blessed. We need to keep growing in our appreciation of what we have been given and to keep responding to the call to give generously to others out of what we have received from the Lord.

And/Or

(vii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

The people of Israel believed that the prophet Elijah would return one day to announce the immanent coming of the long awaited Messiah or anointed one of God. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus identifies John the Baptist with Elijah, ‘he is the Elijah who was to return’. By implication, Jesus is claiming to be God’s anointed one for whom the people of Israel have been waiting. John the Baptist, therefore, has a really significant role to play. As Jesus says in the gospel reading, ‘a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Yet, John did not really live to see Jesus proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. He was executed by Herod Antipas early in the public ministry of Jesus. John knew nothing of the death and resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit. That is why Jesus goes on to say, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. We are all greater than John the Baptist, not because we are better than him, or holier than he was, but because we have been more greatly graced. In and through the written gospels, we have witnessed the full public ministry of Jesus, his death and resurrection. We have all benefited from the sending of the Holy Spirit. On one occasion, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see’. That beatitude embraces us all, but not John the Baptist to the same extent. We spend our lives growing in appreciation of all we have received through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Our response to grace is gratitude. Our whole lives are to be a grateful response to God who has blessed us so abundantly in Christ, a response which graces the lives of others as we have been graced.

And/Or

(viii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is the saint who comes into his own in the early part of the Advent season. Mary is the saint who comes into her own in the later part of the Advent season. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus gives high praise to John the Baptist, ‘of all children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. That comment certainly gives John the Baptist a unique status among human beings. Jesus goes on to affirm John’s unique status by identifying him with Elijah, whom the prophet Malachi declared would return to prepare people for the coming of the Lord. After such praise of John, it is surprising to hear Jesus also say, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. John the Baptist was executed early in the public ministry of Jesus. He did not live to experience the coming of the kingdom of heaven through Jesus’ words and deeds. He certainly never came to known of the death and resurrection of Jesus, through which the Holy Spirit came and the church was formed. In that sense, the least of Jesus’ disciples is greater than John the Baptist. Jesus is reminding us of how privileged we all are to have seen and heard what John never saw or heard. Unlike John the Baptist, we have received from the fullness of the Word made flesh, in the words of the fourth gospel. Our calling is to give generously to the Lord and to each other out of all that we have received from him. In this matter of giving from what we have received, John the Baptist can continue to be our model and inspiration.

And/Or

(ix) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

We all appreciate a little bit of praise from time to time. I think we appreciate praise for who we are as a person even more than praise for what we have done. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus praises John for who he is in glowing terms, ‘of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Jesus praises John the Baptist as greater than any other human being. It is an extraordinary complement when you think about it. What is so great about John, in the eyes of Jesus? Towards the end of the gospel reading, Jesus identifies John as the Elijah who was to return.  There had been an expectation among the Jewish people that a prophet like Elijah would come to prepare God’s people before the coming of the Messiah. Jesus identifies John the Baptist as that Elijah figure. He had a unique role and he fulfilled it to perfection. Yet, Jesus then goes on to make the even more extraordinary statement, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than’ John is. Anyone who through their close ties to Jesus experiences the coming of God’s kingdom has a higher status than John the Baptist. Jesus is referring there to all of us. He is reminding us that God has privileged us in a way that John was not privileged. John was executed shortly into the public ministry of Jesus. He was not graced through the death, resurrection, ascension of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit in the way we have been. He did not live to see the formation of the church, the community of the risen Lord’s disciples. We are being reminded that we have received a great deal from God, through his Son, without any merit on our part, and our calling is to live out of what we have received. As Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, ‘You received without payment, give without payment’.

And/Or

(x) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

In the gospel reading, Jesus says something very striking about John the Baptist, ‘of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. The greatness of John consists in his willingness to embrace the role that the prophet Elijah was expected to play in the age of the coming of the Messiah. It was believed that Elijah would be sent ahead of the Lord to prepare a way for him. In referring to John as the promised Elijah, Jesus is implicitly referring to himself as the promised Messiah. Having made that striking statement about John the Baptist, Jesus then makes an even more striking statement, declaring that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John did not live to see the coming of God’s kingdom through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. He was executed by Herod Antipas shortly into the public ministry of Jesus. Jesus is reminding his disciples of how privileged they are. We are all being reminded of how greatly graced we have been, graced in a way that even John the Baptist wasn’t. We have been given a great deal through the life, death, resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Spirit, not on the basis of anything we have done, but purely as an expression of God’s love for the world. In the language of the fourth gospel, Jesus has come among us full of grace and truth and from his fullness we have all received. We spend our lives trying to fully appreciate all we have received and are receiving from God through the life, death and resurrection of his Son and then learning to give generously to the Lord and others out of all that we have received.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 27: Voiceless

Some Alucard whump for @whumptober today.

Prompt: Voiceless, laboratory, muzzled Fandom: Hellsing Character: Alucard

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

~~~~~~~

Day 27: Voiceless

An unfortunate incident leaves Alucard injured and captured by a mysterious faction who wish to use him for experimentation. Will Integra and the Hellsing organization be able to find him in time?

~~~~~~~

The fuzziness was an odd sensation. One Alucard was not familiar with. He didn’t know what had happened, why he felt this way.

He tried to move but found he couldn’t. His arms appeared to be stretched out to the sides, and he was held at the wrists in some mockery of the stigmata by something that vaguely burned

“The subject appears to be waking, Father Benedict.”

“Ah, wonderful. I have been looking forward to this moment for a long time. Finally seeing what makes Hellsing’s ultimate weapon tick.”

***

There were no formal introductions given. But Alucard parsed together enough information on his own. He seemed to be in some Vatican funded laboratory in the bowels of what he assumed were a church’s catacomb. Whatever this operation was, it was led by a man named Father Benedict; a stern, aging priest with a sharp, hypocritical eye for sinners.

