#and it is within his nature to corrupt souls

[isekyaaa]

The Frog and the Scorpion is such an interesting fable in regards to the concept of nature and I would love to use it in a story one day. Just the idea that no matter what you do, you cannot betray your nature is such an interesting concept. A monster at birth will always be a monster at death. No matter how much you deny your nature, it will take hold of you sooner or later. It's such a tragic thing.

[gumiluver]

21&29 with nanami; like 21 for the beginning and reader is still shy especially when 29 comes into play :) fem reader pls 🥺

you don’t know just how heavy I fuck w this idea I’m so here for it!! hope you enjoy luv!! <3

prompt 21: "If you wanted me to fuck you then you should've just said so, love. No need to be shy with me—you're my everything."

prompt 29: "Ohhh fuck—baby...did you know you could squirt?”

lover <3: nanami kento x afab!reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18--minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.7k

cw: smut, nsfw, pwp, afab!reader, praise kink, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, squirting, pet names (love, baby)

an: requests still open! check out the guidelines here for more info :)

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: oh5629289 on pinterest

“How long have we been together now love—two years and you’re still so shy f’ me?” Kento questions you, peppering soft kisses along the nape of your neck. His burly hands move along the sides of your hips, one slowly trailing upwards to cup and caress your left breast while the other molds around your hip, pulling a whine out of you in the process.

“C-can’t help it Ken’…you make me so flustered,” you whimper, pulling from his grasp to shy away from his intense gaze. He’s quick to grab your chin tho, forcing your eyes back to him to meet his sly gaze. Your shy nature easily amuses his, loving how quick you are to break your composure and fall for his ploy.

“Is that so, love? What makes you so flustered, hm?” he teases, an uncommon occurrence that makes your empty pussy clench helplessly. You whine and shift around in his hold, wanting to break away from your lover's grasp to hide under the covers and save yourself from his teasing. Your thighs squeeze together, aimlessly hoping to satisfy the deep ache that’s settling in your cunt and, of course, he takes note of that.

Nanami has always been so observant over you.

Like how he knows when you’re holding in your pleasure filled moans—the little scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow gives you away.

Or when you try and sneak a quick orgasm in after he’s warned you to hold it—the way your pussy clenches his tip for dear life even after he’s stilled your hips makes your plans damn well known to him.

And even when you’re trying to hide how horny you are—like how you are now—he can tell; from the way you shy away from his touch and overt your gaze as if he were the apple of sin you couldn’t help but sink your teeth in.

And he fucking loves it. He loves getting to see your agitated and flustered state—it inflates his ego like no other. To see you, the most beautiful being he’s ever laid his eyes on, become so enamored and needy for him has him feeling like a fucking god.

“What is it, baby? You can tell me. What is it that you need me to do—say it,” he demands, pressing you deeper into the wall, grinding his hard cock into your clothed pussy. The moan that spills from you fuels Nanami’s head with even more sinful deeds he’d love to corrupt you with.

“I-I need…” you trail off, panting like a bitch in heat over how flustered he’s got you. You let out a small whine, feeling his left knee shift between your legs to press against your slick mound, rubbing his strong thigh against you to provide you with the pleasure your body oh so craves.

“Yes? What do you need love,” he whispers, moving the hand on your hip to place a light grasp around your neck, holding you steady and meeting your gaze.

“Ahh!! K-Kento please!!” you beg, unsure of what exactly it was you were even begging for—but nonetheless, you plead. The pleasure pulsating through your sweet cunt sends shockwaves, hitting deep within your soul and making you preen.

“Say it. Be good and tell me what you need,” he groans out, patience wearing thin at the feel of your heat leaking through your panties and onto his slacks. His tan pants presenting a wet spot on the thigh that’s pushed up to your cunt—how lewd.

“N-need you…in me…” you whimper out, shamefully closing your eyes to save yourself from the embarrassment that is begging for dick.

But fuck did it make his cock throb hearing it.

The second he hears your pretty plea, Kento makes haste in stripping you of your clothes and sprinting to the nearest surface he can find.

“If you wanted me to fuck you then you should’ve just said so, love. No need to be shy with me—you’re my everything,” he coos, hovering his hulking body over your smaller one. Sheepishly, you glance away from him to gawk at his toned body. Ripples of muscle decorate his form as his tanned skin glows a pretty shade of pink, no doubt from the sheer excitement coursing through his veins.

He brings a hand upwards to cup your chin again, wanting to make sure that your wandering eyes don’t miss all the fun that’s about to start, “keep your eyes on me love—don’t look away.”

His demanding tone a clear contradiction to his usually gentle demeanor, making your mouth fall dry and your pussy run wet. You nod quickly, making direct eye contact with your lover's hazel eyes, and the hum of approval he lets out makes you clench your thighs that are hung around his waist.

Slowly, he rubs the tip of his cock against your folds, carefully collecting the slick that escapes from your pussy to thoroughly coat his cock—all while gazing intensely at you. After all, he didn’t want to miss seeing your face morphed into that pleasure-filled look he positively yearns to see.

A whiny cry of his name pulls him back to reality, ripping his gaze away from yours to stare down at your entrance and fuck—what a fucking mess.

“Ohhh baby, look at you,” he groans loudly, smacking the tip of his cock against your soaked cunny. Lewd ‘plap’ ‘plap’ ‘plaps’ radiate against the room with the way his heavy cockhead smacks against your clit. You’re quivering now, moving your hips to avoid the torturous teasing that your sorcerer subjects you to.

And just as you were about to whine for him to just put it in, you felt his heavy tip catch against your little hole. Gasping, you frantically reach for his biceps, nails digging into the skin as he slowly feeds you his monstrous cock.

“Ha’aaahh—kentooo!” you cry out, unable to comprehend the sheer stretch that is his girth. Regardless of how many times you’ve taken Kento, or how long he spends between your thighs prepping you, nothing could ever mentally prepare you for the actual feeling of his cock splitting you open.

“I know baby I know—just a c-couple more inches, fuckk,” he groans, glancing up at you every so often to make sure you’re still being his good girl and watching everything he does, “being so good for me.”

It felt like eons have passed before Kento finally sheathes himself fully into you. But, as soon as he’s inside you, he’s quick to unsheathe and start up a brutal pace.

“I-I can’t!! Oh f-fuck—slow do-own Ken’!!” you whimper out, his sharp thrusts breaking up your sentence. He fucks you with a passion that rivals that of a warrior, composed and dead set on his goal of fucking you to completion. He wants to ingrain himself into your womb, wants your pussy to react to his touch, his voice—and his alone.

“Fuuuuck this pussy’s perfect for me love, keep your legs spread—yeaaa just like that,” he grunts, absolutely lost in a haze of lust and pleasure. He’s so pussy drunk on you that he doesn’t even realize just how far gone you are. His usually observant nature completely bypassed the way he could only see the whites of your eyes, how your body is shaking—convulsing even, and just how sensitive your body is slowly starting to feel. Your pussy’s fluttering ridiculously, spasming around his thick shaft so much so that it felt like his cock was getting massaged by your womb. The wetness of your cunt made the nastiest sounds, filling the air with a lewd atmosphere that screamed sex.

But something felt…different.

It felt…off.

You jolt upwards—or at least tried to, considering how quick Nanami was to push you back down, not wanting to let up on his precious girl.

“K-Kento it feels weird!!” you cry, pushing at his arms to try and escape his ruthless pounding, but it’s pointless—he’s got you caged in his arms, right where he wants you.

“s’okay love, let me make it feel good—can feel you squeezing my cock so nicely, fuuckk” he lets out an animalistic grunt, pressing more of his body weight into you to immobilize you. You let out a long, languid moan, the feeling of his tip proding in places you didn’t even realize he could reach was making you see galaxies rather than stars. But yet again, that same foreign pressure began to burn deep within your womb, almost as if you were going to explode.

“N-nooo, p-please!! It feels like I—ahhh—…feels like m’gonna…” you trail off, unable to formulate your words. You’re panting so much that all you could do was move your hands to his chest in a measly attempt to push him away.

“Gonna what, love? Gonna cum? Come on baby, give it to me—cum for me,” he grunts out, his voice going octaves lower—so much so that you could feel the reverb of his voice hit your clit. His thrusts move quicker and with much more vigor, aiming to push you over the edge. Sneaking a rough hand down to your mound, he maneuvers his thumb to find your pink pearl and circles it in that specific way that makes you go fucking crazy.

And that final motion was what came of your undoing.

A bright flash of white obscures your vision, and the sheer ecstasy that courses through your veins sends you into an early release that spills all over your lover's pelvis. Nanami’s eyes widen in shock, seeing the guttural force of your orgasm shake the literal wind out of you makes his pride swell like none other. He couldn’t believe it; who could’ve known that his perfect little angel could do something so…lascivious—so sinful.

“Ohhh fuck—baby…did you know you could squirt?”

an: the way this man makes me go absolutely feral…anyways, I hope you all enjoyed & requests are still open!! Please be sure to check the guidelines before you submit a request!! <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #29

The Heir

Imagine dis…

You know what, it’s been a while since I added the infamous Al Ghuls to my stories.

…

The Lazarus Pit, a sacred lake in the League of Assassins' fortress, was said to provide immortality and bring back life. However, its underlying nature was considerably more sinister than its therapeutic properties indicated. Ra's al Ghul, the centuries-old leader, stood before the pit, his ancient and knowledgeable gaze fixed on the pool's depths. He sought the ideal successor to take his mantle and lead the League into a new age of domination. 

Ra's al Ghul had governed the League for generations, utilizing its vicious assassins to further his goals. As his death approached, he realized he needed to safeguard the League's future for it to survive. As the Lazarus Pit continued to bubble and churn, Ra's al Ghul considered the gravity of his decision. The selected heir would need strength, talent, wit, and ruthlessness to traverse the League's treacherous internal politics.

Ra's al Ghul's ravenous thirst for power ruined his yearning for the ideal heir, Talia's son Damian. Despite knowing Damian had the detective’s DNA, Ra was concerned that his influence would corrupt his heart and undermine his ruthlessness as leader of the League of Assassins, just as Damian's compassion and sense of justice would jeopardize his legacy.

Ra's al Ghul stood in front of the Lazarus Pit, its menacing glow casting eerie shadows throughout the enormous chamber. Though he was not religious, he couldn't help but feel fascinated by the magical power hidden within. He had achieved immortality here, at the very founding of the League of Assassins, and he was now looking for something even more valuable: a worthy heir to carry on his legacy.

Ra's offered a secret prayer to the Lazarus Pit, pleading for an heir who would transcend all others. And, as if in answer to his intense desire, the pit erupted in a dazzling burst of light, temporarily stunning Ra's and his collected assassins.

When the light faded, they saw a sight that struck them with awe and wonder: a newborn floating serenely amid the Lazarus Pit's shimmering waters, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly green light. Ra's felt a rush of elation and insane glee pouring through his veins. He saw in this infant the embodiment of his deepest desires, the ideal vessel to carry on his legacy of conquest and immortality.

Ra's al Ghul approached the newborn with almost fanatical reverence, reaching out to hold it in his arms. He felt a force emanating from the child, a potential so huge and untapped that it sent chills down his spine. Here was his heir, the one who would take the League of Assassins to even higher levels of power and dominion.

As his supporters watched in wonder, Ra's al Ghul pronounced the newborn to be his chosen heir, the League's future leader. And in that moment, basking in the light of the Lazarus Pit, he realized that his legacy would last for centuries.

…

Talia stood in the shadows of the League's fortress, her heart full of mixed emotions. She had previously thought her son, Damian, would inherit her father's legacy, but the appearance of Daniel Daan Al Ghul dashed those expectations. The resentment of being passed over for a new male heir wounded her, reflecting the patriarchal norms that had formed her existence.

Nonetheless, as she watched Daniel develop under her care, she couldn't deny the wisdom and power emanating from him. His eerie green eyes appeared to look right through her, penetrating her soul with their ferocity. Despite her initial disdain, she found herself captivated by the youngster, seeing in his brilliance that much above her desires.

When Daniel was just five years old, he shocked her by entrusting her and Slade Wilson with separate sections of the League to lead. It was a gesture of trust and empowerment that left her dumbfounded, as she realized Daniel saw potential in her beyond her role as caretaker or assassin and guardian.

In epochs gone by, when the female hand grasped the scepter of might, she ascended to the echelons of immortality. Why am I precluded from such transcendence with you? I perceive the dormant titan within you, hence I proffer my dominion, both to you and to its awakening, for in you resides the essence of dominion.

He told her when she asked why. At that moment, she realized the extent of Daniel's strength and compassion, and she promised to serve him faithfully.

Talia's allegiance switched dramatically when Daniel personally intervened to save Jason Todd, her beloved’s son, from the lunacy of the Lazarus Pit.

Intervening just as her father, Ra Al Ghul, was about to order Jason Todd's execution because he was no use to him or the league, Daniel silently appeared beside her father and slowly walked down from the throne to the floor where Jason Todd was kneeling, still brain dead, as it was still a mystery to all how he was revived as he dug himself out of his grave.

Guard the tender soul, mend his wounds, for he is but a fledgling, entrusted to my care for solace and salvation.

He proclaimed to her father, who stared at Daniel, perplexed as to why Daniel wanted to keep this teenager, but agreed to utilize the pits for his purposes. When Jaosn emerged, he was already deep in the pit madness; when he raced towards Daniel, all assassins had created a wall around the heir, but Daniel told them to step aside; with a single touch, the madness left Todd and he went out.

Talia took on her job as Daniel's right hand from that day forward, leading him with her knowledge and cunning. Though her heart grieved for Damian, she knew Daniel was the rightful heir, destined to lead the League to greatness. And when she stared into his hypnotic green eyes, she saw not just a leader, but a judge and a god on the rise.

…

Slade Wilson, often known as Deathstroke, had always been a formidable force in the League of Assassins. His skills were unparalleled, and his reputation was legendary. However, as the years went by, a seed of ambition germinated within him, fuelled by a desire to seize League leadership for himself.

The discovery of Daniel Daan Al Ghul's emergence as a new heir fueled Slade's internal strife. On the one hand, he wished to stage a coup, seize authority, and establish himself as the legitimate leader. On the other side, he was captivated to the mysterious power emanating from Daniel, the heir born of the Lazarus Pits.

As Slade trained Daniel and Damian, he couldn't help but be amazed by Daniel's extraordinary abilities. The youngster was a genius in every way, with an intellect and prowess unparalleled by anybody else. And when Daniel, with his penetrating green eyes that appeared to capture the essence of the Lazarus Pits, recognized Slade's worth and appointed him to a position of responsibility within the League, Slade felt a weird mix of awe and reverence.

