#alms fics

[alms4oblivion]

the bane of my existence is complete. Chapter 9 of my Avatrice Bridgerton AU is out!

[orangerainforest]

just finished weak hero class 2. this is me rn.

[mrmissmrsrandom]

Thank you @merimerz for listening to my multi-email ramblings and creating something absolutely beautiful out of them. This art of older Alm and Lukas is based on a scene from my FE Echoes fic, The Lion in Winter. Your kindness and generosity moved me so much, and every time I look at this art I'm filled with both joy and love.

[doomspiral]

Hey guess what

As always heed the warnings at the end of the chapter and in the tags or taste my blade!

[magicalmadrigals]

Paving A New Way - Chapter 2

Chapter two of my multi-chapter is here! This chapter is a lot more family based than the previous one, but I kind of love that because I live for the fluff so much. They make me so happy. The response to chapter one was so lovely, so I hope you guys like this chapter just as much! As usual, you can read over on AO3 and I'll also post the chapter under the cut. Happy reading!

...

“We should get up soon.”

“Mmph. Ten more minutes.”

Julieta smiled to herself when Gus kissed the back of her bare shoulder with a chuckle, feeling him run his hand down her arm before it found hers and he laced their fingers while putting his arm back around her. She settled again then and let her eyes fall shut, allowing herself a couple more minutes of peace with him before they really did have to get up and start getting ready to go to church. Her being awake so early on a Sunday morning was something of a rarity these days – she much appreciated the lie in she was granted with Mass starting at 9:30 – but she woke naturally at 7:00 this morning. She fully intended on going back to sleep for another hour, but her marido had had other ideas and when he started kissing her neck that was it. 30 years of marriage meant he knew all of her weak spots. For the past hour, the two of them had been wrapped up in one another, but it was slowly becoming time for them to leave the comfort of their bed and get up and greet the day and she was trying her damnedest to delay the inevitable for as long as she could.

Ay, she hadn’t realized it until now, but she feared she was beginning to turn into her hijas.

The three of them had been nightmares to get out of bed when they were teenagers – Isabela more than the other two if she remembered rightly – and now she could see why.

She was so comfortable, lying there next to her husband, and the last thing she wanted to was get up, but at the same time she was looking forward to going to Mass this morning. She knew Catalina was going to be there and it would give her a chance to check in with her. It had been three days since their talk following her appointment and although she had kept an eye out for her each time she had gone into town, not once had she seen her out and about. It worried her. She knew she got out little – unless Eduardo said she could, like she told her, she was practically confined to their home – but she normally saw her getting some shopping or something and there had just been no sign of her at all lately. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to see both of them at church though. For all his faults, she knew Eduardo was deeply religious and there was no chance of him allowing her to miss Mass no matter the state she was in. He would drag her there kicking and screaming if he had to. She hoped Catalina would come and speak to her at some point. Really, she hoped she would come and tell her that she had changed her mind and wanted to confide in Señor Flores about what was going on, but she had very little faith in that happening. She was still scared. Not only of what her marido would do to her if she talked, but what those in town would think about her. She had to get past that fear first.

Until she did, nothing was going to change.

Agustín tightening the arm around her pulled her from her thoughts and she smirked when she felt him bury his lips in her neck, his moustache scratching gently against her skin. She indulged him for a minute or so before eventually rolling onto her back in his arms and letting her head fall against his shoulder, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek as she looked up at him. “I should talk to Isa about the clinic at some point today,” She said quietly. “I keep meaning to sit down with her, but then something comes up and I forget.”

“She might finally stop talking about it if you do,” He smirked, causing her to chuckle under her breath. It had genuinely been all their girl had gone on about since she told her she would have a think about it. “I do think the new arrangement will be a good thing though if it goes well. I know you have more time now than you did back when you still had your gift, but you still go to the clinic straight after breakfast and you rarely make it home before it gets dark. At least with Isa carrying some of the load you’ll have a bit more balance.”

She nodded. “Mmm. I just worry she’ll do too much and tire herself out.”

“You mean you’re worried she’s going to end up turning into you.” He gave her a look.

“Maybe…” She shrugged.

He smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead before tucking a grey curl back behind her ear. “She is going to be fine. I know you’ll make sure she doesn’t go too far.”

Deciding not to respond with words, she reached up and laid a hand on the back of his neck before pulling him down to her and kissing him tenderly. Her thumb grazed his skin as he laid a hand on her hip while the kiss lingered, but she realised they were short on time now and so she broke away from him before they had chance to get too caught up in it. She failed to keep from laughing at his little pout when she looked at him again. “We really do need to get up now. Much longer and people will catch on to what we’ve been up to.”

“And by ‘people’ you mean your hermana.” He sat himself up next to her, raking a hand through his tousled hair.

She shook her head. “I don’t know why she gives me such a hard time about it when I know for a fact she and Félix are the exact same. Actually, I think they might be worse.”

He turned in place to look at her. “The two of you know far too much about each other.”

“I know,” She chuckled. “I think it’s a sister thing.”

“Even more reason to be grateful I was an only child.” He shook his head before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his pajama pants.

She laid there a couple minutes longer once he had gotten up, staring up at the ceiling and mentally preparing herself for the day ahead, but eventually she leaned down to retrieve her nightgown from the floor and quickly pulled it on. She got up then and headed for the wardrobe before taking out a pale blue dress and returning to the bed with it. Normally, she made a little more of an effort when it came to Sunday Mass, but they were beginning to run late now and so it was going to have to do. Once she had found some underthings to wear, she shed her nightgown and laid it at the end of the bed before changing into them and putting on her dress. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she watched Gus rake his fingers through his hair in front of the mirror while she approached her vanity to start doing her own. Men had it so much easier. It always took her forever to get her hair done.

As she took her hairpins out of the box on the table, she watched him through the mirror as he came up behind her and smiled when he bent down to kiss her gently on the cheek. “I’ll go down and let them know you’ll be there in a minute.” He ran his hands down her arms when he pulled back again, letting his chin come to rest atop her curls for a second.

“Gracias. I won’t be long.” She told him before he turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

She combed her fingers through her curls then, getting rid of any tangles before she started to pin them up on top of her head to keep them out of her face. They were still dealing with the high temperatures and the last thing she needed was her curls getting in the way and making her hotter than she already was. Once she was done with her hair and she was satisfied it was neat enough, she put in her earrings before standing from the chair and walking across the room to her shoes. Slipping her feet into them, she finally made her way out of the room and when she reached the top of the staircase the familia was already beginning to congregate at the bottom of them. She hadn’t even gotten to the foot of the stairs before Pepa gave her an all too familiar look and put her hand on her hip, causing her to chuckle gently as she came to stand beside her. “Seriously?” Her hermana asked.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow at her.

“You were almost late.” Pepa pointed out, her voice soft.

“But I wasn’t.”

“But you almost were.”

“But…” She held up a finger. “I wasn’t.”

“Ay, you two need to choose your moments better.” Pepa rolled her eyes.

She looked at her sister for a second, remembering what her husband pointed out to her earlier. “Gus thinks we know far too much about each other, you know.”

Pepa stood there in silence, thinking for a moment before she frowned. “He has a point.”

“All we all here?” Their mother spoke up, bringing their talk to an end.

They and the rest of the family mumbled in acknowledgement before she said it was time for them to leave and they all began to make their way out of the house together. It was going to be a long, hot morning and an even longer, hotter afternoon, but Julieta didn’t mind that in the slightest. Sundays were family days, days where – when they returned home from church – more often than not, they all headed outside into the garden and spent some quality time together and in her mind there was nothing more perfect than that.

Absolutely nothing.

…

She could see Catalina speaking with a small group of women from across the room as she stood with Gus following the morning service, waiting for him to finish talking with Señor Garcia so they could head home. She needed to speak with her. She had been hoping to speak with her before Mass began, but she and Eduardo had been running late – out of character for them – and they hadn’t actually arrived until about ten minutes in. When they had though, it was by chance that they had sat down right across from her and the familia and she had noticed her black eye right away. She knew for a fact it was recent, not only had she not had it when she saw her last but the colour was an indication too, and she had no doubt as to how she had gotten it either. Should she have needed more convincing though, the way she kept glancing in her direction during the sermon would have been more than enough. This morning, it had been centred around the topic of marriage. Reminders of the way maridos were meant to treat their wives and vice-versa, and it was clear in the way she kept looking at her that a number of points made had spoken to her. She hoped that meant that she had started thinking about what she’d said.

One of her main concerns was that the church would look down on her if she spoke about it, but the sermon this morning had proven different.

A husband was meant to love his wife. He was meant to sanctify her and Eduardo was doing neither of those things, so he was going against those important teachings.

If she spoke to Señor Flores about his treatment of her then she would have the backing of the church and he would be the one the congregation looked down upon, not the other way around as she had been led to believe. That was why she wanted to speak with her before heading home. If she really had changed her thinking – if she was ready to open up about things – then they could get things in motion. They could speak with Señor Flores and arrange to sit down and speak with him at a later date, that way Eduardo would have no need to be suspicious, and both of them could relax a little more. She just felt that it was crucial that they got things started as soon as they could. Especially now, with it being clear he was beginning to spiral and he was gradually becoming more violent toward her.

Looking in her direction once again, she realized the small group had begun to disperse and she watched as Catalina began making her way out of the church while brushing an errant curl from her face. “Amor, I’m just going to step outside for a minute,” She took Gus by the arm when there was a slight break in his chat with Señor Garcia and he smiled, giving her a nod in response before she moved away from him. She made her way through the room then, exchanging pleasantries with one or two people, and when she finally made it out of the building she soon caught sight of Catalina once again. She was standing a little out of the way, waiting for Eduardo to come out so they could start walking home, and so she thought it was the perfect chance for her to have a talk with her without anyone else hearing them. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress as she walked in her direction, returning the smile she gave her when she glanced her way and realized she was there. “Hola.” She said as she came to stand next to her, leaning her back against the wall and watching as people began saying their goodbyes to one another and walking away from the church in opposite directions.

“Hola Señora.” Catalina replied.