The thing that bothered Alucard most was that he had little recollection of how he had ended up here. He vaguely remembered a mission, checking out a building. And after that everything fades away. The memory issues might have something to do with whatever they were pumping into him via the needle inserted into his neck. Some holy concoction of their own making, most likely.

“Just what do you think you’re going to do to Hellsing’s ultimate weapon?” Alucard asked, smirking.

The priest was nonplussed. “Furthering research into killing vampires.”

“Oh? Is that so? So you plan to torture me until you find out what you want to know? I don’t think my Master will take very kindly to you toying with her weapon.”

“Your master is the one who handed you over willingly,” the priest said with an attempt at being smug.

Alucard actually laughed, the sharp sound echoing around the stone walls.

“Really? Is that a fact, priest? The very thought of my Master Integra working with the Papists—heh, maybe you should try again. Are you not aware that lying in a sin?”

Father Benedict glowered. “It does not matter. You are not one of God’s creatures and you will die like every other vile beast of the field.”

“I could say the same for you,” Alucard said darkly. “How I will await the day that my Master comes to fetch me back and puts you in your place—a hole in unholy ground.”

The priest was obviously furious, though trying his best to hide it. He snapped at his assistant. “I’m done listening to it speak. Let’s muzzle the beast.”

Alucard laughed until they forced the muzzle over his mouth and nose. It had an inner plate made of blessed silver that was forced into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, burning. It did not break him yet though. He refused to be broken. He had had so much worse done to him than this and survived. He sneered behind the muzzle, piercing the priest with his eyes.

The man would inevitably meet the devil someday, but in the meantime, he would have to face Alucard.

***

They started with stakes. Consecrated silver, holy things, or so the priest claimed—blessed by a Cardinal or something. They stung, yes, but it was hardly consequential to Alucard. He’d had worse. It didn’t matter how many they drove into his body, through his cold heart. It would not kill a vampire as powerful as he was.

***

The holy water was next, poured into the healing holes riddling Alucard’s body once they finally pulled the stakes out. It burned, eating at his flesh before it could fully regenerate. Alucard growled behind the muzzle. This was admittedly more painful than the stakes. The smell of his acid-burned flesh wafted up, sickening.

“The sinful nature of the beast is apparent by how much it is affected,” the priest said with a cruel satisfaction.

Perhaps try pouring it over yourself and see how much better you react, Alucard would have snipped if he hadn’t been muzzled. Or does your piety truly hold up?

The burning continued, and Alucard began to worry just a bit. He had already been here for a while, and now the pain was starting to eat into his bones little by little.

Integra, he called inwardly. You had best collect your weapon before there is little left of him.

***

The holy water torture continued, with more creativity. As his wounds healed sluggishly, the priest put some into a syringe and pumped it directly into Alucard’s veins.

That was agony that he hadn’t quite expected. As he was reeling from that, his muzzle was partly removed, only for the holy water to be poured into his mouth via a funnel they shoved down his throat.

He finally screamed, his throat tearing, blood pouring from his mouth as his insides burned. He writhed against the restraints in an attempt to escape the agony.

“This method seems quite effective,” the priest noted for his assistant. “Unfortunately, it’s not the best battlefield method, but still…enlightening.”

Alucard spat a wad of bloody bile at the priest before his muzzle was shoved back over his face. He could no longer scream, only gurgle.

***

The next session, they used the holy water on his eyes.

***

Alucard had thought the blinding would be the worst thing they did to him. He knew he would heal eventually, especially with a little blood, but at the moment it was disorienting as he relied on his dulled senses to try and figure out what the priest was about to do to him next.

His muzzle was removed once again. He didn’t get the chance to spit more vitriol at the priest though before something else was shoved into his mouth, cranked until it forced his jaw open.

He had indeed thought burning his eyes out would have been the worst thing, but then he felt something closing around one of his fangs.

He growled in protest, trying to pull away, but his fang was wrenched out of his mouth with a sharp tug. Alucard screamed in desperation as the others were removed as well.

His mouth was full of blood by the time they were finished, and he slumped in the restraints.

“Now the great weapon is just a dog with no fangs,” the priest said with cruel satisfaction.

Blood dripped down Alucard’s chin. He had no reply. He had nothing. He felt himself drifting, and this time he didn’t bother to stop it.

***

He was woken by the sound of gunfire.

He still could not see, but he could sense a familiar presence.

Integra…

“Alucard!”

Hands briefly pressed to his cheeks before ripping off the muzzle. “My God, Alucard,” Integra breathed before shouting, “Help me get him down from here, dammit!”

She ripped out the needle that was still administering the drug to him.

More figures approached hurriedly. The chains holding Alucard were released and he slumped forward with a soft moan, caught by several hands before he was lowered to the floor.

“Go fetch a stretcher,” Integra said firmly.

“Can walk….” Alucard slurred.

“Hush,” Integra whispered, her hand on his face again, thumb just brushing the burns around his eyes. “They’ll burn for what they did to you. All of them will.”

Her fire bolstered him a bit, offering a little strength. “My Master,” he sighed wearily.

“Easy, Alucard, allow me to give you some blood.”

He felt her shift and heard a knife opening before the scent of Integra’s blood hit his nostrils.

He leaned forward eagerly and Integra cradled the back of his head, holding him upright as she pressed her bleeding arm to his mouth.

“Drink as much as you need,” she told him, running a hand through his matted hair. “You will heal, correct?”

Alucard hummed. “Yes…with time.”

“Then until then, rest easy,” Integra said softly as he lapped at her arm. “It’s my turn to watch over you.”

