#ant speak no evil

[kaizsche]

SPEAK NO EVIL (2024) dir. james watkins

[crazed4rsonist]

Hi! Could I come request a stimboard of Marguerite Baker from Resident Evil 7, if you're still doing them rn? Bugs crawling around would probably be one thing to add, (or just some fake bugs if you don't like looking at real ones, which is fine), and the color green please, also maybe soap cutting or slime of some kind? Sorry if this isn't super clear-

I uh

hope ya like this

[antsday]

honestly a lot of the most truly terrifying and manipulative horror-villain type characters come from romance authors who think they're writing a desireable male lead

[allieinarden]

This sentence will have to suffice for the stern lecture I want to give to any post-90s Simpsons writers who may have bought the propaganda of the characters in the show that Bart is stupid.

[and-claudia]

Yours (Paddy x reader) (Speak No Evil)

This is part one of a currently untitled mini series for Paddy from speak no evil (2024)

Warnings: Paddy (he is a warning himself), manipulation, age gap, drinking, infidelity, smut (with plot), unprotected sex, p in v, controlling relatives, fingering, multiple orgasms (i think that is it but if I missed one let me know)

This story will get dark. this is your warning, this part isn't really that dark and can be read as a stand-alone fic

summary: You are with your Aunt, Uncle and cousin on a small vacation in Italy where you befriend a couple and you take particular interest in Paddy

Word Count: 3700+

Taglist (Read the rules, follow them or I will remove your response)

When I met him in Italy, I was immediately drawn to him. He was like no man I had ever met before—exciting, inviting, and intoxicating. He was significantly older than me, but maybe that is what I needed. All the guys my age were the same, and none of them had the charm that Paddy did. But he was married, and I had tried my best to respect that. 

However, that all changed when he invited me out a few nights after meeting. We were at dinner, and I was sitting beside my aunt, one seat down and across from Paddy. Drinks had just been served when Paddy eyed my drink. 

“Water? Really? On vacation?” He asked, noticing my lack of alcoholic beverage. 

“Oh, she doesn’t drink.” Louise said for me, causing me to roll my eyes. 

“What, why not? Personal health? Religion?” Paddy asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes soft. 

I side eyed my aunt before sighing and looking back to Paddy, “They’ve never let me.” 

Paddy pulled back with a shocked face, “Oh, come on! You’re on vacation! You’re an adult! Indulge a little. I’ll tell you what, order whatever you want, it’s on me.” He said. 

I smiled at him, “I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” I said honestly. 

He laughed, looking down and shaking his head before looking back at me. “Let me help.” 

He then proceeded to ask me a list of questions about my preferences, like if I liked sweet or bitter things, do I like fruity things, what flavors I preferred etc. Once he was, he nodded. 

“Okay, I think I got it. Do you trust me?” He asked, and I nodded. 

Then he flagged down the waiter and secretly ordered my drink for me. I could feel my aunt looking at me in slight disbelief. But I didn’t care. She and my uncle drank wine all the time. I was old enough to drink, so why not? 

Eventually, the waiter brought my drink to me and I hesitantly took a drink as Paddy watched with anticipation. 

“So?” 

“That’s really good.” I said honestly. 

Paddy clapped his hands in a small personal celebration, “Perfect!” 

Dinner continued on with conversation among all of us. I finished my drink and began drinking my water again. I was listening to my Uncle drone on about something when I saw Paddy flag down our waiter again and point to me before sending me a small wink. I was brought another drink, which I happily accepted. By the time dinner concluded, I had downed 3, and I was feeling it, especially once I stood up. 

“How we feeling?” Paddy asked. 

“Great.” I said, giggling. 

“Ah, yes, a giggly drunk, much better than a grumpy one.” Paddy said to my aunt, who just gave a thin-lipped smile and nodded. 

“We should probably get going. It’s late.” She said waving me over to her. 

Even with my mind fuzzy, I knew there was no point in putting up a fight. 

“Actually,” Paddy’s voice made me pause, “Ciara and I were going to go to a club down the road after we put Ant to bed. We wanted to see if you, all three of you, wanted to join us. Just for a couple of hours, nothing crazy.” 

“Not tonight, we’re all pretty tired.” My uncle said. 

My aunt nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s late anyway. But thank you for the invite.” 

Paddy’s eyes fell on me, and he raised an eyebrow in question. The liquor flowing through me gave me the courage to look at my aunt and uncle before turning back to Paddy and Ciara. 

“I would love to.” I said, making Paddy smile. 

“Oh, Yn, come on, you don’t want to impose.” My aunt said, touching my shoulder, but I brushed her off. 

“She isn’t, I promise. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Ciara said, “Go on up and get changed. We’ll swing by and get you after Ant is in bed.” 

Reluctantly, I followed my aunt and uncle up to our room. When we got there, I went straight to my suitcase and dug out a specific dress. I pooped the tags off of it before going into the bathroom to change into it. It was definitely unlike anything I had ever worn before. I showed off all my best assets, and I looked hot. I touched up my makeup before walking out to change my shoes. 

“What on earth are you wearing?” My uncle asked from where he sat in his bed. 

“A dress.” I said bluntly, grabbing my shoes. 

“You’re not wearing that out. You look like a hooker.” He said but Louise put a hand on his arm. 

“Look, you can’t even insult your niece without her telling you what to do.” I said as I put on my shoes. 

“Yn, maybe you should stay in tonight. Meet some of the people your age here. I’m sure they’d go to the club with you.” Louise offered. 

“Why wait?” I said, but before they could say anything, there was a knock on the door. 

I opened it, and Paddy was standing there dressed nicer than he was at dinner. It was taking everything in me not to stare. 

“Ready?” He asked. 

“Yup!” I smiled. 

“Don’t worry, Ben, she’ll be returned in one piece!” He called into the room after I stepped out. He pulled the door shut, and we began walking down the hall. 

“So… change of plans… Ciara isn’t coming…” He said, watching to gauge my reaction. 

“Oh…” 

“Is that okay with you? I mean, if you’re at all uncomfortable, we don’t have to go.” 

“No, I still want to go. I think I’m losing my buzz, though.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He said, offering me his arm. I took it, trying not to blush, “Let’s go.” 

Walking into the club, attached to his arm, just felt so right. It felt powerful. Paddy had an intimating aura about him that when people saw him they stepped out of his way. He walked us straight to the bar and ordered us some drinks. 

Before I knew it he and I were on the dance floor, his hands on my hips as we danced together. Our bodies were pressed against one another. The booze in my system was clouding my judgment. I knew this was wrong. I was grinding on a married man over twice my age. 

They called for the last call at the bar, and I drug Paddy back to it for us to get one more drink in. We both had a thin sheen of sweat covering our bodies as we waited for our drinks. There weren’t many seats so I was sitting while he stood right behind me, chest pressed against my back. 

“You look stunning, by the way.” He said over the music. 

“Thank you. You’re not too bad lookin’ yourself.” I shot back just as our drinks were set down. 

We drank them quickly before stumbling out and making our way back to the hotel. I was a complete stumbling, giggling mess, holding onto him for support so I wouldn’t fall. 

“Wait. I have a horrible idea.” I said. 

Paddy looked over at me, waiting for me to answer. 

“We should go jump in the pool,” I said, giggling. 

“I bet you won’t.” He said, challenging me. 

I wasted no time grabbing his hand and leading him over to the now-closed pool. I quickly took my heels off before walking over to the edge. With one last look over my shoulder at him, I jumped. When I resurfaced, he was laughing his ass off, clapping. 

“Well, come on! Your turn!” I said. 

He quickly slipped his own shoes off and took his watch off, setting them on one of the chairs before jumping in with me. He swam under the water and popped up right in front of me. His hands went to my hips once again as he pulled me flush against him. 

I was looking up at him, eyes fliting from his eyes to his lips and before I could process it he was leaning in. But I stopped him.

“Wait… what about Ciara?” I asked quietly. 

“It’s okay. That’s why she didn’t come tonight. She wanted me to have this tonight, to have you tonight.” 

That was all the convincing it took me to reach up and pull him down to meet my lips. He backed us up until my back hit the wall of the pool. His hands roamed my body, and one of mine was tangled in his hair. Things were heating up until we heard someone clear their throat. 

He slowly pulled away from me, and then we both turned to see one of the hotel workers standing there with their hands clasped in front of them. 

“I am sorry, but the pool is closed.” They said in a thick Italian accent. 

“Oh yes, sir. My apologies, you see, she fell in, and I had to save her… I was just making sure her airways were cleared.” Paddy said. 

The worker was clearly not amused by the jokes. 

 “We’ll get out right now.” Paddy said grabbing my hand as he led us to the stairs. 

We got out and collected our belongings, still laughing to ourselves until we were out of sight of the worker. Then, all hell broke loose as we began laughing fully. 

“He was so not impressed with your bullshit, Paddy.” I said, holding onto his arm with one hand while I carried my shoes in the other. 

“He’s just got a stick so far up his ass he doesn’t know what humor is anymore.” He replied. 

I grabbed him by the open collar of his shirt and pulled him to me and attached my lips to his once again. He aggressively pushed me against the wall, deepening the kiss. Slowly, his lips left mine and began making their way down the side of my neck. I tilted my head to the other side to give him better access to it. He was alternating between soft kisses and small bites. Then he bit down harder than he had been right on that sweet spot on my neck, and a small moan left my lip. He stayed there working on what would be a dark hickey come morning, but I couldn’t care. I would wear it with pride. 

Once he was done, he pulled away to admire his work. Then his lips were on mine again. My mind was wandering off to all the things I wanted him to do to me. His hand found my wrist and grabbed it. Then, he brought my hand down between us and placed it firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. 

“You see what you’re doing to me, baby? I want you so bad.” He said, pulling away and resting his forehead against mine. 

A small whimper left my mouth as he grinded against my hand. 

“Take me. Please, I’m yours, Paddy.” I said, kissing him again. 

He pulled away once again but then began leading me by the hand still on my wrist down the halls to his room. I hesitated as he went to open the door. 

“She’s not here. She’s across the hall with Ant in his room. Remember, she wanted me to have this.” He said, eyes dark with lust and his voice dropping low. 

I nodded at him to continue and he opened the door, leading me inside. He once we were inside he shut and lock the door behind him. I suddenly felt shy and was subconsciously pulling the bottom hem of my dress down in a futile attempt to cover myself up in front of him.

“Oh, baby, don’t hide.” Paddy said, walking over, grabbing gently by the hips and kissing me surprisingly softly compared to earlier. 

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never…” I sighed in embarrassment. 

“Oh, you’re a virgin?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together softly. 

I shook my head, “No… not technically…” I said.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, we just go to bed.” He offered but I shook my head again. 

“I want to, trust I want you. I’ve just never orgasmed before with someone else…only myself.” I finally admitted, clearly nervous. 

“Do you doubt my ability to make you feel good, darling?” He asked, voice dropping low again. 

“No, I just worry somethings wrong with me.” I said truthfully. 

Paddy shook his head this time and began walking backwards, pulling me with by the hands still on my hips. He sat down on the edge of the bed and then guided me to straddle him. 

“We’re not leaving this room until I give you the most earth shattering orgasm I have ever given a woman. Understand?” 

I took in a sharp breath at the sudden commanding tone he took on, but nodded my head. 

“Use your words. I won’t remind you again.” “Yes, sir.” I said, voice already breathy from the way he was making me feel. 

“Good. Now, be a good girl and take this dress off for me. I want to see you, all of you.” He said. 

I stood from his lap and then reached behind me to unzip my dress. Once I had it unzipped I pulled it down off my body exposing my bare brests to him. He moaned at the sight of them but I kept going. Since it was a tighter dresser and was still wet from the pool, I had wiggle a bit to get it off my hips and over my ass, causing my tits to bounce with the movement which only spurred Paddy on. Once it was past my thighs, I was able to drop it and have it fall around my feet. Since I hadn’t worn any panties with the dress I was now standing completely bare in front of him as his eyes roamed over my body. 