For a moment, both of them were silent, but then she turned her head her way to look at her. “I need to ask. Does this have anything to do with me coming to see you? Because if it does, I…”

“No,” Catalina was quick to assure her with a hand on her arm. “Eduardo still has no idea about that. This was my fault. I took a nap and woke up late, so I was running late with dinner the other night.”

“Catalina…”

“Señora, I know what you’re going to say and I actually, uhm, I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Julieta’s breath hitched. “Alright.”

“I spent some time thinking about what you said the other day and I…I think…”

Right as Catalina was beginning to find her voice, the two of them became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps and Julieta felt her heart sink in her chest as she watched Eduardo approach them both. He had a smile on his face, but she could tell it was ingenuine. He was putting it on for her. It was all a part of his act, but he had no idea she knew the real him and could see right through it. She knew the best thing she could do for her friend at the minute was go along with it though, so she forced a smile of her own as he came to stand in front of them. “Hola, Señora Madrigal.” He greeted her.

“Hola, Señor,” She replied. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” He shrugged. “Although we had a bit of a trying morning, hence why we were late. I doubt we’ll have the same problem next week though. Will we, amor?"

There was something in the way he said those words, the way his gaze hardened slightly when he looked at Catalina, that made her feel sick.

She had no idea what had gone on before they had come to church, but she it couldn’t have been anything good.

“No.” Came Catalina’s timid response from next to her before he held his hand out to her and she took it, moving to stand at his side.

“Well, we should be getting home. A lot to do this afternoon,” He explained. “Adios, Señora.”

“Adios.” She echoed before watching the two of them turn and begin to walk away from her, leaving her alone.

She doubted he intended for her to, but she saw the way he pulled his wife close enough to murmur something in her ear as he led her further away from the church and all it did was fill her with a new kind of fear. What was she going home to? What was going to happen to her once the two of them were back behind closed doors, alone together and away from the watchful eye of the townspeople?

Her marido would tell her she was going to make herself sick if he knew she was worrying so much, but she couldn’t help it.

She had been so close, moments away from having her tell her exactly what she wanted to hear, and now it felt as though they were right back to square one.

The look she’d seen on Eduardo’s face told her he had an idea something was going on. He had no idea what, that was something of a relief she supposed, but she could tell he had a feeling. It was that what worried her. She was the only person in town who knew anything about what Catalina was enduring. She was the only person in town she felt she could speak to about it all and with him now on edge, she was starting to worry things were going to change. The time for fretting about that was when it happened though, not right this second. She would likely drive herself insane.

“Ready to go home?” She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her husband’s voice and she gave him a smile when he came to stand next to her.

“Mmm,” She nodded, reaching for his hand and taking it in hers so she could lace their fingers. “I think Mira mentioned something about staying behind for a little while. She wants to speak to Daniela.”

“Alright,” He said before the two of them began to walk away from the church together, his brow creasing when he noted her unusually quiet demeanour. “You’re sure you’re okay? You’re quiet lately.”

She shook her head. “I am, I promise. I think I’m tired, that’s all it is, and I have a couple of patients who need a little more attention at the moment. I’ll manage though.”

“I worry about you.” He sighed, dropping her hand so he could put an arm around her waist and pull her close to him, letting her tuck her head into his neck.

“You have spent the last 30 years worrying about me, I think I’m used to it by now,” She teased as she tilted her head back to look at him. “Really though, I’m okay.”

He stroked his thumb against her hip through her dress. “You promise?”

“I do,” She stretched up to brush her lips gently against his own. “I promise…”

…

“¡Maldita sea!”

Pepa gasped and turned her head to look at her hermana when she yelped, watching her drop the knife in her hand onto the table before she cradled the other in it and inspected the cut she had gotten. She frowned, turning in place while wiping her hands on the front of her apron. She could tell something was wrong. Her sister was a wonder in the kitchen, she had spent half her life in there near enough, but today she was so uncoordinated. She was dropping things, she had burned herself, and now she had gone and cut her hand because clearly her mind was someplace other than on her work. She had noticed she had been acting unusual and she had been a little quieter than normal lately, but she thought it was tiredness more than anything because she’d been so caught up in her work down at the clinic. Now though, she was beginning to doubt. This seemed like more than just fatigue. It seemed as though something was weighing on her mind and she was starting to worry about her.

She heard her breath tremble as she came away from the table and headed for the sink so she could wash the blood from her hand, a deep sigh escaping her as she reached up to tuck a red curl behind her ear before making her way up behind her. She laid a hand on her back which made her look her way and it was clear she could see the concerned look on her face, the way her shoulders slumped. “You can talk to me, you know,” She told her gently, watching her pass her thumb carefully over the cut in her palm to clean it. “And you can’t tell me there’s nothing wrong because I am your hermana.”

Julieta chuckled before turning the tap off once the cut was clean and returning to the kitchen table. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” She hummed, unconvinced. “Sit down and let me sort your hand.”

“Pepa…”

“I said sit.”

Realizing that Pepa wasn’t going to change her mind, Julieta admitted defeat and pulled out a chair at the table before sitting down with a huff while she walked off to go and get the medical kit from the cupboard. Her hand trembled as she cradled it in the other and she watched it begin to bleed again, the sound of her hermana returning to the table making her look up a second time. Pepa pulled out the chair at her side and sat down while placing the medical kit down on the table, both of them sharing a look when she took her hand and brought it into her lap before taking a dressing out of the kit. “Out with it.” Was all she said while placing the dressing on the wound and reaching into the kit again for the roll of bandage. Her hermana said nothing for a moment, but eventually she let out a sigh.

“I don’t know…” Julieta shook her head, wincing as she began wrapping the bandage around her hand. “I have a lot on my mind at the minute, I guess. I have things I need to sort before the clinic opens tomorrow and I still need to sit down with Isa so we can talk about these new responsibilities. Oh, I also forgot Gus is going home to see his familia this weekend and I need to sort his clothes for that.”

Pepa tied the bandage to help keep it on before dropping her hand and leaning back in her chair. “I think you’re doing way too much.”

“If I don’t do too much, not enough gets done.” Julieta pointed out.

“You need to learn to ask for help when you need it,” Pepa tutted. “How many times have I told you that I’ll help with things?”

“I know, but you have enough of your own things to see to.”

“Juli, if I didn’t want or have time to help you out then I wouldn’t offer in the first place.”

Julieta gave her a small smile.

“You deal with the things for the clinic and speaking with Isa,” Pepa told her. “If you bring me Agustín’s clothes then I’ll get them sorted for him. Then you have one less thing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Julieta asked.

“Of course I am,” Pepa nodded. “I think I owe it to you. You help me out enough.”

Julieta reached out and gave her hand a tender squeeze. “Gracias. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“De nada,” Pepa replied before the two of them heard the sound of squeals and laughter coming from the back garden. The children had been hot and bothered when they got home from church and so they had gotten changed and gone out into the back garden, their mamá and the men deciding to do the same, and none of them had come back in yet. It was no surprise though. The heat was nearly unbearable and the pair of them were beginning to feel the effects now, having been cooped up in the kitchen for so long. “I think that pot still has about 20 minutes. How about we sit outside a while?”

“Yes please.” Julieta agreed before they got up with a chuckle and began to make their way out into the garden.

It took them little time to find their family and neither of them could keep from smiling when they saw the children running around together, laughing and squealing while Luisa sprayed them all with the hosepipe. Their maridos had even decided to join in, but that was no surprise. Both of them were still children at heart. Sitting a short distance away from them all was their mamá and Bruno, Valentina sat in his lap with a cup of water while they watched the fun. Silently, they approached them before sitting down in the chairs Félix and Gus must have been sitting in earlier. “Ay, you both look so warm.” Alma commented, slightly concerned, when she stopped watching her grandchildren play momentarily to look at them both. “Stay there, I’ll get you something to drink. It might cool you down a little.”

They thanked her with their eyes before she stood from her chair and headed for the table the drinks were on, Valentina babbling gently in Bruno’s lap making Pepa smile when she turned her attention to her. “No Mamí this afternoon?” She inquired, reaching out to caress her nieta’s chubby cheek lovingly with the back of a finger before she reached for her and she gladly stole her from her hermano.

“Dolores and Mariano said they were going for a nap about an hour ago,” Bruno explained. “I told them we’d wake them before dinner.”

She nodded while bouncing the baby in her lap. “I don’t think either of them – Lolita mainly – are getting much sleep at the minute, so I get it. This heat is a nightmare.”

“Am I allowed to say I miss your gift at times like this?” Julieta only half-teased, palming a curl from her sweaty forehead.

“Meh.” Pepa shrugged.

It was a couple moments later when their mamá came back with a glass of lemonade each for them and they thanked her when she gave them to them, watching her sit back down in her seat with a sigh. No one spoke much for a time then, the four of them content to be in the company of each other while watching the others cool off, but then Gus and Félix stepped away from the group and Julieta and Pepa felt their breath catch. Both of them were completely soaked, their hair free of the product they had put in it for church earlier, and their shirts had become almost see-through and were clinging to them in a way that made them feel even warmer. It got past neither of the men, it was clear in the way the pair of them blinked at them before looking at one another and chuckling when they worked it out, and they cleared their throats as they made their way up to them. “I think we’re going to go up and change before dinner,” Agustín announced. “We, uh, told the others they have five more minutes.”

Julieta nodded and her heart raced a little when he gave her a wink, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk as she watched him and Félix start making their way back inside.

She felt Bruno looking at her then and turned her head to look his way, unable to keep from laughing as she watched him look back and forth between her and their hermana several times.

“I hate you both.” He told them.

“You love us.” She tutted with a shake of her head, lifting her glass of lemonade and taking a sip.

“Nope.” He argued.

“He loves us.” Pepa laughed, drawing Valentina close and letting her rest her head on her shoulder.

Going back to watching the children run around on the grass, Julieta traced the rim of the glass in her hand and sighed as she leaned back in her chair. It would be time to head back inside and continue with dinner soon enough, she knew that, but for the time being she could just sit and spend time with her familia. She could have a drink with her siblings, watch her mamá smile each time one of the children did something funny, and see her babies – who were no longer babies at all – have fun together and that was her idea of perfect. If someone had told her three years ago that their familia would be like this, all of them together and at peace with each other, then she wouldn’t have believed it. They had come so far in such a small amount of time and she couldn’t have been prouder of them all.