[immediatebreakfast]

If something could hold more weight in the argument of Victor and Henry's relationship as a possible romantic relationship, than Victor and Elizabeth, is their interactions in this chapter. Of course it should be said that the notions of friendship back then are very different from the notions of friendship today. So what we consider a romantic gesture, it might be general kindness expected of a friend. However, that doesn't mean we can ignore the possible queer subtext between Victor and Henry.

I thought that the symbolism of a worried husband taking careful care of his frightened and ill wife would stop last chapter, but boy I was wrong. Victor and Henry might as well go ahead and secretly swear marriage to eachother in front of the doors of a church while the moon is their only witness.

They care so much for eachother, they keep eachother balanced in an almost harmonic way. Henry is the emotional anchor that keeps Victor grounded and connected to reality, while Victor is the person that allows Henry to express all of his imagination and personality without judgement.

The whole scene of Victor introducing Clerval to his professors so they can not only know him, but approve the man who has caring for him so many months. How Henry is so carefully aware of Victor's emotions regarding science for the moment, to the point that he directs the flow of conversations as to not overwhelm Victor with what is now a delicate subject.

Victor finally allows himself to heal a little bit under the care of Henry, and at the same time he bitterly admits that he doesn't want to leave his side. Moreover, both of them delay Victor's return to Switzerland so they can continue to live and love in this pocket of happiness away from their standings in society. Surrounded by scholarly life that lets them cultivate their minds, and their hearts with their love for eachother.

"Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me" Victor why don't you just cut the chase, and kiss him before going back to your home, and all of the fucked up family dynamics that await you.

One little tiny detail. I applaud Victor for somehow still keeping up with his university work while wasting away on a constant mental breakdown fueled by his desire of overcoming death through crimes against nature. That is an achievement that one should be proud of.

[simshousewindsor]

CORONATION PART 5: THE FINALE

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: And so, as her father and his father before him did, Her Majesty now moves in her procession down the length of this abbey, in her beautiful gown with its long purple train. And she wears, as we see her now, the Imperial State Crown. In her hands, the scepter and the rod. The signs, that in her hands, justice and mercy are never to be separated.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Exiting the abbey for the first time, The Queen and Prince consort greet the awaiting photographers and sims.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: History has been written and sung here today, in this warm and beautiful old building, where it has been written and sung for many hundred of years.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Yes, but never before have we witnessed the crowning of the sovereign, or so many shared in her dedication, in this abbey church!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Her Majesty will hand the orb and scepter to a waiting footman before returning entering the 136-year-old Gold State coach.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The ride back to the palace should be far more comfortable for Her Majesty than the journey here.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: I can't believe they fit her large train inside.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Queen Katherine I and Prince Rainier are formally crowned and will now depart the abbey.

(crowd cheering)

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The crowd is going wild, Cameron! Her Majesty is very beloved by her sims.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Indeed.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: We have thoroughly enjoyed watching the coronation of Queen Katherine I! We will be following Her Majesty's procession back to the palace where the entire royal family is expected to appear on the balcony. In the meantime, wow!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Wow is right, Cameron! Can we talk about Prince Rainier! The first prince consort crowned, and he didn't kneel!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: That was the biggest shock. I guess the monarchy is trying to appeal to the younger generation and eliminate many of those unsavory traditions.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Crowds have lined Parliament Square Street as Her Majesty's procession passes.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: You can even see a glimpse of the Duke and Duchess of Kent!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The procession is moving at a walking pace with four Windsor Greys pulling the Queens coach.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Are those royal guards following the state coach?

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: They are the Queens Guards. I believe a total of twenty-four are amongst today's procession guarding Her Majesty.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Such splendor!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Oh! The Duke and Duchess of Kent!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Their Royal Highnesses are first behind the Queen.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The Duke removed his hat!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The procession is rounding Memorial Arch and will soon be at The Mall.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Yes. Her Majesty is almost home. As the procession enters The Mall, we get a glimpse of the Grenadier Guards who have just joined the final leg of the procession.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Upon returning to Buckingsim Palace, Their Majesties will receive a Royal Salute from the United Kingdom and Commonwealth Armed Forces who have been on parade all day. The Royal Salute will be followed by three cheers from the assembled service personnel, as a tribute from the Armed Forces on parade to The Queen and The Prince Consort on the day of Their Majesties’ Coronation.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Just behind the Duke and Duchess of Kent are the Earl and Countess of Boykins.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The Duke appears to have put his hat back on. The wind must have calmed down more!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: I just love his hat!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The Earl and Countess appear to have had a lovely coronation. Boykins House will be issuing an announcement in the coming days. Royal insiders speculate Their Royal Highnesses are announcing a tour.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: So much to look forward to this year, Shon!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: As Queen Katherine enters the gates of Buckingsim Palace, we now look forward to the start of a glorious reign.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: We do, indeed! Other members of the royal family arrived by car and will be making an appearance on the balcony with Her Majesty shortly. It's been a magnificent Coronation Day!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: It has, Cameron! I can't believe it's over.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Almost over! For me, the cherry on top of the cake is going to be the balcony wave! Coronation Day won't feel complete until Her Majesty greets her subjects from the palace!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: We'll be right back, after this commercial break, for the final moments of The Coronation of Queen Katherine I.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The Windenburg Royal Family appear on the balcony, with Her Majesty Queen Katherine I, as chants of "Hoorah, Hoorah!", "Long Live The Queen!" and choruses of 🎶God Save the Queen🎶 ring on.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: From us here at SNN, thank you for watching the Coronation of Queen Katherine I!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Long Live Queen Katherine I!

Previous | Beginning | Next - continue Heir Ascent (story)

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Previous | Beginning | Next - continue Second Place Countess (story)

[valyalyon]

2 Along Chasm Ridge

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CRY Master List or #LYONCRY

DIVIDERS

CW: Main girl is in a religious cult, cult tactics are used, vague religious mentions, young bride marrying cult leader, humiliation of mother of bride by cult leader, SMUT, mentions of blood, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. MDNI. 4.1K Words.