Untouched by the forge of opportunity, you, a blade honed in both physique and intellect, lay dormant amidst neglect, gathering the patina of obscurity. Yet, now, I bestow upon you the helm of leadership, for only you possess the whetstone to sharpen others to their zenith

Daniel informed him after he sought for an audience.

In that instant, Slade realized his fate was connected with Daniel's. He pledged his unwavering service, promising to serve his new lord until his soul was shattered. Slade saw Daniel as more than just a leader but as a being with incredible power and potential. And as he peered into Daniel's fascinating green eyes, he knew he'd follow him into the depths of hell, for even death couldn't break the link between master and servant.

…

Damian Wayne, raised under the League of Assassins, had always felt he was meant to carry on his grandfather's heritage. But when Daniel emerged from the Lazarus Pits, enveloped in their miraculous waters, Damian's fate changed.

As they grew, Damian was awarded the duty of Daniel's guardian, a position of great distinction in the League. He fully committed to this role, practicing tirelessly to prove himself worthy of defending the League's successor.

Damian was upset when Daniel unexpectedly dismissed him from the League at the age of 10. He couldn't understand why his lord would dismiss him so abruptly. Damian confronted Daniel, desperate for answers about his dismissal.

Youthful spirit, the horizon stretches before you, beckoning freedom's call. Yet, wanderer, when the winds of destiny bring you home, return to me. I relinquish the chains of selfish desire, for I discern your potential for greatness. Embrace the world, then return to my side, where together, we shall forge greatness anew.

Daniel then disclosed his genuine goals, which were to drive Damian to greatness and help him reach his full potential outside of the League. Though initially astonished and offended, Damian realized the underlying message in Daniel's actions and decided to earn his master's trust.

Going to his father's side, Damian sought out Robin's mantle, battling Tim Drake for the title. In doing so, he aimed not only to recover his place by Daniel's side but also to establish himself as a suitable successor to his grandfather's legacy, ready to embark on the path of greatness that Daniel had envisioned for him.

…

Daniel, a young heir to Ra's al Ghul, led the League of Assassins with unrivaled potential and strength. His wisdom and charisma won the respect and allegiance of powerful individuals such as Lady Shiva, Cheshire, and David Cain. Ra's al Ghul trusted Daniel to protect his legacy, knowing that the League would continue to develop and prosper under his leadership, assuring its domination for future generations.

…

Daniel meanwhile at the back of his mind kept screaming as he never thought that it would get him far. 

He was just walking around Amity when his ghost senses pinged something he could not see, one moment he was in his teen self and then he was a baby surrounded by ectoplasm and being carried by someone with major fruitloop vibes. He tried he tried, he tried to become a cryptid like Clockwork since it always makes him grit his teeth at the vague sentences that came out of him, heck even Pandora and Frostbite look at Clockwork and thought of strangling the ghost for his cryptic answers, he is pretty sure he does that for shit and giggles, but it made him look like mature and wise, someone who has infinite wisdom.

Danny thought of laying down low when it came to training but with the combined efforts in training with his mom and the various ghost mentors and fighters in the Infinite realms, he became a formidable fighter before he even reached his double digits. As years passed by each time he tried to deflect or even pass on his so-called political power to others was returned with undying loyalty that he didn't need. 

He just hopes that the Bat Furry brigade can help him out.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I posted a bit early, I am busy during May so this is another early post. bye-bye!

[cosycafune]

JEALOUSY; EREN JAEGER:

a summary of this chapter: your boyfriend is mad at you for dismissing him the whole night, chatting away to your puny friend. naturally, he wants to have his way with you — just so your full focus is on him.

a synopsis of acts: smut, rough sex, corruption kink, sadistic tendencies, cumming, creampies, sizing, crying, brat taming and potentially more.

“Eren, please!” You so desperately spewed, your drool inevitably on display whilst Eren’s ample cock laid upon the bottom of your curling stomach.

“Please, what?” Eren bluntly questions you, the largeness of his delicious cock swiftly moving towards the soppiness of your folds.

Eren has sufficiently ruined the entirety of your resolve, mindlessly committing sexual acts that he know would have you eating out the palm of his broad hand. His hand. Not no random man your gaze steers upon, to elicit jealousy within the neglected aspects of him.

Inevitably, Eren knew you were his to indulge in — to stuff the vastness of his cock within and consistently breed you until you’re marked and tinted with a beautiful ivory.

“P-Put it in!” Whimpering, tearing and extremely dazed, you chew your bottom lip with the uttermost shame. Shame as the liveliness in Eren’s viridian, emotion-packed eyes completely admire yet scrutinise the desperation within your choked pleas.

“Why? You spent all day pretending to ignore me, just to talk to that aloof man,” At Eren’s harsh statement, his thick brows furrow before he skims the girth of his cock between your nimble thighs — unable to fathom the concept of not overwhelming and dominating you.

“B-Because I’m yours,” Gulping at your bestowed announcement, your eyes widen as Eren swiftly burrows himself within your cunt — leaving your eyes to widen erratically.

“Say it again,” Loathing the lack of repetition you gift, Eren greedily presses his hips upon your pelvic structure. Cock stricken, your purpose completely flees your lips at the impenetrable closeness of his blessed hips.

“‘M yours! All yours! Ah!” Your melodically generated moans command Eren into beginning to harshly pound within you, yearning to completely break away at the bratty exterior and interior you had settled upon him.

“Then, don’t do that shit again,” Eren grunts out, his eyes lovingly cloudy while he bucks his hips loudly within you — slamming into you at an inhumane pacing.

“F-Fuck! I won’t!” A barely comprehensible mess, you feel the beautiful within Eren’s pace — entwined with unwritten emotions.

Eren’s usually so whiny, so seeing him dominant, complex and riddled with anger heightened your emotions but also played upon your building guilt.

“Say it again!” Eren’s eyes boil and soothe at the concept of you lovingly taking his thick cock, completely overwhelmed and worshipping the heavenly feeling of it all.

“I love you…and I’m yours,” Softening slightly, Eren continues to abuse his reckless pace — his lips instinctively kissing your unchallenged lips.

“I-I love you, too,” Wavering momentarily, Eren lips delicately smother your own — all before he safely buries his head within the crook of your neck.

“Ah!” You harshly moan out, feeling yourself subconsciously cum upon the entirety of his inhumanely-thrusting cock.

“G-Got to be quick, I’ve got a concert soon,” Despite Eren’s suggestion, you innately wrap your toned legs around his sculpted waist — knowing that he’s bound to cum.

“I’d…get you pregnant, just so you’d be all…mine,” Eren chokes out, his delicate breaths laboured before he constructs himself into filling your flowery womb with the soul of his thick, white seed.

“Y-Yes!” Panting with false agreement, you glance into Eren’s strained eyes — drawing him into your homely arms.

“S-Shit,” Carried away, Eren comfortably pulls out of you — glimpsing at you with subtly glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, Eren,” Apologising so sincerely, you press kisses upon his lips — uncaring for the arrays of cum that spew from your pulsating, abused cunt.

“Just don’t do it again,” Eren groans out, “I love you, though.” Muttering, curling into your hair stroking, Eren relishes all the love that you have embedded within him

“I won’t,” Kissing the crown of his forehead, you apply a kiss upon the top of Eren’s crumpled mind.

—

do not copy my work; all rights reserved. cosycafune, 2024.

[justaz]

post magic reveal arthur is like “:/ mmm i’ll open up communications with the druids but idk about repealing the ban :/“ and merlin is like “??? why??” and arthur’s like “well magic is evil, that’s all i’ve been taught and all i know. i know you’re not evil but idk about other sorcerers, i can’t just let them free.” and merlin’s like “what’ll get you to consider it” and arthur’s like “well you say that magic isn’t something you chose, it choses you. alright, but people still chose to use it.” and merlin who has never followed this train of thought before is like,,, “you wanna test it? experiment? i can stop using my magic and we’ll see what happens” and arthur who has been playing his father’s lessons on magic through his head for the past like month since he found out and has been trying to figure out a way to get merlin to stop corrupting his soul jumps on the opportunity and is like “great idea :] nothing could go wrong :] you stop corrupting yourself and i don’t have to set magic free :]”

merlin stops using his magic for everything. he makes a conscious effort to force it all down and away and the first few days pass by fine. then he starts to get a little dizzy and then he gets spacey and distracted but not rambly, just staring off into space. then he’s just like. not there anymore. druids come to camelot to speak with arthur but can’t stop staring at merlin and eventually cut the conversation off to point at merlin and ask whats wrong with him

when they find out whats been going on they go all “oh shit” and urge everyone to stand still and not make a move. arthur inquires and they answer. magic has built up within him. magics natural state is free, it wishes to be used and to fly free, to be cooped up within someone is like caging a wild stallion. it bucks and kicks at the gate, bites at its handlers, and fights like hell to be set free. the magic thats been trapped within merlin for a couple of weeks is practically tearing him apart from the inside trying to set itself free. but! they can’t just tell him to use magic here. even the smallest use of magic would be a crack in a dam that would crumble like ash and set all the magic free. and with all that magic - all of emrys’s magic? he could very well flatten the city.

they cautiously, EXTREMELY cautiously, guide merlin out of the room, out of the castle, and into the middle of the woods. they urged everyone (who followed which is like arthur and his knights) back and out of the forest. then from a distance, the eldest druid mentally reached out to merlin and instructed him to let his magic loose. within seconds a blast of pure golden light shoots forth and flattens the entire forest, the druids casting a large shield to protect themselves, arthur, and his men.

merlin staggers to his feet in the distance and the eldest druid reaches out again, for safe measure, and tells him to let loose once more. merlin obeys and reaches down into the ground and pulls all the trees back up and imbues them with life so they thrive once more. the druids claim the forest as their own, sacred by order of emrys. arthur allows it. and then goes home to draft up a magic ban repeal. and an apology to merlin.

[yanderestarangel]

♡ 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 ♡

TW: ftm reader, afab anatomy, non con, v!sex, forced feminization, kidnapping, manipulation, praise, use of powers, power play, unprotected sex, degradation, fingering, hard sex, overstimulation, dark themes, breed!kink, porn plot.

'Easily manipulated' was a word that summed up your persona for the grandmaster, he could see your gentle and sweet nature, which made him feel like it would be so easy to take advantage of you like that.

𝐓𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

Just thinking about it drove him crazy. Bi Han can feel that his pupils are dilating just by looking at you - This showed him how much you affect him, so his already corrupted mind thought of the safest and quickest plan of having your soul and body all to himself... Kidnapping.

It was easy to convince you to be alone with your kind leader... And right after a cup of green tea, everything went dark, and with an unbearable headache you woke up naked in a big, unfamiliar bed - with your breasts hanging out, and your wrists tied. over your head, wearing white lace panties, your body was hot and your mind was in a confusing blur - until you heard the door slam, and saw bi han walk in, but before you had any hope of the ninja being there to save you... You saw the crooked smile painted on his lips, you had no escape there - his gauze filled with dark desire as he continued to massage your soft skin, his hands caressing every inch of your exposed body. His touch was both gentle and possessive, like a predator savoring its prey.

"-You are so beautiful... a little prince, I did exactly what I wanted to do. I brought you here to indulge in your deepest desires," he whispered huskily, his breath tickling your ear. "-I can feel how hot you are, how wet and needy. It's as if your body is aching for my touch." His fingers trailed down your stomach, tracing circles around your navel before sliding lower, closer to your glistening heat.

"-I've fantasized about your moans, your desperate cries for more. And now, I'm going to make those fantasies a reality." With that, he dipped his fingers into your wetness, his eyes never leaving yours. He started with a slow, torturous pace, savoring every gasp and whimper that escaped your lips. His touch was expert, his fingers dancing skillfully over your swollen clit. "-You're so responsive," he purred, savoring the sweet sounds you made. "-Just like I imagined. Such a good little slut for me."

You moaned as your body betrayed your mind, you wanted to scream, cry and push the cyromancer away from you - but the bonds and his thick, cold fingers deliciously stretched every bit of your cunt. You mumbled a few words, feeling the lace fabric brush against your fingers, the pain and discomfort of being exposed were disappearing in your core.

"-You don't understand how much power you hold over me," he whispered, his voice filled with raw lust. "-Every time I see you, I ache to touch you, to taste you. Your body, your essence, it drives me wild." he added a second finger, stretching you to accommodate him - your moans growing louder as your orgasm built within you.

He watched your every reaction, his arousal evident in the bulge straining against his pants. You accumulated a little of your conscience, even with the eminent pleasure that accumulated there, closing your thighs and kicking the older man, but the dreaded 'sub zero' wasn't going to let a little boy like you deny him, on the contrary, that made him even more excited - after all, he was not one to shy away from his desires, nor was he afraid to manipulate the situation to suit his needs.

"-I can always take what I want... by force." He cupped your breasts in his hands, his touch possessive and demanding. He kneaded and squeezed, his fingers pinching your sensitive nipples. "-Do you really think you can outrun me, defy me? Your body, your very soul, calls out for my possession. I can feel it, just as surely as I can feel your wetness against my fingers." he tore your lacy panties apart, exposing your wet and swollen pussy to the cool air, his gaze locking onto your delicate folds.

"-I'll show you just how much of a prince you can be," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "-You crave my cock, don't you my little prince?" Bi Han positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock grazing against your folds. The anticipation was almost unbearable, both for him and for you. He relished in the knowledge that he could give you pleasure like no one else could.

"-You can resist me all you want, but I'll break down every wall, every defense you have until you're begging for more. You're mine, whether you like it or not." Without warning, he thrust into you with a powerful force, claiming your tight, wet heat in one swift movement - you feel him stretching you, filling you completely. He groaned in approval, his eyes locking with yours, as his hips began to move. The grandmaster smirked cruelly, relishing in the power and control he had over your delicate body - reveled in the lewd scene, watching as your pussy clenched and winked around his cock, he could see the need in your eyes, despite your attempts to resist.

Bi Han's thrusts quickened once again, his strength and stamina evident as he pounded into you, "-You're trying to resist, but your body betrays you. Your moans, the way your sweet pussy clenches around me, it screams surrender." He relished in the sounds of your moans and cries of pleasure, his own groans intertwining with yours.

"-I'm going to fuck you senseless, make you come untouched, until there's nothing left but a trembling, submissive mess." He paused mid-thrust, his cock still buried deep inside you, and leaned down towards your ear. His breath was cold against your skin, sending shivers of fear down your spine.