She couldn’t have been more grateful.

…

Julieta set a cup of tea down in front of her hija before pulling out a chair and sitting down at her side at the kitchen table, Isabela giving her a smile as she brought the cup into her hands before sipping carefully at the steaming liquid. “Lo siento, I did mean to talk to you about this earlier on, mi amor, but I ended up having more to get through today than I thought I was going to.” She admitted gently.

“Don’t worry, Mamá, I get it.” Isabela shook her head.

“Okay, so I had a think about what you said about wanting to do more at the clinic and I had an idea,” She told her. “Like I said before, you aren’t going to be doing anything on your own for a while yet. I know how capable you are, but thinking you can handle something and actually being able to handle something are very different things and I don’t want you panicking because something hasn’t gone the way you thought it would. That being said, I do want you to have a little independence though because you’ll learn better that way. I was thinking that, tomorrow, you could be the one to see the first patient of the day. I’ll be in the room with you, but I’ll be quiet and let you handle things the way you think and I’ll only step in if you need me to or if I think I have a reason to do so,” She explained. “I think that one patient will be enough for your first time and then, after, you can have a think about how it went and we’ll have a talk about it when we get home from the clinic. Does that sound alright?”

Isabela nodded. “It sounds perfect.”

“I know you’re worried,” Julieta reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, having seen the look in her eyes when she told her she’d be starting in the morning, giving her a smile as she ran the back of her hand down her cheek. “But you can do this and you know you can because you told me yourself. You know the things you need to ask patients about, you know the things you need to look for, and you know more about each of those hierbas than I could hope to. You need to have as much faith in yourself as I do because the only one having doubts right now is you. I trust you completely.”

“And…and you’ll be there. The whole time?”

“You aren’t going to be left on your own for a second.”

“Okay…” Isabela breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair before she chuckled under her breath. “I think Papí will be glad. He’s tired of hearing me talk about it now.”

Julieta laughed. “No, he is as proud of you as I am and he knows you’re just excited. He loves you so much.”

Isabela smiled and looked down into her tea for a second before drinking the last of it and setting her cup back down on the table. “I think I might go to bed. I want to make sure I sleep.”

“Good idea,” Julieta agreed before the two of them stood from their chairs and tucked them in. “I’ll be going up myself soon. I want to get those dishes done before Señora Lopez comes in the morning.”

“You do know Pá will come looking for you at some point, right?” Isabela brought a hand to her hip and gave her a look.

Julieta rolled her eyes playfully. “I know.”

Giggling, Isabela took a step closer to her and caught her in a hug, burying her nose in her shoulder for a moment when she felt her wrap her own arms around her and bury a hand tenderly in her hair. “I love you, Mamá.” She said into the fabric of her dress, the love she had for her mother deepening when she kissed the side of her head and let her hand run down her back through her nightgown.

“I love you too, corazón.” Julieta replied as she gave her a squeeze before letting her pull back from her.

“Before I go up,” Isabela suddenly remembered. “Things are all sorted for the morning, aren’t they? You don’t need my help with anything?”

“No, I dealt with all that earlier.” Julieta told her, running a hand down her arm.

“Okay. Well, buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches.”

Her daughter stepped around her and walked out of the kitchen then, heading up to bed and leaving her alone, and she failed to keep from smiling to herself as she grabbed the cups from the table and carried them to the sink so she could wash them. She was so, so proud of her little girl. She always had been, from the moment she was born, but there was something about the way she was nowadays that made her prouder than she could put into words. She had changed so much in the time since things changed for them. Her attitude had improved, her relationship with the familia – Mira especially – had improved tenfold, and she was just the most selfless young woman she knew. She still had her moments, of course, she was far from perfect – even though in her mind she could never be anything but – but she was one of her greatest blessings and she was so looking forward to seeing her flourish and go from strength to strength. She had no idea what her future had in store for her, whether she would continue caring for people and go on to run the clinic one day or whether life would take her down another path, but there was one thing that she was completely sure of. She had no doubt about.

She was always going to be there to support her.

[randomnameless]

I appreciate that at least they stayed consistent with the Sword of the Creator being Crest of Flames-exclusive and, as such, Byleth can no longer use it post-CF and is shown using a normal sword instead in their solo and S-Supported Jeritza ending pictures; makes it all the more baffling that they're still alive despite their heart being destroyed and that the Sothis S-Support exists in that route, but i'll give them credit where it's due for keeping the SOTC's lore consistent.

Post Tru Piss, there's no Crest Stone left for the SoC!

So I'd say it's not that it's CoF exclusice, but rather something like without a crest stone, a relic, even the SoC, doesn't "work" anymore.

Adding insult to the injury though, Post!Tru Piss Billy uses Rhea's sword, aka, a Holy Weapon that could be used by everyone (human and nabatean!) and even heal non-crested people : Billy uses at the end of the "we will make a world for humans!" route a sword that conveyed coexistence between humans and nabateans...

Sothis' S-support in this route really felt odd, because she acknowledges Rhea at least, but has no words for her passing when Rhea died crying for her.

Some people tried to theorise that this Sothis isn't the one Rhea remembers so she wouldn't have feelings about her... but idk, it still feels dead wrong, especially since Sothis remembered feelings of joy and sadness in Zanado, and ultimately remembers how Rhea is a her kid thanks to the lullaby (and in SS when she "talks" to her).

If Sothis was a better written character and not accidently written to be the most toxic parent in the FE series, I'd maybe write something about her feeling so bad that, again, she was used to slaughter one of her own children (Nemesis first in Zanado, and now Billy in Tailtean) but as canon!Sothis is, I'm not really motivated to do something like this.

[merryfortune]

Picnic by Candlelight

Written for the Sweet and Spicy Bingo 2023

prompts provided by @sweetspicybingo

Prompt: Candlelight

Title: Picnic by Candlelight

Ship: Alm/Celica/Faye

Fandom: Fire Emblem Shadows of Valentia

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,036

Warnings: None

Tags: Polyamory, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Fluff

   The brisk evening with a sky full of violets speckled with stars was perfect for an al fresco outing.

   It was silly, perhaps even juvenile, but neither King Alm nor Queen Celica cared. Their servants had tried to convince them to have a banquet since their favourite guest was in their midsts but they knew her better. Far better. And so, a starlit picnic was decided upon. 

   They could only have these rural pleasures in fleeting splashes throughout the months and so, indulge they would. They wanted to make sweet and precious memories with their unconventional companion, no title given lest waves would be made and she didn’t particularly want to stand out.

   That companion being their dearest Faye.

   “Thank you, again, my dear for making the journey from Ram Village.” Celica said as she kissed Faye’s cheek.

   “I would go to the end of the world for Alm, and you, too, Celica, of course. For either of you, really,” Faye giggled, “it's truly my pleasure.”

   “Glad to hear it.” Alm replied.

   He shepherded both his lovers closer, it was the gentlemanly thing to do after all. Even if he was clumsy with how he divided his attention. It wasn’t a normal nor kingly thing to do, to take two wives. One in public and the other in secret. Though how secret it was remained to be seen given that the garden was adorned with guards, laced with servants, and plenty of eyes to see but they tried to keep it under wraps as best they could.

   Faye’s feelings… They could overcome even fate, separation, and wars. Her desire to be as close knit as she could to her beloved, it resonated and being a good friend of Celica, too, they found a way forward. All three of them. Some in ways which overlapped and other times, in ways that weaved all their relationships differently.

   But for now. There was a level of discretion necessary. Faye understood that and so, was included in whatever ways that she could. As far as the staff knew, she was just a friend visiting for vacation but she knew it would not be the guest suite that she would be retiring to after midnight. 

    Until then, Faye would simply have to wait as her heart burgeoned with anticipation of what was to come and enjoy the present as it, too, was a rare gift. She had all the faith in the world that Alm and Celica would welcome her warmly again later but for now. A certain decorum was necessary. Faye was a distinguished guest and only that, as far as anyone who needed to know could know.

  Their dates could only occur once a blue moon and Faye did not want to jeopardise her stays. It was such agonising sorrow to be parted from either Alm or Celica too long. So they had to behave themselves until the time to come undone, with festivity and excitement, was appropriate.

   So, on this calm and wondrous night, they set themselves down in the middle of the castle's gardens on a picnic blanket. It was a pale purple to match the dusky sky, it was laden with treats and a bottle of wine, candles were lit around to enhance the mood. The weather was mild, if a little cold, but it just made for an ever more perfect dusk for them to have to themselves on a date. 

   Here, amid the glimmering candlelights and atop this woollen picnic blanket in the dewy grass, politics fell to the wayside. As did nameplates and other stifling courtesies. When they were together like this, They became akin to how they were as children. A little jaded, yes, but free and innocent in the same breath. 

they could be themselves and each other’s lovers.

   “We have a fine selection of delicacies tonight, Faye.” Alm said. “Foods from far and wide, excellent wine. Please, help yourself.” He gestured over the spread laid upon the wooden plank of the charcuterie board.

   From one end of it to the other, Faye’s eyes followed the path that Alm’s hand laid out. She gazed over generous mounds of cheese and even chocolate, various fruits and dried meats, little savoury biscuits and more. Her mouth watered just looking.

   But here was the thing about Faye and she knew this humbleness so well it became a vice. It was difficult to spoil her, and right now even, she felt as though she ought to deny the generosity. She pined for the simple things - fresh peeled oranges, homegrown, sugar cookies fresh from the oven and chilled spring water - but she accepted. She glanced at Celica, following her lead to the grapes first.

   “They’re delicious, Alm.” Celica said. She popped another grape in her mouth for good measure.

   Faye agreed wordlessly with a smile after she finished swallowing. The grape was sweet and juicy, truly a bounty of an agricultural region formerly of Zofia but now of Valm. Her heart stammered in her chest as she glanced between her two lovers to affirm the private joke within her thoughts. It was nice that Zofia and Rigel were united as they were, just like Celica and Alm respectively then her in the middle: enjoying the best of both worlds. 