August 18, 2019.

All the families living in Chasm Ridge woke up early that Sunday morning to attend the wedding of their leader. By sunrise, most of the commune was standing outside the door to the church, waiting to be let in.

A few minutes after that, the head priest arrived and opened the doors. The first pew was exclusive to family and friends of the bride and groom, but every other pew was open to the public.

The church filled up as the priest took his place and the wedding party began to arrive.

Everyone in the church turned their attention to the priest as he began to speak, his old voice booming through the large church, “Our Holy King has called us all here to witness his wedding. Please rise for Cain Rey.”

All stood with one hive mind, numerous heads turning to the massive church doors, eyes focusing on the lone strong figure that walked in through the doors.

Each step he took was deafening, the whole cathedral shook and trembled under the weight of his power.

Seeing their King, some young women in the crowd blushed as they remembered their own intimate encounters with him.

He had been sleeping with a good handful of these 20+ year old girls living in the commune, but God would strike Cain down if he ever tried to recite any of their names.

He didn’t care about any of them, and he never did, so he would call them by the name of whatever flower he thought looked like the girl.

That was something his father had taught him, and he’d always said to “save your rose, marry her, love only her. Your wife is the most important decision you’ll make, and only a rose is fit to sustain the title.”

Cain walked through the church with a proud purpose on that day because the woman he was marrying was the rose he had always envisioned, and he had been lucky enough to find her.

He stopped at the altar, awaiting the rest of the party.

Next in line was the family of the bride and groom, but…

Well, the couple each lost a parent when they were teenagers and the commune’s former king Cephas had his funeral service held at this same church just the week before.

That left the mother of the bride, Beatrice Masson as the only family member to walk down the aisle. She walked slowly, in a red dress, holding onto a bouquet of pink roses, and smiling the crowd.

Cain wanted desperately to roll his eyes at the woman, but he kept a stoically neutral expression, moving towards her once she was closer.

In front of everyone, the man kissed his mother in law’s cheek, then guided her with his hand to her seat at the front of the pews in a private section for herself.

The mother stayed standing as Cain returned to his spot, watching his best man walk down the aisle with the maid of honor. Then, another groomsmen and another bridesmaid.

Everyone in the wedding party wore red except for Cain and his bride. The man was anxious to see her, whispering to his best man, “you seen her yet?”

“When we were all outside, yes… You’re making the right choice,” his buddy commented in a slight chuckle, “she’s way prettier than her sisters…”

Normally, the Holy King would have some righteous and angry response, but he was distracted as he heard the doors begin to open again.

The march began to play.

Ysabel felt nervous in a million ways in that moment, she knew how easy it could be for her to just pass out from the anxiety, but she ignored it all. She inhaled deeply, and smiled as she moved down the aisle.

All eyes were glued to the girl that had taken the King off the market, all judgements and envy out on full display in certain faces but no one dared say anything out loud.

It was true that the girl was beautiful, though.

Ysabel Solis was a short 18 year old woman, not even making it to five feet tall, with bronzed skin and natural fiery red hair. She had pale, baby blue eyes that were always so sensitive and sweet.

Her hair flowed naturally and at the top of her head she wore a crown laced with red roses but it was obscured by her veil.

Cain couldn’t take his deep blue eyes off the girl, just thinking she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and that he had made the right choice.

Once Ysabel was closer, Cain stepped down, taking her hand and helping her up to their place at the altar.

He held her hand confidently, and he looked at her with eyes that killed every other woman in the room, but swept Ysabel off her feet. He whispered to her for a moment, “you’re amazing…”

The girl blushed at him but replied back in a similarly quiet voice, “no, you…”

Cain smiled and squeezed her fingers as the Priest began speaking. From there, vows soon started.

“You are my rose. You are my Holy Queen, the one meant to be at my side when I enter Heaven. I promise to always be your protector…”

“To stand by your side in all moments, and to always show you that I love you,” his confession came as no surprise to Ysabel, who was already falling so hard for him.

“I promise to love you, to praise you, to pray for you, and to be your home forever,” her clear blue eyes looked into his dark blues, “I worship you, I know your love to be the ultimate safety…”

“I promise to be forever yours, my Holy King,” Ysabel’s lips trembled slightly, her eyes watering as she finished and attempted to collect herself.

Then the Priest was asking, “Cain Rey, do you take Ysabel Solis to be your wife? To love and protect as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Cain nodded his head, his smile stuck on his face as he squeezed the girl’s hands slightly.

“And do you, Ysabel Solis, take Cain Rey to be your husband?” The priest turned his attention to the woman as he continued, “To love and worship as long as you both shall live?”

Ysabel nodded her head, smiling up at Cain as she spoke, “I do.”

The best man handed the priest the couple’s rings, as the old man continued to speak, “these rings are a physical symbol of Heaven awaiting Cain and Ysabel as they make this commitment to one another.”

“In their rings, their love, and now as husband and wife, they have been given the keys to a peaceful, fruitful eternity,” the man handed each ring to the opposite individual.

Cain placed Ysabel’s ring first, speaking as he did, “this ring is yours as a reminder that I only love you. I promise to love and protect you forever. I’m yours.”

Ysabel smiled when it was her turn, even as she shook a little, “this ring is yours as a reminder that I only love you. I promise to love and worship you forever. I’m yours.”

“It is my honor to pronounce Cain and Ysabel, husband and wife. Cain, you may kiss your bride,” the priest stepped aside to let the couple have their moment as the applause began thundering through the church.

Cain pulled Ysabel close, then dipped her as he kissed her in front of the commune. He kissed her sweetly, not trying to make her look bad in front of anyone.