"-I can feel how wet you are, how close you are to breaking, my little slut..." he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "-And when you do, I want you to scream my name. Scream it loud enough for everyone to hear." The words hung in the air, heavy with their meaning. He wasn't just talking about sex; he was claiming ownership, marking you as his. And as if to emphasize his point, he thrust deeper than ever before, hitting an angle that made you cry out.

"-You see, my little boy? No matter how much you resist, no matter what lies you tell yourself, deep down, you crave this... You always wanted me to abuse that cute pussy of yours, didn't you?" Sub zero thrust deeper, his cock hitting an angle inside you that made everything around you blur. The sensation was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. It was like he had unlocked some hidden part of yourself, a dark and twisted desire that had been lying dormant until now. "-Tell me," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "-Do you want my seed inside you? Do you crave the thought of being pregnant by me?"

"Fuck no" was the last thing you said before your orgasm hit, a wave of pleasure so intense that it almost blinded you. But instead of repulsion or disgust, all you felt was a raw, primal need for more. "-Yes... You crave it. You want my seed inside you... Such a good boy." his voice filled with triumph.

His words were fuel to the fire, making your body tremble with unbridled lust. And as he spoke, he came too, his cum mixing with yours, creating a messy, wet bond between you two. As the intensity of your orgasms subsided, reality began to seep back into your minds. You found yourself wrapped in his arms, your body still wet from your combined fluids. And despite everything that had happened, despite the manipulation, there was an undeniable connection between you two.

"-I didn't mean for it to be like this... But I couldn't resist you…"

🌸 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 "𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧" 🌸

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 ©𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 2024. 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓹𝔂, 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮

[kentstoji]

ㅤㅤㅤ NECTAROUS

ㅤㅤㅤ pairing. mk men x gn reader.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤsetting. mortal kombat.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤtype. headcanons (a little suggestive).

ㅤㅤㅤkissing liu kang was a divine experience, akin to discovering a new world and venturing into it, relishing every romantic ecstasy. his arms were strong and warm, carrying a distinctive fire befitting his position attained after his triumph against kronika. being enveloped by him in a loving and almost possessive embrace was like diving into liquid lava, yet the flames were harmless. (the most they could do was leave purple and reddish marks along your beautiful neck, while liu kang's experienced and bold lips traced a path, and your face took on undesired shades of scarlet.) your lips part in fervent lamentation, breathless.

ㅤㅤㅤbi-han was, by nature, a conqueror and consequently, a born leader. a dominator in various aspects, and in the romantic realm, this particularity wouldn't easily alter. honoring the element he proudly manipulated, bi-han had frigid lips, like a morning after an intense snowstorm. his hands, firm and calloused by years of battles and victories, established a rule at the base of your neck, keeping you under the grandmaster's longing, shaping you to fulfill his needs and desires. it was a selfish dance in which you never had the chance to be victorious, but teasing him to the limit was as satisfying as winning a battle. he exploded, and you loved paying the price. (kissing him was like feeding a voracious, wild creature that had no basic knowledge of emotions. the beast, however, calmed when tasting the flavor of your lips, biting them until he felt the sweet taste of your life essence flowing crimson between his lips.)

ㅤㅤㅤjohnny cage was a provocateur, and you were his favorite victim. maintaining a playful spirit, Johnny's kisses were a wet mess, lips colliding eagerly, a overwhelming need. his hands fixed themselves on your waist, squeezing and pulling you closer as he yearned to merge into one body, immortalizing the passion and love between you. it was common to find a glistening line of saliva when you finally parted. you were breathless, your chest moving frantically in search of oxygen and... something more. johnny would notice this. (of course, he would notice. he always made a point to observe the reactions when you were together.)

ㅤㅤㅤ"can you handle more, sweetheart?" he questions, his pink, swollen lips curving into a wicked smile, full of cruel promises.

ㅤㅤㅤwithin and outside a relationship, you are shang tsung's test subject, the perfect specimen at the mercy of his dark ideals. breakable and submissive, like a pet, you've become his favorite pastime, the perfect challenge. unraveling the mysteries of your body is an art for him, a game where every touch and kiss are strategies to corrupt the remaining shreds of sanity within you. he appreciates knowledge, and your genuine reactions are accompanied by translucent pearls of warm tears. tears of ecstasy, he concludes with arrogance. shang tsung is a selfish partner; (his kisses are long and suffocating, embedding themselves in you like a parasite.) the scent of his perfume will linger, intoxicating and persistent.

ㅤㅤㅤhanzo is an uncontrollable romantic, and his soul is as warm as the affections he displays in the comfort of the space he now calls home in your relationship. kissing him is an open invitation to be consumed by hungry flames, much like his emotional yearning. his hands rest on your face, fingers gliding in a long, gentle caress, savoring every reaction you show: the flushed face and trembling hands are signals for him to continue. with your consent, he does. you are led to a dark precipice with kisses planted at the base of your neck, discreetly directed towards your chest. hanzo, experienced and considerably older, knows what he's doing, aware of the buttons to press to make you dance with madness.

ㅤㅤㅤ"breathe, my love," he says, noticing your open eyes, seeking more of his touches. "the night is still young, and we are just getting started."

[justblades]

⌕ AT WITS END, 18+

⟢ CHARACTERS : jing yuan x afab! reader x luocha WC : 2.1k

⟢ WARNINGS : SMUT, MINORS DNI. dubcon, drugging, threesome, anal sex, double penetration, use of sex toys, porn with plot.

⟢ SUMMARY : the xianzhou general and a merchant doctor take notice that you were dr~gged by a suspicious syndicate. they are at your disposal to save you from the grave situation, but it could only be done when the drug's symptoms are quenched.

being luocha's apprentice in the medical field alone takes up most of the space on your plate, especially now that you're assigned to jing yuan to be his personal physician— the jobs just keep on overflowing, too much for the feeble mind to handle.

in actuality, you weren't supposed to be stationed in the xianzhou luofu. it's just that luocha isn't fond of having much spotlight shone upon him that therefore lead to you being referred to be the general's doctor. as soon as you caught wind that you piqued the interest of one of the charioteers of the luofu, you were determined to perform at your best - to be chosen.

and the gods of luck only spat at you when you were employed by the general jing yuan. he never committed any grave sins nor did such heinous things, it was just his way of governing that left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth as soon as you got to know more of jing yuan. you harbor a strong dislike for anyone regardless of their position to be cowering in the shadows when particular problems arise, saying sham excuses like "i am forbidden to take action because of my rank."

seeing the gray headed general opens up old wounds; a scar you thought that has healed a long time ago. as someone who used to be in the bottom of society's hierarchy, it was until then you grew old you started to understand corrupt officials. those who live in their privileged bubbles, enjoying the comfort of their power and own homes.

as meticulous jing yuan is, it was natural for him to not mind your small banter and snarky remarks against the general. the way he reacts is exceptional, he doesn't bother defending his name amidst the comments he's been receiving since day one. jing yuan never loses his composure and pays no heed to trivial matters.

you grit your teeth as you recall those moments, swearing to yourself that you'll br able to crack him and spit in his face that he's a no good leader. mentally cussing him out as childish as it seems, you continue to do your job, which was preparing your equipments and kits containing vast range of medicines.

drawing a sloth sigh in the end, you carefully lift up the objects. pivoting your heel to take a swift turn, suddenly, your eyes lock a glance with the familiar golden hues, those that exude indolence and of mystery. shock rakes your spine and goosebumps break over your skin, making you fall down on your butt as you feel a tug from your upper clothing.

you were too occupied at piercing through the general's soul with your bitter expressions that you didn't notice the matter at hand in present. "to what do i owe you the pleasure?" your words hinted with sarcasm, you end the question with a cozen smile.

much to your surprise, he crouches down to your level and helps you pick up the strewn pieces of gadgets and equipments on the wooden, varnished floorings. you cock a brow at his actions and proceeded to watch him in confusion; but a sudden puff of glacial wind traces your skin, reaching parts of your body from within.

glancing down at what could be the cause, it was a little too late for you to realize your clothes were torn apart, exposing your treasures right in front of the man you hate so much. instinctively grabbing the largest piece of ripped fabric, you immediately cover the last part of your dignity with it, closing your eyes shut to recall what transpired in such a short moment of time exactly.

"your senses are way too off lately." his smoky voice cut off your rowdy train of thoughts meanwhile you spiral further into bewilderment on what he's hinting at. "you've fallen prey for their false marketing. however, worry not. i'll do what i can to take it from here."

your eyelids unexpectedly felt heavy, as if jing yuan's words are making you feel dizzy. you could only ask yourself 'what is he plotting', until the moment his large slender hands support your figure. "i'm certain you're puzzled; but the food you ingested two days ago had long term effects of a particular ingredient - similar to an aphrodisiac. fortunately, its symptoms erupted just now and not while you were on duty."

he drapes your arm on his shoulders and snakes his hand around your waist. jing yuan carefully lifts your body and leads you to a particular vicinity. you hoped to see where he was taking you at least, but your vision betrays you as you fall into a deep sleep.

you peel your eyes open to well-lit ceilings, etched with luofu's motifs. you scan your surroundings amidst the lethargic feeling weighing your body down, only to see the despised general welcome your vision once again. "unfortunately, there is only one way to rid you from its symptoms." you part your lips open, but your throat feels dry - no words follow suit of what you wanted to verbalize.

"this is a grave situation but i need to have your consent."

another static voice erupts in the vicinity, seemingly coming from a gadget jing yuan had in hand. "general, we're running out of time already." his brows knit in exchange, and mumble few words right after. "doctor, forgive me."

your body jolts awake from the intrusion you felt from your lower region, only to see a makeshift of lewd toys handled by the grizzle haired. as much as you wanted to protest, it all just started to make sense, as usual, a late epiphany after series of events unraveling. it was the ingredient preventing you from speaking.

he pumps the object in and out of your cunt at such an abrupt pace, catching you off guard with every thrust. pro tem, you grip the sheets of the clinic's bed, holding on for dear life as if you were about to die from immense pleasure. panting hard, jing yuan doesn't halt, he only quickens his movements, a sole goal occupying his mind.

the gods really frowned upon you, for the guy you harbor such hate is now having you softly mewl because of a predicament. you were uncertain of what and who should take the blame— as expected, no one is to be blamed but you. if only you weren't craving that particular food that has been circulating in the ship for quite a while, you wouldn't have ended in such position.

being before him bare, fragile fuels nothing but your fury; but your body language says otherwise. your toes curl as you could feel the toy send virations in your pussy, your g-spot making friction against its surface sends your mind afloat the abode of sanity.

your song of moans was interrupted when another figure makes his entrance this time. the tall carved wooden doors swing open, revealing a blonde male who was a little too recognizable for your eyes carrying his iconic, gigantic coffin. "general, i'm afraid that won't do."

with a short span of time, the two comes in an agreement, shifting of positions follow suit. you're apparently underneath the merchant while held up by the mentioned general, his dominant hand tightly clasped on the remaining scrap of fabric wrapped around your hips.

everything happened in a flash and a foreign sensation makes you wince. your two holes were being prepared for further accommodation of the two males' dicks, using up half a bottle of a lubricant to make sure everything will sail smoothly. a nod of approval is all that it took for your entrances to be prodded by large girthy cocks in unison as you grant them such abashed moans.

jing yuan controls your pelvis with his mere one hand, discering every detail of your body language to see if he's making progress of easing the mysterious ingredient's effects. his aureate hues fixate only at you, his usual carefree demeanor and a lively smile replaced with pursed lips; followed by a crease forming in between his eyebrows.

luocha was the same, even though you were far too tantalizing for a man's eyes, they had to focus at the matter in hand. his flaxen irises examine evey nook and cranny of your body, scrutinizing every beads of sweat trickling down your skin as mere indicators of the symptoms. the unfamiliar feeling welling from both sides of your walls seep in to your system— whilst the two males exert the best of their efforts to pleasure your yearning body.

the blonde head's breathing becomes ragged in rhythm, each of his pants deepen in each thrust. after all, he's not someone sexually active, nor someone who performs hard labor at the daily; it was anticipated for his stamina to thin out. however, the situation doesn't seem to improve, not one bit. it was then jing yuan starts to change his tempo, he slows down as he pulls out, and picks up the pace once he rams in.

jing yuan's flow grants him mewls slipping from your lips, his long, deep back strokes seem to do the job perfectly from how you were reacting. gushing noises blends with the squelching sounds from the sounds of two dicks pleasuring the both of your entrances at the same time. a warm stream of fluid spills into luocha's clothes, the white fabric darkens into several splotches.

as embarrassing as it was, they heeded no mind. if anything, it's a proof that their method is working - reinforcing their resolve to quench your lustful feelings. luocha's gloved hands cup your tits bouncing up and down, nestling your perked up nipples in between his fingertips. he attempts to catch his own breaths, exerting more force into his thrusts deep into your pussy.

he rocks his hips upwards and your walls coil around him from the tip down to his last inch. you could no longer stifle your moans, you were way past caring for your pride— jing yuan, as always to your rescue, his calloused hand presses your cheeks, making you close your mouth forcibly. even though your chin was smeared of your drools already, at least there wasn't a lot, looking at the bright side.

the grey head general gently holds your dampened face, making you face him. from a second, you catch a glimpse of his expression; one that can be practically assumed not seen by anybody. his brows tightly knitted, luminous golden eyes locking a short glance with yours that were clouded of ecstasy. a guttural moan bubbles from his throat, along with luocha's deep mewls of satisfaction rushing to his cock inside your velvet walls.

"y-you're so tight." jing yuan utters under his breath as he continues to piston into your asshole. it was a new occurrence to see him stammer for he always addresses everyone with exemplary choice of words and smooth dealings. getting to see the general like this from what your body had to offer felt intimate— but luocha's actions catches you by surprise more.

he nibbles on the soft plush of your right breast, the left one being toyed with rather harshly. the general accidentally lets go of your face and your vision was brought back to seeing luocha's guise once again. the doctor looks up to meet your tantalizing gaze, whereas there he felt the two of you shared a mutual understanding. you crash your lips into his, your wet cavern being invaded by his warm tongue. it was a deep, sloppy kiss, you swear you could feel a hint of fuming jealousy behind you.

even so, your pleasure - your life comes first before trivial matters. the general lets it pass, and there a furor of release brews from the three of your bodies, all in sync. with one last deep thrust from jing yuan's and luocha's throbbing dicks; the life threatening situation finally rests at peace.

after everything that transpired, the general greets you with his usual blithe smile, accompanied by the golden gleam of his irises and a kiss of an angel just below his right eye. you had to soften and warm up to him everytime you remember your life is indebted to him.

although you couldn't lie, a thought crosses your mind, "perhaps jing yuan planned all of this." a part of you agrees as he knows you wouldn't cozy to your employer unless put in a dire situation and another part doesn't since it believes he's a kind soul deep inside. you also started to realize the general's nature, his governance and how he managed to keep the xianzhou's peace for a long time.

admittedly, it was your shortcoming. you knew deep down you were better than what you showed him - and so you strived to improve and understand at the end of the day. as for the blonde doctor, luocha, he pretends it never happened. after all, the two of you share a past bond forbidden to speak of in the present time.

all's well that ends well.

my masterlist !