“This whole time that’s all you had on? I could’ve been fucking you with my fingers this whole night…” He said, shaking his head. 

I bit my lip at his words. That would’ve been hot. 

“Oh, you like that idea… next time.” He said, making my stomach do a flip. Would there really be a next time? 

“Get over here, I need to see those tits up close.” He said. 

I stepped forward again and straddled his waist once more. His hands wasted no time going to my brests. He toyed with them roughly, rolling my hardening nipples between his rough, calloused hands.

“Fuck, these things looked great in that swimsuit you wore yesterday but nothing, nothing compares to them in the flesh.” He said, before dipping his head down and taking one of them in his mouth. 

His tongue swirled around my nipple before his teeth ever so subtlely grazed it. He didn’t actually bite down but it was enough to earn a moan from me. I was become desperate for some friction and I hadn’t even noticed that I was grinding down on his lap until he removed his mouth from my tit. 

“Ooh, someones eagar.” He said. 

Then, without warning, one his hands dipped between us and he ran his fingers through my folds, feel the wetness that had already began to pool. 

“Oh she’s very eager.” He said as one of his fingers just barley entered me before he removed his hand completely urning a whine from me. 

“Don’t whine, baby, Paddy is going to take good care of you.” He said, using his oter hand to pull me into a quick kiss. 

He then guided up off his lap to sit beside him before he stood up. 

“Fair is fair, darling.” He said as he began to remove his own clothes. 

He began with his shirt, which while he was extremely toned and very attractive physically, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already seen laying out by the pool. Then he stepped forward towards me with his pelvis slightly forward. I couldn’t help myself from starring at the pitch that was clearly aching to be let out of the confines of his pants. 

“Go ahead, darling, you can do the honors.” He said. 

I slowly reached up and grabbed his belt before undoing it. My eyes met his as I looked up through my lashes and I undid his pants. Then my focus dropped back down as I grabbed the waist band of his boxers and his pants and pulled them gently, finally releasing his hard cock. I couldn’t help myself but stare at it and admire it for a moment. 

“Are you gonna stare at it all night, or do you want me to fuck you with it?” He asked, voice deep. 

I looked up at him once again through my lashes and went to nod my head but remembered his words from earlier. 

“I want you to fuck me with it.” I said making him smirk. 

“Then get up there.” He said, nodding the head board. 

I scooted up on the bed and he crawled over to me. His lips found mine and this time I allowed my hands to explore his body from his toned chest to his hair to his strong arms. Everything about him was intoxicating. It was like ever single on of my senses was completely consumed by him. 

He was using one hand to support his weight above me as his other travled down my body to my core. Once again, he ran his fingers through my folds then slipped one in. However this time he let it go in much further. Then he slipped another one in, working me open and stretching me out to prep me for his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, can already feel how tight you are.” He said, against my lips. 

He kept pumping into with two fingers for awhile until he slipped a third one in which took my breath away. My moan was swallowed by his mouth as he fucked in and out of me with his thick fingers. 

When he finally pulled them out he pulled away from my lips and began cleaning his hand off with his mouth. “Taste like fuck heven, sweetheart.” He said, leanined back down to kiss me, allowing me to taste myself on his lips. 

He finally pulled away, leaving my lips swollen from the kiss.

“You on birth control?” He asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “Good.” 

That was all the warning I got before he was sliding into me. The stretch was borderline painful in the best was possible. And the moan that I let out sounded like it was straight out of a porno. 

“Fuck, baby, you trying to wake up the whole damn hotel?” He teased. 

“I’m sorry.” I said, still out of breath. 

“No, let them hear you. Let them know you’re getting the best fucking you’ll ever have. Let them know you belong to me.” He said. 

My walls squeezed around him at his last words. 

“You like that? You want the world to know I fucked your brains out?” “Y-yes.” I managed to sigh. 

“Good.” 

And with that he began pounding into me at a brutal pace. He had grabbed one of my legs and hooked it over his hip, giving him the angle to hit so deep into me, I was sure my cervix would be bruised the next morning. 

He continued his pace, never letting up for a second, “You’re so fucking tight. Feels so good. No wonder no other man could make you come, they probably came within a minute of being in your perfect pussy.” 

He adjusted his angle ever so slightly and was hammering into that soft spongy spot that had me seeing stars. He must of seen my reaction to this new angle because he began getting cocky. 

“There it, that’s the sweet spot isn’t it? Those other men couldn’t reach if they tried. Your pussy was made for me and me only, sweetheart. You needed Paddy to fuck you. Only I can make you feel this good.” 

I could feel that familiar tension grownign deep in my stomach. It was a feeling I had only ever felt when it was me alone with my vibrator. It was building up faster than it ever had before. 

“Fuck, Paddy, I-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I was clamping hard around his dick as I came. 

Paddy was muttering curse through gritted teeth as I held him in a vice grip. Then, just as my orgasm was dropping of, he shifted he weight to one hand and brought the other one down to rub tight circles on my clit as he began thrusting into me once again. It was almost overstimmulating as I was rushing towards a second orgasm so quickly. I was reduced to a blubbering mess under him as he did exactly what he set out to do, fuck my brains out. 

I could feel the second orgasm soaring towards me, my hands were gripping the bedsheets in a deathgrip. I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence at this point. 

“You close baby?” Paddy asked. 

I managed to nod. 

“Go ahead, come for me one more time.” 

With that, my second orgasm his me like a wreaking ball, completely shattering the world around me. My walls squeezed him even tighter than before if that even possible. This time he fucked me through it chasing his own release before his rhythm faltered and he released thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of me. He stayed like that releasing every last drop he had before slowly pulling out. 

He flopped beside me with a heavy sigh as I laid there catching my breath. I could feel the mixture of our releases seeping out of me but I honestly couldn’t care less about that. 

“How was that?” He asked. 

“Fucking perfect.” I said, eyes closed in pure bliss. 

I heard him let out a low chuckle before turning onto his side and pulling me to him so I was laying there with my back pressed against him. He held me close as we both enjoyed to stillness that had settled over the room. 

“You’re mine now, don’t forget it.” He whispered darkly in my ear. 

It sent a shiver down my spine in the best way possible. I turned around in his arms to look at him. I leaned in pressed a soft kiss to his lips before whispering back, “I’m yours.” 

taglist: @comicbookslut @dreamygirli3

[irrelevantwriter]

A Snake & Her Charmer

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, some light dom/sub dynamics, jealous Geta and reader (hubba hubba)

Word Count: 3035

Summary: Part 4. The Empress and her Emperor make it clear they do not like sharing.

A/N: Part four sees our favorite toxic couple up the ante. And it's steamy. As always, there are liberties taken with Ancient Rome. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Read Part Two here

*Read Part Three here

*Masterlist

***********************

You sat next to your husband, the both of you engaged with the entertainment provided for the evening. 

Laughter and music wafted around you, the sounds of people celebrating a steady thrum. Applause broke out as one of the snake charmers kissed her beloved reptile on its scaly mouth. Her form was nearly bare, gold coins clattering every time she moved her hips. 

The men were easily amused. And that apparently included your emperor. 

Geta laughed, nearly spilling his wine when the snake startled one of the Senators, causing him to let out a less than masculine yelp. You were careful not to roll your eyes at the spectacle, sipping from your own glass. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to your left, following the voice that suddenly appeared at your side. 

A man, clothed in an extravagant black and gold robe, smiled down at you. Jewels adorned his ears, gold rings that rivaled your husband’s decorated his hands. 

“Macrinus, your highness,” he introduced himself, bowing his head and offering his hand.

You accepted his greeting, smiling as a good empress does. “A pleasure.”

“I did not intend to interrupt your evening. You appeared lost in thought.”

“I would not be a woman if I did not appear lost in thought,” you quipped, enjoying his infectious laughter. 

“You are quite clever, Augusta,” Macrinus replied, surely thinking he was delivering a high compliment. 

You once again fought the urge to wear your emotions on your face. Chatting within the company of men was a pastime you detested, yet you’d become quite skilled at. It was a blessing and a curse. Much could be learned by letting a man ramble on. Much could be taken away from him when you listened closely. They always revealed themselves eventually. It was how you’d been able to navigate as the Empress of Rome. 

“She is a prize, isn’t she?” Your husband’s voice cut in, his words dripping with boyish pride. 

“Some would say the only prize,” Macrinus added, his dark eyes taking you in. 

“And you are a man who surely knows of worthy prizes, are you not?” Geta asked, winking at the man before you. 

Macrinus laughed, the private joke lost on you. 

“Macrinus supplies the games with gladiators. He is well-known in that arena. Most of his fighters come out victorious,” Geta supplied, popping a piece of oiled bread into his mouth. 

Macrinus had the wherewithal to appear sheepish at the emperor’s words, though you were sure it was for show. 

“That is quite an accomplishment,” you acknowledged. 

“I cannot take all the credit, your highness. The gladiators do some of the work,” he joked, the men around you laughing. 

You politely smiled, turning back to the dancers that now fluttered around the table. Macrinus and Geta spoke of the upcoming games, speaking of men as if they were cattle to exchange. You drowned them out, letting your gaze wander over the many faces that joined you. 

A stoic set of dark eyes, eyes that nearly matched your husband’s, peered back at you. General Marcus Acacius nodded in your direction, tilting his glass in a modest toast. 

You returned his gesture, breaking eye contact. The words that Geta had spoken to you earlier that day rang in your ears. 

Men like that would kill me and take what’s mine in an instant.

You knew that to be true for most of the men that sat with you. It was an unsettling thought. Geta might be a tyrant, but he was a known evil. He did not hide his darkness. Those who went to great lengths to conceal their depravity, those were the people that frightened you. 

“Lost in your head again, my love?”

Geta’s breath tickled your ear as he whispered, startling you. He chuckled, causing the wisps of hair at your neck to caress your skin. 

His warm hand reached for your hand, his thumb rubbing surprisingly soft circles into the appendage, as if comforting you. 

“Preoccupied with thoughts of slumber,” you replied, choosing not to divulge your inner musings. 

“My queen desires sleep?” 

He looked upon you with a rare glimpse of concern, making your heart quicken. You patted his hand, doing your duty to comfort him.

“Do not worry yourself, Imperator. Today’s festivities have gotten the better of me,” you teased, a knowing look in your eye. 

He caught your implication, his mind no doubt conjuring up your time together in your bath just hours before. He smirked, the wine surely influencing his actions as he lunged forward, planting hungry kisses to your neck. 

Such a display was considered illicit. Your husband was never one for propriety, but he was still mindful of sharing his weaknesses. That included you. 

Your eyes shifted, hoping no one was paying you any attention. Your body, despite your thoughts, came alive at his indecent touch. 

“Seductress,” he rasped, his hand wandering amongst the fabric nestled in your lap. 

“You mean to become a spectacle for your guests?” You questioned, careful not to blatantly turn down his advances in front of prying eyes. 

He laughed, his chest rumbling against you as he pressed into your side. He licked his lips, pulling himself from the hollow of your neck. 

“Is my spirited wife becoming timid? That would certainly be a first,” he taunted, shifting away from you. 

You’d upset him. 

He took a generous swig of his wine, a lone droplet escaping his lips. He wiped it away with a rough hand, lined eyes now focused on the undulating figures of the women that still twirled around the room. 

“Imperator, forgive me. I-,”

“You are dismissed. You can retire to your chambers as you wished, wife,” he coolly demanded, his eyes never meeting yours. 

The sting of his words made your chest tighten. Anger made itself a home on your tongue, ready to lash out like the serpent that curled itself around the dancer’s arm. You were once again reminded of your status. An empress trained to coil itself around its master. To go against its very nature. Never to strike. Only to look upon. To entertain. 

A mere pawn. 

“If it is a whore you wish me to become for your men, then I shall be prepared to show them how I make their emperor fall to his knees.” 

Geta stiffened beside you, your words having their desired effect. Your voice was low, unheard amongst the noise. But he heard you. Loud and clear. 

You stood, gesturing for your maiden to follow. A scent of rose followed you. Laughter erupted at your back. Before long, the celebration would turn to a more salacious show. Whores would be paraded about. And after your outburst you were certain Geta would leave your bed cold that night. 

A wise choice. 

*******************************

Sleep did not come as easily as you had hoped. You laid awake for what felt like hours, still attempting to calm the storm that brewed within you. 

Your husband had angered you. Upset you in such a way that tears nearly sprang to your eyes. He made you out to be some common harlot. Attempting to bed you in front of his guests. The thought turned your blood into lava, molten and unforgiving. 

Geta was a boy in so many ways. He felt a constant need to make others jealous of him. Envious. Even blood thirsty. He spoke of possession and coveting. And perhaps that was a result of being a twin. Having to constantly be attached to someone. Never having anything of your own. 

It made sense. And yet, you could not grant him mercy for how he’d treated you. 

A knock made you sit up, reaching for your bedding to cover yourself. You waited as one of your maidens entered, her steps soft so as not to startle you. 

“Your highness, I am so sorry to disturb you. I was not certain you were awake,” she feebly apologized.

“I have not slept. Is there something wrong?” 

“The Emperor…he wishes to see you.”

You sighed, feeling sorry for the poor girl that had to suffer through your husband’s late night demands. You were surprised he didn’t rush in on his own. 

“I’ll be along in a moment.”

“He is here, your highness,” she gestured to the hallway just outside your door. 

You did not hide your annoyance. 

“Very well. Thank you.”

She bowed her head, retreating quickly. Not a second later your husband was striding in, an expression of irritation marring his features. 

The door slammed, ricocheting off the walls. You tensed, readying yourself for a fight. 

“You have not slept?” 

His question made you pause. He wore the same clothes he’d had on at dinner. The sight made your stomach turn. 

“No,” you answered simply. 

He stomped towards you, the stench of wine permeating the air. 

“Have you not slept?” You returned, knowing the answer. 

Geta shook his head, eyes roving over your chest. He could see through the fabric, even with the low light of candles. 

“You made a mockery out of me.”

“And you didn’t of me? Suggesting I play along with your antics in front of the men you say covet me?”

He stepped towards you, leaning in so that you could see the smear of berry stained lips across his cheek. “You do not question me. You do not question your emperor,” he seethed. 

“Your attempt at playing a man is foolish,” you sneered, surely sealing your fate. 

Silence followed. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, matching your own. You waited, anticipating these moments being your last. 

Geta laughed, though no humor could be found. “You still think me unwise to your games, my dear?”

He reached out, snatching your face between his fingers. He squeezed. The force made you hiss in pain. 

“Your desire to drive me mad is comical.”

“I do no such thing.”

His grip tightened.

“You lie.” He released you, pushing you onto your back. “Do not move.”

You did as he said, watching as he undressed. With every piece of clothing that fell, arousal seeped into your limbs. You wished you had the capacity to feel shame for it. 

“I warned you. I warned you I would break you. Tame you into submission.”

He stood nude before you, cock already hard and leaking. A sight just as pathetic as you. 

You flinched when he suddenly grabbed at your night dress, ripping it down the middle. Your nipples peaked once revealed to the frigid air between husband and wife. 

“Turn around,” he growled. 

You hesitated, not understanding what he was asking. 

“On your stomach, wife.” 

Anxiety prickled at the base of your neck at his words. You were confused, unsure of what he wanted from you in such a state. But the look in his eyes warned you to proceed with caution. 

You reluctantly did as he commanded, feeling the shreds of your gown fall to the floor. You felt a new kind of vulnerability at being exposed this way, unable to see your husband. 

The bed moved as he mounted you, manipulating your hips so that they were angled towards him. The heated flesh of his torso met your backside and you struggled not to nuzzle into the touch. Your face was smothered into your pillow, Geta’s figure barely visible from your position. 

“You are afraid,” he observed, fingers ghosting over your spine. 

“I’m not.” 

His cock prodded your entrance, immediately met with a wetness he knew all too well.

“Seems you are quite the opposite,” he revered, the head of him teasing your folds. 

You grasped the linens beneath you, forcing your eyes shut when he roughly spread you open. 

“I have had many whores this way. I’ve been told it is like taking a spear to the heart,” he lamented, pushing your head further into the softness below you. 

“Is your appetite so insatiable that you must have a whore and your wife in one night?” You managed, moaning when his cock nudged your clit. 

Geta laughed, mocking you. “You are upset at the notion?”

“I am disgusted.”

Two fingers filled you suddenly, pulling a startled cry from your lips. 

“I do not think it is disgust that overtakes you.”

He played within you, feeling your walls desperately trying to grasp at him. You writhed. At his mercy. At his whim. 

And as quickly as his touch came, it was gone. You whined at the emptiness, unabashedly pushing back in return. 

A hand pulled at your hair, forcing you up. You struggled to steady yourself on your knees, Geta’s chest pressing impossibly tight to your back. 

“You’ll be pleased to know that I sought the company of another,” he admitted roughly, mouth teasing the shell of your ear. His hand still gripped your hair, pulling at the scalp. The pain made your hips open, seeking his cock. “But you’ve cursed me for anyone else,” he gritted, jerking your head back against his chest.

“Because no one else matches the flames I have for you. No one else feels as sinful. Tastes as addictive. No one else wants to end my life quite like you, Empress.”

You cried out when he thrust into you, sheathing himself completely. He was unforgiving. Relentless in his pace. Your entire body twisted around him, just like a snake. 

His hand made its way to your throat, the other at your hip keeping you locked to him. He grunted and groaned, punishing just as much as he was pleasuring. It felt utterly divine. 

Your nails clawed at his arms. He only went harder. And faster. The skin at your back nearly bruising with his force. And he was right. It felt as if he’d speared your heart, air struggling to fill your lungs. You were on the cusp of a madness you’d never felt before. 

Without warning, he withdrew. Before you could protest, he forced you to face him, humiliating you even more by pushing your head to his cock. You had only ever taken him into your mouth once. At his insistence. It was an act you weren’t well prepared for. 

“Open your mouth. Do as I’ve told you.” 

You looked up at him with disdain, but your mouth moved on its own, suckling him. He threw his head back, revealing another set of stains in the shape of another’s mouth. You sucked. Hard. 

Geta hissed, grabbing for your hair once again. “Tread carefully, my love.”

He forced himself down your throat. Tears clouded your vision while saliva fell down your chin. He took pleasure from you, using your body as a vessel and nothing more. 

“Keep your throat open.”

You defied him, gagging when he pushed you into the thatch of curls at his pelvis. 

“Shall I call in a whore to teach you?” He jeered, pulling you up so that you were finally face to face. 

Traces of coal ran from his eyes. The cords of his neck pulsing with tension. His skin was flush and dewy with perspiration. His eyes now dangerously empty and dark. He looked completely stricken with hysteria. 

You were sure your appearance mirrored his own. 

“Only if you call in the General as well,” you retorted, throat burning from his intrusion. 

Geta’s lip curled at your suggestion. 

“You threaten me?” 

“I only propose what you had wanted. To entertain. Does having another man see me in this way not please you, your highness?” 

With bravery you did not fully feel, you licked his lips, feeling his jaw loosen. You pebbled kisses to the underside of his chin, feeling his hand beginning to release your hair. 

“Does the thought of another man’s hands upon me make you murderous?” You whispered into his flesh, hands roaming his scarless chest. 

“Not any more than it makes you, my love.”

He kissed you then. It was all-consuming and messy, lips and teeth clashing in rage and blinding passion. His mouth was just as bruising as his hips had been. He wordlessly eased you back, not following. You went to reach for him, but he gripped your thighs instead, opening you up to him.

He stared down at you, a mixture of hatred and obsession clouding his features. He spread you wide and lined himself up at your folds. You found his wrist and held fast, knowing he was not going to be gentle. 

He filled you to the hilt, your entire body moving with the force of it. Each thrust was punctuated, a reminder, as he looked down his nose at you. 

His gaze flitted from your face to your breasts, intrigued by the way your eyes squeezed shut and your back arched.

“Look at me.”

You did so reluctantly. 

He snapped his hips, cock wedging even further inside you. You threw your head back, his name instinctively falling from your lips. 

“You call for me as if I am your savior,” he taunted, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. 

“You are my tormentor,” you gasped, feeling your body begin to tingle in that delicious way you’d come to know. 

“I think that suits me much better.” 

He harshly rubbed at your clit, forcing your legs to try and close. His body prevented such a thing and you were instead subjected to his torture. 

As if you were floating in the ocean, a wave suddenly pulled you under, trapping you beneath her surface. You free floated as pleasure of the richest kind made its way through your body. It held you prisoner, ravaging you without an ounce of sympathy. Tears leaked from your eyes and blood seeped from your lip, teeth digging in. But you barely felt any of it. 

Beyond your bliss, Geta soon joined your descent, cock spilling into the flood that welcomed him. He fought through the exhaustion, through your pitiful whimpers and filled you so full it seeped from your walls. 

From the look in his eyes, you were certain he had just given himself an heir. 

He continued to pump his hips, not willing to waste a drop of his royal seed. Lethargy seized you. A euphoria settled in your bones. You hadn’t a care in the world.

“Sleep, my love. You’ll need it.” 

[lydiadeetzwannabee]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆pure evil⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

⁺‧₊˚♱⋆ summary: Art’s dreams have been plagued by a certain creature of the night. It was only a matter of time until he decided to call to you.

⁺‧₊˚⋆ notes: priest!art x vampire!reader, fem!reader, religious themes & imagery, blasphemy, mutilation, body horror, blood, sexual content, smut, dead dove: do not eat

⁺‧₊˚⋆ w/c: 5079

⁺‧₊˚⋆ a/n: bitches watch nosferatu one time and make it their whole personality (me) this is my first time writing something like this so it’s probably not up to par (writing smut is scary) but i tried. maybe ill proofread a fifth time later today

1839

New Rochelle, New York

Art grew exhausted of your torment.

It was as if you existed solely to haunt his dreams, a living manifestation of the darkness within him, forcing him to face it. He was restless, your face and body engraved in his mind. He felt you everywhere; he saw you everywhere. He saw you in the stained glass that adorned his church, depicting Archangel Michael slaying Satan—the embodiment of evil that resembled you. He heard you during his sermons of lust and temptation, speaking of the deadly sins with such disgust you’d scarcely believe he partook in them. He felt you late at night as he begged the Lord to free him from your temptations while his hand would slip beneath his waistband. He relished in the imagery of you in his nightmares, what you did to him buried deep in his mind in shame.

No amount of prayer or confession was enough to rebuke you from his mind. Your fingers were clawing at his head and he was a prisoner against you, unable to tear himself away.

And he believed he was prepared when he decided to summon you. He was a man of God, protected by the Holy Spirit and guardian angels that had guided him his entire life, while you were a consequence of the deepest pits of hell. He chose his church—where you couldn’t have stood a chance—to be where he finally confronted you. The setup was imperfect, only being developed from what he could remember from lost texts from the seminary; an old exorcism manual written in the margins. He stood in the middle of a blessed salt circle with a Bible open on the ground, his hand holding onto his rosary so tightly it would leave an imprint once he let go. He believed in God, that His word would be sufficient enough to send you back to the inferno you escaped to terrorize him from.

The candles along the altar were the only light to illuminate the passage in front of him. He remembered the night he found the text; the sun had not yet risen, and the church was eerily silent. It was in the restricted section with the moonlight shining on its spine—as if he were meant to find it. Perhaps God was leading him again, showing him the way back to light. He read through the annotations of a long-dead priest, someone who faced a similar haunting centuries ago and took drastic, forbidden measures to confront it. Some parts were written in Latin, but he believed he could understand what he was reciting.