The couple went down the aisle together as rose petals were thrown at the end of each pew for them.

They went down the aisle quickly because as the applause got louder, Cain looked down and had noticed there was a foggy-disconnected look in his Ysabel’s eyes.

He wasn’t pleased about it and wanted to get her outside to ask her why she was looking that way.

Cain opened the backdoor of the private carriage he booked for wedding day, and helped Ysabel into it. The girl’s eyes were wide when he got in with her, “what?”

“You got a private horse drawn carriage for our wedding?” Her voice was squeaky and her eyes were full of tears, “you put so much thought into everything…”

“I did,” Cain said confidently, but quickly remembered the earlier expression in her eyes, “you were disconnected going down the aisle. Why? Are you regretting your decision already?”

Ysabel shook her head, moving to sit beside her husband, “I’m not. I don’t have good experiences with loud noises… It was making me anxious.”

The man blinked, seeing how close she was and sinking into bad thoughts, “oh, that makes a lot of sense. You out did yourself… You’re beyond beautiful, I can’t describe it.”

“Does it make you want to do anything to me?” She smiled up at him shyly, her light blue eyes clear and sweet, but her question so sexual.

“You know it does but now I’m curious, because you sound like a little dog,” Cain raised his brows and held her face in between his hands, “what did your past boyfriends do to you?”

She tried to shake her head, but he had her in place, so she looked him in the eye apologetically, “I’m a virgin as far as I’ve never had vaginal-penis sex or anal sex…

“But I had an ex boyfriend and there was kissing, oral, a finger,” Ysabel told Cain anything he wanted to know, without question. He was her King, he was the one she listened to and bowed to.

Cain smiled and kissed her, holding her head as his lips parted hers.

The woman’s heart beat rapidly as she worried about overstepping and making Cain angry, but she touched his face with her small hands as she returned his kisses.

The couple spent the entire drive to the reception making out, culminating in a heated arrival for both of them.

When they arrived, everything they had planned began to fall through in one major way. By the time they became aware of the issue, the couple had been sitting at the head table for a few minutes.

No one was allowed to wear white to the wedding, so no one but Ysabel was… until Beatrice joined the reception in a wedding dress and drunk as can be.

The older woman was walking around, talking to guests and slurring as she spoke, “yes, she’s my daughter! No, I’m not her… Don’t we look alike though? Makes sense why he picked her!”

Cain was annoyed at the sight, and whispered to his groomsmen, “someone better fix her dress.”

Beside her husband, Ysabel was starting to notice her mother among the crowd, and she sighed regretfully when she saw what her mother was wearing.

The bride turned her attention to her bridesmaids, who all shared Beatrice as their mother but had different fathers, “did you two know she was planning on wearing that?”

“No, but let her. It’s not a big deal,” Ysabel’s eldest half-sister, Blanche, sounded annoyed that her younger sister was even mentioning it.

“It’s my wedding,” the woman replied with a subdued voice, her light blue eyes going to her other sister, “do you not see an issue?”

“She’s wearing a dress, Belle, big deal!” Brigitte’s reply was just as angry, and she rolled her eyes at the girl, “you’re always so dramatic.”

Ysabel didn’t even have time to really respond to her sisters, as she heard a commotion.

“Why! Why did you do that?” Beatrice cried loudly, she was a drunk mess on the floor and her white dress was stained red with wine in one spot.

Above the woman, Cain’s groomsmen stood with empty wine glasses and curious, confused looks.

“What are you wearing, Beatrice?” Cain’s voice spoke up from beside his wife as he began to stand up.

Ysabel watched as her mother stood up in utter distress, “They spilled wine on me!”

“My bride is sitting beside me,” Cain shouted so loud that Beatrice’s face gave away her fear, “if she’s sitting beside me, I should see no white dresses dancing at my wedding. If Ysabel stands, she’s the only one in a white dress in this room.”

“The dress isn’t white! It’s cream, and they shouldn’t have spilled wine on me! I’m your mother in law!” Beatrice, irate in her drunkenness, screamed back at her leader.

Cain grabbed a bottle of wine from a stand beside the wedding table. He walked over to the woman and shoved her to the ground, pouring the entire bottle over her dress, shouting to the crowd as he finished the bottle, “GET ME ANOTHER!”

Beatrice was screaming, crying, and apologizing to Cain, but his groomsmen were already running back with more bottles of wine which Cain angrily snatched away from them to pour over the woman, “who the hell are you back talking?”

“You could be put to death for screaming to me like that. Next time, remember you’re my mother in law, and shut your fucking mouth,” Cain poured a second bottle over any white parts of her dress.

“It’s a sin to ruin a man’s wedding and the moment you walk in cosplaying as a man’s bride is the moment you embarrass yourself.”

Cain’s friends handed out bottles of wine to members of the commune to drink.

The third bottle of wine that was poured on Beatrice was opened by a father, who shuffled over and dumped it out onto her dress.

Within milliseconds, all the bottles that had been handed out to members of the commune were popping open and immediately being thrown onto Beatrice.

It was hard to tell if it was overkill but the reality was that the crowd was used to Beatrice’s behavior.

She got away with so much when Cephas was in charge, but under Cain… everyone knew things would be much different.

In more than just that way.

Eventually, Beatrice stormed out, angrily, but silently.

Cain returned to the head table and saw his wife, his eyes softening slightly as he noticed her anxious wide-eyed expression.

He looked at Ysabel as he offered his hand to her, “I’m sorry about that. Let’s end early and go home?”

Ysabel nodded her head, and took her husband’s hand, following him.

…

Cain gave Ysabel a brief tour of the home when they arrived with the tour ending in the master bedroom, “Excuse me, by the way. I need to use the bathroom real quick… Drank a lot at the reception.”

“Spilled a lot more than you drank,” the sweet girl’s comment was timid, and she turned to examine their room as the man disappeared into the bathroom.