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Toga’s AU Concept

He visited Sanctum on a whim, he was in Mistral visiting his niece Saphron after all, why not visit the school that was training it’s future protectors… Was it truly chance that it happened when he got there at that moment. That he stumbled upon the horrified students backing away from a scene from a horror movie.

A girl over a boy, her skin pale, hair a dull gold but utterly contrast by the crimson of the boy beneath her, of his blood leaking, his eyes wide in equal parts horror and confusion as the girl above him drank deeply. Her aura lighting, brightening with every drop more she drunk.

But from her eyes another purely liquid dripped, tears that contradicted the madness in her eyes, others stood confused. But not him, never him, he didn’t hesitate, to hesitate was the let others suffer. The girl moved with surprising grace, avoiding him while her features altered, matching her victim’s.

His hand reached out as he enforced his soul into him, willing thew boy’s body to mend though his soul’s light. The second he saw the student’s face gain some of it’s blush ensured his life her turned on her and launched after the girl.

She’d been smart to run instead of fight, it was a fight she wouldn’t win, couldn’t win, but escaping was just a futile. She was fast, agile and athletic yes, but he was a skilled tracker. If she was faster, he just had to rely on endurance to carry him through.

And it did…

She’d been locked up, and they were debating her sentence, the sentence for an aura user with combat training, she was a threat. And perhaps he should’ve left it well enough alone, but he didn’t, and spoke to her.

And he realized the tragic madness that spurred her on. Toga Himiko was not a monster, she was a girl, gifted with a powerful Semblance, great potential and an honest easily corruptible heart. One’s semblance could influence a persons personality quite easily. After all, it was the manifest of your being, of your soul. How could you not begin to ponder its meaning, how could you not attempt to reflect it’s nature on your person, within your actions.

She was dangerous yes, unstable without a doubt… But, she was also alone, her family couldn’t understand her and feared her for it. Somewhere inside he knew she understood her sense of love was twisted. Was not the norm, after all, why else would she have cried when expressing it.

This was no monster, no villain of demon, she was a girl, a pitiful, lonely, misunderstood child who wanted nothing more then to express her love the only way she could. They way her very soul demanded she act out. All she wanted was a connection, was someone to understand her, was to have friends, family and a love that could accept her deviant nature, a nature she had no control of.

How could he call himself a Huntsman if he couldn’t save a single girl from her crippling, cruel loneliness. So he visited her, again and again, using his pull and connection with Ozpin to freeze the freeze the girl’s sentencing while he worked things out.

She started to look forward to meeting him, and he’d admit to the same, after all she was so cheerful and oddly endearing. If not for her eyes being amber instead of blue he’d had thought her one of his nieces.

Apparently after he started visiting regularly she ceased any resisting and even halted trying to escape, he started to bring her things, even cooking for the girl. Not helping but to feel she needed food a bit better then what they served here.

… He hadn’t expected her to cry, she, she couldn’t remember then last time her mom had made her food… The last time they treated her like a daughter instead of a Grimm. It angered him, it infuriated the Arc. But he held his tongue, and focused on what mattered.

On calling in favors, on talking to his family and getting his affairs in order, Jaune was many things, he was a Huntsman, next in line to be patriarch to the Arc House and a teacher at Beacon. But he was also a criminal who’d cheated his way into Beacon once upon a time. His hands had cut down men, his decisions as a leader had led to the death of innocents before as well.

Toga almost killed a boy, she needed help, needed understanding, to be given a chance. And he was all to willing to risk giving her one.

-0-0-0-

She tried to be normal, to live normally, to act normally, to love normally, she tried so hard, it was also such a struggle, other people’s normal. Other people being able to express themselves, to be themselves and be accepted for it. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, why couldn’t her way be normal… Why couldn’t she be accepted?

Why couldn’t her parents understand her, accept her, but no, they told her it was wrong, that to be so fascinated by blood was wrong, sick and twisted. That she needed to be normal… Were they saying her soul was wrong? She could feel it, ever since her semblance first manifested, since she stumbled upon it so long ago when she’d licked her wound…

Blood was to the body what aura was to the soul, it was beautiful, profound and unique to every person, and she, she could understand it, could indulge, could become others through their blood, she could understand them, be them… It was her normal.

But her parents refused to accept her normal, society refused it, the world and everyone in it refused it… She obeyed, she tried, she struggled to be everyone else’s normal… Until she met him.

Saito was a amazing boy, he was kind, smart and popular, everyone liked him, everyone respected him, just like a lot of other girls she grew to like him. So often she fought the urge to ask him for some of his blood, she wanted to be like him, to know him, to Become him…

But she smothered those urges, because she knew he could not accept them, nobody could accept a freak like her so she resisted the urge. She fought to stay ‘Normal’ To be a average, cheerful, reasonable, well-mannered girl that others could accept, even if it was all a act…

But then Saito got into a fight, and seeing him like that… so wonderfully bruised and bloodied, it made what was so twisted inside go crazy. And it all came crashing down… And she was upon him, moving on not instinct but pure natural movement, as unconsciously as one breathed she gave to her semblance’s nature.

His flesh parting so easily from a mere box cutter, his aura was shattered in the fight with other beforehand. She drunk from him, his blood tasting like the sweetest of irons, so warm, so filling, so unique to him and him alone…

It was ecstasy, finally, finally she got to be herself, she was able to express her love, she felt herself turning into him. His aura, his soul, his being, she understood it so much more in that moment. She knew it was all over, her life, all her efforts, they would come crashing down. But for just a moment, she wanted it, to be her own normal, to be herself…

And then he appeared, he saved Saito, and stopped her, his gaze held so much in it, there was the anger and disgust she expected, but also something new… Pity.

His name was Jaune Arc, he was a Huntsman, a professor, and he stopped her, but he didn’t stop there. He should up to met her in her jail cell, they talked, well, he talked, asking why she did it. And eventually she explained… And, and he listened.

He didn’t understand, but… But he tried to, he asked more, and she could see it, the disgust this anger and confusion, but never was that all she saw. She could see him trying, struggling to comprehend. Time and time again he’d visit, and talk to her, ask her question she’d never considered, asked if she thought what she did was okay.

She knew it wasn’t you can’t force your love on others, but he understood, not because it was normal to him, or because he was like her. No, because he tried to do what nobody else did… He tried to understand her.

He wanted to help her, and then he asked.

“Toga, I need to hear you say it, where you trying to kill Saito?” She knew he needed to hear her say it, so she did.

“No, I just, I wanted to express my love…” And then he told her.

“Toga, you’re not normal, but that’s okay, everyone is different, it’s what makes us unique, what makes life beautiful.” He hugged her.

“You’re not a monster, or a Grimm, your human, and you’ve been through so much.” He was warm… The words slipped from her mouth.

“Please, can I, can I drink your blood.” He paused and she knew she’d be rejected, pushed away and left alone…

“Toga, listen.” But she wasn’t rejected, pushed away, instead the man met her gaze, a sternness in his gaze but also a sympathy, one she’d never seen before.

“You don’t behave like others, and it can be dangerous.” She knew that, of course she did.

“But it doesn’t have to be.” He begun to glow, a soft, kind but powerful white.

“I know, you can help people, more than even I can with your semblance.” His big, calloused hand landed on her head.

“The same way you can take other’s blood, if you gave your love back, you could help so many people.” She shook, she’d thought that too, but, but never hoped others would, would.

“You’re not a monster, twisted or evil Toga, your just different, your semblance, your soul, your beautiful.” It was the smile of a father, of someone who genuinely wanted nothing more than to help her, then to comfort the girl who’d spent her entire if not short life being rejected by others.

“Himiko, I can’t just let you free, unfortunately the law is very clear on that.” She saw the sadness, the anger in his eyes, it was for her sake. But soon enough they were both overtaken by what she would come to know was his most prominent trait, Determination.

“If you agree to it, to come to Vale you can be put on Probation, under my supervision. I’’ be your guardian and probationary officer.” She knew her parents must’ve given up their rights to her by the slight anger that burned in his eyes.

“We’ll attend therapy lessons and you’ll be taught about aura control by me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out then, a vial, the most beautiful shade of red.

“Toga, I know the way you view things are different then mine own, but that doesn’t mean you can’t understand me, you lived in this world, acted appropriately for it as well. You understand how the general public views love.” He offered her the vial, the beautiful crimson flowing with his aura, with his soul.

“I can’t promise others will accept your views, or even try, but I promise, at the very least I will do everything I can to make a environment you can be yourself in… And that I’ll try my best to understand you.” She reached, her fingers grazing the glass, the vial warm… Her heart pounded as she looked to the beautiful crimson.

Slowly, cautiously she undid the top, he never looked away from her, never tore his gaze from the sight, there was no rejection as she took him into her. As she felt his soul through his aura, as his being and iron went down her throat becoming one with her.

She felt herself change, becoming him, her pale ash-blonde hair becoming a shade of livid golden-wheat, her fair skin pinking with a healthy flush. The slits of her pupils dilating, the Faunus trait vanishing as her pupils rounded and turned the most expressive blue.

Her aura converting, her soul changing and being replicating that as her very body matched the new soul she was temporarily hosting. And he looked at her through it all, reaching out and patting her head, the smile was genuine.

“If this is how you want to be that’s fine, I’ll learn to get used to it, but please, don’t stop being yourself, even if your appearance changes.” From his hand aura surged into her, his aura, given freely, pure and unfiltered.

Her answer finally came alongside the tears.

“Yes.”

-0-0-0-

She rushed down the hall from her room, excited for the day she’d looked forward to for so long, she couldn’t wait. Reaching the kitchen she found three people there, her sister and brother, Ren and Nora, two others he’d taken under his wing.

At the stove flipping the immense amount of pancakes the Valkyrie craved was Jaune, they waved to her, well Jaune and Nora did. Ren sat patiently at his seat enjoying his tea, she sat there beside them, besides two people who knew her, truly knew her, who accepted her almost as much as Jaune.

Two simple years was all she spent with him, but in those two years she’d felt more joy, more acceptance then ever before. She’d realized truths about herself and flaws in her actions.

She was free to express her love, but not to enforce it on others, to take from people who did not want to return her affections. It was wrong, cruel and that act whether it be her form of expressing love or ordinary expression of it by others were no less disgusting.

She’d help so many people with her feelings though, a little blood and she’d given so much back in turn, to children who needed it, to people with unique cases and blood types meant nothing to her semblance with regular people. She couldn’t help but want to help, even if Jaune worried, she loved him for that… She loved him, loved him more then others. More then anyone else.

But it wasn’t the same type of love she always felt, always knew, no, this was different, she wanted to both love him and be loved by him. To be loved as Toga Himiko, by Jaune, she didn’t want him to conform to her standard of love.

It wouldn’t be fair, it’d be like who she was forced to follow the standard society before she met him, she wanted to love Jaune as herself but also as him whenever the fancy struck her. But she also wanted to love him as Ren did, as Nora did, as so many of his students did…

And soon, she would be able to, today would be the start of it, a plated landed in front of her then, and looking up she met his smile.

“Are you ready Toga, your three will be trying out for Beacon today after all. So you all need to eat up.” He served her her breakfast, more than Ren’s but nothing near the mountain of pancakes he placed before her eccentric sister. But then again the pile her put before himself was barely any smaller. He needed it after all, because he regularly gave her blood, regularly accepted her form of expressing it and indulged that aspect of her.

She loved him for it, wanted to love him even more, even deeper, more intimately then any other, and once she passed Initiation she would. She only hoped that when she did succeed, her partner would be as understanding as her.

Maybe even being able to understand her love, Or Better Yet! Maybe They’ll Love Jaune As Much As She Does! Oh ‘Giggle’ she meant Professor Arc.

[dirtnapdreamfactory]

Sweetest Sin [Part One]

Content Warnings: Priest Kink, Breeding Kink, Corruption Kink, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female masturbation, Breaking Vows, Abandoned Celibacy, Etc. Etc.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5K

[If this work looks familiar to you, it probably is. I originally had it posted to my old account that has since been deleted, so I am reposting it here.]

The grand archway of the cathedral framed Father Astarion Ancunin, his tall figure casting a shadow against the golden light that spilled from within. Despite being a creature of darkness, he had become an integral part of the town of Emberwood, serving as their shepherd of light. His vampiric nature had initially drawn cautious glances, but the townspeople's faith in him seemed to outweigh their fear. They flocked to the cathedral and found solace in his words, a paradox that the elf would have scoffed at decades ago—a vampire spawn preaching salvation.

"Good evening, Father Astarion," Mr. Tiller called out, his voice warm as he passed by with his family. "Your sermon today was truly moving."

"Thank you," Astarion replied, his smile genuine but unable to reach the depths of his crimson eyes. "Peace be with you."

For a quiet moment, the pale elf held up the silver band on his finger to catch the light, marveling at the small miracle that allowed him to walk under the sun. This ring symbolized not just his commitment to his vows, but also to a life he never thought possible. Each day, the weight of his past sins grew lighter as he embraced his newfound purpose with tentative gratitude.

"Father?" A timid voice broke through his reverie.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Silverleaf." He recognized the couple instantly, their devoutness etched into every line on their faces. "What can I do for you?"

"Your words—they're a balm to our community," The man began, wringing his hat between his work-worn hands. "And…we hate to ask but…well, we've come to ask a favor, if you're willing."

"Of course. Speak freely," The priest encouraged, folding his hands before him in a gesture of openness. 

"It’s our daughter... She strays further each day from the path of righteousness," Mrs. Silverleaf confided, her voice laced with worry. "She has no care for piety or decency."

"Her soul, we fear, is in peril," her husband added, his gaze pleading.

"Would you speak with her, Father?" The woman asked. "Perhaps guide her back to the ways of the faithful?"

The couple's words hung heavy in the air, a weight that Astarion couldn't quite shake off. He knew his duty was to guide and correct those who strayed from the path of righteousness, but the thought of speaking with you, their fierce and free-spirited daughter, filled him with conflicting emotions.

On one hand, he felt a sense of obligation and responsibility towards your soul, which they clearly feared was in jeopardy. But on the other hand, the memory of you tore through his mind like a stormy sea, tempting him with desires he had vowed to renounce.