So, he put his trust in His guidance. He wrapped his rosary around his hands and sank to his knees. His eyes shut as he brought his clasped hands to his forehead, exhaling a shaky breath. “Invoco te spiritus absconditus in virtute omnipotentis Dei,” he began, his voice low, his hands trembling. “Ante me revela te,” the fire from the candles flickered, a sudden chill running over him. “Et in luce veritatis discute tenebras.”

For a few seconds, nothing. The longer he waited, the louder the silence became. His grip on the rosary tightened before he opened his eyes, scanning around the empty church. A small ring began in his ears, and he found himself growing infuriated. The only time he willingly calls to you is when you don’t appear. You live off his torture, and he should’ve known that by now. He let go of the rosary, reaching for the Bible and flipping through to read the smeared annotations. There was a certain restlessness to the way he moved; his breath had picked up, and his eyes were wider. His calm, measured Latin became frenzied. He’s flipping through pages, saying prayers and incantations without thinking—just throwing words at you, hoping something provokes you.

And then—he lands on it. A page reading Ligare Spirituum at the top. He doesn’t think twice. God knows he can’t understand the page fully written in Latin, but he’s desperate. “Adstringo te, sanguinem et animam, vinculo indissolubili. Inter nos nullum refugium, nullum secretum. Per me, in me, permane.”

By the time the final word leaves his mouth, it’s silent.

Just silence.

Too much of it.

The kind that makes the walls seem farther away than they are like the room has stretched—empty, vast, and wrong. Even his breathing sounds distant, like it’s not coming from his body but from somewhere else, echoing back at him.

And then he feels it. Not physical, not something he can fight, but a sudden, unbearable sense of presence. It’s different from all his dreams, from what it would feel like to have you in his vicinity. He can feel you inside of him, woven into his thoughts, sitting somewhere just behind his ribs, like a heartbeat that’s not his own. A hollow ache blooms in his chest. Loneliness. Hunger. A gnawing emptiness he knows isn’t his but yours. He knew then what he had done.

His eyes snap open, his breath ragged as his gaze lands on the beginning of your gown resting against the decorative tile. He waits, almost in fear, before his eyes continue to move up your form, silhouetted against the stained glass. It’s only when his eyes focus that he sees your features. You were exactly as you looked in his fantasies, hauntingly beautiful.

The left side of your face was luminous against the moonlight, your pupil full of life, gleaming with hunger as you looked down at him. Your neck was slender, unblemished. The skin on your throat is like marble, silken and perfect. At the beginning of your collarbone, he sees it. Your flesh is sallow, mottled with the blue-black webbing of dead veins that flourish back to color when it reaches your live skin. Along the left side of your face, there's a patch of skin thin as parchment, as if time has begun to peel you away at the edges. Your left eye seems more captivating than the right, its colorful pupil devoid of its hue, lifeless. You tilt your head, revealing the side of your jaw where your skin is torn, like a cruel reminder that death has already touched you.

And he’s afraid, not due to your decay, but because he cannot look away. He’s not repulsed; if anything, he’s more drawn to you. It’s hypnotic. You were divine—a cracked statue that still manages to captivate any passerby with its beauty that was sculpted centuries ago.

“Please,” he says in a frayed whisper, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. He isn’t sure what he’s pleading for. Is it for you? To allow him to touch you? To allow him to love you and provide you with his blood like he has in all his nightmares? Or for you to free him from this agony that you’ve bestowed on him?

He finds his answer when he lowers onto his palms, disrupting the salt circle as he begins to crawl to you. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, as if he were possessed. Yet he knew it wasn’t you taking control, but him surrendering, making space in his mind for you to take him, feed on him, whatever you needed. He’d serve you.

You don’t back away when he finally reaches your legs, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your knees in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. The physical contact makes him release a breathy moan, his eyes flutter shut as he grips you with shaky hands. Art can feel your cold, clothed flesh under his palms. He’s starving for your attention, your approval, your canines piercing his throat. “Please,” he repeats, his voice choked up as he rubs his cheek against the skirt of your gown.

This was what you had expected: a desperate, lonely, tormented priest pleading for you. It wasn’t unusual; men devoted to God were often the first to be swallowed by evil. “You surpass even the dreams,” you heard him mumble against the century-old fabric. You’ve handled men like him before, but he trembled with a certain desperation you hadn’t seen in the others. “Take me—claim me—I am yours,” he mouthed at your gown, seemingly trying to get a taste of you. His drool was soaking your gown, and who were you to deny easy food?

Your hand reaches out to grip his face, rough with bruised knuckles and the purple, rotten skin beneath your nails, a perfect dichotomy to his pale, pure skin. You force him to face you, though he doesn’t resist. Your sharp nails dig into his cheeks, drawing a whine from him. He remains obedient, staring up with knitted eyebrows and parted lips. “And all that I am, all that I have,” he declares as he embraces your touch, “I shall surrender.”

Your hand moves to wrap around his neck with a tight grip, pulling him up off of his knees, and he complies. His lips crash onto yours before you can deny him, frantic and rough. There’s no tenderness in the kiss. It’s driven by need and desperation, his lips sliding against you as if it’s the last time he ever will. It might as well be. He can’t help but shudder when you cradle the back of his head, moaning when you grip his hair to yank his head back. Your mouth slants against his as if you’re trying to drink from him, to feel his breath, to possess him. And for a fleeting second, Art can pretend that he’s plagued your mind and desires the way you have his.

But there’s no connection, not in the way he hoped. You’re a stranger, a predator, and yet he’s craving more. His mouth parts when your tongue pushes past his lips, and his eyes roll back at the taste of blood and death. He can feel his knees begin to buckle under him as he allows you to roam his mouth, taking him in a way that would ruin him from ever seeing the pearly gates. A small whimper escapes his lips when you pull back, your fingers digging into the back of his head enough to hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the way his head spins in pleasure.

Your fingers move down to the sides of his neck, applying just enough pressure to be able to feel the blood rushing through his veins. “You feel it, don't you, Father?” Your voice like a bell chimes in his ears, rough and low. “The pull, the hunger…“ The tip of your nose brushes down his neck, faintly picking up the scent of his blood. You’re teasing him, dangling what he wants right in front of his face, yet you won’t let him have it. His soft sounds become more pathetic the longer you wait, and he can begin to feel his cock straining against the confines of his slacks under his cassock. “Please,” Art says, desperate, his voice cracking, “I need it… need you.”

You smile, your fangs grazing against his Adam’s apple before you press your lips against his once again. Yet this time it’s not a kiss. It’s a bite. Your teeth sink into his lower lip in one swift motion, causing him to gasp. You softly moan at his taste, and his length twitches in response to the pain, yet it’s still not enough. You pull away and stare down at him, your eyes amused and dark.

Then your mouth is at the side of his throat before he can blink, your canines breaking his skin in a frenzied bite. His yelp of pain is drowned out by the sound of you tearing his skin, ripping off a sliver of flesh before your lips attack the open wound. The pain is unbearable, and his body falls slack against you, your grip on the back of his neck being the only thing holding him up. You begin to suck the scarlet fluid out of him, and he doesn’t know if he’s moaning out of pain or pleasure; there’s no distinction. Your mouth is warm against his neck, and his hands are all over you as you drain him. He’s clutching and pulling you closer as if trying to merge you two together.

You hum against him as you feed, his blood sweet, quenching your hunger in a way no other has. It’s as if you can taste his desperation, his yearning, his shame, his twisted hope that this will somehow transcend the relationship of predator and prey. It’s intoxicating, dizzying. You pull him closer, and he mewls while you take your time savoring his taste. Your lips move away from his neck when you snap out of your daze and let go of him, making him drop to the floor and slump against the altar.

Art’s barely conscious as his head lolls to the side, barring the angry wound at his throat, blood seeping out the bite. His skin is flushed, his breath ragged as he gapes up at you. You’re panting, his blood smeared all over your lips and chin while you peer down at him with a cruel grin, tongue darting out to catch the last taste of him like you can’t help yourself. And yet, despite the blood loss, despite the way his vision swims, something inside of him snaps. He feels it in his chest, an unbearable sense of emptiness, an unrelenting pull. A strangled sound escapes him—half a moan, half a growl—and then he’s grabbing you, clumsy and desperate. His hands fist your skirt, pulling you back to him. He scrambles to his knees, looking up at you through his lashes as his face levels with your heat. He can smell your arousal through the layers of fabric and he fights the tempting urge to cum right then and there.

“You stopped,” Art rasps, barely able to form words. “Why did you stop?” And you laugh, like this was exactly what you had wanted to see; him reduced to a compliant dog who’d follow your every order. Every single one of your actions is calculated, and he doesn’t know what to do with the ache inside him when you tease him so.

"I mustn't take too much… not yet,” you coo, an evil glimmer in your eye as you cup his cheek. Your thumb rubs against his cheekbone and he shudders. “We wouldn’t want you to faint before our pleasures reach their peak, would we?" But your smirk falters when his hands slide up your waist, his fingertips digging into the rotting silk. His grip is too tight, his hands are too desperate, and he’s clawing at you as if he wants to rip away the fabric to get to your bare skin.

He’s falling apart, holding you to pull himself up to his feet. Blood is still flowing from his neck, but he doesn’t let it deter him. You’re like morphine, pulling him back to you again and again to reduce his pain. “Is this what you want?” you breathe as you stare up at him, your voice hot against his jaw. Your fingers ghost over the wrinkled clerical collar, nails scraping against the fresh bite you’d left on him. He winces, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Yes,” he chokes out, like it’s the only truth he’s ever known.

And something in you breaks.

You’re the one with the supposed power over him, yet somehow now you can feel his need as if it were your own. His hunger claws at your ribs in a way that feels intrusive. He grabs you again, lifting you before slamming you back against the altar. The wind knocks out of you, and his lips tangle with yours. It’s a blur of hands and teeth, a brutal clash of control.

And it infuriates you.

Your hand flies to his throat, fingers curling around the still-bleeding bite. You squeeze just hard enough to make his breath hitch and blood rush out, forcing him to pull back from the kiss. His hands tangle in your hair, yanking your head back enough that you’re forced to meet his gaze. Your bodies are flush, too close in this battle of wills.

“You want me,” he rasps, trying to convince you as much as himself. “Tell me.”

Your thumb smears his blood along his throat in a slow and deliberate motion, watching the way his chest heaves at the touch.

“I want your blood,” you say mockingly.

“Then take it.”

And for a second, you seem to truly process the state of him. He’s offering himself. Not out of fear, not out of obligation, but because he wants you to ruin him. Not just his blood—him. Everything he is, everything he ever will be. Your hand loosens on his throat, and his lips are on yours again. It’s a brutal, punishing kiss, both of you aiming to rip something out of each other. It’s control as violence. It’s desire as war.

His body slotted between your legs, hands groping every inch of you they could reach. His breath was hot, his tongue invasive as it sought to familiarize itself with every curve and ridge. He was desperate to learn what made you gasp—anything that might weaken you. His palms fell down your waist onto your thighs, gripping your cold, rotted flesh as he pulled you to meet his hips. Your breath hitched and he moaned, swallowing the sound as his erection pressed against you. You needed to consume him, to devour him whole and leave him empty once you were done. Your hand slid down to palm him through his trousers, squeezing and stroking until he groaned into your mouth.

Art’s hips bucked reflexively, seeking your touch. His lips moved away from yours, swollen and glistening as he worked on the fastenings of your gown. The flimsy fabric practically deteriorated at the simplest touch, allowing him to rip it open, leaving your bare chest exposed to his hungry gaze. The moonlight shone through the stained glass, reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors over your bare, impure skin. He dipped his head, capturing one of your perked nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before sucking greedily. You cried out, the sound echoing through the empty chapel as your back arched off the altar. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished your nipple with attention. You could feel the heat building between your thighs, aching with a need you had never known before. "Father," you gasped, your voice a whimper that sent shivers down his spine. With a low growl, his lips left your chest before he hastily pushed up the skirt of your gown, tearing away any remaining lace that intervened.

He could see the glistening of arousal between your thighs, the scent of it inflaming his desire. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your hipbone before lowering down the length of your body. Each kiss was more worshipful than the last as he slowly moved down to your center. Your breath hitched as Art's face hovered above your pussy. You could feel the way his breath fanned over your slick folds in an almost cooling breeze, it made you squirm with anticipation. “Father..." you breathed. “I need—“Your words died on your lips when his mouth descended upon you, his tongue delving into your wet cunt.

A guttural moan escaped your mouth as his tongue explored your heat. His eyes rolled back at your taste, letting out a low moan that vibrated against your pussy, making your hips buck wildly. His arms wrapped your thighs in an iron grip, preventing you from squirming away as he licked and sucked. His lips sealed around your clit as he drew it into his mouth to suckle greedily, the pornographic sounds only serving to heighten your pleasure. His eyes opened to peer at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, watching every contortion of your face as he made out with your pussy. His tongue moved to poke at your entrance, slurping your arousal before prodding into you. A sharp gasp elicited from you, your hand flying to grip his blonde locks.

Art could feel your walls begin to flutter around his tongue, pulling back to stare at the mess he made of your cunt. You whined at the loss before groaning as his index replaced the wet muscle. His eyes were locked on you as his finger pumped into you, curling to stroke the spongy patch of nerves before slipping another finger into your tight channel. His mouth returned to attach itself around your clit, his eyes closing to focus on bringing you to your peak. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers moving in tandem to drive you wild with pleasure. The obscene sounds of your moans and the slick squelching of his digits pumping in and out of you filled the chapel, a debauched symphony that would have made the pious man recoil in horror if he were still in possession of his senses.

But Art was lost in a haze of lust, consumed by the all-encompassing need to bring you to the pinnacle of rapture. He could feel his arousal throbbing almost painfully, straining against the confines of his trousers. With his free hand, he fumbled to reach the fastenings under his cassock, finally freeing his aching cock. It sprang forth, long, hard, and thick, the bulbous head already weeping with pre-cum. He wrapped his fingers around his thick shaft, stroking in time with the movement of his hand.

Your orgasm crashed over you, body convulsing as you screamed. Your walls clamped down around Art's plunging fingers, rippling and squeezing as they tried to draw them deeper. A flood of your essence gushed out, coating Art's hand and dripping down onto the stone altar beneath you. You thrashed and writhed, your back arching as pleasure ripped through every fiber of your being. You lay panting against the altar, your body coursing with the aftershocks. Art’s fingers slowly drew out of you, eliciting a whine from your lips. He stared in amazement before wrapping his lips around his digits. A soft hum echoed from him as he tasted you, his tongue swirling to not waste a drop. He stood up, his knees slightly trembling from being pressed against the tile floor. You gazed up at him with hazy, lust-drunk eyes, a small satisfied smile across your kiss-swollen lips.

“Father,” you panted, “I need you inside of me.” His eyes widened at the invitation, licking the remnants of you from his lips as he stepped back between your legs. “…to feel you, your cock filling me, to be made whole by your touch.” Art’s chest heaved as he struggled to regain control. The sight of you splayed out before him, your body glistening with sweat and juices, your hair sprawled around your head like a halo, he was but a man, weak to his temptations.

Any remaining restraint shattered. His fingers dug into your hips with a low groan, positioning himself at your wet entrance. You gasped as you felt the thick head of Art’s cock nudging against your tight hole. Your head was still hazy from your orgasm, folds still slick and ready enough to allow him to slide in with ease as he began to slowly push forward. Your walls stretched around his girth, adjusting to his size as he sank deeper and deeper into your cunt. Inch by inch, he hilted himself inside you, his pelvis pressing against yours as he bottomed out. You let out a long, low moan at the feeling of being full, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist. You could feel every throb and pulse of his cock deep inside you. Art's eyes rolled back in bliss as your scorching heat engulfed him, your walls gripping his shaft like a velvet vice. He had never felt anything so exquisite, so perfectly suited to his every need. It took every ounce of his willpower not to simply start pounding into you, to chase his release with wild abandon.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscles as you urged him closer. "Move," you commanded breathlessly, "fuck me, Art. Claim me, make me yours." You rocked her hips against his, trying to spur him into action. With a guttural groan, Art began to withdraw until just the tip of his cock remained inside of you before slamming back in with a force that shook the altar. You cried out, the sound echoing off the stone walls as he set a relentless pace, the slap of flesh against flesh filling the chapel.

“Fuck—like… like this?“ he asked, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure.

"Yes!" You cried out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. Your body undulated beneath him, meeting his every thrust with wanton abandon. Art's hips pumped furiously, driving his thick length in and out of your clinging heat. He angled his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you, determined to bring you to another peak. One hand slid between your writhing bodies to find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

Art’s face buried in your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as his hips sought out his high. You could hear the muttered prayers coming from him now and then, chanting “God, forgive me,” with each thrust of his cock, as if it would’ve been enough to repent him from the sin of taking you in such a sacred place. Except the way he clings to you shows he doesn’t want to repent at all; he needs this moment engraved in his memory to ever be sedated, he needs to know that this is real, that you need him as much as he needs you. You’re a demon of lust, temptation, and fear, and he’s your servant. He has been since the first night you chose to prey on him.

Art's hand continued to work your clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until he could feel you begin to tremble. Your orgasm was fast approaching, and the knowledge that he had brought you to the state of ecstasy only spurred him on. "Cum for me," he pleaded, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, screaming my name for all the heavens to hear."

Your eyes flashed as you pulled him off your neck to stare up at him, your irises burning with newfound intensity. In a blur of preternatural speed, you surged forward, sinking your fangs deep into the tender flesh of his throat. Art gasped, a shock of pain quickly giving way to a surge of dark pleasure as you drank from him. His blood flowed over your tongue, the very essence of his soul. He could feel his heart racing, his cock already beginning to stir and swell inside you as you fed. Art's hands gripped your waist, not to push you away, but to hold you closer. He could feel the pull of your mouth, the sharp sting of her fangs, and it only inflamed his lust. "Yes," he gasped, "take it. Take all of me."

Your body seized up as your orgasm ripped through you. You gushed around his length, drenching his cock and balls in your juices. You convulsed and shuddered, wracked with the force of your pleasure. Art's climax followed swiftly, his balls drawing up tight as he buried himself in your warm cunt. His cock pulsed and throbbed as it erupted deep inside your cunt. Jet after jet of his hot, thick cum pumped into you, painting your inside walls. He ground his pelvis against yours, ensuring that every last drop was buried deep inside of you. You mewled and whimpered as you felt Art's release flooding your insides, the heat of it a stark contrast to your eternally cool body. Your walls milked his length, greedily suckling every bit of his spend from his pulsing cock. You could feel his seed beginning to seep out around his length, dripping down to your ass and the altar.

Art collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the stone as the last waves of his climax rolled through him. He panted harshly, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to yours as he struggled to catch his breath. And you held him close, your hand caressing the back of his head as you slowly removed yourself from his neck, lying back against the altar.

The church is silent, the kind of silence that feels heavier than sound itself. No choir, no prayers, just the lingering echo of what he’s done hanging in the air like incense. The stone walls seem colder now, as though the very foundation of the place is recoiling from them. The bites on his neck are angry and raw, the newest one dripping blood onto the stone under you. He can slowly begin to feel the shame and regret fill him as he comes to his senses, the ache of his injuries becoming prominent, but you just lay there satisfied. Not just from feeding—from taking.

“You taste better when you suffer,” you whisper.

He doesn’t respond; he can’t. His fingers twitch against you, his throat dry and hoarse from the broken sounds he had made when you fed on him when your bodies clashed.

Your fingers move down his spine before returning to the side of his neck. They press to feel the weak, faltering pulse and he whimpers.

"Poor priest," you mutter, a mockery of sympathy. "All that praying, and look where it's left you."

He should relish in your touch, but he doesn’t. Because now that his need has quieted, there's something else stirring inside him—inside you. Something worse. You told yourself it was only hunger, only thirst, but the way his body leans into her hand even now, the way his broken eyes search your face for something more, it’s not enough. It should be, but it isn’t.

And he’s afraid.

Afraid that this will be the last you’ll let him have you when you both know you need more. Afraid that he risked his place in heaven all for you to disregard him.

You’ll be gone before the sun rises.

And he’ll pray every day for your return.

tag(s): @matchpointfaist

[salemoleander]

solving counting sheep webweave

MCYTblr AU Fest Summer 2023 // sources under readmore

Created as a treat for the absolutely stunning fic by @theminecraftbee!

What is a webweave? Previous art: Third Life | Void Falling | Attempt 33 | Martyn | Limited Life | Nightingale Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | singing songs to the secrets behind my eye | A Hundred Things We Had Not Dreamed Of

Pt. 1: The Specialist’s Hat, Stranger Things Happen p.63  / Kelly Link ◆ Requiem Angel / Daniele Valeriani via @satanasaeternus ◆ Maschera Venetian Joker Mask / Atelier Marega Mask ◆ Macbeth 1.5.57-61 / Shakespeare ◆ Watch / Carol Milne ◆ Excerpt from Salt Is For Curing / Sonia Vatomsky via @geryone ◆ Carved Damascus Steel Bird Knife / Robert Mayo ◆ Excerpt from STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE, Calling a Wolf a Wolf / Kaveh Akbar ◆ off to finish it at the source / @catcrumb ◆ Excerpt from The War of Vaslav Nijinsky / Frank Bidart ◆ Having a cat is great tweet / @premeesaurus ◆ Secrete / Kate MccGwire via @snailspng

Pt. 2: I am asking you to endure it. / @intactics (Deactivated 12.31.21) ◆ Hi! You have great eyes / @illness (Deactivated 3.25.18) ◆ Taste for Independence Cat / @alisonzai ◆ Support Mental Health pin / @snailspng ◆ A Barn at Kronetorp, Skåne / Gustaf Rydberg ◆ Living: There is a period when it is clear... / Jenny Holzer via @funeral ◆ Neighborhood Plague, Fjords I / Zachary Schomburg ◆ Ugly, Bitter, and True / Suzanne Rivecca ◆ It just keeps happening / @mothcub ◆ Shepherd with Flock of Sheep / Anton Mauve ◆ No Longer Evil cat / @b0nkcreat ◆ Excerpt from All Our Futures / Jody Chan via @geryone ◆ Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stitch / Carol Milne via @knithacker ◆ Deep Dark Fear (9.29.2013) / Fran Krause @deep-dark-fears

Pt. 3: Read more pop-up / @screenshotsofdespair ◆ Combination of Painter Javier Palacios and Enoch 18:14 /  @mountainqoats ◆ Wandering Albatross ◆ Diomedes ◆ Forgive dead players: OFF / @screenshotsofdespair ◆ Inktober52 Angel / @lastmousequeen-blog ◆ The Heavenly Host / Violet Oakley ◆ Excerpt from No Rush / Todd Dillard ◆ I will not go gentle magnets / @carpethedamndiem ◆ Excerpt from cain / José Saramago via @ilumark (Deactivated 2.5.22) ◆ Excerpt from Salt Is For Curing / Sonya Vatomsky via @geryone ◆ Purple / @ungfio via @sosuperawesome ◆ Excerpt from Lessons on Expulsion / Erika Sánchez via @geryone ◆ The Practical Companion to the Work-Table, Containing Directions for Knitting, Netting, & Crochet Work / Elizabeth Jackson via @knittinghistory

Pt. 4: Excerpt from A Ghost is a Memory / GennaRose Nethercott via @tolerateit ◆ What’s done is done / @thatsbelievable ◆ Excerpt from Ante body / Marwa Helal via @geryone ◆ Minor Resurrections / Elisa Gonzalez ◆ Mirror ◆ Coming back / @ungfio ◆ Candlestick ◆ Flame

[kaizsche]

DAN HOUGH as ANT SPEAK NO EVIL (2024)

[skyscrapergods]

Could the gods cast a spell to transform themselves into the size/shape of a normal pony? Or create a separate body for themself that they can see and move out of while their main body still walks the land?

How would they react to the possibility of such spell?

Sort of! They can train themselves to cast an illusion of themself walking among ponies, but it's harder to use the illusion as ears and eyes, so it's more like trying to interact with a nest of ants by poking them with a needle.

While it's possible to create a whole separate body, that's some really uncontrollable magic there, and very likely to go wrong. All the power in the universe can't make a flawed spell perfect.

Twilight is the most likely to employ this sort of spell, and also the most likely to screw it up. There may or may not be some sort of evil shade version of her running around from a failed attempt!

Every spell has to be written carefully. The more complicated the spell, the more thinking and details must go into it before the casting. A safe but complex spell would be to make a miniature version of yourself, then rig it with sense-channels that transmit input (eyesight and hearing) into your own eyes and ears, and then also have outputs speech, touch) that are linked to your own. Yet another layer of complexity would be separating your actions from the avatar's, so when your spell speaks, your god-voice doesn't ring out across the land. And you need to allow it to walk around and touch things without controlling it mech-pilot style and stomping all over the anthill with your giant god-hooves.

So while all of them could technically cast a spell, this one is extremely complicated to create and upkeep. And don't get me started on trying to cloak your god-body to hide it from view! It's more likely to end up scaring whoever you're trying to talk to.

[tisaolin]

How would Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Skarlet, Mileena, and Jade be with a Na'vi/Avatar s/o?

🥸noice request 👌🏾(Had to rewrite the whole thing because it deleted everything😖)

KUNG LAO

Now, Kung Lao is pretty tall but YOU!! He’s damn near a ant next to a giant!

He’s actually happy that you’re taller because he uses you as like a threat

“I’ll get my s/o to crush you” “I fight for a living im not scared of them”

He HATES when anyone makes any form of negative comments about you.

“Their skin is so weird” “I know and their so tall its a mystery how they managed to date Kung Lao” “They probably blackmailed him or threatened him”

It was at that moment Kung Lao turned evil and put his hands on a civilian. Blood was everywhere :).

He also loves when you scold him in your language.

Liu Kang

Bookie wookie is shy 😞 everytime you stand next to him he turn RED!

He also LOVES when you tease him by leaning down to look directly at him.

Liu Kang being the Chosen one and all, means he has ENEMIES!! But thats where you come in because lets be real, when it comes to people/things Avatars love, they show NO MERCY!

He is fascinated with your skin and features. He finds it unique and thats what makes you so special to him.

He goes out of his way to learn your language and when he repeats some phrases you can’t help but laugh because its so butchered but A for effort.

He finds the mountain banshee’s (Ikran) super cool! The process of trying to tame one he is not with but once its tamed they’re inseparable.

He is a bit scared of the fact that your nevous system dangles around like hair.

Mileena

Before you became her s/o she was 100% mad that you existed.

“So yall can accept THEM but not me” yea she was not about that.

When you became her s/o she would still tease you but appreciated your company.

When you speak your native Language she just stares at you like this .

“You’re extremely long. And you look like you wouldn’t taste good” “WHAT😧” “YOU’RE BLUE”

Yea get ready for her to say the most random things at the most random times.

She’s also curious. She asks questions about your lifestyle and proceeds to say “not like I care or anything” 💀

Lowkey jealous of your weapons lmaoa

Skarlet

Doesn’t know how you two started dating but she isn’t complaining.

Skarlets pretty short so goodness she looks so tiny compared to you.

Randomly stabs you just to see if your blood is blue 😭

She loves playing with your tail, she says its fun 🤷🏾‍♀️

Completely forgets you only have 4 fingers so she kinda sorta dislikes holding your hand.

She HAS to taste your blood, she’s curious to know how it tastes.

JADE

She LOVE LOVE LOVES your appearance!

She loves tracing and kissing your stripes.

She finds your ability to see in the dark awesome and your cat like eyes seductive in a way.

She’s always under or behind you❤️ she wants to be close.

She asks you to teach her your language, just so she can tell you how much she loves you!

She insists on your way of doing things because in her eyes you can never be wrong.

Bonus: she loves being on your back!!

[eternalmomentss]

yes king give us the orym meta!

You asked so nicely...

Oh boy, oh boy, where to even start. This has probably been said a million times before, so I might just word vomit a little bit here. I fear this might get a little messy, but just hold on...

So, first of all I have never really enjoyed the idea that Orym is the rational one in the party or that he serves as the one and only true moral compass. I've seen the take that he is the only "normal" person in this group and that he might have exploded and left them at any second because their chaotic, stubborn and messy nature doesn't fit in with his own personality and values. To that I have to say no, he is not the "normal" one, he is not the most "morally correct" one, and yes he fits in very well with this group.

Orym is heavily biased when it comes to the idea of what justice is and what the right course of action might be in their situation, which - just like with most of Bell's Hells, is due to his trauma and genuine concern for the world. His experience with it has just been very different and he gravitates toward the "pro-god" / "anti-ludinus/predathos" side of the conflict because of it, unlike most of the other Hells. But that doesn't mean he isn't a necessary and valuable part of the entire puzzle that led to the outcome they eventually decided on.

Most of the time Orym himself doesn't even realize just how stubbornly narrow-minded and biased he is and how his idea of justice becomes more and more resentful and unyielding. In a way, it's the exact same thing as with say Ash or Dorian, who hold onto their hatred of the gods and the system due to their own trauma. Just because Orym's raw disdain is directed at a more well defined embodiment of a "big bad villain" rather than a concept, doesn't mean it's different at its core. His beliefs kind of remained stagnant and onesided with the appearance of Luda, which makes complete sense. Being confronted with the source of all his misery obviously does that, but he is not more moral or correct than the rest of the group because if it. He says he doesn't want revenge but it's a clear lie.

He regresses hard throughout the course of the narrative, which is the entire focus of his character arc. In his case, regression is progression. He goes from claiming that his family died fulfilling their duty and protecting their home to insisting they died for nothing and Luda is responsible for everything bad that has ever happened in the world. He gets stuck in this deep hatred and focuses on this strict narrative to ease his own feelings of guilt and try to make sense of his trauma (which is valid, of course, I am not saying he shouldn't hate Luda). But with each new terrible thing that happens, he finds a way to pin it on Da'leth. When they discuss the power structure of the current situation, he circles back to the man again and again, even in moments when they really didn't mean to talk about him (for example, at Essek's when Ash and Dorian lamented the power imbalance between gods and people and Orym immediately felt attacked and made it about Ludinus again). He is unable to seperate the two concepts in his head. There is evil, which is Ludinus and there is in turn good, which is everything and anything that man calls an enemy: the gods and the current status quo, because it stands in contrast to him.

And yes he says he is not pro-god, but his understanding and sympathy of the gods grows at the same pace that his hatred for Luda does, to the point that what he fears about Predathos actually happens with the Wildmother (she accidentally pushes him to hard and has her "steps on ants" moment so to speak), but he overlooks it, latches onto her and is quick to forgive, because they have a common enemy and that's all that matters.

Orym's idea of good and bad is basically along the lines of "the thing that hurt me and the side that's against it" (and I am not sayin that isn't understandable, it absolutely is, given what he has been through). He cannot let go of that idea. He kills Ludinus and he enjoys the idea of getting rid of something evil, but once he has done it, he feels empty. Because really, he didn't succeed in snuffing out all evil in the world or ending his pain and guilt just by killing that man. He didn't fix the situation, like he so adamantly told himself he could. It's not that easy. In that moment, he realizes that this is so much bigger and so much more complicated. For probably the first time, Orym has to cave, he shuts down completely because now he sees that the world was never that black and white to start with. And it's so, so heartbreaking.

Orym is fundamentally just as scared and biased and bitter as everyone else. And he does everything to reach his own goals. He gets himself into a pact with Morri, he gaslights himself into believing he has to sell his entire soul away for it (which we know now was never true), risks being enslaved and losing his life. He persists on being noble and dutiful to the point where he feels the need to keep sacrificing himself, keep pushing, keep doing the things he has been doing all this time. In those moments when he might start to see the greyscales around him and he needs to question his own judgement. He needs to revaluate and make this journey make sense again, because there is no way he could be wrong at this point, right? Not after all this time. It's a compulsion inside of him, it makes him run in circles.

(Here I would like to say; I enjoy he idea of ptsd and ocd Orym, which has come up a few times. It really does work well, especially considering the obsessive and compulsive thoughts and behaviour, rituals, rumination, etc.

I am not a therapist, nor am I qualified to porperly evaluate a fictional character's mental state, so of course I cannot claim to know this for sure, it's a headcanon I've seen pop up that I found to be fitting.)

So, there ya go....

Orym of the Air Ashari I adore you, you are not okay.

[wombywoo]

WOMBY! ANTI-GHOUL MEDS?! Prevents early onset necrosis??! Why haven't you told us about the Ghouls yet?? And the Dragons breathe radiation?? Whaattt

muahahah I've been cooking up a lot of new plot stuff, and yeah--ghouls are a thing!

So. A brief breakdown:

Some dragons produce radiation which can cause various harmful effects in humans, namely--it can turn you into a ghoul!

What is a ghoul, you ask? Well, in this universe, 'ghoulism' starts out as a sort of sickness, similar to radiation poisoning, but eventually, the person will become a husk of themself--no internal will, no 'soul', unable to speak, their skin becomes pale and ashy, eyes pure white, oh and also they're completely bald! 👨‍🦲

Most ghouls, if left on their own, will behave erratically and will often present as a danger. But, under the control of others (more specifically, a vampire who's formed a bond), they can handle specific tasks and be utilized as efficient weapons.

They also have a pack mentality, so if one ghoul is being controlled, most of the adjacent ghouls will fall under the same directive. They're sort of like ants...

In the current setting, ghouls are being utilized by [insert evil vampire terrorist organization] (which is called Tusk, btw ☝️) as fodder for their army. Using dragons to raze certain major cities and radiate the populace, evil vamps 'recruit' from the carnage of what's left. So yeah--that's happening 🙃

Seeing as the prospect of turning into a ghoul sounds, uh..not great, global health services have developed preventative measures against contracting the initial illness; hence the pills. They're taken weekly and have proven to be (mostly) effective in keeping the public unaffected. If exposed to copious amounts of draconic radiation, however, the statistics become less favorable. Generally, it's all a bit...uncertain though. Some people turn more easily, others don't 🤷‍♀️ They're still looking into it...

For Quinn and his crew, they have to take even more anti-ghoul meds seeing as they're working around a live dragon 😳 Although theirs seems to carry less radiation than a really big boy....thankfully. And tbh, doctors have claimed Quinn is 'in the clear' from ghoulism, as some people seem to have a natural resistance...

[whimsiquix]

But but QUIX. This is from Ashwatthama’s POV. Well. Eh. Not exactly.

For one. The parts displayed in the flashbacks are directly from the Kurukshetra and no such hilarious chariot pushing incident ever happened in the Mahabarata.

And Two. Ashwatthama thoroughly can’t stand the man as he quite famously displays in his rant below:

“In which duel in battle have you vanquished Dhananjaya, Nakula or Sahadeva? Whose riches have you robbed? Has Yudhishthira, or Bhima, supreme among strong ones, ever been defeated by you? And in which battle did you win over Krishna? O performer of evil deeds! She was dragged into the assembly hall in a single garment, when she was in season. In search of gain, you have severed the great root of a sandalwood tree. O brave one! You made them perform tasks and what did Vidura have to say then? We have seen that men exhibit conciliation, to the best of their ability. So do other beings, even insects and ants. The Pandavas are incapable of pardoning Droupadi’s molestation. Dhananjaya has appeared for the destruction of the sons of Dhritarashtra. Appearing as a learned one, you speak your words repeatedly. But will Jishnu not end this enmity, leaving no vestiges left? Kunti’s son Dhananjaya is not frightened of fighting the gods, the gandharvas, the asuras or the rakshasas. When he is enraged and descends on anyone in battle, he destroys him, like a tree is brought down through Garuda’s force. He is superior to you in valour. He is equal to the king of the gods in archery. He is Vasudeva’s equal in battle. Who will not show homage to Partha? He will fight and destroy divine with divine, human with human, weapons with other weapons. What man is Arjuna’s equal? Those who know about dharma know that a student comes only after a son. That is the reason why Drona loves Pandava. Will you fight with Pandava the way you gambled and won Indraprastha and the way you dragged Krishna to the assembly hall? This wise uncle of yours, Shakuni of Gandhara, is a deceitful gambler and is learned about the dharma of kshatriyas. Let him fight here now. Gandiva does not cast dice, not krita, nor dvapara. Gandiva releases flaming, sharp and pointed arrows. When released from Gandiva, dreadful, extremely energetic and tufted with vulture feathers, they can even pierce the interiors of mountains. Antaka, Shamana, death and the fire with the mare’s head leave something behind, but not an enraged Dhananjaya. Let the preceptor fight with Dhananjaya if he wishes. I will not fight with him.”

- BORI CE.

Now does any of this make Kalki a bad movie? No. Merely an annoying one.

You are now going to be subject to my essays on how, if we had to be forcefully be subjected to Prabhas being a Mahabarat character (in this context) why it would make more sense for him to play Abhimanyu instead of Karna.

[crybaby-bkg]

wanna bug Toji soooo bad while he’s on the phone. his ass doesn’t have a job so it’s not like he’s discussing important business, but he likes to make it look that way. phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he uses one hand to rub circles on your exposed thigh, the other flipping through the tv channels. he’s speaking in a low tone, his eyebrows mused together in agitation as he calls the guy on the other line a barrage of insulting names.

and you’re just a simple person—the man looks hot as fuck like that and you just have to bother him. so you do, despite the side eye he gives you when you swing your leg over, foot in the air, right in his face. he swats you away gently before going back to his phone call, bites at your toes when you still try to wiggle them in his face.

"If you think you can lowball me like that, then you're stupider than I thought." Toji grunts to the other man on the phone, distracted once more. a little peeved that his attention isn't on you much anymore, you do what any little conniving imp would do.

you sit on his lap. backwards, facing the TV, looking over your shoulder at him with such an evil little grin that it makes his eyes squint to you in warning. but you've never listened much, especially when you know you'll be rewarded so plentifully in the end.

so you rock your hips, just slightly the first few times. your legs sat on either side of him, hands resting in the space between his legs on the bed, leaning your weight back on his hips that you sit against. instantly, you can feel the swell of him beneath his sweats, feel the thickness that you love to fill you up start to twitch when you circle your hips, grinding them oh so slowly against his covered cock.

when you look over your shoulder again, Toji only stares, the slightest lilt of his lip turning up at the corners. he tries to act unbothered, one arm bent back to rest his head against, the other holding the phone to his ear. but you can see through him, and feel just how bothered he really is.

so you up the ante; start to lift and drop your hips slow, slow, slow at first before the pace begins to build. you lean forward on your elbows, pull your underwear up until the curve of your ass is exposed, gasping from the friction, from the feeling of his cock rubbing so sweetly at your slit through the thin cotton.

you look over your shoulder once more, grinning, biting at your lip as you grind against him, close to completion. he can see it all in your eyes.

"Gonna call you back later. Got some important shit to take care of right now." Toji hangs up without preamble, gaze distant as he focuses on the ever growing spot of your arousal that starts to leak onto his own sweats.

but you're a little minx, with the way you scramble from his grasp before he can catch you, laughing when he snags your ankle to drag you back down. he's suddenly kneeling over you, grin sharp and ferocious, the straining of his cock through his sweats hanging so intimidatingly low, that if you lift your hips just a little, his tip would kiss your clit in the sweetest kiss.

"And where do you think you're going, you little brat?" Toji growls, dropping down to nip at the base of your neck, licking over your pulse point.

"Not letting me off the hook that easy, huh?" you tease, hands splayed beside your head in surrender, just wanting a little bit of the chase before the devouring. and by the look in his eyes, you know you'll only be bones by morning.

"Not in a million years." he promises right before the inevitable pounce.

[and-claudia]

Yours Pt. 4 (Paddy x reader) (Speak No Evil)

Warnings: DDDNE (that is your warning that this is gonna get a little fucked up here), manipulation, controlling relatives, lying, p in v, infidelity, let me know if I missed any

Word count: 4355

Taglist (Read the rules, follow them or I will remove your response)

After we were shown around the house, we made our way back downstairs. Ant had to go finish his chores outside which included checking on the animals. Agnes wanted to go see them as well and so after getting approval from Paddy, she was allowed to go. Lousie being the overprotective mother she was of course had to follow her out, which prompted Ben to go as well. 

“Ciara, why don’t you join them? I am going to check on dinner.” He said, and she gave him a smile and nod before following them out. 

I had actually ran upstairs to use the bathroom and when I got back I was going to head out with the rest of them to not create any suspicions just yet, but Paddy stopped me. 

“Yn, wait, I need to talk to you.” He said, urgency in his voice. 

I walked over to where he stood in the kitchen with a confused look on my face. 

“Remember how I said that we are going to have to be very careful about what we say and do around Ciara… she may be a little jealous over what happened in Italy.” He said. 

I covered my mouth in shock, “I’m so sorry, Paddy… I thought she was okay with it… I- I had no idea… did she see the pictures too?” I asked nervously. 

He shook his head, “It’s okay, and she was for that one night… but after that…” He sighed heavily and shook his head, “And no, I hid the pictures, keeping those for my eyes only… and don’t get me wrong, I still want you more than anything… I just need some time to take care of some things first, okay?”  

I was a little skeptical, “Paddy, I have to ask… you told me I wasn’t going back with them… if that’s the case, what is happening with you and Ciara? I may be young and sweet, but I am not one for sharing, not long-term… so how does she fit into this?” I said, motioning between the two of us. 

Paddy flashed his charming smile and looked me in the eyes with his piercing blue ones, “You still trust me, don’t you?” 

His charm was like a spell. However, it was one that I not only didn’t mind being under, it was one I wanted to be put under. 

“Of course I do, Paddy.” I said, biting my lip slightly as I glanced down at his before focussing back on his eyes. 

“Ata, girl. Come here.” He said, pulling me to him and kissing me roughly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Okay, … is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, genuinely wanting to help him with anything he needed me to. 

He smiled at my offer and used his hand to cup my cheek before giving me one last kiss, “Not yet, baby, soon, but not just yet.” 

I had no idea what he meant by that, but the way he said it sent a wave of excitement over me for some reason. And the smile he gave me made me melt. I knew that when it came down to it, I would help him with anything. 

Reluctantly I stepped away from him and went to join the others outside. We stayed out there until the sun began to set. Conversation mostly just included the two kids having their own while Ciara talked with Ben and Louise, leaving me to just sit and listen mostly. I was beyond relieved when Paddy opened the door and called out, letting us know dinner was ready. 

We all went inside and made our way to the kitchen. Sitting on the counter was a dish covered in tin foil. It smelt absolutely amazing. 

“Ta-da!” Paddy said as he grabbed the tin foil and ripped it off, revealing some type of roasted bird. 

“Wow, that looks amazing, Paddy.” Ben said. 

“Thank you. Was, Libby, our prized goose, out on the farm. Killed it and cooked it with my own hands.” Paddy said as he began to slice it. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do all that.” Louise said from where she stood off to the side, clearly already uncomfortable. 

“You’re our VIP guests. It’s the least we could do.” Ciara insisted. 

I watched as Paddy sliced off a piece of meat and the turn to walk with it over towards my aunt. He approached her, holding out the fort ready for her to eat off of it, “Our gift to you, Louise, the best part of the roast.” He said, bringing it up to her. 

She tried and failed to deflect it to someone else as Paddy insisted further, “Come on, doctor’s orders.” He said and she finally gave in, taking the fork in her mouth. 

I had to hide my laugh behind a cough as I watched it all happen. To tell the truth, I couldn’t tell if he had purposely done it or not, considering she had told them she was a vegetarian in Italy. Either way, watching her struggle to chew it was satisfying. If it were anyone else, I probably would have spoken up on their behalf so they wouldn’t have to eat something they were against. But she was such a people pleaser it was satisfying to watch her reap the consequences of it. 

The rest of dinner went on fairly uneventfully. That was until Ciara turned her attention towards me. 

“So, Yn, why do you still live with your aunt and uncle? You’re old enough to move out by now, aren’t you?” She asked. 

Her question must have caught Paddy off guard as well because his eyebrows shot up as he looked over at her and then to me, waiting for an answer. 

“I’ve been trying to save up to move out, actually. But it can be hard, making a steady income doing what I do.” I said, causing Ben to scoff slightly. 

My uncle didn’t approve of my career choices, saying I would never make a living doing it, but it was my life. 

“Oh, what do you do?” Ciara asked. 

“I’m a photographer. I’ve done a few bigger jobs like weddings, but I mostly try to stick to private photoshoots.” I explained. 

Paddy nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen her work. It’s stunning.” He said, giving me a subtle pointed look, and I knew what he was actually referring to, “She showed me some back in Italy.” 

“Ooh, I’d love to see them sometime.” Ciara said, and I nodded. 

“Of course. Maybe I can even take some for you while I’m here.” I said.

“That would be nice.” Paddy said with a smirk that only I seemed to catch. 

After dinner concluded, everyone began going their separate ways. Ciara and Louise went upstairs to put the kids to bed, leaving just Paddy, my uncle, and myself downstairs. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay sleeping down here? You can always stay with Louise if you want to. I can stay down here. I won’t mind.” Ben offered to me out of nowhere. 

“What? Are you and here still having issues? If you don’t want to sleep with your wife, say so. I am fine sleeping down here.” I said, rolling my eyes. 

“It has nothing to do with that, and you know you’re not supposed to bring that up. I just wasn’t sure how you feel being so… exposed to an older man in his house.” He explained. 

“Oh, after Italy, I thought us two were just going to bring up things the other has explicitly told the other not to… and for the record, I feel perfectly safe around Paddy.” I said just as Paddy walked into the room. 

“The two of you have got to try this. Here.” He said, handing each of us a bottle. 

I eyed it suspiciously, waiting for him to explain.

“It’s hard cider, made it myself with our farm-grown apples.” He said, popping the lid off his and taking a swig. 

I followed his lead and did the same with Ben not too far behind me. It was unsurprisingly very good. After that dinner Paddy made, I had little doubts that there was anything he couldn’t do with his hands. 

“Damn, Paddy, this is really good.” I said, before taking another drink. 

“Slow down, killer,” He said, leaning forward as if to say something to just me, but he still said it loud enough, obviously, for Ben to hear it, “I don’t think your aunt and uncle would take too well to me getting you drunk again.” He joked. 

“Getting her drunk again? When was the first time you got her drunk?” Ben asked, clearly suspicious. 

“Okay, maybe not me directly, but when she, Ciara, and I went to the club in Italy, Yn did get quite drunk.” He explained, throwing Ben off his trail immediately. 

Ben nodded, “Oh, that’s right.” 

As the two other adults arrived back down stairs, Paddy was pulling out a hand-rolled cigarette. I eyed it, wondering if it was, in fact, what I thought it was. Neither Ben nor Lousie knew I had ever smoked weed before.

“Geez, it’s so quiet out here. Do you even have neighbors?” 

“Yeah, all the way across the valley, but you know we look after each other,” He paused, taking out his lighter,  “You don’t mind if I?” Paddy asked, hesitating before lighting it. 

When he was met with no pushback, he lit it up and took a long drag from it. 

Ben laughed to himself before responding to what Paddy had just said, “Ours are right across the hall, and I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.” He said. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. They’re a sweet old couple. Have cute Tabby cat that I’ve taken pictures of before.” I said. 

“Well, I guess Someone has spoken to them. When did you even meet them?” He asked, confused. 

“When we moved in.” 

“Louise, you have a bad neck?” Ciara asked suddenly, diffusing the tension building between Ben and me and drawing the attention to my aunt. 

“No, uh… it’s just something that flares up sometimes.” She said. 

I rolled my eyes. Yes, she had a fucked up neck. Has had it for as long as I could remember, honestly. But again, she’s a people pleaser and would never admit to anyone that she wasn’t 100% comfortable, nor would she ever let anyone know that she and her family were anything less than perfect. 

“Medicinal? It’s homegrown.” Paddy offered her his cigarette. 

“No, thank you. I took a pill.” She said. 

“Oh, modern medicine. It is amazing…” 

As Paddy spoke offered it over to Ben, and I was truly stunned when Ben took it and brought it up to his mouth. He passed it back to Paddy after taking a hit. Truth be told, I wasn’t listening too much to the conversation, too busy watching Paddy as he smoked. The thoughts running through my mind were filthy. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to kiss him right now and have him shotgunning it into my mouth. 

I snapped out of my trance as Paddy leaned forward once again to pass the blunt over to Ben. But before he could grab it, I leaned forward and snatched it. I settled back in my seat with my eyes closed as I took a long drag from it. I slowly exhaled. When I opened my eyes, everyone was looking at me. 

Ben looked just plain shocked, Lousie looked mortified, Ciara seemed slightly annoyed and Paddy looked like a mix between proud and turned on. 

“Yn, what are you doing?” Louise asked. 

“Enjoying myself.” I replied, taking another hit. 

“When did you start smoking pot?” Ben asked. 

“You make it sound like I do it all the time. I just do it when I feel like it. And for the record, like 4 years ago.” I said before finally passing it back to Paddy.

“Who would have thought this perfect, sweet girl would have such a wild streak in her?” Paddy said, leaning back in his chair before taking a long drag. 

“She does seem to be full of surprises.” Ciara agreed, sending a worried shiver down my spine. 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” I said, feeling a surge of confidence. 

I continued to sip my drink and just listened, I had closed my eyes, letting the weed in my system and the warmth spreading through me from the cider relax me. That was until I felt like someone was staring at me. I opened my eyes and scanned the room, expecting to be met with Louise’s unapproving sideways gaze, but she wasn’t looking over here. My eyes then landed on Ciara, and if looks could kill, I would be six feet under and then some. But the moment she saw me catch her eye, she averted her gaze to Paddy as she looked at him lovingly and reached over for his hand. I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that hit me as I reminded myself that in a few days, somehow, he would be all mine. 

“Well, I think it’s about time we retire for the night. Let Yn get some sleep.” Paddy said. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” Louise said. 

There were plans to go out on a hike the next day so we really should be getting to bed soon. 

“Oh, Yn, just a heads up so I don’t scare you. I do get up quite early to do the rounds with the animals. I’ll do my best to be quiet, though, so I don’t wake you.” Paddy said, sending me a subtle look. 

“Oh, Paddy, I am sure it would be okay if you slept in for once. I mean, we do have guests. I don’t think the animals’ schedules will be thrown off that badly. Besides, you wouldn’t want to accidentally wake her. He’s never quiet in the mornings.” She said the last bit, turning to me. 

“It’s alright, Paddy, I am intruding on your home. Please do what you need to, and don’t worry if you wake me up. I really don’t mind.” I said sweetly enough to let him know I got his hint but not enough to cause suspicion… I hope. 

I was gathering up my PJs and facewash to go get changed and ready for bed in the bathroom when Paddy came back downstairs. At first he paid me no mind as he went to lock the front door. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned around and found him standing right behind me. 

“Shit, Paddy, don’t sneak up on me like that.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Sorry, just needed to see you before I go back up there.” He said, reaching a hand up to cup my cheek. I immediately leaned into it. 

We stayed like that for a moment, in a comfortable silence, just reveling in the fact that we were back together once again. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. 

“God, this may be worse than just having the pictures to look at. Knowing you’re down here, so close, yet not being able to have you is absolutely tortuous.” He whispered. 

“Soon.” I said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “That’s what you told me, right?” 

He nodded, straightening back up to his full height, and dropped his hand, “That’s right.” 

“What time do you get up in the morning?” I asked. 

“Early. 5:30.” 

“Mhm… out in the shed?” I asked. 

“Sometimes…” 

“Well… hopefully you are tomorrow, preferably with a blanket at… let's say 5:45? Because that’s where I’ll be at that time…” I said sweetly. 

“I think I can manage that. Just know what you agreed to. You sure you’re going to be able to go on the hike later tomorrow after I’m done with you?” He asked. 

“Hmmm, we’ll see I guess.” I said giving him one last kiss, “You should get back upstairs before she gets suspicious.” I said with a sigh. 

“After you.” He said, stepping to the side and nodding me past him to go up first. 

I laughed, knowing he was just letting me go first to stare at my ass, not that I was complaining. When we got to the bathroom, I stopped and faced him. “Good night, Paddy.” 

“Good night, Yn.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead before passing me and heading up to his and Ciara’s room. 

Once he was out of sight, the door to the guest room opened, and my aunt stepped out. 

“What was that about?” She asked, confused. 

“What?” 

“I thought I heard Paddy out here… telling you goodnight.” “He did, he came downstairs to lock up, I was heading up here to change and wash my face.” I said confused by here questing what was happening. 

“Did… Did he, um, kiss you goodnight?” She asked, eyebrows knitted. 

“It was a quick peck on the forehead, no more than the one he gave us when we left Italy. What’s the big deal?” I asked, getting annoyed. 

“Isn’t that still a little weird?” 

“No, I think he’s just friendly. It doesn’t really bother me… Look its late, we were in the car all day I really just want to get to bed.” I said before slipping into the bathroom, not giving her any room to say anything else. 

When I got downstairs I set an alarm on my phone just in case I didn’t wake up when Paddy came down in the morning. Luckily I fell asleep quickly with the anticipation of being with Paddy come moring. 

When my eyes peeked open again I found Paddy sitting at the other end on the couch. He was lacing up his boots seeming completely unaware that I had woken up. That was until he spoke up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked with a smirk. 

I stretched some and sat up, “Hm… maybe.” I smiled. 

“Make sure you turn your alarm off, darling, don’t want to wake anyone else up.” He said, leaning over to kiss me. 

I smiled into the kiss, “Should I just come with you now?” I whispered. 

“I was hoping you would.” He said, pulling back and standing up. 

He offered me his hand and I took it. I was secretly hoping my hair wasn’t a complete mess as I slipped on my shoes and followed Paddy outside. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as he led me through the yard, to one of the doors of the shed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord that was attached to one of his belt loops on one end and had a set of keys on the other. He unlocked the door before gesturing me in. When he stepped in he shut the door before moving to lay down the blanket on top of the straw-covered floor. 

“Sorry, it’s not the fanciest.” He said, turning to look at me. 

“I don’t care.” I said, immediately closing the distance between us and kissing him. 

His response to the kiss was instantaneous as he took control and backed me up to the side wall. My back hit the rough bricks, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. 

“I’ve missed you darling… missed this with you.” He said between kisses. 

“Take me, Paddy, please.” I begged as he began working his way down my jawline to my neck. I had been dreaming of this moment ever since we left Italy. 

“So eager.” He mumbled against the hickey he was making on my collar bone. 

Part of me was worried it would be seen by the others, part of me didn’t care, but secretly the majority of me wanted them all to see it. I wanted them all to know I was his… especially Ciara. 

Next thing I knew, he was moving us away from the wall and over to where he had laid out the blanket. I kneeled down, bringing Paddy down with me. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” I asked, feeling something weird under my ass. 

I grabbed it through the blanket and found it was a lock. 

“What’s this for? Is it like some secret sex dungeon? Or are you secretly like a serial killer or something?” I teased. 

He let out a small laugh, “It’s nothing. Promise. And do you really think I could be a serial killer?” 

“I don’t know, you may look cute, all covered in blood, chasing me down…” I said, only half joking. 

“What is wrong with you?” Paddy asked in amusement as he shook his head, smiling. 

“Okay… one of my biggest crushes is Billy from Scream, okay? Just something about fucking with their victims before killing them, it’s kinda hot. I know that’s like so fucked up, but I can’t help it! Ever since I watched the movie at like 15, I was hooked, and it never went away…” I admitted. 

“That’s so fucked up, Yn. He killed people…tsk tsk.” He said, shaking his head but still smiling. 

“I know! I know, I can’t help it though.” I said blushing slightly. 

“Hmmm… so you like serial killers then?” He teased. “I mean, I guess in theory.” I said. 

“And in practice.” He said, tone suddenly changing to be much more serious.

On the surface I was confused but something deep down in me understood. 

“Paddy… what do you mean?” 

“I think you’ve already connected the dots… I told you, you wouldn’t be leaving… and I meant it. Your aunt and uncle won’t be either… I want you to be by my side when it happens… you can even help if you want to. Or, you can let me take care of it, let me free you from them… you said you were mine, didn’t you?” He asked, gently caressing my cheek. 

I nodded immediately, “I’m yours Paddy. Please, free me.” 

I pulled him back down to kiss me. He groaned into the kiss, gripping the back of my head to pull me closer. Then in one swift motion he flipped us so that I was straddling his waist. I could feel his hard cock, begging to be freed from his jeans underneath me. I grinded my hips down onto it and let out a soft moan as his bulge bumped up against my clit. 

His hands went to my hips, slipping up under my sleep shirt. It raised up exposing the fact that I hadn’t worn any bottoms. 

“No panties, sleeping on my couch? You trying to drive me crazy?” He asked. 

“Hm… maybe.” I said, pulling away and reaching down to undo his belt.  

I unzipped his pants and he helped me pull them down along with his underwear just enough to free his cock. 

I lifted myself up on my knees and reached down to line him up with my entrance, but he stopped me. 

“Wait, darling.” He said, reaching down into his pocket that had been shoved down. He pulled out a condom and used his teeth to open it before quickly putting it on. 

“There we go, don’t want to risk anything, do we?” He said, grabbing my hips once again. 

He guided me down onto his cock slowly. I let out a loud moan as he stretched me open slowly. Once he bottomed out I sat there for a moment to get reacquainted with the size of him. 

“As much as I love the pretty sounds you make, love, I’m going to need you to keep it down. Okay? Don’t want the wife hearing you now, do we?” He asked. 

I shook my head. Then he gave my hips a gentle squeeze before guiding me to move up and down on his cock. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. One of my hands stayed on his chest to steady myself, and the other went down to my clit. 

My pace was matching his pace, slow circles just enough to drive me crazy as the pressure slowly began to build. 

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, darling?” He said. 

“Yeah,” I sighed out, subconsciously speeding up my pace on my clit. Paddy picked up his pace as well, sending me even faster to my climax. 

“Fuck, darling… you look so good, so fucking good, on my cock like that.” He said, and I knew by the way his cock twitched inside of me he was getting close as well. 

“Paddy, shit. I’m…” Before I could finish my sentence, my walls were clutching onto him as I came. 

“Damn it, love…” Paddy groaned as he came as well. 

Honestly, I was cursing that condom from preventing me from feeling him shoot his cum deep inside of me. But I knew it was for the better. We were already taking so many risks together we couldn’t afford to be that risky… not right now at least. 

We both caught our breaths and after a moment I went to lift myself up, but Paddy stopped me. 

“Not yet, just come here, darling.” He said pulling me down to lay on top of him. 

I laid down gently, resting my head as best I could onto his chest. 

“I fucking missed you, darling, and your perfect pussy… it truly was made for me, wasn’t it? All of you was made for me.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. 

“Only you, Paddy. I want to help kill them. All of them… I just have two conditions.” I said. 

“What are they?” 

“I get Anges and… I get to kill Ciara.” I said, turning my head to look at him. 

“Who said anything about killing her?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I did. I said I am yours, if that’s true, then you don’t need her anymore. She needs to go too.” I said simply. 

He smiled evilly, “I like your logic, dear… you have yourself a deal.” 

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