His voice faded into the master bathroom, “she deserved it. She sinned, she was punished.”

When her husband disappeared into the bathroom, the woman got onto her knees and began to pray.

Let me love you like a woman… let me shine like a diamond.

She clasped her hands together, closing her eyes, “Father, let Cain always love me and let me always love Cain.”

He wasn’t in the bathroom for long, returning to the room as he heard the girl’s prayers. Cain walked to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed, not making a sound until she was done with her prayer.

When her eyes opened, her husband’s voice came from her left, saying, “How do you feel about everything, Ysabel? Tell me, honestly.”

The man expected her to have some complaints about what happened to her mother during the wedding. He expected her to call it all too much, to say that he had gone too far for her.

Her sweet eyes met his deep blue ones, and she pouted just a bit, her lip trembling slightly, “honestly? So sad we didn’t have a first dance.”

So, Ysabel’s husband stood and reached his hand out to her.

Dance me through the panic until I’m gathered safely in…

The girl took it without question, and Cain pulled her into a slow dance. With every turn, the girl felt herself falling more in love.

They shared a fire that Ysabel didn’t really understand, but they started humming a song as they moved along the empty space in the room.

Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone…

Cain lead his wife in their first dance, but their bodies understood one another without any words.

She followed him so easily.

In one moment, when he turned his bride, her ass pressed just right against his crotch.

Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon…

Ysabel, in feeling him, danced her body along his. She desired to please him, to be the best wife for him.

“Maybe you’re doing a little too much, my rose,” Cain inhaled sharply as he felt her ass grinding along his pants.

The girl pulled away, starting to walk away, but Cain pulled her back in, continuing their dance. This time, though, he started to help her out of her wedding dress.

Show me slowly what I only know the limits of and dance me to the end of love.

Ysabel turned to kiss him as her dress came off, and he was already leaning forward awaiting her. Their kiss was passionate, their tongues desperately trying to get to know each other better.

The bride unbuttoned Cain’s top as their kisses got more wet, saliva pooling between the two.

The man pulled his shirt off once the buttons had been undone by Ysabel, and he pulled her in by the waist, “I’m in love with you, Ysa, only you.”

“I love you, but you don’t mean that, unholy King,” the woman’s sweet voice teased the older man, and she fluttered her lashes up at him, “you’ve had so many women before me.”

“Yes, but I never loved any, and I won’t have any women after you, just you,” Cain lifted the girl easily and placed her on the bed to better ravage her.

He ate her out, wanting her to be wet, and hoping that he gave her better head than her ex.

Cain knew he was a bigger sinner than her, but he hated that anyone had touched her even a little bit. It was imperative for him to be the best at anything she’d ever felt, and anything she would feel in the future.

He never wanted to fail as a husband.

So his tongue worked in circles along her clit, then he pressed his thumb to it and began rubbing into her clit.

At the same time, his tongue began a trail down to her vagina, invading it with thirsty desire.

Ysabel moaned at every touch of his, especially as he ate her out. Her mind was racing, her fingers curling in his hair, “ohhh, Cain… feels sooo…”

The man pulled away, unbuckled his belt and took it off. When he looked down at the girl, laid on the bed, he wrapped the belt around her wrists and tightened it.

“What if I don’t want to be tied up?” Ysabel clutched her hands, looking up at Cain with a coy expression he’d never seen in a woman.

“What are you going to do? Complain? I think I can deal, I don’t mind hearing you talk,” the groom responded with a chuckle, then took off his pants and underwear.

The virgin bride’s eyes ran along her husband’s body, admiring his muscled form and then… He was easily ten inches, if not bigger. The woman was amazed.

“I could scream,” Ysabel mumbled as Cain approached her, spit flying down onto his cock that he stroked around the long shaft, “I’d be very loud.”

“I definitely don’t mind hearing you scream,” Cain replied with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her on the mouth.

“You’re soo meaan, ahh,” the woman had started to protest just as he started to push his long, hard cock into her.

There was enough saliva between both bodies causing the sex to become passionate relatively quickly with Cain beginning to thrust his ten inches in to the small Ysabel faster each time.

She took every thrust with loud moans, her bound hands wrapped around her husband’s neck, and her lower body moving along to the feeling.

The young bride felt some pain from her first sexual experience, but she thought to embrace it would be better.

Every good woman was born to experience this pain for her husband, and how lucky was she that she got to marry a Leader, a religious figure, a very attractive man.

With each thrust, she rolled her hips along, panting and looking up at Cain with pleasure filled blue eyes.

His hands were greedy for her body, touching every surface of soft skin and kissing her every chance he got. At the same time, his lower body had a mind of its own.

Each thrust went harder, deeper. He felt the way her walls clutched around him, the tightness other worldly.

He knew Heaven was all theirs now and that there was no more looking back. From here on, only forward.

To Cain, it felt as if their souls were blending together, as if Ysabel’s body and her love were all made for him to enjoy but this moment…

This was the combining of souls that he knew would always be needed to rule over Chasm Ridge, and God had delivered this woman to him at the perfect time.

Ysabel was lost in her pleasure as she felt Cain speeding up inside her, her eyes closed and her head rolled back as she moaned happily.

“Fuck, I’ve got to fill you with my seed, I need it, I can’t pull out. Your pussy feels amazing, you feel unreal,” he leaned down to kiss the young woman, and she welcomed his lips.

His pace was intense, and Ysabel’s eyes were half open, her hips trying to match his every thrust with a well timed rhythm, “you do whatever you have to do…”

She let out another moan as his intensity drove her closer to the edge.

Then, she felt it.

The feeling of his cock pumping his load into her.

Torrents of gooey seed filled her womb and when she felt the final pumps of his cock, she began twitching and moaning against her groom’s still hard dick.