The request coiled tightly around his heart. The memory of that first night that he had laid eyes upon you surged forward, unbidden and wild. It had been a chance encounter at the tavern, where he had gone to seek solitude among the clamor of tankards and low-burning hearths. You had burst through the door, a vision of ferocious vitality, your presence so startling that even the rowdy din of the establishment had hushed for a brief moment. There you had stood, cloaked in the glory of your conquest—a deer, by the looks of your spoils—and had commanded attention with the ease of one who knew their own power.

"Talia, go fetch Lorrick! And tell the cook to get his shit together, yeah? We're having fuckin' venison tonight!" you’d declared, voice rich with triumph.

Astarion couldn't help but watch you, his eyes tracing the line of sweat that made a glistening path down the column of your neck. Each droplet reflected the light from the hearth, casting a warm glow on your skin. Your soft hair cascaded messily down your back and beckoned his fingers to explore its texture. The sight of you- so raw and vibrant - was like a sharp blade to his senses, breaking through the protective walls he had built around his chastity.

"Father, will you not try?" 

The distant echo of Mrs. Silverleaf's voice pulled Father Astarion back to the present, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded absently, his mind still consumed by the image of your mischievous smirk. Despite his inner turmoil, he affirmed to the couple that he would speak with their daughter, a wave of heat flushing his cheeks at the thought.

"God bless you," Mrs. Silverleaf and her husband intoned together, their sincerity in stark contrast to the hunger gnawing at Astarion's resolve.

"Peace be with you," he replied hollowly, his own words drowned out by the cacophony of conflicting emotions within him.

As the couple disappeared from view, Father Astarion turned back to face the sacred confines of the cathedral. Its cool silence offered no refuge from the heat that still coursed through him, memories of his struggle against temptation flashing through his mind. He had whispered fervent prayers and battled against his desires for flesh and sinew that night at the tavern.

"Forgive me," he muttered to the empty pews, unsure if his words were meant for his deity or for himself. His duty was clear - to meet with the girl and guide her towards the light. But as the sunset painted the stained glass windows in fiery shades of red and gold, Astarion couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to enter a battle for which he may never be fully prepared.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and called upon every ounce of divine strength to fortify his spirit. He would offer counsel to this wayward lamb and do his best to protect her from darkness. But as he locked up the church and began to trudge his way towards your home, nestled at the far edge of town, he couldn't deny the thrill of forbidden excitement coursing through his veins, like a fire burning just beneath his skin. Though he knew that this could prove to be a rather dangerous task, one that could potentially lead him down a path of temptation and ruin...for the sake of your immortal soul, he was willing to take the risk.

The dying embers of the day cast a warm, orange hue over the town as Astarion tread softly along the dirt trail, his boots pressing into the uneven ground scattered with pebbles and twigs. The outskirts where you resided was tranquil, the only sounds were his solitary footsteps and the distant chirping of crickets. He could see your home now, a quaint cottage that seemed to be in a perpetual embrace with the encroaching forest. The air was scented with damp earth and the sweet tang of herbs that hung from an overhang, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

"Ms. Silverleaf, it's Father Astarion," he called with measured calmness, rapping knuckles against the wooden door. His voice felt strangely intrusive in the stillness. "Your mother and father bid me to speak with you."

Silence greeted him, thick and unyielding. He knocked again, a little louder, allowing authority to lace his tone. "Ms. Silverleaf, please. This is a rather important matter."

The quiet persisted, and a frown teased at the edge of his lips. 'Perhaps she is out,' he thought, but something about the soft glow from within your home suggested otherwise. He reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. A moment's hesitation lingered like a warning. With a breath to steady himself, he pushed open the door and stepped into the muted warmth of the interior.

"Y/N?" he ventured again, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the door behind him.

Before him, the small fire in the hearth crackled its last dance, casting flickering shadows across the room. Astarion scanned the space, noting the absence of any presence. His gaze fell on the simple furnishings, the homely touches that bespoke a life lived simply yet fully. In that moment, he felt like an intruder in your world, privy to a privacy not his own.

His ears, sharper than most, caught the faintest sound—a rustle, a breath hitched in distress. His dead heart sank. 'Might the girl have injured herself?' The concern edged his thoughts as he moved silently, his steps practiced and light. The noises grew clearer, more defined, and his pace quickened with a mix of worry and something less definable.

"Y/N," he called out softly, reaching the slightly ajar door from behind which the sounds emanated. With the utmost care, he nudged it further open, just enough to allow his eyes to seek out the source of the commotion.

He stood motionless, his hand still resting on the door, as the scene within unfolded before him.

His eyes widened, the crimson depths reflecting a scene of forbidden desire. There in the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desperation, you writhed upon your simple bed—a vision of unbridled sensuality.

"Gods above," he murmured under his breath, unable to tear his gaze from the sight. His voice was a mere whisper, lost amidst the symphony of your pleasure.

Your small fingers danced along the slick folds of your sex, each movement deliberate and hungry. Lustful whines escaped your lips in ragged sighs and your moans pierced Astarion's heart like an arrow. You were yet unaware of his presence, lost in your own world of ecstasy.

"Y/N," he finally managed to say, louder this time, but the plea in his voice was drowned by your cries. You did not hear him, or if you did, you gave no indication, consumed as you were by your own touch.

'Stop,' he thought desperately, 'you mustn't witness this.' But his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of you. The heat that had been kindling within him since he'd first laid eyes on you now blazed uncontrollably.

He watched, transfixed, as your back arched, your breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. The soft mounds were flushed with arousal, your nipples taut and begging for attention. Your other hand alternated between caressing your breast and pinching your rose-colored nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

"Please," you gasped, the word a prayer for release. "I need... I can't..."

Father Astarion felt a surge of protectiveness, intermingled with a darker, hungrier sensation. He knew that he, a man of the cloth, should not be standing there, should not be watching this intimate act of self-pleasure, yet he found himself entranced by your uninhibited display.

"Is this what you seek?" he asked silently, the question for himself more than you. "To be the one to push her over that edge?"

His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the remnants of piety that screamed for him to leave. There was a battle raging within him, between his vows and the yearning to step forward—to replace your hands with his own, to taste the salt on your skin, to hear his name on your lips instead of the silent gods you seemed to be reaching for.

Another whimper, more tortured than the last, pulled him from his daze. He took a half-step backward, the creak of the wooden floorboard underfoot sounding like thunder in the quiet room. Astarion’s throat was dry, his body tense with longing.

"Forgive me," he whispered, turning his face away, though his eyes betrayed him, sliding back for another glimpse that lasted far too long. "Forgive me..."

His breath hitched, a silent witness to the carnal symphony playing out before him. Shadows clung to the corners of the dimly lit chamber as the fading light of day bathed your writhing form in an ethereal glow. Your fingers, slick and unyielding, danced fervently within yourself, your movements both desperate and deliberate. The decadent chorus of your pleasure—a blend of wet, rhythmic sounds—sent involuntary tremors through his body.

"Gods... yes, just like that, please..." Your voice was broken and full of lust, a prayer for release that echoed off the walls.

He swallowed thickly, the taste of his restraint bitter on his tongue. His hands, traitorous and curious, sought the heat beneath his breeches, and he winced at the contact – a touch both foreign and achingly familiar. The sensation clawed at his resolve, tearing at the fabric of his vows.

"Ah... A-Astarion..." you moaned, your voice slowly morphing into a sinful incantation - a desperate plea to the heavens, or perhaps to the depths below. His name rolled off your lips like a sacrilegious mantra, stoking that fire within him into something unbearable.

"Gods above…," he whispered under his breath, a ghost of words lost amid the melody of your solitary passion. Envy gnawed at him, its sharp teeth sinking into his heart as you envisioned another, even if that other bore his visage.

"Please... Fuck - ruin me..." you begged the illusion, your back arching, your body tightly stretched like a bowstring. The priest within him recoiled, but the man, the primal creature lurking beneath the clerical collar, stirred from its slumber.

"Enough," He hissed to himself, his conviction giving way to carnal desire. He could no longer be a mere observer, a passive guardian of sanctity. As you called out for him, in flesh or fantasy, he felt that familiar longing within him awaken. With a growl, he shed his clerical collar and entered the room with purpose. This was no longer a soft tread of uncertainty, but the confident steps of a man who knew what he wanted. You needed him, craved him, and he... he needed this. Gods above, he needed this.

"Ms. Silverleaf," he said louder now, his voice cutting through the haze of your ecstasy.

Your eyes snapped open, bright and piercing, locking onto his deep, vermillion gaze. Your silky hair cascaded around your face as you stilled, your body drawn with anticipation. In that moment, your eyes were a tangle of fire and gold, two stars colliding and igniting a blaze that consumed you both. Your stillness was a bird poised on the edge of a branch, ready to take flight at the slightest movement. And in that moment, the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit, tempting and dangerous: Which would it be? Salvation or damnation?

"F-Father Astarion," you breathed, a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and something...darker. Something hungry .

The pale elf stood tall and imposing in the dimly lit room, his pastoral leash discarded and forgotten on the floor. The light streamed through the window, catching the soft curls of his silver hair and casting an intimidating glow in his intense eyes. You laid bare before him, a true vision of ethereal beauty - your pleading eyes and wild hair fanned out around you, nearly forming a halo around your glistening, desperate form.

"Tell me, my child," He began, his voice low and steady, "What manner of evil has reduced you to this? A whimpering, sodden mess baring yourself so shamelessly before a man of God?"

"Please, Father...I-I’m so sorry. Please…p-please help me," You whimpered, your voice soft as velvet.

"Of course, child," His voice was a soothing balm, yet it was wrought with an undercurrent of something depraved. "Would you have me guide you in prayer, to cleanse these wicked ideations from your soul?"

Your head shook, a silent bell tolling 'no'. His gaze never left you, sharp and probing as he began to unfasten his shirt, each button relinquishing its hold with deliberate slowness. The pale flesh beneath his priestly attire came into view - his lean, muscular body sending a sharp jolt to your needy cunt.

"Or perhaps," he continued, his tone laced with concern, "you'd prefer I summon the physician? They might concoct a remedy for your... afflictions ."

As he circled the bed, the air around you charged with unsaid words, he grazed your cheek with his knuckles, the touch feather-light yet scorching. Your skin burned under his caress, your heat evident to his discerning touch.

"Ah, you are quite warm," he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned closer, his breath fanning your face as he tenderly pushed away strands of hair that had clung to your dampened forehead. "What then, my dear, do you seek from me?"

You swallowed thickly, your body betraying your desires with a soft whimper. "I don't need a doctor, Father," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what?" Astarion whispered back, his proximity intoxicating.

Your breath hitched; you bit down on your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth. In a voice suffused with shame and longing, you uttered the words, "Touch me."

Astarion clicked his tongue, a reprimand and a tease all at once. "You know that is not possible. My vows..." He let the sentence hang, unfinished, yet heavy with implication.

But desire was a siren's call, relentless and seductive. As your fingers resumed their salacious dance, the soft wet sounds that they made reached his ears, sending a bolt of raw need through him. He watched, transfixed, his body responding despite his resolve.

"Is this a habit of yours?" he asked, his voice husky with restrained passion.

"No," you breathed out, your movements unabated.

"Has another taught you such pleasures?" His inquiry was both invasive and achingly tender.

"N-no. Never," you admitted, your voice tinged with innocence and discovery.

He hummed, acknowledging your confession. "There is much to learn about one's own flesh... to understand what brings pleasure, what stirs the soul."

"Please," you gasped, your plea floating between you like a fragile leaf caught in a tempest. "Help me, Father... Show me how to feel good..."

"Perhaps," he whispered, his voice a thread of silk amidst the tension, "a slight... guidance would not be deemed sacrilegious." The words felt foreign on his tongue, like a dark incantation that could unravel the very fabric of his being.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if absorbing the gravity of what he proposed. Your lips parted in a silent plea, your desire an unspoken prayer that beckoned him closer.

With reverent trepidation, he extended his hand, the silhouette of his fingers ghosting over the valley of your chest before descending. The heat of your skin seared his palm as he cupped your heavy breast, feeling its softness yield beneath his touch. Your sharp intake of breath was both a torment and a balm to his conflicted soul.

"Ah..." you sighed, a delicate sound that underscored the urgency of this illicit communion.

Astarion allowed himself a moment to marvel at the responsiveness of your body, the way your flesh puckered against the chilled air, inviting his thumb to graze over the tight peak of your nipple. To him, it was the first transgression – a tactile whisper that spoke volumes of forbidden pleasures yet explored.

His hand trailed lower, a painstaking journey across the landscape of your ribcage, the undulating terrain of your belly, each movement deliberate, a testament to the restraint he fought to maintain. It was an artist's touch, painting strokes of fire upon your canvas of anticipation.

"May I?" The question hung between you, laden with consequences yet to unfold. His eyes sought yours, seeking absolution in their depths. Your gaze held his, fierce and unyielding—a mirror reflecting your shared hunger.

"Please," you breathed, the single word a key turning in the lock of his resolve.

His fingers, cold and steady, grazed the small of your waist, drawing your attention away from his eyes to the point of contact. You shuddered as his touch met the sensitive skin just above your hips. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your pelvis, kneading it gently, exploring your body with the reverence of a man discovering the wonders of the world for the first time.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your hip. "Sinfully so, darling. But your wants, your needs... they are only human."

Astarion's eyes lingered on the curve of your hips, tracing the silhouette of your form with his gaze. The desire within him threatened to consume him whole, promising to both destroy and purify. He knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back. You were both aware of the weight of your transgression, heavy like a shroud about your limbs.

But your voice broke the silence, another soft plea that cracked the veneer of control he had so meticulously constructed. "Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

His fingers found you, hesitant at first, exploring the soft folds that lay between your legs. The air was heavy with the scent of arousal and anticipation, a heady cocktail that intoxicated you both. Astarion was no stranger to the touch of a woman, but this was different. This was sacrilegious. He could feel the weight of his vows bearing down upon him, threatening to suffocate him, but he persisted.

Your body tensed at his touch, the resistance only serving to heighten his desire. As he continued to explore you, he whispered softly into your ear, "You are allowed to feel pleasure, sweet girl. It's alright..."

Your breath hitched as his fingers delved deeper, your body arching against him in response. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, the pulsing life within you behind the delicate tissue that covered your being. He had never felt anything so alive, so vital, so right.

His fingers continued their exploration, sliding gently against your skin, tracing the pathways of your desire. Every touch was a caress, a promise, a confirmation that you were real, that you were there, and that he was not alone in this sin.

As his fingers continued their journey, he felt a surge of pure lust wash over him. He knew that he could not resist any longer. He needed to feel you, to possess you. He needed to experience the fullness of your passion and the sinful pleasures that awaited him.