   She watched, fondly, as Alm and Celica leaned into one another. Alm moved his arm behind Celica, inviting her into an angular embrace and their lips met in the middle with a kiss. It was a kiss fitting of a wedding vow. Faye took it upon herself to reach for the wine - it promised notes of peaches and roses - and poured three glasses. 

   “Thank you, dear.” Celica told her when she finished kissing Alm. 

   Faye doled out the wine. First to Alm, who acknowledged her with a nod, and then to Celica whose delicate fingers brushed along her own when she accepted the glass by its slender stem. 

   “To us.” Faye said.

   “To us.” Alm affirmed.

   Faye initiated the gesture again. She held up her wine glass to the middle and the other two kissed her own upon its rim. She would have her turn soon, in more privacy than what this picnic by candlelight would offer.

[thedivergingpaths]

Priest of the North

Mycen takes the young Prince Alm, but he eventually gives the baby to Novis Island.

He can come back and train the boy to be a wairror, but he isn't a father figure.

(He doesn't get the chance to come back)

Alm grows up on the sea, saying prayers and beating back pirates. His strength is unmatched even by the mecenaries who come and pray to the Mother Mila.

Silque is assigned to follow and train and hold back the force that is Alm before he is ready to be loosed on the world.

She is, in all ways but blood, his big sister, but she does not hold him back.

As piracy becomes more normal around Novis, Alm takes more and more to the sea. As his skills in battle and the stern improve, he takes companions to fight against villains and protect those he loves and the innocent.

Alm is eventually sent on a quest to check on Mother Mila, his big sister Silque in tow along with the acolytes Mae, Boey, and Genny. Alm has never been particularly skilled with magic, but he can do basic healing and serves as the tank of the group.

Further south in the nation, a rebellion against a coup is growing stronger around a mysterious mage called Celica.

Alm goes on his quest against pirates, but notes the growing rumors of Zofia lost and regained and of growing Rigelian agression.

Alm readies himself to fight, and decides to go forth and meet the liberator of Zofia, Celica.

(He feels the call of trouble at the Temple of Mila)

(He is troubled by dreams of mad dragons and a dying Duma and Mila)

When Alm and Celica do meet in a palace Alm has never seen, it is as strangers. But they feel like they know each other.

Celica was raised and trained far to the south in little Ram Village, and her closest allies are her friends who followed her into the Deliverance. Alm knows he has never been there, but he recognizes the mark on her hand as a blessing of the gods.

He departs before either can figure each other out. Alm heads for Mila's temple to unroot that problem - but he is pursued by his unknown heritage, by the Rigelians who birthed and hid him.

Destiny comes for all in the end.

-

Check out the previous installments of Fire Emblem AU ficlet/ideas at Birthright in Conquest, Time is Not Linear and Macedon's Twist of Fate

** DO NOT USE AI ON MY WORKS **

[uncaught-coolfish]

My hot take: Blake shouldn't be rich, and she probably should've been an orphan. It really seems like Blake's parents were an afterthought

.

[midnight--capricorn]

Alm I am sorry you aren't the focus here

Also your girl just got snatched and I am not sorry for that

[i23kazu]

waugh good evening guys :3

[alms4oblivion]

Seven Minutes in Hell

Beatrice thought this was going to be the best Halloween ever. She got to dress as Princess Elsa and go trick-or-treating. She even got a toothbrush with the Frozen characters on it at the third house! She told her classmate, Ava Silva about it...but it turns out Ava didn't want a toothbrush for Halloween. Things went downhill from there, until Ava decided, loudly, that she was going to curse Beatrice with a nightmare, and then Beatrice thought she should curse Ava with a nightmare just in case curses were real and...they never really stopped.

Four times Ava and Beatrice ruined each other's Halloween, and one time when they didn't.

Childhood enemies to lovers, the evil twin of See You In Our Dreams.

Seven Minutes in Hell - Alms4Oblivion - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

[lead-acetate]

there are two genders: killing off some canon characters for tragic backstory and creating OCs only to kill them for the tragic backstory

and girl. I know nobody except for me cares but Alme Ki deserved to live. the author (me) killing them off only for Jango to have trauma was a Weak Move. they studied botanics. they loved kids. they liked braiding their hair. they looked at that unhinged traumatised twenty-yeear-old Trad Mando at a bar and said "I want it". they wanted to build a family and a farm and to not live through another civil war--

i feel like a monster. wtf lead. justice for Alme.

[mrmissmrsrandom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alm/Lukas (Fire Emblem) Characters: Alm (Fire Emblem), Lukas (Fire Emblem) Additional Tags: Opposite POV retelling, Bedsharing, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Half or more of the fic is Alm's perspective on events in The Lion in Winter. Then some new stuff in his POV!, Pats Alm: my man can fit so much Sad and Yearning in him, Masturbation, References to next generation OCs, Intimacy, Sex Toys, 30 years Post-Shadows of Valentia Series: Part 2 of The Lion in Winter Summary:

Alm turns away from the yawning grave to face new possibilities.

---

Happy Fire Emblem Day! Posted the first of my The Lion in Winter extras yesterday, if you’d like to take a look.

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: let her taste the fires of hell, or let her be mine and mine alone! - the young chaplain, charles leclerc, cannot control his desires when the very object of sin crosses his path: you. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you are not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following: noncon/dubcon, slapping/flogging, forced breeding, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, carving, overstimming/edging, bondage, kidnapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on the hunchback of notre dame and hilda furacao! also guys... read the second part: You're My Religion

chaplain!charles waited impatiently at the front doors of the cathedral. his brow arched at the bell ringers who passed by him to attend to the younger chaplains. he bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes at father gasly who had just received a basket of bread and eggs, enough to share for two; however, father gasly had already promised father ocon the week before that when the bell ringer delivered the next basket of groceries, he would share 30% of the goods with him. that left 60%, and charles had made it very clear that would only have 50% of the basket, never 30%. he would never settle for less, no matter the circumstances. his head snapped back to face the street at the edge of the staircase down below, eyes searching for his specific bell ringer. the items he had listed were very simple: bread, cheese and a pint of milk. yet, the imbecile - as charles would put it - made it seem as if the young chaplain had asked for the finest meal in all of the country. he saw the boy run up the staircase, panting heavily,

"forgive me, father leclerc," the boy heaved, struggling to catch his breath. he thrusted the basket into the hands of the chaplain, "i believe i've bought everything that you asked for."

charles peered into the basket, frowning when he noticed only the bread and milk. the cheese was not present. he glared at the young boy, eyes shifting to the sky as he inhaled, sharply, "lord, grant me the strength to not strike this young lad for his incompetence," his eyes traveled down to the boy once more, "where is the cheese?"

"w-what? i swear the lady in the market gave it to me!" he cried out, burying his head inside the basket. charles pushed his head away as the boy continued to rant, "i swear she did! i even paid for it with the alms that were given to you, father leclerc! she put something inside along with the bread and milk, i am sure of it!" he watched charles shift through the basket once more, his nimble fingers pushing the slices of bread around when he noticed a thinly shaped parchment tucked between two slices. he pulled it out, flipping it around to see that it was folded into four pieces and he tossed the basket to the boy before opening the paper.

"god is a lie, tell your beloved peasants residing in the church that their foolish words shall no longer have appeal, so long as i live!"

charles crumpled the paper and tossed it down the stairs, a snarl on his lips as he glared at the boy, "who gave you this basket? who would dare write such heresy to be given to the devotees of god here?"

"i-i do not know! maybe the baskets were switched!" the boy reasoned, and charles yanked the basket from his hand and stormed into the cathedral, barking at the other men that blocked his path towards his cell. he was stopped quite shortly by father bozzi who beckoned him towards the main altar,

"father leclerc, you are causing quite the storm today," he commented, instantly raising a finger to silence charles' arguable words. he brought a hand over the younger man's shoulder, guiding him to stand right before the holy cross, hung gloriously above for all to see. the light from the glass windows shifted towards the cross, as if god himself was asking of charles to redirect his attention back to the being that expected better of him. he swallowed, thickly, taking in a deep breath as he closed his eyes, letting the still air of the cathedral silence his restless mind. "you must learn to control your emotions. it is bad to let your tongue slither around, you must hold it as you must your anger. you are to set an example to the other chaplains. in a month, you shall become a chapter priest. i have put good word for you to archdeacon vasseur, he cares for you tremendously, you are practically his son!"

the golden child of the cathedral, charles knew what his situation was. yet the pressure of it all, to be better than the others, to see to it that one day he would be the archdeacon. it was all too much for him to handle, to understand the expectations. his heart swelled at the praise, but the nagging sensation of what he had read from the parchment continued to persist and he let his eyes fall to the holy cross once more, "with such a divine presence in our lives, it irks me that there is someone amongst our town preaching heresy to the people."

"heresy? are you sure, father leclerc?" father bozzi furrowed his brows, leaning in closer to ensure the commonfolk around them would not be able to eavesdrop. charles jerked his head to guide them both to a corner before whispering into the man's ear,

"i am positive. one of the bell ringers came to me with my basket of bread and milk and inside was found a parchment that emphasized how god is a lie," charles noticed the way father bozzi's hands flung to his ears, deafening himself to such disgusting words. he shook his head, crossing himself before turning to father leclerc,

"heresy is condemned here. it is imperative to find the man that is behind all this and have him burned at the stake for such insolence. i shall have a word with the archdeacon very soon, father leclerc. as of now, the archdeacon wished for me to tell you that a local hospital is in need of some divine intervention. the archdeacon wants you to go see if you can save the poor souls before he passes away." father bozzi took a step backwards, bowing his head before departing to his cell.

as per archdeacon vasseur's command, charles took his small, worn-out copy of his bible which was a testament to how devoted he was to the catholic church and his rosary, his fingers toying with the beads as he departed down the large staircase out of the cathedral. his foot kicked up the crumpled paper from earlier, and he scowled as his foot stomped it further into the dusty ground before walking off as if nothing had transpired. the hospital was quite the distance, and as he continued to walk he decided to utter a few bible verses to relax his mind. father bozzi was right, he had to control his mind and thereby his tongue. he could not let his emotions flood him, nor could he illicit such hurtful remarks to those that upset him. he had to keep himself in check, and he prayed that the holy father would guide him through the dark, treacherous path of the mortal world. as he turned the corner, he noticed a small, run-down stall of necessities and in front, leaning against the edge was you with your head thrown back, eyes closed as you basked in the sunlight. charles gazed at you in confusion, unsure as to why you were not behind the stall when a large crowd of men pushed past him to gather around your enchanting frame.