Cain groaned slightly, but thrusted deeper into the girl, making sure the cum got even deeper into her, “you’re the first woman I’ve ever cum inside of and I want you to really enjoy having my load in you, because I’m going to cum inside you every chance I get.”

Ysabel was coming back from another orgasmic peak, staring up at Cain as his thrusts continued.

“Ohh, Caaiin,” the girl moaned as another thrust caught her off guard, “are you just going to keep me as a sex toy?”

“For the rest of the night? Absolutely,” he littered her collarbone with kisses, rolling his hips against hers, “forever? Yes, but I’ll still let you live a life here and there… That way you get a break.”

Ysabel laughed as the man came up and the two shared another intimate kiss, as they fell into more sex.

…

When Cain fell asleep that night, it was sudden and immediately after his third nut into his new bride.

Ysabel went to the bathroom to pee.

She noted to herself that her new home was beautiful, and sat down on the toilet.

It took her a minute to force out the pee but when she did there was quite a lot. That made sense, she had also drunk during her wedding.

When she went to wipe, she immediately noticed that she had bled.

It made perfect sense to her though, Cain had been rougher than she had expected so of course he ended up causing her hymen to bleed.

She shook her head, not daring to think a bad thought about her husband. The girl cleaned herself with some soap and water, then returned to bed to join her husband.

Sorry for the delays in releasing this one!

I've been feeling like shit about myself and my writing lately so I've been writing very little and didn't want to post everything I had ready in case I ran out of stuff...

Regardless, I hope everyone enjoys this!

SONG REFERENCES

Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana del Rey

Dance Me to the End of Love by The Civil Wars

[avampyone]

Prompt #21: A long-awaited reunion

Characters: Hemlocke(Seraphine), Pierre Beaufort, mentions of Gloucent and Olivia.

Synopsis: Hemlocke has the opportunity to connect with his old tutor from when he lived in Ishgard.

Setting: During a mission in Sharlayan, The Last Stand.

Warning - none

-----------------------

It was well into the evening that Hemlocke was seen sitting across from an older elezen man with distinctly deep red hair and sideburns at one of the tables outside at the Last Stand. He was wearing the black robes of a Sharlayan professor, one of which that he himself could not help but to peer over to admire with a smile brightening his features, no matter how awkward he felt, “Teaching classes and married with two children, eh? It pleases me to see you so happy. And I happen to know personally that you are the best teacher one could ever wish for.”  He commented in all sincerity, taking another sip from his frozen coffee.

Pierre, always having been on the emotional side, brought up his handkerchief to press to his bright green gaze that was threatening to start tearing up again at any moment as he patted them delicately, “Yes, I have been incredibly happy! Although, I always hoped you would understand Gloucent gave me no choice but to leave…I knew it had been him all along. So, you say that he passed in the manor fire…good riddance.” He spoke in such a finality, like his spirits had been lifted from the knowledge he'd been right to suspect him, and that Olivia had been avenged.

“If only I had been able to take you two to Sharlayan  before it all happened…” Hemlocke reached to grab Pierre’s gloved hand in his own to hold in a gentle squeeze and shake his head, bloody depths glinting as if to plead him to think otherwise, “Please do not blame yourself. It was not your fault at all. Our lives were changed by your presence there, you know? Even after witnessing such unpleasantries, you still sought to stay with us…” He knew well now that Gloucent would have kept dragging them back no matter how far they tried to run.

“Our memories together are still those of which I think of fondly. And well...I also wanted to give you this. It was last thing I retrieved when I was running out of the manor. I know she would have liked you to have it...” Hemlocke had always been a clever kid, enough to know that Pierre had loved Olivia and the two had been a secret item for a time until the day of her passing.

Maybe it would have been wrong in the eyes of the church had anyone found out, but he hadn’t cared so long as to see the two happy. Taking a moment to reach down, he brought out a small white container from his satchel to open and present a wide tooth wooden comb decorated with an ornate gold filigree.

To see this, Pierre’s eyes widened when he carefully reached to pick up the comb to carefully brush the pad of his thumb over the surface – like he was reconnecting with those better times, “I still cannot help but hold love for her and for you, Seraphine. I’ve thought of you as my own son, and I still do...” He sniffled into the handkerchief with heavy tears threatening to roll down again.

Hemlocke was about to say something more, but suddenly felt those hands on his cheeks and groaned a little with a flush of embarrassment to feel Pierre’s fingers suddenly pinch them outward as far as they could go as if to inspect something himself, “And look at you now! Back then, I admit I was worried that you always only ever seemed a shade of a boy...but I think this travel has done you well! All grown up now too...”

A gasp of a little surprise escaped Hemlocke when he suddenly embraced him and brought him in close to sob suddenly against his shoulder. He was not sure how he would explain his wet shirt, but he chuckled out loud in amusement and patted gently at his back, “Oh come now...t-this is a little embarrassing you know? Eheh, still wonderful to know some things never change!”

[scotianostra]

On 28th February, 1539, Thomas Forret, the Vicar of Dollar, John Keillor and John Beveridge, two black-friars, Duncan Simpson a priest, and a gentleman named Robert Forrester, were all burned together on the Castle Hill on a charge of heresy.

The persecution of Protestants in Scotland, at least if measured in martyrdoms, peaked in 1539, shortly after Cardinal David Beaton, a zealous opponent of reform, was appointed primate of the country, although from the info I have picked up one John Lauder, would have been the man condemning these men, he was Scotland’s Public Accuser of Heretics at the times. Heretics being anyone who didn’t follow the Catholic faith.

Of the five “heresiarchs” executed in Edinburgh, none had quite so fascinating a tale as Thomas Forret, an Augustinian monk turned Vicar whose passion for Scripture and preaching, coupled with frank observation of the institutional Church’s doctrinal and practical failings, earned him a place at the stake at the crest of the Royal Mile, just east of Edinburgh Castle.