He could feel your heart racing, your breaths becoming short and ragged as he touched you. Every touch, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent electricity coursing through his veins.

"Gods," you keened, your voice a desperate plea for release as he slowly sunk his middle and ring finger into your tight channel. Your body trembled, and you pressed yourself against him, urging him to continue.

Astarion released a long, shuddering breath. This was madness, this transgression. But the need was far too strong, too powerful.

His pale skin almost seemed to shimmer as he shifted his position on the bed. His scarlet eyes, usually so intense and piercing when preaching from the pulpit, were now dark with lust as they focused on your form laid out before him. The contrast between you was stark—him, the embodiment of forbidden restraint, and you, the very image of uninhibited desire.

"Father," you panted, your voice a sultry melody that tugged at the most carnal parts of him, "please..."

He slid his fingers deeper, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. The sight of your pleasure, the way you arched beneath his touch, drew a low groan from Astarion's throat. He was no longer the vampiric preacher who had given his life to God and vowed celibacy; he was a man, flesh and blood, driven by primal urges he could no longer deny. Your scent filled his senses, intoxicatingly sweet, and it sparked a curiosity that overshadowed all rational thought.

"Gods, I shouldn't..." He murmured, more to himself than to you, but the words died in his mouth as his tongue dared to taste the honeyed sweetness of your center. The flavor burst upon his senses—a delectable mix of sin and innocence—and his groan vibrated against your sensitive skin. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated need.

"M-more...please..don't stop," You encouraged breathlessly, your eyes half-closed, hands finding their way into his silver curls, urging him closer.

Astarion complied, his once-hesitant licks becoming more insistent, delving into your folds with fervor. The holy man within him screamed for repentance, for restraint, but he was drowned out by the carnal beast that had been awakened. With each stroke of his tongue and curl of his fingers, he mapped out every contour of your dripping cunt, committing your responses to memory like sacred scripture.

"Ah, Astarion," you moaned, a symphony to his ears.

"Y/N," he whispered against you, his voice husky with passion, "you taste positively divine ."

As he continued to worship at the altar of your body, the church bells of propriety and oath rang distant, irrelevant. In this moment, there was only you and the undeniable truth that you were bound by something far stronger than doctrine. The friction of his fingers inside of you, coupled with the relentless pursuit of his tongue, stoked a flame within you that threatened to consume you both.

"Father," you gasped, your plea a beautiful litany, "Aah - Gods, yes.."

Your hips bucked beneath him, the fierce desire in your eyes melting into a tempest of ecstasy. The supple flesh of your sex clenched around his fingers, and the sight of it, the feel of it, sent a shiver down his spine. The moments of hesitation were a blur in the past, all that remained was the hunger between you, the natural dance of bodies, the silent pleas for release.

He felt that familiar throb of anticipation, the prelude to a world of pleasure and sin. It would be a fall from grace, a transgression of the utmost magnitude. But he knew, deep down, that his heart would break if he denied you the satisfaction you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension within your body, the resistance slowly fading away as you came closer to the edge. Your breaths, once short and gasping, now deep and labored as you allowed yourself to fully succumb to sinful bliss.

His fingers, still buried inside of you, crescendoed their rhythm, matching the tempo of your heartbeat. He traced the swell of your clitoris with his thumb and lapped at the nectar that spilled from you, staining his lips with its sweetness.

"Astarion," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry moan. "Please, I need more."

He understood. He needed more, too. He plunged his fingers deep within you once more, eliciting a scream of unadulterated pleasure. The supple flesh of your sex clenched and spasmed around him, and the sight of it, the feel of it, drew a deep growl from within his chest.

His breath was a harsh rasp, his every sense alight with the raw scent of desire that rose from your flushed skin. Withdrawing his hand and mouth from your quivering, wet warmth, he couldn't help but admire the sheen of arousal that coated him, a decadent gloss that marked his sin as much as it did his yearning. He gazed upon you, reclined and panting, through eyes hazed with lust, finding you all the more enchanting for the sweat that painted your delicious curves.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice laced with both reproof and undeniable affection, "such a greedy little thing."

His fingers, still trembling with the remnants of your pleasure, worked at the ties of his breeches with a deftness born of necessity—this shedding of his final vestment felt like the peeling away of his last vow. The fabric fell away, pooling around his knees before he kicked them off, discarding the cloth and constraint alike into a forgotten pile on the floor.

Bare now before you, the dying light cast shadows across his lean form, playing over the muscles that tensed with anticipation. His heavy, aching cock stood proud, a testament to their forbidden ardor, twitching as though it had a life of its own, the tip shining with evidence of his need.

"Can you handle more?" he asked, his voice a low growl that vibrated in the charged air between you. It wasn't just a question of your endurance; it was a challenge to his self-control, a plea for absolution for the hot sin you were about to commit.

Your response was caught in your throat, your eyes wide as you drank in the sight of him. In your gaze, Astarion saw the war between lust and trepidation—yet when you swallowed, it not only discarded your fears but also his lingering doubts.

"Please," you whispered, your voice thick with want. "Take me... I want to be yours."

The words crashed into him like a wave, sweeping away the last of his restraint. A part of him—the man who had clung to his faith amidst a sea of past temptations—whispered that this was the point of no return. But another part, deeper, more primal, rejoiced in the offering you presented.

"Then mine you shall be," he vowed, his mind afire with images of your union, of how he would fill you, stretch you, consume your essence until there was no distinguishing where one ended and the other began.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat, he felt the weight of years of celibacy poised on the brink of oblivion. His heavy balls tightened, aching with the promise of release, the need to claim and be claimed overwhelming him.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes," came your breathless reply.

And with that single word, Astarion surrendered, gently pushing forward and guiding himself into your tight warmth with a slow, deliberate thrust.

You gasped as his girth split your virgin pussy, your body writhing beneath him, a silent plea for more. Astarion pushed in deeper, sinking slowly into you…inch by agonizing inch until you felt his balls press against the tender flesh of your ass. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a divine mix of pain and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ohh, Gods above ...you're so tight, little one" he whispered, pulling back just enough to tease your entrance and admire the pink ring of your ruined maidenhood around his shaft before plunging himself into your core once more.

You moaned, your hands clawing at his back, urging him on. “Mmf! Ahh…d-don't stop, please..."

Astarion groaned, his hips bucking urgently against you. He wanted to savor this moment, to take his time, but the beast within him demanded satisfaction. He shifted his angle, his cock rubbing at that sweetest spot inside of you just right as his crown pressed rough kisses against your cervix over and over again, and you cried out in pleasure and pain.

"Ahhh - fuck ," you cried, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and anguish, "Gods, it's too much...I can't-”

"Yes you can," Astarion whispered reassuringly, his breath hot against your ear. He thrust faster, harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. "You're taking me so well, sweet girl. Being so very good for me..."

Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his back as you climaxed hard, your orgasm hitting you like a whirlwind of bliss and agony.

Astarion felt your muscles clench around him, a vice-like grip that threatened to pull him under. His release was imminent, and he knew that once it came, there would be no turning back.

His thrusts became more frantic, the need to conquer your petite body overtaking him. Each movement was a battle, each thrust a plea, each twitch of his manhood a promise. He could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Forgive me," he grunted, his voice strained, his voice echoing your pleas from earlier. "I just can't control myself around you..."

You let out a needy, lustful whimper as your overstimulated body trembled beneath him, matching his rhythm as you reached once more for the edge of a new kind of bliss you had never known.

"I don't want you to control yourself," you huffed. "I want to feel every bit of you inside me."

Astarion groaned, his eyes rolling back as he plunged into you with reckless abandon, his cock twitching and pulsing within your snug hole. He felt your walls tighten around him, milking him for everything he had to offer. This was it; this was the moment. He knew that once he emptied himself inside of you, he would be lost in you forever. With a desperate cry, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your molten core, stuffing you completely with his thick, neglected manhood as his seed flooded and filled you, a substantial overflow seeping from where you remained joined - a testament to your sinful union.

As he collapsed onto you, his breathing came in ragged gasps. You lay beneath him, your eyes closed, face flushed with the afterglow of your lovemaking. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, still wrapped around him in a tight grip from your shared ecstasy.

He could feel your heart racing beneath him. This was not merely sex or desire; this was something forever altered, indelible in your souls. As your bodies calmed from their fervor, he found himself still nestled within your warmth, where he belonged.

He knew that to stay burrowed within you would be to invite temptation's final caress, but he could not make himself retreat. Not now, not ever. You were his now, and he was yours; there was no turning back...

[watcheraurora]

I know there probably won't be an Empires S3 and that's genuinely fine

But imagine with me for a minute

It's 1,000 years since the end of Empires S2, and the souls of the rulers are reincarnated yet again, fresh and new as before

And one of them in particular—a blond, brown-eyed young man—wanders the land with a pair of yellow-gold wings folded against his spine

Those wings bear him through the sky, soaring high above anything else. Sometimes he wonders if he could even fly so high that he would reach Stratos, the long-forgotten, mythical land of the gods. Or, according to myths and legends, the last god

With those yellow wings in the sun and his warm blond hair, he's given the name Canary King by his people

He builds his empire from scratch. He plants orchards in a plain biome—a canary's natural habitat. He trades honey and apples with the other kingdoms

He builds homes for his people with his bare hands. He builds his seat of power nearby. A palace for an Avian nestled in the branches of the tallest tree in the world. He made the tree himself, in a way. With the help of a little magic, he grew a sapling into a true marvel. A grand treehouse, high in the air, is where he builds his throne. The perfect fit for a wingéd king, born for the high blue skies

Sometimes he dreams of a homey swamp full of cod and slime. He dreams of gills in his neck and webbed hands. He dreams of a woman with blue skin and pink hair like Lizzie's in a light, flowy dress. He calls that woman sister, in his dreams. He dreams of an elf from the cold, high mountains—an ally. Sometimes he wonders if there was something more there. He dreams of the demon. The corruption.

Other times he dreams of a mesa—badlands. Exact opposite of that homey swamp. Instead of perpetual damp, the mesa is bone dry and blisteringly hot. He dreams of a brass badge on his chest. Tall boots to keep the sand out of his socks. He dreams of a hat to keep the sun off his face. The mesa is empty and lonely. He dreams of enclosed walls meant to emulate the blue sky and clouds the badlands are too hot to form. He dreams of mocking laughter. Shouts of "Toy!" He dreams of strangers appearing in the world, smaller than most everyone else. He dreams of the world the strangers—Hermits?—came from. A Rift in reality. He dreams of a funny old man with a grey beard teaching him to be "better" in his role

He dreams of a man with blue fire for hair, blue eyes with darker blue sclera, and a long black coat rarest of all, but they are always the sweetest dreams. The Canary King wears the brass badge and boots in those dreams, and the blue-fire-hair man isn't like the others—he treats him kindly. Even sweetly. In stark contrast to the mocking teasing of the others

The Canary King dreams he builds the two of them a ranch in the badlands, and then sees the fortress in the frozen norths of the Hermits' world that the blue fire hair man built himself

The Canary King always wakes up from these dreams feeling nostalgia. Like he misses something he never had, or lost something he no longer remembers

He serves his people and enjoys the company of the other rulers, his friends. He pretends he's not haunted by these dreams and the lives that seemed to be contained within them. No one else speaks of reoccurring dreams. No one else seems to notice the thousand-yard stare that he has when he thinks about them

Sometimes Scott smiles at him a little too fondly. Sometimes Joel's teasing needles him a little too deeply and he feels much smaller than he is. Sometimes Lizzie scolds him in a tone that sounds like the older sister the Canary King doesn't have—

And he remembers those dreams all over again

And his wings pull closer to his body, trying to protect him. He seeks comfort in the feeling of his feathers against his hands. He ignores the flashes of red-yellow-and-blue macaw wings on one of the Hermits in his dreams

So he flies. He flies and flies and flies. He sees the world whiz past below him. He flies so far and so fast, he tries to let the wind steal his thoughts and dreams from his mind. The skies are his home even more than the treehouse he poured blood, sweat, and tears into. The skies bring relief. And quiet. And solace. He still hasn't flown high enough to reach Stratos. He doesn't think he ever will

He doesn't want to anymore, with those dreams following him

The Canary King flies for days, barely sleeping, barely eating

He doesn't stop until he sees a mesa below him

It pulls him up short. He circles as he descends, eyes sweeping the land

He lands and kicks at the red sand here and there, thinking himself ridiculous for hoping to see—to find—anything

Until he slams his foot into something

He digs with a shovel and a pickaxe for what feels like hours. He exposes the ruins of an old town. He knows exactly where he's going to find the next building, somehow. As familiar with this town's layout as he is his orchards and the villages he built with his bare hands back home

He finds a small wooden sign with Welcome to Tumble Town! etched into the wood

He drops the sign and takes wing again. He deliberately ignores every swamp he passes over

He flies until he can't anymore. Until his beautiful, strong, yellow wings have no strength left and cannot bear him on the winds any longer. He crash lands in the snow and does not get up

The Canary King expects to freeze to death and never see his orchards or his treehouse palace ever again. He expects to finally be free of the dreams

Night falls. Creepers sneak around the mountains. Spiders spit and skeletons clank. Zombies groan

The world has grown dark, and the Canary King's vision begins to become even darker—

A blazing golden light flares. A voice cries out and then giggles

That same voice asks if the Canary King is alright. A warm hand rests on his shoulder

The newcomer has yellow fire for hair and red eyes with darker red sclera. He has the same face shape, the same nose, the same ears as the man in the Canary King's dreams

The newcomer is concerned and the Canary King is on the brink of unconsciousness. The newcomer promises that he's safe now—he'll be taken care of. It's the last thing the Canary King remembers before passing out

He wakes up in a cozy ranch house

He feels like he's home for the first time since the dreams started

[chosos-mascara]

lord

𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - After confessing your sins, Sukuna is unsatisfied by your devotion to an undeserving God.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - priest! sukuna, demon! sukuna, true form! sukuna, sacrilege, themes of christianity, sex in a church, unprotected, devotion to sukuna, power dynamic(?), god! sukuna, god complex, sukuna calls reader a whore,

2.5k words

"Forgive me, Father." The words roll from your lips, cherry flavoured chapstick streaked over tongue as you nip at the skin, a tight clenching within chest before you begin the confessional. But, for your own sanity, and your deep faith, you'd needed to come clean. "I have sinned." 