"well, well, well... frederick, i expect the usual?" you cooed, running a hand through your hair before letting it glide down your neck to rest on your scantily covered bosom. the man, frederick, let out a hearty laugh, moving to stand besides you as he picked up a pint of milk, tossing you some coins before gulping the liquid down. he let some of it splash onto the top of your breasts, and you squealed at the sensation, swiping the droplets with your forefinger before gliding it into your mouth for a taste. the men around you sighed, dreamily, at your action and as your eyes traveled around the crowd, it fell onto charles who snarled at the sight of debauchery happening in front of him. this was why he hated stepping out of the cathedral, there was so much sin lurking around. he averted his eyes elsewhere, realizing that he had overstood his time in front of your stall and trudged forward, muttering at how lust destroys humans, how it easily corrupts the innocent. he gave you one more glance, and unknowingly, his eyes drifted down your neck to the fullness of your tits, watching the way they bounced as you jumped, clapping your hands at the sight of some man making a fool out of himself just for your entertainment. his gaze roamed down to the way your ass curved against your skirt, sticking out for any man to grab. his eyes snapped down to see his hand reach out into the open air and he took a step back in horror at his own action. you had to be a witch, tempting him into sin! he growled under his breath, storming off to his duty.

you were waiting for him at your stall when he returned, drumming your fingers against the makeshift wooden table as he passed by you with the same scowl on his lips.

"father leclerc!" you stood up, and then you clapped your hands to grab his attention. sensing that he would not stop, you rolled your eyes and hollered, "charles!" the smirk that was on your face was quickly replaced with fear as he charged towards you, slamming his bible down.

"comment osez-vous !" he shouted, watching you cower onto the wall behind your stall, "how dare you address me by my name, you insolent wench! a god fearing woman such as yourself should know better than to..." his words are silenced at the sight of the slightest sliver of parchment poking from underneath the fabric, the raised hand falling down to his side as his eyes flashed in anger. he bit his tongue, remembering the words of father bozzi, "what have you called me for, young woman?"

"i was wondering if you liked your basket of goods this morning," you forced a smile, darting your tongue out to wet your lips, and charles' anger grew once more, but so did a different feeling. those lips of yours, he craved it. he sighed out loud, wanting to open a verse of the bible to school you when his eyes stopped at your barely-covered breast, the parchment hiding in the corner mocking him. his hand delved onto your tits, roughly groping away as you gasped out loud at the sudden intrusion, feeling his fingers roll against your hardening nipples. he roughly yanked out the stash of parchment, tilting his head up to reform your beliefs when in a second, his head snapped to the side as a burning sensation bloomed onto his left cheek. his eyes peered to the sight of you rubbing your sore knuckles, having backhanded him across his face.

"even a man of your supposed god is not free from sin," you whispered, and just as he was about to smash your head with the milk pints, father gasly had walked over to his friend with a smile that continued to die down with each step that he took.

"what has happened here, ami?" he questioned, staring between charles and you. when receiving no answer, he frowned and draped an arm around his friend, turning him around to head back to the cathedral. you were biting your lip in frustration at the fact that your parchments were seized by charles, and even worse, the sight of his dark glare boring into your soul pressed you to find shelter soon for your own safety. charles was bound to inform the church, and while the idea of burning at the stake was gruesome, you believed that death was not one you should fear, but one you should accept.

however, charles did not inform the other fathers about his discovery. nor did he go to confess his sin of having wrongfully touched a woman. in his mind, if he told the other fathers about his discovery, they would ask how he obtained it. he could never lie in front of them, and if he told them the truth, they would be horrified. and then, if he confessed his sin, father sainz would be considered for chapter priest over him. he could not risk such a move. he had to be quiet, but the turmoil swirling inside him forced him to his knees, hands crossed as the rosary dangled from his fingers. he couldn't shake the image of your round tits, the warmth that he felt on his fingers. to be near a woman, to be even able to touch her. he ran his hands over his face, hoping that your intoxicating scent was still alive on his fingers. he glanced up to the holy cross he had perched on the wall, mouth running dry. he glanced over to the pint of milk he had received from you earlier, placed right next to stash of your written poster of heresy. lost in a daze, he scrambled over to unscrew the milk and he remembered the sight of the man pouring it over your breasts, how you licked a stripe of the liquid from your delicate finger. he was drowning in the thought of you, unable to withstand the temptation of sin. he was cursed with having always letting his emotions get the best of him, but this was not an emotion. it was an obsession. he took a sip of the milk, savoring its taste before pouring it down his head, his tongue - now let loose - lapping at the liquid as it trailed downwards, spilling onto the floor. his face covered in your milk, and he envisioned it as it truly being your milk which only made him yearn for you more. he grabbed the stash of parchments, unfolding and placing them onto his face as if they were napkins, the paper soaking up the milk droplets. the warmth of your skin was still imprinted onto the paper, he could smell you off of them. he groaned out loud, wishing his hands were not bound from the constraints of his duty as a servant of god, to be able to bury his face in those tits of yours to sing praises of you out loud. another needy moan escaped his lips, and he pulled the papers off him to see your heretic cries, your hurdled insults. each page a different set of twisted words targeting his church, his people, his beliefs. the bitch had tricked him, she had ruined his once pure mind. he crawled over to the wall frantically, glancing up to see the cross once more as he begged for forgiveness.

he begged, and begged, and continued to beg as tears fell from his eyes, his cheeks all rosy from the woeful tunes he sang. you had destroyed him, changed him. he was meant to be chapter priest in a month, and would soon lead an enviable life. no, no, no, how could you do this to him? you, of all people, a heretic! he sobbed once more, clutching the rosary to his chest as he asked the holy father to pardon him.

"forgive me! punish me but please forgive me!" he cried out, arms outstretched into the air as he kneeled in front of the wall. his chest heaved with each sob that bellowed from his gut. he believed his prayers to fall onto deaf ears, and for penance, he decided to starve himself. no eggs, no bread, no cheese and definitely no milk. he would switch to eating soup even worse to punish himself. perhaps if he did so, he would be forgiven, he would be seen as the ideal role model that he always was. the golden child, the one that was meant to carry the legacy of archdeacon vasseur, to restore glory to the catholic church. most importantly, he would be the one to make sure you pay for tempting to him to sin.

the well-awaited carnival took place in the center of town, a spectacle to behold. the dancers, the food, the jesters, the royal family making an appearance because they loved to take part in the lives of their people. the chaplains had returned to their cells after prayer, their ears stirring at the music that floated through the halls of the cathedral. charles was sipping his bowl of soup, its contents pitiful, when he received word from father gasly that he was to go outside and convince the people to attend mass tomorrow and in order to do so, they must put an end to the carnival. charles grimaced, despising the thought of having to step out of the cathedral once more. he loved to stay inside, loved to sit in his cell and recite the verses that he memorized with such love and adoration. the thought of having to step foot into a place of sin, the thought of you possible being there. it disgusted him.

yet, duties had to be done and he once again found himself with his bible and rosary in hand, watching the village folk run around, laughing with rum in their hands. he snarled, electing to sit beside the king who had beckoned him over with a welcoming hand. you'll enjoy the festivities, you'll feel welcome, the villagers always love to celebrate every good event, the king rambled and charles tuned him out, still holding to his belief that this place was an extension of hell. he was just about ready to excuse himself when he saw you sauntering up to the center of the stage, an outfit that made him part his lips with a dazed expression. your shirt hung loose off your shoulders, the corset tightening your waist which pushed your tits upward as you grabbed hold of your skirt and began to dance, seductively. some of the men from below the stage hopped on to join you, twirling you around while skipping to and fro. your eyes were fixated on charles, calling to him like the siren that you were. he averted his eyes, his grip tightening around his rosary as he saw you approaching the royal family. you curtsied, bowing your head and offered a rose to the princess who beamed in joy at such a simple act. their joy was short-lived when they saw you stalk over to charles, curtsying enough for him to glance at your cleavage, before standing up abruptly. a tease, a temptation, a witch. quite suddenly, you grabbed onto his rosary and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him close to your face as your lips brushed against his nose.

"your tricks won't work on me, satan," charles whispered, breathlessly. his words spoke one story, while his eyes told another. you smirked at his reaction, shaking your head,

"and yet you fall every single time, father, strange isn't it?"

when you pulled away, you let his rosary hit the ground as you went back to dancing. the king laughed out loud, commenting that this must be the chaplain's first interaction with a woman in his entire life but charles wasn't focused on that. he was focused on his cracked rosary, now shaped like a jagged knife. if he had it his way, he would bend you over in front of everyone and show the entire village how much of a whore you were. you would be screaming for mercy, begging him to let you go, and all he would do is laugh. heretics never deserved mercy. they didn't believe in the holy father that would grant them such mercy, so why should he? charles' jaw clenched at the thought, and he stood up and departed the carnival with lust clouding his thoughts.

it was late at night, the chaplains were back in their cells fast asleep before sunday mass. yet, charles was out searching through the streets for something... else. he couldn't hold his desires anymore, he couldn't control his thoughts. your power over him, it was revolting! and the only way to relieve his struggles, was to let it out on some prostitute that would throw herself at him. he remembered when he had been very young how father vettel - who was later kicked out of the cathedral - had been secretly seeing woman for his own pleasure. charles had seen a woman on her knees in the confession booth, her lips wrapped around father vettel's member as he groaned out loud, hips snapping to meet her lips. charles remembered witnessing the sinful exchange and being tempted to try it out on his own. it took weeks of penance to cleanse his mind after, but he feared that in his present day, it was impossible now. nothing could make him forget you. he stopped in front of a small hut, a dull candle shining through the broken window as he pushed the door open to see a prostitute fast asleep on her bed. he shut the door behind him, bringing the cloak down before towering over her sleeping form.

she deserved no kindness, her job itself was that of impurity. he set his cloak on her small table, beginning to undress. the shifting of clothes and jewelry caused her to stir in her sleep and when she opened her eyes groggily, a hand clasped around her mouth as the bed dipped at the additional weight of charles climbing in.

"not a word from you. i shall pay you a handsome sum if you do your job," he hissed, yanking her top down to expose her breasts. his hands came forward to softly knead the flesh, her gasps spurring him on as he began to squeeze, pinching her nipples harshly as she let out a cry in pain.

"father l-lec-"

"no!" he slapped her across her face, remembering when you had done the same to him. it boiled his blood that you would dare raise your hand at him, and he sucked his teeth, "you call me charles. i want to hear you say charles."

she whimpered, nodding her head as he lowered his face onto her tits, burying his face between them as he groaned out loud. they were so soft, so warm and beautiful and he ran his tongue over her hardened peaks, flicking them around before beginning to suck. she moaned, quietly, arching into him further as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer. whoever this whore was, she was going limp in his arms as he continued to maul at her tits, marking her. his lips trailed up to her neck, biting on her skin harshly as he pulled away to stare at her, "i'll need your help. i'm quite inexperienced in... such... acts of intimacy, but i need it to relieve my anger."

"i can gladly help you father..." she paused, noticing the way his eyes narrowed at her and she gulped, before responding "charles." she let her finger trail down the side of his face, but he caught hold of her hand and scoffed,

"don't... touch me, she wouldn't be able to anyway," he ignored the way the woman frowned at his words, not following along but as long as she paid him, she was happy to fulfill whatever he asked for.

it was hours later when charles exited the hut, glancing through the window to see the woman completely passed out on the bed, not an ounce of fabric covering her form. he smirked to himself, bringing the hood of his cloak closer to mask his identity. he was walking down the street when he saw you, standing there with a disgusted expression on your face.

"for a man of god, you commit every sin in the world and yet you are pardoned. how would the church feel knowing what you have done? with a prostitute?" you questioned, which only darkened his eyes as he walked over to where you stood.

"prostitutes are necessary evils, they help control a common man's lust," he replied.

"common man? or every man? you clearly couldn't control your lust. did you see her at mass? is there an affair taking place?" you snapped, circling around him and he laughed, a dark rich laugh as he took off his hood to stare directly into your eyes.

"you witch, you would know. if i had never seen you, my path would've stayed the same. but you... you!" he thrust his finger into your face, before wrapping his hand around your throat, "you disgusting whore, you've ruined me. you've destroyed everything i spent years working on! that prostitute was only meant to substitute you!"

he let his hand trail down to your arm, placing it behind you as he spun you around so that your back touched his chest. he inhaled the scent of your hair, murmuring praises as his lips danced down your neck. he stretched your shirt to expose your shoulder, the very one he saw in carnival earlier in the day and sunk his teeth, clamping your mouth shut to silence your screams. it was music to his ears. wriggling out of his grasps, you grabbed the rosary from his pockets and swung it at him. he groaned in pain, feeling a gash on his forehead as blood trickled down. when his eyes snapped upwards, he saw your form running away from him and he clutched onto the fallen rosary, seething in rage that you managed to escape him once again. mass would start in a couple hours, and he would pray to the holy father to let him have you, let him punish you for your wrongdoings and teach you how to behave.

charles was always gifted with music. it was one of his defining skills, and he was allowed to play the grand organ during mass. he finished his last drop of soup, shuddering at the foul taste that he created to punish himself and sank down on the cushioned stool, cracking his knuckles. he glanced down at his fingers, remembering the way they were knuckle-deep in the prostitute's cunt, the squelching of her juices as he kept thrusting them into her, his other hand rubbing her clit as she whimpered, telling him it was too much. he remembered slapping her, telling her to hold her tongue as he continued to work her to her climax. he curled his fingers inside her, watching her legs shake as they involuntarily spread further. he twisted his fingers inside her, her clit puffy from the way his thumb massaged it with fervor. her juices splattered onto him, and the wave of realization washed over him as his fingers delicately brushed against the keys. the buttons of music. he pushed them around, his eyes drifting to the ceiling of the cathedral as he played the first few chords he was accustomed to. the calling from god, the spirit that let his gospel be spread for the underprivileged that saw him as their savior. archdeacon vasseur was below near the main altar, welcoming in the devout christians that were attending mass. the organs above, the gold decorations shining in the light. they were curved, mesmerizing. they were you. he swore he saw you in the reflection of the organ, laughing and mocking him. berating, ridiculing, insulting, spitting at him. he felt an invisible force press down on the gash on his forehead, and he hissed as he stiffened, feeling the light above call out to him but the dark temptation pulling him back down.

unaware that the sermon had commenced below, charles smashed his fingers onto the organ, letting his emotions run wild as the chords become darker, more desperate. it was the call of a siren, the lustful whines of the devil that would not let him go. it wasn't his fault, it was never his fault! how could he resist you? the wench who had powers far greater than that of any man, it was hard! he was still young, still had much to learn and he screamed out loud as he felt his heart being torn to pieces, fingers still playing the ominous tune on the grand organ. it wasn't until father sainz and father gasly physically lifted and dragged charles away did his vision begin to clear, and he realized his mistake. no, he'd let archdeacon vasseur down. he made a fool of himself in front of everyone, he'd use his talent to procure something so evil! his despair was heightened when he was placed back in his cell to reflect and seek god to save his troubled soul as he sobbed in his bed, feeling like a disappointment. his tears cascaded down his cheeks, eyes searching for the holy father to lift him to heaven! he could not spend another second in this mortal world, as long as you lived. the parchment paper stash was on his desk, and he scowled at the sight of it, ripping it to shreds before exiting his cell and taking it to the fireplace just outside in the hallway. he tossed the pieces of paper inside, watching the way the small embers of the fire flickered and danced around, its orange tint glowing against the darkness surrounding it. The flame grew, spreading across the small piece of paper, the edges turning from a stark white to a dull charcoal. The visual haunted him, the flames reminding him of your hair, of your burning eyes, that desire that is eating him from inside. he needed you, he needed to have you in his arms. the smoke that emitted from the burnt papers swept over to him and he extended his arms, swiping at them to see if he could hold onto to it. when met with the air of his sins, he stared at the fire with tears in his eyes.

"elle sera à moi" he whispered underneath his breath, dousing the flames with the pot of water beside the fireplace.

the marketplace was rather quiet the very next morning. the men who would come in to have a chat with you found your stall empty, as if you had just left the entire town on short notice. the truth was, these men weren't lusting after you or trying to get a new deal. they were all part of your secret organization to preach athiesm. it was only a few of them anyway, and the trick with frederick a few days ago was part of your plan to gain the attention of a chaplain, any chaplain really, so that they could see god could not control every individual, their mind will wander and it's up to them to help each other to be better, not an invisible force. none of them would have predicted that the chaplain they strung the net for happened to be the worst one in the church. your presence missing sent fear in them, wondering if they would be hunted after by the catholic church for participating in these illegal activities. your friends assumed you to be dead, so did your poor, old parents and any of the bell ringers who brought their groceries from you.

"you should be grateful, mon diablesse," charles' words echoed through the empty corridor, his footsteps approaching your frame, "i could've easily turned you in, had you burned at the stake, stoned to death, flogged beyond recognition."

"death would be liberating," you spat at his face, the glob of saliva hitting the cut on his forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, snarling at you, "you think you're so smart, so witty..." he paused, crouching down to face you directly, "so beautiful..." his knuckles brushed against your cheek tenderly, watching the way you recoiled under his touch, pulling your head far back as you could under the confines of rope that bound you to the corner. he had set fire to your house the night before, and when you fled out you had fallen right into his arms. your anguished screams infiltrated the cold, dead night and he grabbed a cane laying on the road to pummel against the back of your head. your body slipped into unconsciousness, and he carried you in his arms through the back of his cathedral. each step that he took up the staircase, his eyes watched your limp form, your tits brushing against his cloak, your hands hanging with your head thrown back, eyes closed as if you were in bliss. at the top of the staircase, he could see the holy cross from the opposite end of the cathedral, the light dimming, almost leaving him. he frowned, turning back to face you in his arms, "the devil is here, she shall be here until the holy father guides her to a righteous path, and then she shall be mine..."

his lips peppered kisses along your face, hovering over your lips before he let them envelop around yours. the softness of your lips, the way they warmed them. he could not resist the temptation any longer, he needed find a way to merge into you, to live inside you and have all this to himself. no one would ever touch you, speak to you or even look at you. you were his, all his.

your bounds were humiliating, having wrapped around your arms and legs and specifically around your tits to plump them up. they hurt at times, especially when charles would tug on the confines before slapping your tits, watching the way they were swollen and slightly purple from the lack of circulation. your arms were bound above your head, legs anchored to some weights that charles had found in father sainz's cell the other day. you would not escape him, you would not escape your destiny to understand the glory of god. this was your punishment for heresy, charles would see to it that he taught you everything, that you would understand why he was doing this. because he cared for you! he hadn't done anything to hurt you, yet. he was just fascinated, treating you like a child as he would spend hours every day reading the bible to you and explaining god's love for all beings, and strangely enough day by day, it almost felt as if the god he was referring to was him. your eyes should be on him, hands in prayer for him. not god, no charles should be your god. his desire for you was so strong, he selfishly assumed that even god shouldn't be able to cherish his finest creation: you. yes, you were broken and needed guidance, but perhaps thats why god created you! he wanted to spend extra time with you, and charles hated the thought of you with anyone other than him.

he had a flog in his hands, and every time your eyes would droop or you'd turn your head away, he'd instantly flog your tits harshly and grab your jaw, forcing you to look at him. not a fleck of dust deserved your attention. you'd whimper, feeling pain course through your blood as you tried not to cry. you knew you were stronger than this, that you could hold it out and find a way to escape. even if you wanted to grab the attention of the bell ringers, they'd know you as the girl who died. if you came back, they'd accuse you of being a witch and your death would be imminent. charles planned this all out, and you could tell with the way he looked at you that he never wanted you to ever leave him. on days when you would listen obediently, even asking questions for further explanations, he would reward you by loosening the bounds just a bit to let you breath better and he suck on your tits, rolling your nipples around as he watched you whine against his lips, growing needier as the days passed. you were becoming more reliant on him, the fraction of pleasure you would feel consuming your thoughts. you would recite verses and summarize what you learned just for him to reward you, to let you relax your sore limbs and the praise he gave you would go straight to your core.

"mon ange, you are doing so good," he cooed, kissing your cheek as his thumb ran along your bottom lip.

"chérie, look at you, all beautiful and basking in the light as the lord's prettiest creation," he stuck his finger into your mouth, watching you obediently begin sucking just like he had taught you the other day, eyes all wide and eager to worship him. he had you right where he wanted, devout to him so he could bless you with whatever you wanted. but, he should've known that your stubbornness was far greater than his love for god. in fact, it helped you clear your mind one day when you realized that you were acting like a cheap whore for him. you were better than this, stronger than this! you needed to escape, your mind was being twisted by him. after a very frustrating day where he was lectured by archdeacon vasseur about controlling his anger, he stormed to the hidden room to find you to help control his emotions. only to find you out of the confines with a stone rock that you had sharpened secretly, trying to climb through the window.

"espèce de fille insolente!" charles roared, yanking you by your hair as he tossed you to the stone floor. you groaned loudly in pain, your body still sore from having spent days bound like a present for him. he flipped you to your back, a hand on your throat as he brought you up, "how foolish i am to have thought that you were learning, that you were behaving well for me!"

"sometimes the lust clouds one's mind and some can escape, others such as yourself rot in it and becomes the very monster they sought to kill!" you hissed, and he tightened his grasp, watching you squirm, gasping for air. he lets go of you, letting your head hit the floor as he stands up and begins to undress.

"i was trying to be nice, so nice to you. i thought the devil had left you, it seems she is back and more dangerous than ever!" he tossed his belongings behind him and grabbed hold of the rope, pulling your hands to him as he began to wrap it around. he ignored your pleas, your whines at how your wrists were sore, how you would rather die than have to deal with this again and he slapped you across the face, silencing you instantly, "i should've done this the day i met you."

he fished through his discarded cloak for the broken rosary, letting it sway in front of your eyes. you gulped when you saw the jagged, sharp end. He let the broken rosary trail down from your lips to right between your breasts, and he licked his lips. slowly, he began to etch a cross into your soft, tender flesh. each line was precise, each stroke deliberate. he ignored the way tears fell from your eyes, trying your best not to scream in pain as his eyes watched the blood seep from your skin. as he carved, he leaned down and began to lap at the small beads of blood that welled up in the wake of the knife. his eyes never left yours, boring into your soul with deranged intensity. his tongue drifted down to your cunt, and he spit onto it, letting his tongue flatten on your clit before he began to move. thank god for that prostitute one night, she taught him so much. he bit down on your folds, flicking your clit around. his tongue delved into your inner walls, watching you arch your back as you cried louder, trying to push him off you but he quickly grabbed hold of your wrists, preventing you from leaving as he drank your delicious juice. he tilted his head upwards, your arousal glistening against his chin,

"if you want my forgiveness, recite to me one... at least one thing i taught you." he whispered, and you bucked your hips upwards,

"never. you are the very spawn of satan!" you hissed, which earned you a harsh slap on your clit, causing you to whine out loud. he bit the inside of his cheek, furiously rubbing your sensitive nub, your song of lust echoing through the cathedral as you cummed for the first time of the day. his thumb did not stop, instead he kept going faster while adding two fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them inside as you squealed at the oversensitivity.

"say one... say one verse," he spat, "one verse, putain."

"n-no!" you moaned, still feeling the burn of your skin from where he carved the cross on you. you would not give in, you would not let him take control of you again like he did last time. you knew better than this, you were one of the smartest women in the town before this monster took you. his fingers were relentless, scissoring into your cunt as you screamed, lost in the fog of your mind as you kept cumming and cumming around his fingers.

"say that im your god, say that you will only ever worship me, i am your savior, your idol, say it!" charles pulled his fingers away right when you were on the brink of another orgasm, and you let out a guttural scream, sobbing as your hips began to grind the air, searching for your lost release. you couldn't anymore, you couldn't hold back.

"y-you're my god... my savior... my idol," you whispered between whimpers, and a satisfied chuckle escaped his lips. he nodded his head before folding you into a mating press. your sore body was complying with his requests, your mind pounding as he hoisted your legs up to rest against his shoulders. his eyes hungrily soaked up the sight of the bleeding cross on the valley of your tits, and he rolled your nipples around, knowing how sensitive you were. this was the day he was waiting for, this was the day where he could finally claim you as his. he gave the shaft his throbbing cock a couple pumps, before sliding into you with a small moan escaping his lips.

"putain, tu te sens si bien," he whispered, rocking his hips against yours as you mewled out loud. he laughed at the sight of you, disheveled and worn out. even the devil could not be perfect at all times. he felt powerful, having tamed the devil and being the one whose cock was splitting you open. his thrusts became faster, your sobs becoming louder as he took what he believed to be rightfully his. he groped your tits, remembering his fascination with them when he first met you and leaned closed to latch his lips onto them again. the lewd sounds made you snap your head to the side, surprisingly feeling yourself growing wetter at the squelching of his cock inside your dripping pussy. "mon ange, the only way you will ever learn, the only way you will be mine forever is if you embrace what the holy father planned for your kind. bearing children and fearing him."

your glossy eyes flickered to him, a hint of fear at his words and he began to thrust harshly into you, your tits swaying as he began to pick up his pace once more, "a child will put you in your place. you will learn then. your tits will be swollen with milk, oh the thought of it...."

he leaned forward to bite down on your nipples, before sucking them and releasing them with a pop! "your belly will carry my child, and they will follow the virtuous path offered to them, not the words of a heretic who spreads her legs for a lustful man, no this is the union between two devotees in love with the creation of god." he pulled away to kiss your feet, running his tongue over your ankle as you moaned out loud, begging him to go deeper. you could feel your orgasm approaching, your mind telling you that this was wrong but you couldn't resist anymore. he let one of your wrap around his waist, letting his cock dig into your further. his finger brushed against the carved cross, applying pressure at some corners and the pain mingled with the pleasure, finally pushing you past the edge. your screams flooded the empty corridor as you squirted your release all over his relentless cock. he continued to thrust into you, letting your ride your waves of pleasure and with a soft whimper, his cock shot ropes of his cum in your walls. he continued to fuck you, hands on your hips as he wanted nothing to go to waste. when he pulled out, he stuffed his fingers into you, ignoring your wail at how sensitive you were. he was panting, making sure nothing leaked out of you. you would bear his child, you would denounce your heretic practices, you would stay with him forever and love god. you will worship him, and him alone.

the corridor is locked when he leaves, your body placed near a small fire-place as you slept. he draped you in his cloak for warmth, kissing your cheek lovingly before whispering how beautiful you would be as the mother to his children. when he returned downstairs, he was stopped by father bozzi and archdeacon vasseur who smiled at him, proudly.

"father leclerc, your virtuous path has inspired so many, we are seeing new people attend mass! it could not have been done with you," father bozzi grinned. both pair of eyes gazed at the archdeacon who clasped his hand on charles' shoulder,

"father leclerc, tomorrow is your ceremony to become chapter priest. and you will also receive the monsignor title!" archdeacon vassuer announced, and charles smiled, thanking for the honor.

charles stood in front of the altar, staring at the holy cross. he clasped his hands in prayer, smiling as he closed his eyes. he was being rewarded by the holy father for his good penance. he would stop eating soup, and eat good food again. he was being rewarded for his successful missionaries, for having converted previous non-believers into believers.

and most importantly, for having tamed the tempting devil.

[wh0rrorb4by]

Could u do a big brother suna nsfw ! Could he also call her bunny🫣🥺🥺 I love your work btwwww

dumb bunny - suna

tw: in/stepcest, dubcon, manipulation, kind of mean suna, crybaby reader, size, "bunny" nickname for reader

18+

a/n: omg first of all i NEEED suna 😭 i want to write for him more... i’m thinking a serial killer suna fic would go hard 🔪 also how cute would a bunny hybrid reader fic be… grrr i’m going crazy. tysm for the request, i hope you love it!! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

there was a lot going on behind those piercing eyes that stared down at you. you gulped, fidgeting nervously with the frilly covers on your bed.

“wanna tell me what that was all about?” he asked. he sounded bored, uncaring, but you knew better.

“w-what, um, what are you talking about?” you stuttered, trying to avoid his gaze. god, you were already about to start crying. you couldn’t play it cool if your life depended on it.

don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

he stayed quiet for another beat.

“you sure that’s the route you want to take? playing dumb?”

your bottom lip wobbled. you didn’t do anything, not really. you wore the skirt he told you he didn’t like. more specifically, you wore it while tagging along to hang out with his friends, but it wasn’t like anything happened. so, you got a little close with osamu when everyone branched off into separate conversations, and maybe you touched his arm when he made you laugh unexpectedly. it wasn’t like that.

“i-i didn’t do anything. i’m sorry.” you mumbled. you wanted him to get out of your room and go away. you wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him til he forgot about it. you wanted to burn that skirt and make osamu disappear, or start the day over and just do what your brother asked of you the first time like a good little sister. it wasn’t like that, but it made rintaro upset, which made your heart feel like it was weighted with iron.

“you didn’t do anything? or you’re sorry? you can’t be sorry if you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, still in that same bored tone. he stepped closer to you, towering over where you sat on your bed. “you’re such a dumb bunny. i don’t know why i bother.”

no amount of biting your lip would keep it from trembling or stop the flood of tears slipping down your face. you hate when he uses that nickname against you. you are dumb, but you don’t want him to think that. you just want to be a good little sister to him.

“‘m sorry, sorry for w-wearing that skirt. i… i wore it for you. i wanted you to see me in it, wanted to make you a little jealous. that’s it.” you cried pathetically, sniffing and pouting and still fiddling with the ruffled covers on your bed.

he sighed, petting your hair until you relaxed into his touch and leaned your head against his torso. you whined, still crying and soothing yourself as you moved your hand to his thigh. you were grateful for the touch, for the affection. you hate when he’s mad at you. you hate that disappointed stare and the lack of touch you’d grown so reliant on.

“it’s not your fault. i should have known sooner or later this would happen. guess it’s on me for thinking you’d always be my girl,” you gasp, moving your head away to look up at him. there’s no trace of playfulness in his face or voice. “i’ll tell osamu it’s okay if he asks you out tomorrow. you should wear that skirt again, or maybe find one shorter so he can really see how much you like him.”

you panic, gripping onto his sweatpants as more tears well in your eyes. “n-no, no, rin, i only like you! i love you — please, please, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i gave you that idea. i’m just dumb— a dumb bunny, like you said.” you pleaded, almost choking on the way your heart hammered against your chest.

“i’ll never do it again! i’ll be good, i’ll be a better little sister for you.”

he stared down at you with his usual unreadable expression, his long fingers still tangled in your hair.

“it’s too late for that, bunny. my friends all probably think you’re some kind of slut now, walking around almost naked and throwing yourself at ‘samu like that. i might as well just let him have you now.”

you know he’s only saying it to hurt you, to pour salt in the wound, but it worked. you didn’t really do anything, not by anyone else’s standards, but anything that upsets your brother is unforgivable. you hate when he guilts you, when he’s mean and stops adoring you the way he always has. if you thought really hard about it you’d be a little mad, a little hurt at the way he builds you up just so he can tear you down the second he doesn’t get his way. but you don’t think. not when you’re all touch-starved and needy and dependent on rintaro to make all the bad things in life disappear. it’s easier to be dumb and pliant than to argue and say mean things and take care of yourself, so you cave.

“no, rin, please. please, ‘m not a slut, i’m not,” you whimper. your chin is against his lower abs and you’re staring up at him with those teary eyes that he loves. it’s been a while since he made you cry, and he almost forgot how hard it makes him. “j-just tell me what i have to do to make it better, and i’ll do it.”

you can feel his cock stirring in his sweats and it gives you a small sense of relief. he still wants you, you can still make it up to him.

“i don’t know if there’s anything you can do, bunny. you really hurt your big brother’s feelings.” he mumbles, but his gaze is darker now as he watches you squeeze your thighs together. your hand travels from his thigh and finds the waistband of his sweats, giving them a small tug. he doesn’t stop you, so you pull with both hands, slowly, tentatively as you keep staring into his pretty eyes. neither of you say a word when his cock springs free, and you still don’t look away from him as you wrap a small hand around his much larger, leaky cockhead.

“‘m sorry, rin. i’m gonna be good for you.” you mumble, half-embarrassed by your own words but too needy to care. you draw your attention away from him and focus on his length. he’s tall enough that the tip is in front of your face when you sit, and you greedily kitten lick the slit where his precum leaks out for you, making him moan softly to himself.

you continue the way he likes it, with soft licks turning into light sucking, keeping his cockhead suctioned in your mouth as you swirl your tongue around it. it’s big, takes up all the space in your mouth and your throat as you take more of him. your eyes are still watering as you grip onto his thighs and his abs, doing your best to keep up with how he tugs your hair back and forth to control your pace. you’re moaning into it, letting your eyes flutter closed as you worship his cock. you love it. love him. always will.

“that’s it, bunny, stick that little tongue in my cock. taste good, hm?” he asks, and you whine as you nod, tonguing his slit again. your pussy is throbbing, wet and empty and clenching as your tummy does flips.

“fucking taste it. big brother’s pre taste good?” you’re nodding, staring up into his eyes again. he’s so pretty, it always makes you breathless. he should know you’d never look at anyone else, you can’t even stand the thought of it.

he yanks your hair abruptly, pulling you off his cock and shoving you down until you’re laying beneath him.

“turn over. show big brother your pussy.”

you obey immediately, using your trembling limbs to position yourself with your ass up to give him the perfect view of your panties underneath your way too short skirt. you whine as he trails his finger over your crotch, making the material stick to the mess you’ve made and push it around.

“i was right, you are a slut.” he mutters. “who made your pussy this wet, hm? was it ‘samu?”

you shake your head, wanting to sob out of frustration. he’s just so mean.

“no! no, ‘s wet ‘cause of you!” you cry, pushing yourself back on his fingers to ease some of the pressure in your aching pussy. “please, rin—it’s empty. just touch me a little, please.”

you hear him groan from behind you and feel him tug your panties down to reveal your glistening cunt to him. the bed dips as he kneels behind you on the mattress, rubbing his swollen cock on your center and sliding your wetness around to appease you.

“that feel better, hm? want me to push it in?”

you nod mindlessly, gripping your sheets and arching your back in anticipation. it’s been so long, you’re so needy.

“you’re taking the whole thing today, little brat,” he grunts through grit teeth, trying not to groan as he lines himself up, spreading your pussy wide with his thumbs to accommodate his size. “‘s what you get. i don’t wanna hear any complaints.”

you’re still nodding, not really knowing what you’re agreeing to. you just want him to fill you, make you whole and complete and even dumber. you want to forget all about the sharp glares he gave you and the way he ignored you the entire way home. you wanted to forget about osamu and all of his other friends who snuck glances your way as your older brother watched, seething with jealousy but too prideful to show it.

“yes, yes, rin,” you’re still wiggling your hips in an attempt to feel his cockhead slip and nudge your clit. “please, please, i need it.”

he groans deeply as he eases the fat tip of his cock in, cherishing the loud gasp and whine you let out as it splits you open, making room inside you for the rest of his length. he makes good on his promise, holding your hips firmly as he drives himself into the hilt, until his balls are firmly pressed against you and he’s nudging against the deepest parts of you.

“oh, fuck, that’s it,” he coos, rubbing your hip with his big hand. “take it all, just like that.”

he looks down at you, his chest swelling with pride and his head dizzy as you pant and gasp beneath him, muscles tense and fingers gripping the sheets tightly — but you don’t struggle or squirm away. it’s the first time he’s been able to fit his entire length in, always giving into your cries that it’s too big, too much, it hurts, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to hold you down and make you take it no matter how much you beg him to stop.

“so deep,” you choke out. “feels… feels s-so big.”

he knows it hurts, that it’s the first time anything’s ever touched your cervix, that you’re breathing through it and taking the pain with the pleasure to make him happy. you feel just the way you did when you were a virgin, still so eager to please him like a good little sister should be.

“yeah, feels good?” he asks and you nod, trembling as he slowly pulls out to stuff you full again.

“god, you’re so nasty. dressing like a slut to make your big brother jealous.” he grunts, giving you another hard thrust that makes you jerk forward. he pulls you back, not letting you move as he keeps pounding into your tight heat. “sucking your big brother’s cock, taking it whole for me.”

you’re shaking like a leaf, more desperate cries escaping you. he can hardly get his own words out, you feel so good. he’s wanted this so badly, it’s been so long since the last time he tried breaking you in on his cock. you cried so much back then, he felt so bad, but he’s been so desperate for you ever since.

"my poor bunny," he coos, reaching forward to tangle his fingers in your hair and press your face down. your back arches even more, pressing your ass flush against him as he keeps the same fast tempo. you mewl, starting to move your hips with his thrusts. "if you wanted me to fuck you again, you should have just asked."

your lips fall open and you let out a series of loud moans as fucks deeper and deeper into you, harder as you squeeze around him.

"s-sorry, rin. 'm so sorry," you choke out, and you wanna beg him to hold you, kiss you, but you can't find the words. you're all dizzy and flushed and panting, and his cock feels so good.

but your brother knows you so well, better than anyone. he's on you in seconds, his chest pressed to your back and his strong arms caging you in beneath him. he really is just so big. his face is so close to yours, you're staring up at him over your shoulder and he looks so pretty when he's all flushed and breathless, his eyebrows furrowed as he relentlessly fucks himself into your tight heat. "i love you." you whimper, pushing yourself up with your arms to meet him in a desperate kiss.

you can hear the wet sounds of him fucking you, can feel your own juices running down the insides of your thighs. the kiss is wet, too — sloppy and needy as you feel your high get closer. he tugs you away by your hair so he can breathe, grunting and gasping as he presses your head down again and uses the leverage to power fuck you. he's about to cum, desperate for it and hellbent on filling you up. you're crying out for him as you reach a finger down to tweak your clit the way he taught you, and he doesn't care if anyone can hear. the neighbors can fuck off, but thank God your parents are out of town for the week. he's going to make you scream on his cock every night, keep you stuffed full as much as he can. and he'll fucking kill any one of his friends if they ever look at you again. you're his, forever.

"rin, rin, gonna cum! gonna cum!" you squeak out, and you go nearly limp beneath him aside from the tremors in your legs and the way you clamp down on his cock, letting your orgasm consume you. his own high follows immediately, throwing his head back with a loud groan as you milk the cum from his cock. you feel all dumb when his warm seed fills you, your eyes rolling back and all the nasty words he grunts out falling on deaf ears. you can't think, can't even move, unsure if your orgasm ever even stopped with how much you’re still trembling. but you object through loud whines when he starts pulling out — it feels so good, so right to have him inside you.

"don't worry, bunny," he coos, rubbing and squeezing your ass before giving you a swift spank that makes you jerk. "your big brother's not going anywhere."

he suddenly flips you onto your back with a little force, pushing your top up before you can gather your thoughts. you're completely exposed with your skirt still flipped up to reveal your pussy to him, and you'd be embarrassed if you hadn't been fucked too stupid to care.

"fuck, you look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you." he breathes, hooking your legs over his arms so he can pull you towards him by your thighs. his cock is still hard and leaky, spilling the remainder of his cum onto your pussy when it throbs. it’s so pretty you want it in your mouth, want it inside you again, wherever he wants to put it — so badly you’d beg if he told you to. "big brother’s gonna stuff your little bunny cunt 'til you can't take anymore.”