Forret had been warned by the high heid yins about his behaviour on the pulpit a few times, one occasion said his sermons might lead to “make the people thinke” but, a very smart man, he rebuked the accusations of going against the lords work by quoting scriptures and his quick wit. At the time in Scotland the sermons were traditionally performed by “Black Friars” and “Grey Friars” That’s Dominican and Franciscan Monks to you and I!

It would all come undone in 1539 when Forret attended the wedding of the Priest of Tullibody, which attendance, no less than the marriage itself, flouted the Church’s stance position on clerical celibacy. Forret had added insult to injury by eating meat at his fellow curate’s wedding celebration, despite the fact that it was Lent.

So grievous were Forret’s collective crimes that, at his trial, he was condemned to death “without anie place for recantatioun.”

Subsequently brought to the place of his execution, a certain Friar Hardbuckell encouraged him to save his soul by confessing his faith in God. “I beleeve in God,” Forret replied. Hardbuckell then encouraged him to confess his faith in the Virgin Mary by adding the words “and in our Ladie.” Forret answered, “I beleeve as our Ladie beleeveth,” thereby maintaining to the end the perfect and full sufficiency of Christ’s saving work for sinners.

Forret’s wit and knowledge of Scripture stayed with him to his very last breath. Having been preceded to the gallows by one of his fellow martyrs, Forret called the same a “wily fellow” who wished to arrive at the feast awaiting them in heaven before the others in order to secure a good seat. As the noose was placed around his neck, he began to recite Psalm 51 in Latin: Misere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love.” Thus he continued “till they pulled the stoole frome under his feete, and so wirried [hanged], and after burnt him.”

Pics are of a memorail stone and bridge over the River Devon between the village of Blairingone and Dollar on the border of Clackmannanshire and Kinross-shire

Much more on the unfortunate man here https://www.reformation21.org/.../scotlands-protestant...

[takingstockofwhatmattersmost]

A Trip Through The Ages (No One Loves For Free)

the morning sun caresses the room, stirring life with coffee in hand, Angelou's words...fresh her wisdom, a constant marvel, unchanged since my school days when I first consumed her today, overwhelmed by her insight guys like us, rejecting all that's soft in the philosophers we revered...study despite the disdain, seductively loathsome insignificant, at best, in highbrow conversations only men's opinions are deemed valuable feigning indifference to their score donning tight trousers, attempting to tempt

basking in the autumn sun as clouds gather desires of youth and flesh swirling thank you, Angelou, for the enlightenment trying to appear nonchalant, cheeks blazing we sat still, unmoving, and reluctant to flee enduring the thorns of filthy desires navigating the swamp of misogyny until we reached Wollstonecraft's teachings realizing both Bell Hooks and Hannah Arendt shared much their dread of men, each in her own way Hooks feared herself, Arendt feared her allure did their fear flatter or reject their femininity

always cast as the dreaded, unwanted male our harsh drawing them into temptation our masculine, a deadly allure, irresistible yet...how could we not cherish Angelou "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you" those adolescent, poet-wannabes in a room mesmerized by music, letting the meanings drift lost in the psalm-like rhythms...we succumbed some attempted to be dutiful souls religious seekers in Teacher's convoluted debates held accountable, yet utterly powerless a sensible man would have howled before God

as naïve students, we were stunned to unravel men's desires; their yearnings are younger than we expected Angelou lusted after a younger soul Guy, her son, no one knows his pain Dickinson, akin to Poe, fixated on the young imposing her will on innocence, unprepared a Pygmalion complex! crafting the submissive doll molding obedience, expecting abandonment it was then i parted ways with poetry a minor sacrifice, despite my devotion to it

we were a band of innocent optimists evil, an unfathomable concept now, by my side, a soul versed in evils familiar with errors, material and spiritual handling them deftly, like changing a lock he prays at chosen moments, designated places (At meals, in church), while i pray without structure, sporadically like a lingering fever, desires waning faith dwells, yet questions with each heartbeat

afternoon arrives, meade in hand engaged with Wollstonecraft "No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks" [true. we choose, fearing wrath] an indirect jab at Angelou, i can only presume Hooks' disdain for denying the erotic for it demands acknowledgment before dismissal contemplating her father's stern repression of all things sexual, warping young Bell Hooks yet submitting to her father's authority choosing her father over her Rosa

Hooks speaks truth: deny the erotic and it beckons attention acknowledgment must precede rejection and what of her "Repetition," a theory perhaps rooted in her belief that she could rewrite her courtship with Rosa this time with a joyful resolution while she awaited her...eternally seventeen but within two years, they would tie the knot she longed to create from memories, not the present utilizing ideas, not people

sipping my meader, musing over either/or particularly either, centered on hapless Lenore many encounters with Arendt and Hooks...and Poe now he understood the game he escorted Lenore to the opera once and after Mozart's overture rang out Poe stood up, declaring, "We're leaving now You've witnessed the best: the anticipation of pleasure." in his protracted discourse on the subject he insisted the performance was the essence was the overture merely a prelude? Poor Lenore should've seen the adornment coming

in disguise, he poeticized his voice echoing: Lenore's beauty fleeting like a blossoming night flower, wilted by dawn a relic of one night with Guy de Vere Poe, veiled by romantic notions visualized Lenore as eternally youthful his interpretation naïvely blind innocent sopranos, ready for Lenore...mere myths maybe his diva did dally with de Vere moments before stepping out, believing it enhanced her allure as backstage whispers claim, weakening his resolve

Maya...help me help you Edgar is being a dullit Lenore has so much more to give and the poet philosophers...

...well they know nothing of love and lust as we are all still students learning from a Teacher