Sukuna shifts in the stall, a tightening of fist and curl of lip, anticipating your admission of guilt. Confessionals had been his favorite part of the role he'd found himself within; to hear the deepest aspects of a human's life had been entertaining within this dull life, as well as a chance to feel the fear plaguing their auras. Though, the added factor of unknowing souls confessing sin to a demon so evil to be banished from Hell itself - that had been icing on the cake. And, with a screen between himself and any unknowing devotee, Sukuna could freely grin as he'd absorbed negativity and fear from the soul beside him. 

Rain had pattered over the stained glass with gusts of wind blowing below ornate doors. Sukuna knew no one would be visiting in this weather, and with that, he'd have you to himself. 

"Confess your sins, girl." His voice was abrasive and unforgiving, a harsh tone you'd felt you'd deserved, though he'd been far from angry. After you'd caught his attention during a Sunday mass, he'd waited patiently for you to arrive with sin in mind. As a demonic being with heightened senses, your presence had an effect over him. Taunting, he'd call it. But, Sukuna had loved every second of it. With you sat the other side of the booth, deep breaths and shaking soul, he'd felt his own hardness over the length of thigh. With your innocent stare and pure scent, he'd wanted to corrupt you more than most; to manipulate and devour your soul until it had been as stained as his. 

"Well, you see..." You sighed, closing eyes and leaning forward in the wooden seat. "I've been paycheck to paycheck for a while now, and it's been really hard to afford things like food, gas-" The excuses had been a way for you not only dress up your story, but to lessen the damage of your sins before you'd told them. Maybe this way, you could save yourself from the shame you'd been burdened with. 

"Get on with it, girl." Sukuna had understood the harsh mannerisms he'd displayed had only caused your thighs to clench harder - he could smell the nectar of your body's natural lubricant and the guilt you held for wanting something you'd been taught was wrong. He'd wondered if your confessional would be a facade when you'd felt so easily aroused by his presence - had you simply wanted to see him? 

"I stole money from someone." The admission hung in the air as it had left your bowed head, hands idly fiddling within your lap in an attempt to distract yourself from the overhanging statement. Sukuna's silence had only caused more array, leaving you to wonder how abhorrent he'd found you when you'd so freely admitted to sin. 

It had taken a minute of silence for your trembling face to turn, and your gaze to set over the grates, checking if his shadow had still been seated on the other side. "Father?" You speak once more, though your growing anxiety is met with a dry laugh. Furrowing brow, your heart racing, you begin to question his quietness.

"That's your confession?" Sukuna's laughter brings you to confusion as you await further explanation, a stuttering mess behind the walls while you try to muster a response. "I think you've done much worse than stealing, dear. Don't be so naive to think I wouldn't know about your other sins." 

Your mouth drops wide as he speaks, nausea within your body rising to throat. 

"You have stolen from many others before. Why do you only confess to this one?"  "I-"  "Do you think I wouldn't notice the disgusting way you act around me? Oh please," Sukuna stood, and somehow much faster than you'd felt to be humanly possible he'd been within your side of the booth, hand around throat as he'd pulled you to the open. You were pulled toward the benches, body folded over wood and trousers pulled down to expose bare skin, cotton thong allowing nothing to the imagination. 

"Spare me your niceties and show me the real whore you are." A harsh slap bestowed onto your ass had caused you to yelp, a burning sensation rippling over skin to leave red marks. "Repent for me, girl." A second and third slap came in quick succession, your eyes squeezing closed and face scrunching with each surge of pain. Sukuna's hands were large and his slaps firm, and with the fourth he'd chosen to leave his hand atop skin to squeeze the thickness. 

"I'm sorry, father." Your voice trembles, head bowed into your folded arms as you struggle to keep yourself in the bent position, hands clutching to the old wood beneath you.  "It's not me you should be apologizing to." For a second, his grip loosens, and you sigh in relief. Though, it's almost immediately returned when Sukuna grips wrist and hip to have you stand, pulling you toward the large cross behind his usual podium. There, he has you kneel, facing the dark wood cross. 

"Apologize to the Lord for your sins, and may you be forgiven." Sukuna's words are like venom in your ear, hand gripping your chin and nails digging to your cheek.  "Lord, I-I'm sorry for stealing, I swear I won't do it again-" 

Sukuna laughs maniacally, second hand clutching your shoulder while remaining in a crouched position. He's careful not to place a knee on the ground and offer submission before the cross - something he couldn't understand why humans had done so freely. "You're not apologizing for that, are you?" 

Your face contorts between his fingers, confusion written over features as you search his eyes for answers. It's now that you notice the red hue - or had they always looked like that? 

"You need to confess the true sin you're entwined yourself within." His voice was lower now, a deep reverberance within chest as his pointed smile grew.  "Father, I don't understand-" Your question is timid, and when he laughs again you flinch.  "Do you think he hasn't seen the way you flaunt yourself before me, a demon? The slick betwixt thigh when you should be repenting for him - you're awful." The final word is more enunciated than the rest, Sukuna sure to break your mind before he can make room his his true intention. 

"I'm sorry for being a whore, I promise I won't act on these impulses within me, Lord." There's not much room for silence before Sukuna speaks again, a tut as he voices his concerns.  "That's a little better, but I fear something is missing..." The sincereness to his voice had been too nonsensical for it to be true - this was another game he would play with you. 

"Ah, I have it." A snap of fingers confuses you, for both of his hands had been holding you tightly in kneeling position. "I think you need a new God to worship. This one won't do for someone as depraved as yourself." 

"Father-" You begin your protest, but Sukuna doesn't allow room for your thoughts.  "Worship me." With his hands over your body, your gaze forced to his, you'd taken in the true face he'd worn. The gentle expression and brown eyes you'd come to lust had long since gone, a demonic replacement of four glowing eyes and black markings etched over skin. The snarl he'd worn had seemed to contort his teeth too, fangs sharp and pointed. 

"Let go!" Your plea had been more energetic than before, fear surging and a fight or flight response causing your stomach to churn. The rush of adrenaline had been enough to make you feel dizzy, but despite your efforts, Sukuna offered no leniency or reprise. 

"That's no way to treat your Lord now, is it?" Sukuna held you in place as you'd trembled in his grip. "You'll have to ask for my forgiveness, won't you?" The superiority of his voice had belittled you in nothing more than a few words, body's struggle fizzling out as you'd succumbed to his authority. 

"I'm sorry." Your relaxed frame caused his grip to loosen slightly, the anxiety within you suddenly merging into something more.  "Good girl, that wasn't so hard." When a hand had come to caress the crown of your head, you'd finally looked to his torso. From there, you'd discovered his true form - four arms had emerged from chest, uniform torn in two to accommodate the extra set of limbs. His stomach had large ridges of muscle, the black markings from his face now decorating flesh previously hidden. As much as you'd hated to admit it, there had been something overwhelmingly enticing about Sukuna. The fear for your life had appeared to die out, and you'd seen him in a new light. 

His gentle touch had soothed you, fingers caressing cheek and head as all four eyes had set on you. Had this been the draw of a God? 

"Now," He'd spoken in a sincere tone, though you'd known within your core that he hadn't meant it. "I need an act of devotion, a display of adoration for your new Lord." 

His lips were close to your ear as he'd spoken, a pair of hands moving to grope your chest above the shirt you'd worn and you'd stifled a moan, leaning into his touch. With this, Sukuna had pushed your body to the stone floor, a quick tare of fabric to leave you exposed to his gaze. There had been something freeing about your nudity before him, chest raised as you'd drawn teeth over lip. The air was cold, yet you felt heat radiating from Sukuna's body - a frame that had practically doubled in size as he'd pinned you to the ground. His grip had settled over your neck, with another set of fingers scratching over the skin of your stomach. 

"Perhaps, you can be my Lilith." His statement had little meaning to you and had been more of an utterance, though for some reason you'd felt a hum in the pit of your stomach. 

There had been a twang over nipple, a swirl of tongue to leave you gasping and confused, half lidded eyes set over a mouth manifested on the palm of his hand. The tongue had drawn over the bud, drawing circles over hardness and causing your back to arch on the stone tile.  "Do you love me?" His words felt sinister but you couldn't help to nod, light headed from his touch. 

"I love you, Lord Sukuna." The phrase had been stuttered through whines as you'd pressed your chest into his hands more, a mouth latched onto you to cause ecstasy. There hadn't been a statement you'd felt more sure about within your life - you were completely enamored by the entity above you. "Show me, then." 

You'd peered down with reluctance, and had been left in awe at the sight before you. Sukuna had peeled the busting cotton from his legs to reveal his endowment: that of two lengths, both thick and extensive. The view had caused some nervousness to stir within you, though a second hand finding it's way to your slick had made your mind numb. 

"So sweet." Sukuna had uttered to your ear as he'd bitten over the flesh, pulling another lewd and blaring moan from your lips. The mouth had lapped over slit, circling your clit before moving downward. There had been a few thrusts of tongue before he'd lowered himself further, a stripe over your lowest point. 

At first, you'd felt shocked at the movement, yet when feeling the thick appendage tease your opening to finally fill you, you'd spread your legs wider to accommodate more. He'd laughed, positioning the lowest cock to the dripping entrance and easing in. If he'd gone faster you were sure he'd have split you in two, though with the fullness of length and tongue, you'd been left to relax on the tile and take what you'd been given. 

Your walls had hugged Sukuna well, his rough rocks allowing a squeeze over cock he hadn't felt before. He'd been right on his initial guess that you were simply something else, something he wouldn't share with others. He'd make you his, he'd make you worship him. With you as a devotee, Sukuna had been sure he wouldn't need another. The feeling of your tightness milking him and the pure moans of pleasure erupting from you had made him want to pillage the entire world to leave only you within it. 

What he'd felt had been greed. He'd wanted to take all he could get from your pure form, an unknowing and dainty human fallen within his trap. Like a spiderweb, you'd been tangled in his clutches and left for him to toy with. 

A finger had circled your clit as his length had stretched you to brim, the thick arousal coating your folds allowing pad to slide easily over bud. Sukuna's touch had been enthralling, the perfectly timed movements and actions leaving you unable to love another as you had him. No one would give you the pleasure he'd bestowed to you, and you would give him absolutely everything in return. 

You swore under your breath, vision blurred. You'd been able to make out his looming body above yours along with the motions of his hips, and with head tilted to the side, you could see the wooden cross he'd defiled you beneath. Even if your mind had raised alarm bells at the sacrilege you had committed, something about the sight had only caused the coil within your core to snap, a sudden wave of intense pleasure to wash over your body. Something that had been coaxed by no one other than the demonic entity you'd allowed inside you. 

"Come for me, whore." Sukuna's length had continued to stretch your body with his, leaving an ache between thigh. You were sure walking home wouldn't be an option after this - if he'd permitted you to leave. 

"You belong to me, now." His words were aggressive as he'd stuffed you to fullness, your legs locked in position with an inhuman grip.  "I belong to you, Lord Sukuna." The phrase had left your lips without thought, and you'd felt nothing other than a deep devotion as Sukuna pushed himself to your limit, the second twitching length lef tto rub over your stomach as the bottom had worked inside. 

The feeling of heat had washed over chest as it had your insides, Sukuna's release covering the exposed skin as he'd held you roughly to the ground, inhuman sounds echoing within his body while he'd decorated your weakness with his arousal. 

[bunnyreaper]

Demon Gaz, who's looking for a pretty little plaything to corrupt. Maybe a priests daughter, or someone who (somehow) has never sinned before.

<3

hopefully you enjoy this crime against christianity <3 cw dubcon, religion.

looking like such an angel, kyle finds his job incredibly easy. his beautiful brown eyes look like they're incapable of hiding a single sinful thought, never mind an entirely devilish being.

his smile is so bright the local god-fearing women think it could ward off any ill fate that could befall the town--if only they knew the reason for their downfall was their darling local charmer. 

you and kyle had been friends for a while now, he was new in town and took a shine to you immediately when you sat next to him in church one day.

from that moment on, he knew that he would make you his. 

it was easy to get you alone, under the guise of bible study, of reinforcing your father's teachings. the sessions started with quiet, companionable reading. kyle would keep you company, answer simple questions you had, and ask you about your life. 

no boys, no parties, no sin. 

he couldn't ask for a prettier, more innocent little thing to corrupt. 

your descent started slowly, in a way he couldn't have even planned. he didn't have to seek you out, as you followed him around like a lost lamb, unknowingly leading itself to slaughter. you tried to spend as much time with him as possible, obsessed with the way he looked at you like no one had before. 

you could sense his desire, even if you thought it to be something simple and innocent--the kind of love and admiration your parents' marriage was built from, the kind of devotion you had for your god. 

you had no idea of the lust that lay within--the corrupting, all-consuming need. kyle garrick was a selfish man, used to turning girls like you on their heads and feeding off their sins before moving on to the next. 

something about you was different. 

perhaps it was because he'd never met one so pure and untainted, or maybe it was because, unlike the others, you had no sense of self-preservation. it could be that you always had this look in your eyes like you wouldn't really mind if kyle led you astray, you'd follow him anyway. that was something he quickly became addicted to.

the poking and questioning followed soon after, kyle subtly guiding you to question the gospel, your father, and everything you've ever known, all for him. he pretended to struggle with his faith too, though he supposed it wasn't a lie, as once upon a time he had. 

you were quick to follow, enamored by your guardian angel in every way, believing he could never steer you wrong. 

after all, questioning is normal, natural, why we were given free will--that's what kyle always says. and with the sweet way he says it, so earnest and everything... there's no way the two of you are doing anything wrong.

so when he pulls you into his lap one day, bible in hand, you don't question it. when he asks your interpretation on a particular verse, and leads you to a certain conclusion, you don't question it. 

when he takes you on a walk through the churchyard flowers and kisses you under the flower-filled pergola, lips against yours like he's devouring you, you don't question it. 

from there, the rest is easy. coaxing you into sneaking out late at night, straight into his arms, getting you to give up your vow of chastity, your commitments to the church, your devotion to god.

instead, you worship him. his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he drives inside you, taking you for him forever. spoiling you for other men, breaking all your oaths. 

he stretches you out, shapes you to him, claims you with his cock, his cum, his fingers, the way his nails scraping down your body carves his name into your soul.

you cry out for him when your pretty mouth is on the end of his cock, you cry out for him when he's gone--tears beading in your eyes either way. 

and when they try to take you away from kyle, to make you 'see the light', 

all the lessons you've been taught about vengeance and grace fall away, and you search for a new beginning--disavowing your church, your family, your upbringing. 

and with your fall complete, when it's time for kyle to skip town? there's no way in hell he could leave you behind.

[notafckingsidekick]

Victor Vale is really important to me as asexual rep.

The only person he ever had a crush on was the girl that fit his specific definitions of perfect. Smart, likeable, nice to him. In order to stay within that “top of the class” role he’d been thrown into, she was a naturally obvious choice.

But she was taken by someone better.

Taken by Eli. Unwaveringly full of a million defensive layers yet still Victor finds common ground, a kindred spirit. In his friendship and eventual obsession with Eli lies something far deeper than simply desire- it’s the corrupting need to understand.

There’s no big reveal about Victors sexuality, it isn’t really discussed. Yet as an ace person, something resonates. Indifference to physical action doesn’t mean a complete lack of feeling. A meaningless action can be rendered priceless for the moments in between. Glances, whispered words, the sensation of touch.

It all comes back to that soul crushing yearning for mutual understanding. To find someone just like him, that’s what Victor wants. Someone to know his faults and his desires, to share in them.

This is an extremely nuanced reading but as someone that struggles to find media representation of my emotional processing, it’s a comfort to see a kindred want expressed. I yearn for more ace rep with individual depth. To love deeply is not always so straightforward.

[rosielefay]

Hetalia Appearance Headcannons ʚɞ

England:

His pretty eyes, almond and upturned, with thick, long lashes. Always looking up at people through them, like peeking through the blinds, wary of the stranger in its town - and there are so many strangers, so few friends. Soft lips and pale skin, so easy to colour a pretty pink. Freckles if one looks close enough, hiding under the eyes, often lost under the natural blush of the cheeks.

He has long fingers and sharp cheeks and pronounced collarbones. Green eyes, green of old English rainforests, and reeds below the endless sea, and greed, endless, infinite greed. He's skinny, all bones and sharp edges. He eats no mortal food. The green eyed demon, devourer of souls and people and nations. Those awful eyes always dry, always itching, he has a quirk for rubbing them when anxious. Trying to scratch away the demon within them, that unsatiable greed he suffers from.

He's a small man, but has a large presence. An undeniable bravery, a fierce intellect, a cleverness so tricky and brilliant. Yet a tentativeness, a strong feeling of otherness plagues him. The outsider of Europe, the youngest child of Rome - a terrifying, unexpected thing that ate the whole world in an attempt to taste the nectar of the Gods. Unchosen one. Defier of fate. Wretched thing. It crawls its way through the earth into the garden of paradise. Green eyed viper, corrupter of man and nature. With him comes fire and steel and blood.

The youngest, the smallest, the runt of the litter. A terrible boy with something to prove. Godless heathen, he tears the Gods in two to embellish his own crown. His pride will be the death of them all.

The English lion and the shiny golden God, the laser upon the wall. Always chasing, unable to stop itself from trying to grasp it in its claws. A shadow in the cave of Plato or the light of salvation. In the realm of the heart where its great intelligence cannot pierce, those lovely eyes so blind and unsure.

[katyspersonal]

who do you think fucked up worse…gehrman or maria?

This is an interesting question, and I kind of didn't think of it before! Time to take a closer look at their crimes I guess. Some of these will be held on the possibilities and 'safe assumptions' though and addressed for the full picture!

1) Both were involved in Fishing Hamlet massacre!

With Maria, we can conclude as much because she discarded her weapons in the well at the place specifically. Her version in the Nightmare realm, a Hunter again, is supposed to be what punishes her, and she is focused on keeping Kos/OoK away from rummaging through. Considering the nature of the Nightmare, as well as the Doll who has spiritual connection with her, it should come from her guilt and regrets rather than.. I dunno, discarding the hunt over natural 'character development' and just picking a cool place to forsaken her past!

Gehrman sleeps better according to the dialogue Doll has after you kill OoK and free it's soul, so if it tortured him so, I think it is safe to say he had to be personally involved too rather than stay back while his students did the job:

They both were involved with Byrgenwerth, following their quest for obtaining the eyes of the dwellers from their skulls, and I suppose cord of OoK?

The thing about this point is that the description is written as though it was Gehrman's curiosity which ruined Maria's "idealisation" of him, or WOULD ruin it had she learned of it! This makes me wonder whether she was really involved in Byrgenwerth all that much, or whether she was aware of the real purpose of Fishing Hamlet massacre beforehand? Her goal, within the Nightmare, is stated to mercy-kill us so we don't allow that curiousity corrupt us to the point of "rummaging through corpse" and similar things, further supported by her visceral attack being an embrace if it is lethal!

I am just saying that here the balance might slightly shift towards making Gehrman 'worse' than her. Maybe she was not aware that it all was not just killing "monsters" but also a pregnant mother with her divine baby, but "well you didn't ask :/". Maybe Gehrman deceived her to use her aid. Maybe he didn't think it would be a big deal for her seeing that Maria was also interested in evolution through talking with Great Ones, and assumed she'd be just as callous about which means to accomplish the goals with?

2) Both were grave-robbing, or at least okay with that!

This one is a little less obvious, but Tomb Prospectors were not the first to go to the Chalice Dungeons! ...It were actually Willem, Dores and Gatekeeper lol:

BUT ALSO it were Old Hunters! We can see the remnants of it by Old Hunter Vitus being one the summons in Chalice Dungeons, hear Gehrman encourage us to go into the Chalice Dungeons to become stronger as via "tradition" of the Old Hunters,

and the fact that one of the things that torture Maria (again, remember that Nightmare Realm is Hell that punishes) is a Chalice:

(A video ( x ) for a better look at the Chalice from a figure)

I'd say that it is not very nice to disturb the undead Pthumerians just struggling in remains of their civilisation! Interesting thing: we can conclude they are even staying there to protect the Great Ones or their remains!

There has been some sort of civil war between ancient great-ones-respecting Pthumerians and who late became Cainhurst nobles! Maria, ironically, fell onto the side of "entitled guys" descendants! But yes, I could see why bullying zombie guys to get more history and archeology relics from them might not seem like much for her at start. Experience in the Fishing Hamlet likely retroactively ruined this period of her life for her: delving into Chalice Dungeons was likewise 'not leaving the corpse alone'. The remaining Pthumerians were right having some honour and dignity. So, that came to haunt her in the form of Pthumeru Chalice. Gehrman is.. well he's here too I guess dfshfdhs

3) Both knew a little too much about Laurence's shady business and did nothing?

Old Hunters used to be friends with Healing Church's Hunters and even had their workshops located close to one another! Gehrman was friends with Laurence and Ludwig, who are both quite strongly involved with Moon Presence (Ludwig's sword and guidance, Laurence's affiliation being known since Byrgenwerth times), as well as the key figure in creation of Hunter's Dream:

This was most likely a bait-and-switch, seeing how the cord itself is still in the real Workshop, and not in the grasp of Moon Presence (unlike, say, Wet Nurse taking Mergo's cord)! I think the purpose of creation of the Hunter's Dream was to "buy time" for the research conceived by the scientists! Remember: Gehrman was known to have "madness of curiosity" that Maria resented, or at least would resent had she known! He might have been fully aware of what Laurence wanted to do and support it! My point here, that with such proximity, he must have known of all Laurence's crimes and agreed with them!

Maria was at least overseer of the Clocktower's Research Hall, which, again, was just beta!Choir.

This last line IS a bit confusing, because it makes it sound as though the nerds looking for the Eyes Inside and the Blood Ministers got split. Laurence and Ludwig make it weird, as Moon Presence is also an Eldrich creature and Ludwig is for sure full of eyes! What also makes it strange is that Choir, and then School of Mensis, are both upper echelons of the Healing Church, but Laurence is supposed to be above both of them.

I think this can be worked with! Let's say what if Choir formed after Laurence's death, which also happened after Maria's death, and Vicars after him were somewhat "powerless" and walked over by Choir and Mensis, only leaders in the name! But that still leaves the bit that the mentioned "division" happened after Choir was formed! Maria and Adeline, however, are locked to the existence of the Research Hall, so, the timeframe when doctors and blood ministers were 100% working together! We find the Eye Pendant that opens the access to the Research Hall in Laurence's hand, and human Skull of Laurence on the platform that hides the secret elevator to that Research Hall. Again, by the Nightmare Logic, they must be connected with Laurence's sins: he started this research, or sponsored it, or was overseeing it, and so on.

This point is not an absolute thing though, because one or both of them might be freed from guilt here. Maybe Gehrman was not as informed and agreeable as we could assume and Laurence did lead him around? Maybe Maria wanted but could not do anything being caught in the web of complicated connections, blackmail and risks for the people she cared about?

4) Both are willingly involved in questionable practices (Maria with research, Gehrman with the cycle of Dream and Hunt)

This point I feel like transcends the morality a little bit, as it touches the matter of 'it is bad if you do it, but it is also bad if you DON'T do it'. I really love Soulsborne universes for having guts to say "you can't win, just pick your poison", but I think it is still worth addressing!

It is up to interpretation in which quantity Maria is involved with the Research Hall! Nothing states whether she founded it, joined in the research later, stepped in and turned the tides (ba dum tss) of the research, or simply was a caretaker/nurse/etc of the broken mess while Research Hall was getting ready for a bit of rebranding. She can be very guilty, or she can be barely guilty but in either case if that was her "redemption arc" that was a pretty bad way to go about it. ...or was it?

Fauxsefka turns people into Celestial Emissaries so they physically can't become beasts instead, and is even stated to be a hero / heroic researcher by Miyazaki:

First, I don't do Death of the Author (in terms of interpreting media I mean, not in terms of a style of writing)! Like, nope. Never. It is just not for me. Creator's word is the final for me; Fauxsefka is the good guy in the story, apparently, and it makes sense considering the fundamentally broken place characters are in! Maria has similarities with Fauxsefka: not only both of them have Cainhurst roots, but also both of them seem to favour 'Stars' line of evolution for humans!

Whereas other patients are afraid of the horrors of the Deep Sea, a concept Miyazaki could not get over well into DS3, Adeline desires them! Other patients seems to have gotten it right, and you can see one of them also clings to Maria mentally to "not drown"; Adeline "didn't understand"! The balcony that Maria wants Adeline to go to so she can forsaken the Deep Sea and seek something "happier" holds unique kind of patients who can shoot cosmic arcane spells:

Herself, Maria is associated with these lumenflowers: their petals are all over her boss arena, and the way to her lays through a much bigger batch of flowers, where Living Failures, other 'Stars' Kin are, whose song lyrics also feature lines 'ave stellar' and 'ave Maria'!

So, how this is different from what Fauxsefka is doing, who is stated to be as much of a good person as possible within this context and with the burden of her knowledge? Fauxsefka was doing more or less rinse-and-repeat practice, with maybe a few patients not surviving the procedure but we don't know what happened: maybe that person was already at the brink of death and she tried to make them live like this.

^ This guy I mean. Maria, on the other hand, is in the time period where the doctors and scientists were only testing the waters (BA DUM TSSS) (ok I will stop) and it was not SO certain what was at the stake, what were the alternatives, what was awaiting the humanity. It is even possible that the beasts problem was not yet bad to the point of "you'll either become a beast, be eaten by a beast or become a Kin, humanity is DONE for!" ! This was an unethical research at the cost of real people! The weight of Maria's sin here really depends on the interpretation, though

As for the cycle of Dream and Hunt, this is complicated and lingers on one's interpretation of what the purpose of the Dream even IS! Its existence provides two things: 1) a hunter who is immortal for the night, thus can sustain the beasts with efficiency like no other, but also effect the continuity of the night ( x ) and 2) supposed sustenance to the Great One Flora of the Moon, who holds the hunt as a concept!

I used to be a bit more set on the idea that if beasts are not sustained and hunted, they will simply overpower those who are yet humans and eat them! It is a self-feeding cycle of people needing to self-defend from beasts, thus having to consume the blood as urgent means of healing and power-up since beasts are too strong, thus risking to become beasts themselves because the blood they consumed during that hunt corrupts them. So, the Hunter's Dream would be a good thing, as it'd help to 'buy time' during nights of the hunt in which not only beasts are more active but Great Ones too! While the Dreaming Hunter holds everything together, the greatest minds of the Healing Church can efficiently study the ways to end beasthood, or ANY problem of humanity, once and for all! It is just better to throw the hunting resources on the Dream, so the scientists don't worry about the beasts and can focus on research. However, I almost forgot that:

This implies that had there not been Mensis Ritual ongoing, people WOULD have the chance to simply 'wait away' the beasthood problem. That, since Rom is not stopping Mensis Ritual but just conceals it, what really makes the inner beast within everyone who consumed the blood inevitably come out is Mergo's cry that draws the Bloodmoon close!

So yeah, the point about Hunter's Dream being helpful for the research of evolution still stands, especially under assumption that the deal with Moon Presence helped to bring more Eldrich Arcane close for "feeding" her. The point about how if the beasts are not hunted they'll simply eat everyone, though, is vague. It is safer to assume that the Hunter's Dream and Research Hall both are both example of hubris of man even if approached differently. Attempts to draw in something dangerous and horrifying, but it is "justified risk" because if you manage to 'tame' arcane/blood, sure, humanity will prosper!

Like... yeah, sure, there IS dangerous and undesireable nature of man that ruins everything and might or might not still linger in humanoids' genes after Loran. But did humanity ASK any of you guys to keep trying to fix it with so many victims and sacrifices? Like, was it WORTH it?

This point is closely tied to 'knowing Laurence's bad antics and doing nothing', yeah. Maria didn't seem to like blood ministration very much, as she disapproved of Adeline becoming a Blood Saint, but she also didn't even approve of blood antics of her own clan! I am not sure what would be her opinion on the Hunter's Dream had she lived to the point when it was created, just that she herself is not willing to ever hunt, so I am leaving this point aside. Is this just blood ministration that she opposes but proximity with a Great One Moon Presence would be something she can see the potential of? Or would she and Gehrman have a pointless cat fight about whose methods are better when they are both hubris of man? In both versions they are 'guilty'! Besides:

In the end none of THIS matters either and everyone was fooled ( x ). The blood offering is a blood offering in any way; whether it is through spilling blood violently during the hunt, or offering the blood's 'red' with how celestial Kin all bleed red. Moon doesn't care what paints it red, in the end.

___________________________________

My conclusion is: both of these characters fucked up almost equally! I think the balance shifts just a little bit and Maria is slightly better than Gehrman since she had some limitations set on how far she was willing to go. Her motivation was not in "curiosity" but strictly in helping humanity, even if in unfair ways, which is apparently not the case for Gehrman?

I'll say this though, NOW I am hooked on the idea of Maria and Gehrman being petty "rivals" ideologically (for as long as they could before Maria's own demons caught up with her). Especially since neither approach is better than the other and they are both cringe loosers! Again, lost comedy gold over Fromsoft making Gehrman's tender and warm feelings for her before and after her death plain. What is not lost, however, is the fact that the two should just kick Laurence and go home :pensive: