#but every time he did a new corruption would appear over his body

[caileeflavoured]

and lead us not into temptation...

father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: During Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. Father Mayhew, too.

a/n: ahhh, how good it feels so channel my religious trauma into absolute filth again. I was never Catholic so idk how accurate the stuff I said is but I did research and tried my best (really no one cares about Catholic accuracies why are you even stressing about this girl)

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubcon, little bit of a corruption kink, innocence kink, clueless little church mouse!reader, blasphemous shit tbh, virginity loss, unprotected sex, a priest absolutely abusing his position,

wc: 3.2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | GROTESQUERIE MASTERLIST

They told you that the Sacrament of Confirmation was the most important event of a young girl growing closer to God. They told you it was an honour to attend this spiritual ceremony, that it was the culmination of forming a bond with Christ. They told you that it was high time you were finally sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Father Charlie Mayhew was adamant that you’d finally receive this great gift, having discussed the possibility of a personal Confirmation with your parents after Sunday Mass.

“She’s at an age where it should already have happened,” he told them. “I assume you wish her to get married soon. She ought to finally be strengthened for service to the Body of Christ.”

Your parents trusted Father Mayhew blindly, believing he was a gift sent to earth by the Lord Himself, and quickly agreed. They wouldn’t want their precious daughter to fall into disgrace should a proper suitor be found sooner rather than later.

The priest nodded, visibly satisfied with their consent. “I can arrange it for next week’s Mass, but I  would like for your daughter to come see me for a private confession. The Lord has spoken to me in my prayers, and has tasked me with properly preparing the confirmands. It’s a standard practice at my church.”

Only that it wasn’t.

Father Mayhew had spent many hours not praying, not studying the Scripture, not preparing new sermons since he first saw you in all your womanly glory at Mass. Instead, he often found himself in his office, his pants growing uncomfortably tight just at the thought of you attending Mass every Sunday like the faithful girl you are, hanging on his every word. 

And when you’d get on your knees during the Eucharistic prayer…

His hand would always find its way to his throbbing length during a quiet moment after Mass, the grip on his cock nearly painful as he worked himself towards the highest of highs. And more often than not he would later find white stains on his liturgical vestments, having to go through several clerical outfits in the span of only a few days.

“Tell her to come see me on Wednesday after general confession hour.”

So your parents sent you on your way, Bible in hand, rosary wrapped around your wrist. You entered the empty church, standing between the pews as you clutched your Bible to your chest.

“Father Mayhew?” A timid call for him echoed through the large building, and soon he appeared. 

His chest heaved as he appeared, his robe sitting weirdly on his shoulders as if he had pulled it over his head in a hurry. His hair messy, not slicked back like he usually wore it. 

The appearance caught you off guard, to say the least, and made your blood pressure rise.

“Ah, my new confirmand!” He greeted you with an open-arm gesture, then clasped his hands together. “Happy to see you. What an exciting time it must be for you.”

He closed the distance between you, turning to your side and placing his hand on your back as he led you towards the back of the church. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he said.

“I thought I came to confess?” You asked in bewilderment. “Oughtn’t we sit down in the confessional booth for that?”

But he was quick to shut down your confusion. “No. No, no, no. Let’s not stick to such ancient traditions. I’ve come to learn, in my time as a servant of the Lord, that private confessions are best made in the comfort of a priest’s office. Shall we?”

He opened the door to his office, letting you enter first before closing the door behind his back and quickly turning the lock before you would notice.

“Take a seat,” he motioned towards the armchair on the opposite side of his desk as he sat down in his own chair.

He leaned back and observed you with relaxed eyes. His stoic gaze was intimidating to you, your heart thumping against your ribcage the longer he stared.

“Father?”

The sound of your voice ripped him out of his dirty fantasy, his focus returning to the there and then, which, admittedly, didn’t help much when his hard cock ached from the torturing restraint of his pants.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, bending forward hoping it would cover the growing bulge. “Now, I have to admit I wasn’t quite honest with your parents,” he chuckled smugly.

The picture of you furrowing your brows as you slightly cocked your head to the side in a confused gesture made him lose a couple drops of cum into his boxers. How could a young girl be so cluelessly devoted to God. To him. It made him lose his mind, and throw his holy vows overboard.

To hell with abstinence. Some girls just asked for it. And he knew you were one of them. 

Gifted by the devil himself, a test of his faith and obedience — the bishop had warned him many years ago that the day would come when he would find himself face to face with temptation — and presented on a silver platter right there in his own church. To him, however, a young, ripe girl like you could only have found her way into his office so he could chase the feeling of his former life.

To remind himself how good it felt to lose himself in the warmth of a tight cunt.

“I understand your parents are hoping to find you a husband soon,” Father Mayhew began. “But Confirmation isn’t the only thing necessary in preparation for marriage. You know, there are certain… other things a young woman must be prepared for before she can fulfil her duties of a devout wife.”

“Father, I don’t—”

His hand shot up, immediately shutting down any doubts or concerns you might try to raise. “Tell me… Have you ever touched yourself? After all, this is some kind of confession here, right? God needs you to be completely honest with me.”

He could sense the warmth rush to your cheeks, the way your breath hitched in your throat as your gaze shifted to the floor.

“A simple yes or no will suffice, sweetheart,” he pressed. “This is crucial for your preparation as a confirmand.” His eyes searched for yours. “You can even nod or shake your head if that’s easier.”

Then, finally, he got a reaction out of you. A timid… shake from left to right. “It’s a sin, Father.”

The change in his demeanour evaded you. The way his eyes turned into slits resembling those of a snake, the way he ever so slightly shifted in his seat as his hand carefully moved to his crotch.

A moment of silence passed in Father Charlie’s office as he let your words sink in. You had been even more clueless than he’d imagined. An enticing temptation, one that he had no choice but to succumb to.

“That is very admirable,” he praised you. “However,” he got up, “as part of this… preparation I need you to be… how should I say this… open to… sexual activities.”

He walked around his desk in a few long strides until he stood in front of you and leaned against the edge of the table, folding in hands in front of his crotch as he crossed his legs. He could feel his cock press against his palms through the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.

“Why should—” You tried to ask, but his hand was quick to shoot up in a silencing gesture. That’s when you first noticed the bulge in his pants.

With your eyes glued to his crotch, Charlie could barely hold himself back from dragging you across his desk and shoving his cock right into your tight little cunt, no matter if you were ready for him or not.

“Get on your knees,” he said in a plain voice. You obeyed instantly.

He took the Bible and rosary from your hands and placed them on his desk before standing up right in front of you, your mouth so perfectly aligned with his length. A few quick movements got him rid of his pants and boxers just enough to pull out aching cock, tip glistening with drops of precum.

He watched your eyes go wild in shock, although he silently wished they would have gone wide from excitement and lust. He’d get you there soon enough…

“From now on, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart,” he instructed. “No more questions, no ifs and buts, alright?”

His eyes stayed focused on yours until you nodded, and he pinched your chin with his thumb and index finger as a gesture of approvement. A pleased look on his face and a satisfied smirk on his lips, he then let his thumb graze along your lower lip before pushing it in.

“Open up.” His voice turned rough, strained even, as he pulled your jaw down and forced your mouth open. 

He could detect a sliver of fear glistening in your eyes as the tip of his cock met your lip, could sense your wanting to ask what he was doing, but was pleased to see you resist the urge to question his actions. 

So he pushed it in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling your lips instinctively close around him. “Careful with those teeth.”

His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair to get a good grip and properly guide your movements. He pulled back and pushed back in, this time all the way until he heard and felt you gag around him. 

He stopped once he could feel the back of your throat, watching you struggle and start to panic, your hands moving up to the sides of his hips in an attempt to push him back. But, of course, he was too strong for you. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well.” 

He started to pick up a pace slow enough to relish the feeling of your mouth and not already waste his seed by shooting it into the back of your throat. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, watching the string of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip with a grin.

“You see,” he started to explain, “in order to become a full-grown adult, which you will be after your Confirmation, you need to understand certain things. And, as the priest of your church, it is my duty to teach you the necessary lessons to let you go out into world with a clear conscience.”

He watched you intently, gauging your reaction to each and every word of his. You were still kneeling in front of him so he bent down, continuing to observe you at eye level. His breath came in slow, hot bursts as it repeatedly hit your face.

“You understand now why I have to do this, do you?” He asked.

You nodded, albeit hesitantly. 

“And you also understand that this is to stay between me and you, and me and you only, right?”

He waited for another nod, and when it wouldn’t come, he raised an eyebrow, his hand gripping your jaw tightly. 

“Do you understand?” He repeated with more force.

“Y-yes,” you mumbled. 

He let go of your jaw, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good. Now I need you to take your clothes off.”

His patience was starting to run thin, especially with the way he couldn’t find any release from this achingly throbbing tension. “Listen, we don’t have much time, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This body of yours…” 

This fucking body I need to desecrate. This body, this… tight virgin cunt.

“This body is a gift from God, wonderful and perfect like all His creations. And…” A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “It’s not like I have never seen a woman’s body before.”

He watched your shy reaction, and your inhibitions crumble slowly. So he gave you one last push. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” he said, beginning to shed his clerical robes. “That way we’re even.”

Father Charlie watched you with satisfaction as you rid yourself of your clothes item by item. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Once the last of his garments dropped on the ground, he told you to sit back down on the armchair, placing his hands on either side of you as he bent over you. His eyes travelled along your frame, wandering over the hills and valleys of your young, unsullied body.

“I need you to move your hand between your legs,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

This time you did what he said without hesitation. He could see your chest starting to heave, your breath visibly and audibly quickening as your hand slowly glided down your chest until it came into contact with your pure pussy for the first time.

“Fuck…” Charlie breathed, the grip on the armrest tightening as he fought the urge to fist his cock for at least some kind of relief. “Yes, just like that. Now push a finger in.”

You did.

“Does it feel wet? Does it slide in easily?” He asked as he observed how your lips parted at the initial sensation of pleasuring yourself.

You nodded.

“Try pushing in a second finger,” he commanded.

You did, your forehead creasing once it slipped all the way in.

“How does that feel? Tell me.”

“It feels…” You began, but couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Good?” He finished for you.

You nodded again.

“Try curling them upwards, like this,” he gestured a come hither movement with his own fingers for you to mimic.

And you did.

“But Father…” You gulped, “isn’t this… a sin?” You asked as you kept moving your hand.

He shook his head. “How can a natural urge be a sin? The Lord gave it to us.”

“I know, but—” His hand was back on your jaw, his digits pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“No ifs and buts, remember?” he reminded you, his gaze sharp. 

He quickly glanced at the clock. “You’ve been talking too much. Get up.”

You did as you were told while Charlie pushed the clutter off his desk, his movements rushed. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs, practically slamming you onto the desk and standing between your spread thighs.

So close to that heavenly cunt…

“The reason I’m doing this is because it is my duty as a priest,” he said leaning over you, his hand moving down your neck, over your collarbone, then closer and closer towards your chest.

“You need to know what it will be like to lay with your future husband,” he explained, his length pressing against your dripping core as his lips found your neck.

You reacted to his touches so organically, almost like second nature. Like this wasn’t your first time ever experiencing any kind of sexual activity.

Father Charlie knew he finally had you right where he wanted you. Where he needed you.

“It might hurt,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands cupped your tits, your nipples immediately trapped between his fingers as he pinched and pulled on them. “But that pain is gonna turn into something so much better. I promise.”

His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you back onto the flat, cold surface of his desk, the temperature a stark contrast to your heated body. His tongue glided along your sternum, first to the left, around your now hardened nipple, then to the right, repeating the same process.

Charlie could hear your laboured breaths slowly but surely transform into hot gasps, soft moans falling from your lips whenever his tongue or fingers would graze the sensitive buds of your breasts. He knew he could take it further without much clueless confusion on your part.

He knew he could finally take you like he had wanted to for so long.

So he pushed into you in one rough motion, not stopping until he could feel the soft tissue of your hymen collapse under the pressure of his cock. 

You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his strong arms, but he was quick to collect both your wrists in one hand and pin them above your head as he grabbed your thigh with the other. 

“Shh, shh,” he shut you up as he pulled your leg up and around his waist, allowing himself to fuck you from a different angle that would make it easier for him to fully thrust into your virgin cunt.

And, Lord, what a tight little cunt you had.  

His breaths escaped his lungs in ragged grunts as he pushed into you again and again, feeling your tight walls give in more and more to make him fit the longer he kept ramming his cock into you. The desk creaked under the pressure of his body colliding with yours, the wood bending with each new thrust that would allow him to slip further into your silky core. 

“Father—” You pleaded, arms unsuccessfully straining against his grip. “It… hurts.”

“Told you. But not much longer,” he said, his voice ragged as he ignored your attempts to make him stop. “Trust me.”

He could feel himself getting there, could feel how difficult it became to keep a steady rhythm. You were squeezing him in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to have you milk his every last drop. 

His moans echoed off the walls of his small office when he felt you start to relax around him. “Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted, his voice nearly failing him. “Let me hear you.”

His thumb pulled your bottom lip down so your mouth would fall open, letting those sweet, clueless whines escape your throat freely. That was all he took as a confirmation of your starting to enjoy the way he was fucking you.

And that was all he needed to find his most earth shattering release so far. He pulled out quickly, finishing off with a couple more strokes before he shot hot spurts of his cum right onto your newly stretched and glistening cunt. 

“Look at me,” he groaned as he rode out his high, his eyes fixed on you, your heaving chest, your skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, your cunt defiled and disgraced by your priest’s cum.

“Now you’re all set for Confirmation,” he said as he helped you up, then handed you a towel. “Make sure you’re clean before you come back for Sunday Mass. And remember, don’t tell your parents. If you can do that for me, I’ll show you much more if you want me to.”

They told you that during Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. They didn’t tell you Father Mayhew did, too.

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

-------☆-------

Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

-------☆-------

Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[diejager]

What are your thoughts on Stepdad!price (or Johnny) who intentionally get you pregnant

Cw: STEPCEST, DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, forced pregnancy, misogyny, forced breeding, breeding, creampie, mating press, doggy style, office sex, tell me if I missed any.

Price would act different with you than with your mother, something about him knowing what’s best for you because you’re younger and more naive than your mother. She didn’t need his guidance or help, unlike you, who was still so young and pretty, a beautiful gem that was corruptible if handled by the wrong men. So he took it into his own hands, teaching you who was in charge in this family.

He might tolerate your mother working and acting as her own being, he respected her for being the sole provider of her household for so long, caring for you and your younger brother who was still young and impressionable. You might have taken longer to accept him into your home, but your brother was in the phase of wanting - missing and needing - a father figure in his life, seeing him as the most dependable and powerful person in his world as his step-father and a Captain in the SAS. It was something your brother could brag about and feel proud, a turn of a new leaf in a life where he always told people he was fatherless.

Bot your mother and your brother took his sudden appearance so well, perhaps it was her aged exhaustion and your brother’s jovial and receptive mind, but you were still in your peak, beautiful and bright-minded. His only issue with your lifestyle was your brainwashing, mind filled with feminist and liberal thought that went against all the morals and values he grew up with. It was something he had to fix, something he didn’t want to leave alone and fester and rot your brightness.

Your mother worked so much, she flied offshore multiple times a month, leaving you to care for Ethan with the money she wired to you to look after yourselves. She worked and provided, and you watched the house and cared for Ethan’s schooling and life. You cooked, you cleaned the house, you watched your kid brother and you did everything a mother would for her child. You were left with such a big load without anyone to shoulder it with you, and that’s where he came in.

Your mother left him to his own devices, letting have free range of her home and her children, one third teen year old and another in her twenties. He cared for you when no one would, helping you ease the tent in and exhaustion off your shoulder, his hands wandering your body like he owned it, making it’s curves and grooves until he burned it into his mind.

You might fight and struggle, that pretty mouth of yours spewing delusions about not consenting to his advances, the age difference, the women’s rights and humanitarian rights that had his patience running thin. He truly hated what people put in your mind, the crazed and nonsensical ideas that went against familial values and would eventually break the family he envisioned building with you. Despite your thrashing and threats, he moved forward with his plan, splitting you apart on his girth, hips snapping and bottoming out until his tip kissed your gummy cervix.

He filled you up every moment he could, painting your walls with his thick, salty and viscous cum, listening to you mewl and cry, moaning out like a bitch until you milked him dry. He wrestled you in bed, bending you over his desk, paperwork left strewn across the room , then he’d fuck you in the living-room when Ethan was off to school, pressing you down to your knees and ploughing into you with reckless abandon, and he’d take you in your bed at night, folding you in half with your feet hanging off his shoulders and he slammed into your warm cunt. It was a perpetual cycle, a fill and refill schedule that would never tire him out and that would fuck your mind into the right space. He had to right the wrongs and that started with breeding you.

It really shouldn’t be that surprising that he knocked you up after a few months, a new life growing in your little womb that he drowned with cum.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts 

[paradiseprincesss]

ok ok hear me out jonathan crane x batgirl fic? Omggg

moonlight - jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

masterlist

notes: yeah so jonathan x batgirl reader is always made to be dark and i wanted to bring a new perspective to this trope. working hard every day for my pookies so i can feed u new fics all the time

summary: you and your secret lover have little rendezvous throughout gotham, but you both grow tired of the secret keeping and leading a double life. why not just run away together and leave your alter egos behind in the city of gotham?

word count: 3.1k (sigh, this was meant to be a drabble...)

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), kissing, secret & established relationship, reader and jon are both whipped af lol, FLUFF like...lots of it

you sighed as you leant against the ledge of a terrace that peered out onto gotham city. it was nearly midnight, and here you were, stood alone on the highest floor of a parkade. well, not totally alone.

"thought i might find you here," a voice calls from behind you, "you look rather sad, darling."

turning around, you see jonathan in his usual suit and tie, along with the burlap scarecrow mask covering his face. he makes his way over to you, towering over you by a long shot with his tall height. he peers down at you, his strikingly blue eyes watching you through the little holes in his mask.

"i hate this city," you say solemnly, "everything is corrupt, and everyone has lost all their morals."

"that's gotham for you, sweetheart." he says matter-of-factly, now looking out onto the cityscape with you.

as the warm, summer breeze blows past both of you, neither of you speak. you stay silent at his remark, and he picks up on how your feeling. he knows you - he knows you very well. jonathan sighs, and for a minute, it was like just the two of you existed in this very moment in time.

"we'll move somewhere far away," he says softly, pulling you into his side as his hands rested on your waist, "i promise. i'll find us a quiet house in a quiet neighbourhood, and it'll be just us for the rest of eternity."

you look up at him lovingly, and he returned the same expression as he looked down at you. this wasn't how it was supposed to be - villains and hero's aren't meant to fall for one another. yet, here you were, wrapped in your so called "enemies" embrace. but you wouldn't change it for the world.

jonathan still recalls the day you first met, the memory ever so vivid inside of his mind. you were out fighting crime or whatever it was that you were doing that night, and he was out doing his typical, no-good, illegal activities. you know, fear-gassing and poisoning people; the usual. you'd stumbled across jonathan - or as you knew him back then, the scarecrow - finishing up what appeared to be a drug deal of some sort in an abandoned warehouse.

jonathan remembered the way his heart staggered when he saw you in your tight, slightly very skimpy, little latex bodysuit that you wore. the matching thigh high boots didn't help, and neither did that awfully pretty face of yours. he almost forgot you were batmans accomplice for a second, your appearance distracting him greatly.

"batgirl," he cooed mockingly, watching your every move, "so nice of you to finally join me."

"scarecrow," you sneered, "i've been looking for you."

"i'm flattered, darling. i really am." he says to you, making your blood boil.

"shut up-"

"and might i say, that latex suit is leaving very little to the imagination. if i knew this was how you would show up, i would've made plans to run into you sooner." he says, interrupting you as he cooed mockingly once more with hungry eyes trailing your body.

suddenly, you felt vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny and lingering gaze. you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself as you felt his eyes lingering on your body.

"don't bother trying to run-"

"oh, trust me, i'm not running off anytime soon. my goodness, batgirl. aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?" he cuts you off once more, stepping closer to you.

"...what?" you say with a dumbfounded tone, looking at him incredulously.

the two of you often laughed about the way you had met - the circumstances were a little odd, sure, but that just made the whole story of how you met even cuter. jonathan was never one to be so straight forward - until he met you. and you weren't one to fall so easily for a man, but that was before jonathan was in the picture. after your chance encounter with one another, you kept running into each other.

each time, you would threaten him, and he would flirt with you in retaliation. you'd tell him you had him corned for real this time, and he'd tell you that he had no complaints - he once said if you killed him then and there, he'd "die a happy man." the whole back and forth of you aggressively threatening him while he flirted with you went on for months, but eventually you cracked.

you didn't want to cave in, but once you saw what he looked like under that mask, you were folding like a goddamn lawn chair. the second you pulled the scarecrow mask off of his face, your jaw dropped. he was so attractive - and of course, he felt the same way from the moment he saw you. within a minute of the mask being pulled off his head, you were tangled up in his arms as he backed you into a wall, kissing you feverishly.

at first, there wasn’t a title to your “relationship,” but neither of you could give each other up. he needed you and you needed him. that was that. one night, as the two of you met up in secret once more, he asked you on a proper dinner date - which you agreed to, of course. it was romantic; he took you to a gorgeous, high-end restaurant that was classy and very...him. that same night, something shifted in the dynamic you two shared. it wasn’t just scarecrow and batgirl anymore - it was two people who were falling hopelessly in love.

from then on, the two of you were head over heels for one another, but both of you agreed to keep it a secret. when the sun was out during the day, you two were a normal couple; happily in love and holding hands as you walked down the streets of gotham. but by nightfall, you were strangers, no - enemies. it helped that nobody knew your alter egos, so during the day you two could be happily in love. but it was also a hassle to have to sneak around like two teenagers in love when the night crawled around.

his accomplices and the gotham rogues of the city couldn’t know that he was in love with batgirl, and you couldn’t have your accomplices or worse, bruce wayne, finding out you were devoted to the one person you shouldn’t be devoted to. i mean, it was past just a fling at this point.

it was love.

you two shared an apartment together (and a dog!). it was commitment at its finest. at first, the whole secret keeping and hush hush of it all was a little thrilling, but over time it got tiring. why couldn’t you just be happy? why did it have to be this way? you didn’t want to hide it anymore.

as you stood in the empty parkade with jonathan, you suggested an idea that you had been thinking about for a while now.

“why don’t we just run away?” you ask softly, coming back to reality as you looked up at the man who you adored dearly.

“what, like right now?” he asked, watching you through the scarecrow mask.

“what’s stopping us?” you asked before answering your own question, “well, your job actually. never mind, i’m being irrational.”

“i could find a job as a psychiatrist practically anywhere,” he shrugged, “there’s a shortage of doctors in every city.”

“that is true,” you say back, and his hand gripped your waist tighter now, “but what about my schooling?”

“you can transfer, can’t you?” he asked casually.

“…well, yeah.” you say with a small chuckle. you were surprised he wasn’t opposed to such a reckless decision, he was usually the rational one. “i just thought you wouldn’t be so…i dunno, okay with it, i guess.”

“don’t you know how much i love you, moonlight?”

moonlight.

that was his nickname for you. something about it was so saccharine, so sweet but so fitting at the same time. jonathan thought it suited you perfectly because you were his moonlight. beautiful but sensual. your love was magnetic and addictive - magical, almost. just like how the moon brought a sense of calm and comfort to many, you brought a sense of calm and comfort to jonathan.

“you know i love you just as much,” you say softly, intertwining your hands with his, “the most, actually.”

“impossible,” he scoffs playfully, "...let’s runaway. leave our lives behind.”

you smile sweetly at jonathan, a love drunk expression painted on your face - he was truly the only man you had eyes for. “and abandon our…hobbies?” you ask softly.

“i’m willing to leave it all behind,” he nods, “as long as it means i get to have forever with you.”

for a moment, you thought you were going to cry from his sentimental confession. you thought there must’ve been something in the air tonight, but he was also never short of showing you all his love and affection. you stared up at him speechlessly as tears welled in your eyes from the romantic moment shared between the two of you. just two lost souls tailor made for each other.

“moonlight,” he whispered, “you and me, forever.”

“you and i, forever.” you whisper back, and he kissed you softly.

after breaking apart from the kiss, the two of you head back to your shared apartment. neither of you slept that night, and jonathan took the following day off of work. together, you spent the next twenty four hours searching for a new home far, far away. next came the plane tickets, and suddenly, you had bags on top of bags stacked in the departure gate.

“i can’t believe you quit your job for this.” you laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder as the two of you lined up to board the plane. “and your…side hustle.”

“i have a new job waiting for me in florida,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head, “and you have your new university waiting for you.”

“this is true.”

the flight was uneventful, you fell asleep on him and he had awoken you when the plane landed. the following week went by in a blur, the two of you moved into your new beach front properly in key biscayne. only fifteen minutes away from miami, it was convenient for jonathan to get to his new job, and close for you to drive to your new university where you continued your studies.

he’d given up being scarecrow, and you’d given up being batgirl.

the two of you disappeared without a trace, and all that you left behind was a note on both your behalves saying you were leaving forever, and that you didn’t want to be found.

“this place is so beautiful. i’m so glad we’re out of gotham, i was getting sick of that city.” you say softly, crawling into bed wearing nothing but your lacy, silk slip.

jonathan opens his arms for you - an invitation to come cuddle, and you gladly accept. “i know,” he whispers, “it’s like paradise. but anywhere is paradise with you, moonlight.”

“you softie.” you giggle, as he started to pepper kisses down your neck, making you shiver.

“i love you,” he whispered against your neck, nipping softly at the delicate skin, “let me show you how much i love you.”

you agreed to it, feeling needier than ever. the warm, summer breeze blew through the half-open sliding door of your balcony. the night was young, and the waves crashed over the shoreline softly as the moon hanging high with the stars illuminated your dark bedroom. it was like something out a romance novel - secluded and romantic.

“moving here was the best decision i’ve ever made,” he said softly, slowly slipping the straps of your lace off of you, “i’d do anything for you - but i think you know that, don't you?”

“please, baby,” you whisper, letting him undress you sensually, “i’m forever yours. my heart is in your hands.”

“i think this is what heaven on earth feels like,” he decides, laying himself down between your legs as he slowly started to drag your matching, lacy panties down, “you’re my favourite.”

before you could spew out any more romantic, poetic nonsense, his face was buried between your legs. a soft gasp left your lips, and your back arched instantly as he licked a long, fat stripe up your folds. the only two sounds to be heard in that room was your wetness as he lapped up your soaking cunt, and the waves crashing onto the shore. two sides of the same coin, in an odd but beautiful way.

perhaps jonathan was right - this did feel like heaven on earth.

finally, no more hiding. no more pretending. no more double life. the night was yours, and you allowed it to take you over. for once, you could scream his name all you wanted into the darkness. you were letting him devour you the way you so desperately wanted him to every single time you’d see him prowling around the streets of gotham. every single time you had to pretend he was a stranger.

but jonathan wasn’t a stranger - he was yours.

the feeling of his tongue on your cunt, licking and nipping softly, caused you to moan out his name softly. he continued to leave teasing little kisses all over your soaking pussy, and when he ate you out like a starved man, your legs were starting to shake.

“oh my god,” you gasp, “i-i’m close.”

“you’re divine.” he mused against your cunt as he continued to eat you out skillfully, his tongue reaching all the right places.

all you could get out were breathless moans and cries before you were creaming on his face, and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, nipping, and kissing every part of your pretty pussy until you had to physically push his head away from your slick coated thighs and trembling legs.

“i could eat you out forever,” he sighs, looking down at you as he started to pull his plaid pyjama pants down, “you taste so sweet, like candy.”

you blush and roll your eyes playfully at his comment, trying to ignore the way it went straight to your head. he pushed you back onto the pillows of the bed softly, and lined his throbbing cock up with your slick folds. you both let out breathless moans when he bottomed out inside of you, and your hands reach up to his shoulders as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

the stretch was intoxicating, and it felt like his cock was made for your cunt. as the head of his cock continued to brush up against that spongy spot inside of you, your eyes started to roll back into your head from the immense pleasure your boyfriend was giving you right now. your plush walls clenched down on his veiny cock, and both of you were losing yourself in a mixture of moans and overwhelming pleasure.

"you feel brand new every time i fuck you," he said lowly, "jesus - fuck, you feel so good."

his praise had your cheeks burning, but it also had your toes curling and your dripping core clenching on him. as you attempted to look straight into his eyes, you found yourself getting lost in the pools of his icy blue irises. it was almost like he brought you clarity. actually, scratch that - he did bring you clarity.

"i'm, mm, a-already close," you moan as he looked down at you hungrily, "f-fuck, so deep."

he brought your legs up over his shoulder swiftly, pounding your cunt at a deeper angle now. you swore for a minute you were seeing stars as he plowed himself in and out of your slick walls, and you were starting to feel absolutely, positively cockdrunk.

"beautiful," he spoke lovingly, his tone both sweet and saccharine, "cum for me."

the band in your lower stomach snapped as he spoke so softly to you, and your pussy tightened up around his fat cock, causing him to groan at the feeling. your eyes rolled back once more as your legs were trembling over his shoulders, and his name was falling from your lips like you were worshipping him. you did worship him - he was your god.

"thaaaat's it," he groaned, "i need- fuck- i need to fill you up. i need to watch my cum drip out of your pretty pussy."

his words were starting to drive you insane. if you hadn't already lost touch with reality after that heart-stopping orgasm he just gave you, you sure were now.

"please f-fill me up, p-pleeeeease," you begged, whining towards the end of your sentence as your mind started to go blank with the way he was fucking your tight, soaking hole. "i love y-ou, jon-"

as he watched your face twist in pleasure, he couldn't believe how pretty you looked all fucked out from him. your staggered, broken, breathless pleas had his cock twitching. finally, as you told him you loved him, he couldn't hold himself back from filling you up any longer. he almost whispered as his cum spilled into you, painting your walls white as he let every last drop of his seed fill you.

his hips stilled, and your eyes fluttered open as the room went quiet. the only sounds to be heard was the heavy breathing coming from both of you. jonathan smiled sweetly at you, letting out a content sigh before pulling himself out of you gently. you winced slightly at the feeling, but he welcomed you with open arms as you snuggled into his embrace.

quietly, you listened to the splashing water on the shoreline outside of your balcony. the waves were calm today, and the night was warm. the palm trees that surrounded your small, secluded home on the beach brought a sense of tranquility. the both of you let the silence between the bliss linger for a moment longer before jonathan spoke up softly.

"i love you, moonlight." he whispered softly, playing with your hair.

truth be told, jonathan didn't think he could fall any deeper for you than he already had. he just couldn't stop; everything about you made the usually reserved and rather cold ex-con turn soft. you were his night sky, stars, planets and everything in between.

jonathan never knew that he could have moonlight in his hands - until the night he held you.

my taglist (join here!): @galactict3a @xanaxiii @seaamonster @nocturnest @pennybee22

@bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet

@dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things

@ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer @aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[dimepdf]

★  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊. + 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. with Ethan being the poor loser virgin that he was, the boy just couldn't help but have some weird fantasies about you taking his virginity.

─── ☆ notes. new pathetic whiny man to obsess over added to the list, i haven't even seen the full movie yet which is why this is more fantasy au instead of anything related to the canon plot . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.3k (10 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | succubus!reader | virgin!sub!ethan | dub-con(?) | wet dream | slight sub/dom undertones | corruption kink | pet names | fangs | horns | and a tail! | black coded | heavy petting | oral sex (m) | throat fucking | handjobs | body worship | monster fucking | praise kink(?) | clothed sex | not beta'd look away if you find a typo | title inspired by this song by Kali Uchis

Ethan had the skill of using his thoughts to escape the comforts of his own made-up reality, more commonly known as daydreaming.

He would find himself slouched against any surface, lost in his own dazed thoughts, making up little scenarios that would often leak into his dreams.

Maybe that was why Ethan had liked sleeping so much, mastering the skill of falling asleep every time he would crawl into bed and let his head lay against his pillow.

Just to get back to his fantasy world, he knew that in no actual reality would he find you sitting on his lap.

In real life, you were just friends; having met Ethan through the same group of friends, the feelings that he had for you only seemed to fester more and more, overflowing like a bubbling pot.

He was too nervous to even make eye contact with you, yet here you were, the main character starring in all his fantasies.

well, not the totally normal human version of you, but some sort of demon version at least. Your brown ebony skin, now a dark red, as your eyes glowed a misty light orange, and you had to protrude two small dark horns coming from your temple.

Smothered under your weight resting down, you straddled his hips as your arms steadied yourself with your hands against his chest.

It took Ethan a few blinks to realize the reason he had been panting for air as if he had been taking his last breath. Being covered in a thin layer of sweat, which almost melted into the bedsheets from how on fire his body had felt with the spark of pleasure that had flooded through his system all at once. 

The dream had felt so realistic—the thump of his heart in his ears, how soft your abnormal skin had felt against the rough pads of his fingers, almost massaging your pelvis as you slowly rolled your hips against his erection. 

Ethan felt like he was dying. That had to be the only way to explain why he felt like every section of his body was burning from the inside, like something inside of him was building up to burst out at any second, as if your touch was coaxing something to escape from his pitiful little body.

In addition to your demon-like features, the clothes you wore were normal in the theme of your usual set of clothes, but just below the sag of your gym shorts peeked a lewd mark of some sort of unidentifiable symbol of some sort that seemed to shine the same color as your eyes.

The symbol on your skin matching one had been embodied into his skin in the same place, just above his happy trail. 

the way that they had beamed brighter together in sync, almost like the two were intertwined in the appearance that something was flowing through you, and whatever it was had to be the reason he felt the way he did.

Your eyes had caught his graze, another hammer of his heart beating rapidly against his chest as his tongue dragged over the bottom of his lip by nervous habit.

Your gaze held something completely different, other than the obvious change in appearance.

It was the glint in the way your eyes seemed so alluring that had his hips stuttering to bring some sort of relief to the throbbing problem in his sweatpants. 

You leaned in closer, the peek of your breast exposed from the low cut of your loose shirt, making him swallow thickly under your stare. A sharp smile had spread across your lips. 

Ethan should have found it worrying. 

Alarms should have been ringing in his head, telling him how weird his virgin subconscious was forming some type of freaky monster sex fantasy about his crush. 

But there was a bigger part of him that refused to think about anything other than wanting to bury his cock inside of you.

He had almost felt drunk on this new strange feeling, his lips parting and him panting as your foreheads touched, "Awe, you're burning up, Ethan." 

Just the mere sound of your voice had his hip lifting from the mattress, your tone going straight to his dick.

"It…feels weird…" He had finally managed to stutter from his mouth, he wasn’t in agonizing pain, but the amount of discomfort he had from you teasing his rock hard erection was enough to bring him to tears. 

He shuffled under your weight to ease the deep, boiling feeling coiling in his lower stomach. "I know, baby, I know, I'm gonna make it all go away, okay?" A whine pulled from his throat from the reassurance, the brush of your hands against his cheek. 

Watching your lips form with every word, thinking about how much he had wanted your mouth around his cock, the small embrace had him aching all over for you.

"Please," Ethan begged, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. "Touch me, please." 

A sigh of relief sounds from his lips as your hand trails down his torso straight towards his erection, reaching below the elastic of his briefs and freeing him, greeting the thigh clenching sight of his veiny hilt.

Sitting between his legs, you could feel the tenseness of his leg muscles twitch as you lean down to press a wet kiss against his puffy tip, Ethan shivering at the sight of your tongue poking from your mouth and stealing a taste of the precum that coated your lips as if you were first taking a sample.

His heart started to thump against his chest, the beat of his heart ringing through his ears. 

A pained whine tugged from his throat as his hips arched once your mouth had finally engulfed the head of his cock, and he was keen at the feeling of your warm tongue tracing down along the underside of his veiny length all while you never broke eye contact with him.

“S–shit,” The hum of your mouth around him had him stretching out his arms for a fistful of the blanket. 

A whimper parted from his lips once your hands guided his to the back of your head, letting him ground himself with a fistful of your hair.

His hips thrusting up from the mattress seemed to be on their own, fucking your throat, trying to chase the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that came from the rawness of fucking the back of your throat.

But then there was a pause, with Ethan coming to a trembling halt, his chest rising and falling from his panting breath. "Um, can—is it okay if I do it inside?" His voice was small and filled with concern as if his cock was already down your throat.

Your lashes fluttered from processing the question. The small bob of your head and the way you continued to take him all the way were more than enough confirmation to have Ethan go back to rolling his hips into your mouth.

With one more buck of his hips, holding down your head with one harsh thrust, it was all the warning you could get for Ethan’s abrupt orgasm as he came down your throat. 

It took a moment for clarity to finally kick in. Ethan’s hands stopped moving from your hair to gently caress your face with an adored look plastered all over his blown pupils and his face flushed a tint of pink.

"I—I think I'm in love with you," he whispers as he watches you crawl up his chest, settling just below his still erect dick.

Ethan shivered at the sigh of your sharp fangs poking from your gums and the stretch of your gleeful smile as your tongue dragged over the sharp canines before leaning in close enough to press a trail of kisses up his neck. 

"Wanna put it in me now?" Your question being the only thing to knock around in his head and having your mouth so close to his ear so erotically.

Ethan actually whined at the abruptness enough to knock him out of whatever bliss he had felt just seconds ago, his eyes shooting up and sitting up with an uncomfortable groan.

The wet mess in his underwear as he peered from under his blankets at his morning issues.

🔖 ...

tap here to be added to taglist.

[carnalactivities]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : a lot :P

[ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬. ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : innocent y/n x priest Ransom Drysdale

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Ransom helps a young choir girl fulfill God's will.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Non/dubcon, religious themes, age gap, fingering, vaginal sex, virginity loss, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, corruption kink, manipulation, explicit language, slight dd/lg (mostly just dd), degrading, smut, 18+.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Do not copy, translate, or repost my work as your own. this book does contain dark themes. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you. i have had this plot for awhile and literally froze when i realized Ransom embodied this role. i took my time and care for this work. i know tis’ is long but please bare with me. since it is my first posted work, i wanted to make it count. all love and light ~ always, always, always ~ A

"He hath come to the bosom of His beloved.

Smiling on him, He beareth him to highest heav'n."

The youths choir singing echoed throughout the church. Not a corner free from their angelic tones. Though the choir ranged from ages, the difference of genders were noted by the boys standing tall in the back and the girls in the front. All of their faces were recognizable to him now, since he was present for most of their rehearsals before every Sunday, but your face had always stood out to him from the beginning. Even now you outshined the rest of your peers- by both voice and presence.

But even still Ransom watched you from the corner of the chapel, hidden in the shadows. Yes, he did appear every now and then during their rehearsals for appraisal or even just the view, which was always you. But when he watched you perform, he didn’t want to constantly be observing the other pupils as well. He wanted only to watch you and this dark archway was perfect for that.

Most nights he lay in his bed, trying to push out the thoughts of everything his life lacked now. Everything he had before, he quickly realized how much he had taken for granted during his first night in that dim and barely furnished apartment. To consider it a home would be charity in itself, but he couldn’t afford much more. He had lost everything when he came here a few months ago.

He came here on the run, wanted for murder though he wasn't responsible for it. It was an accident. A mistake.

Sometimes his brain got so clouded and he got aggressive. He always seemed to lose himself in those moments but he never mean't for Jonie to fall like she had. He remembered standing over her body, realizing what he had done. There was no mistaking the empty look in her eyes.

So he ran.

There was no time for alibis, he had a mile long trail of proof behind him, so he outsmarted them. His family all knew his patterns and lifestyle, and it didn’t make it any easier that they all probably would’ve gladly sent him behind bars. So he went to the last place any of them would’ve suspected: to church.

Tricking the deacons was a lot easier than he had thought. He figured they would've wanted some sort of resume, but they were so desperate for a new father that they were putting a robe on him that day.

Becoming a preacher was more work than he had signed up for though. He had to prepare a weekly sermon, bless the sick, baptize sinful, visit the poor, help the elderly- the list seemed to be never ending. Not even to mention he was paid a set salary, a percentage already taken out to help provide not only for the church but also for the poor and elderly. And on top of all the things he had to add to his life, there was about ten fold of things he had to remove : sex, language, drugs, alcohol....sex.

It was humiliating that a man of his stature had resorted to his right hand. He hadn’t used his own hand to finish since he was 16. Once he lost his virginity, and experienced real pleasure? There was no need to go back to such desperate measures. But here in this small town, there was no slew of women ready at his feet and word seemed to travel fast. He learned that when he had walked into the chapel and the whole congregation was waiting for him with open arms once they heard of their new pastor. He couldn’t risk his position now because of a few(most) horny nights.

But when he met the choir that day as well and your face eagerly peered up at him? It was a shimmer of light in his very dark tunnel.

He let his thoughts wander to you some nights and it helped him cope. How your voice rang higher than the rest of the choir. How your face scrunched in concentration when you sang. How sometimes when you would sing a solo or a particular high note your eyes would open and your cheeks would flush with embarrassment as if you weren’t stealing the breath out of everyone watching. How Ransom was sure you made the exact same face when you came as he fisted his cock at night.

Because though Random didn’t know your name, he had watched you long enough to actually know you.

You didn’t like the spotlight. You would much rather be apart or even behind the crowd rather than in the center-but never a follower either.

You were quiet, observant. When the director gave criticism you took it eagerly, always seeking to please. To improve.

You were never late, either. Never missed a practice session. You never complained neither. Not when rehearsals ran long or if the director was particularly impatient some days.

And all of these qualities came wrapped up in a cute lil’ innocent body. Because though Ransom noted these things about you, and saw the potential for his own personal use, it was initially your body that he had noted.

Your presence so delicate and naive. When his eyes had met yours for the first time, your smile had that perfect pleasing tilt. But your eyes had that glint in them. Knowing. Teasing. Practically speaking to him.

Take me.

Fuck me.

Break me.

And he wanted to. Right then and there. Even in front of your parents. But he just shook your hand and introduced himself. And because he was so occupied with how your hand felt in his, he had completely missed your name.

He regretted it that was for sure. He racked and racked his brain. Even tried to picture names just as perfect as you, but none fit. For months he wanted to rectify that. He needed a name for his little girl but he had yet to find it. But today he planned to change that.

Just your name, that was all he needed. And as Random stepped out of his alcove and headed past the pews towards the foyer door casually, he knew today was going to be that day.

“A little off key, altos but! I am highly impressed with how all of you have gracefully learned this song. I know when ya’ll are prepared, the congregation will love this hymn!” The choir directors voice called behind Ransom as he reached the last pew. He heard the movement of feet and knew the choir was already descending off of the stage towards where their belongings lay strewn in the front pews.

“Alright, great work today you guys! Remember to rehearse and memorize this Sunday’s hymns at least once this weekend. I will see you all Sunday at 9:00!” As the director finished speaking to his students, Ransom turned and tucked his hands into his pockets in a casual stance next to the opening of the foyer. The church opened before him and he watched as all the choir readied themselves to leave for the evening.

The students were quick to pull off their robes and stuff them in their bags that they brought, all chattering with each other. Some were already heading towards the entrance of the building, either with each other or alone but all still moving with quick steps. As they neared Ransom and passed him, a forced smile took over his lips and he gave words of encouragement and thanks to the choir as they passed him. Some responded, some simply just smiled in response to him but Random couldn’t have cared less.

His gaze kept returning to you, still at the front of the pews, carefully hanging your robe on a hanger and placing it in a bag you had brought with you. You weren’t in a hurry like the rest of the choir. Well not enough to crumple your robe in the process. Ransom loved that. You were patient. Sure minded. Never mind that you were the last one left, no, you would take your time.

Ransom watched as two kids, giggling and running down the center aisle, approached him. One chasing the other but as they headed straight for Ransom and the exit he heard your voice call out softly.

“Please don’t run in the building guys!” It was soft, silky, heaven to his ears. Sounding just like when you sing, and Ransom had to stop himself from letting a possessive growl escape his throat. He wanted to hear your words directed at him and even though he was craving your attention more than ever, he couldn’t help but note your words.

You had wanted those kids to listen to you, but you didn’t command them. You had barely even lifted your voice, you weren’t used to speaking above others. Ransom took it for what he knew it to be: you didn’t want to be the one to order others, you needed to be ordered yourself. Mentally Ransom checked off another box that you filled and he couldn’t help but think you were made for him.

You approached Ransom down the aisle and his hands curled into fists in his pockets as he took in your outfit.

You were wearing a form fitted top: a similar one he would wear when he worked out except he always opted for black whereas you wore white. And you paired it with a matching white tennis skirt. The skirt only reached down mid thigh and all that leg was going to be his downfall. Ransom noted your tennis shoes and socks that were also white and if he believed in angels- this was as close as he was ever going to get to one.

“I apologize for the kids running.” You smiled up at him, your eyebrows down in apology and your lips only slightly tilted up.

“Don’t be.” Ransom quickly responded. He forgot about his thoughts just heartbeats before and focused his attention solely on you for right now. “It’s not like it is your fault, right? Plus, I like to think of our church as a home. Though reverence is due, I enjoy to see when our members are relaxed as well.” His imsuchaforgivingandcomfortingmanbecauseimaholypriest attitude had always come naturally to Ransom since it was everything he was not.

“I love that.” Your eyes lit up as you clutched your robe to your chest as it rested over your arm. Though quickly your eyes lost the light in them as you seemed to remember something. Your smile slowly fell as well and your attention turned to your shoes below you.

Ransoms eyebrows scrunched and he couldn’t help but reach for you. His hand caught the bottom of your chin and he eased your face back up to meet his eyes again. Though portraying the perfect appearance of worry, Ransoms was fighting to urge to lift his thumb higher and catch your bottom lip. Maybe even to just cup your face. Anything, anything, to have more contact with you.

“What is it?” He asked you softly.

“I…” Your voice was so soft and hesitant. “I need to speak with you.”

Ransoms eyebrows lifted in surprise, that was certainly not what he figured you would say.

“Well i’m right here. You’re welcome to say whatever you need to.” Princess.

You turned your head, Ransoms hand falling from your chin, your eye line aimed at the choir director still at the pulpit.

“I was hoping it could be a private conversation.” You whispered and Ransom had to still his features as to not give off too much of what was running through his head from your words.

You wanted to get Ransom alone.

Ransom wasn’t so much delusional, he recognized when even his thoughts could take things too far. But here you were, wanting to be alone with him. You must’ve taken notice to him just as much as he had been watching and dreaming of you.

With a casual ease, Ransom smiled at you comfortably and nodded. “My office is just in the back. We’re welcome to speak there and no one will overhear.”

You nodded shyly in response. Your gaze averting his as you took your bottom lip in your mouth nervously.

You were nervous.

So, you had always had a craving for him just as he had wanted you. This must’ve been what a blessing was that he had always heard the members speaking on.

He let his hand fall to your lower back as he headed towards the hall that led to his office in the back. Gently he pushed you to follow beside him and he noted how you lowered your head and your steps blindly followed his.

Of course a pretty thing like you would be nervous, but you almost seemed ashamed. Ransom could handle nerves but ashamed? No. You should be honored. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. But then again, Ransom never really went for the plastic surgery and egotistical women. He always preferred the shy and inexperienced type. He always found more pleasure in taking firsts. Even after the night was finished Ransom always walked away knowing that the women he was with never would experience better than him and that was a bigger turn on for him than their pleading for more. Soon you would know. You would even plead. He would make sure of it.

As they passed the pews, Ransom caught sight of the choir director moving the lectern back into place in the center of the pulpit.

“We’re going to a chat in my office, Roy. Go ahead and head out when you’re done. I’ll lock up on our way out.” Ransom spoke to the man. He smiled in agreement in reply. “Of course, Father. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Ransom nodded and then headed into the hallway, just passing his spot from moments before.

In silence Ransom led you down the hallway. He had to calm himself every few breaths, restraining from the eagerness that overtook him. Ransom never got eager, especially not in moments where, though unspoken, both parties knew what was about to commence. But months of abstinence had made him impatient. He hadn’t let himself indulge in any past actions, but you never pass up a free dinner. Even Ransom knew that.

Opening the door for you he led you inside. “Go ahead and take a seat.” He cooly told you as he shut the door and made his way around the desk that your chair faced.

Ransom spent many days and nights in this office. He figured it better than his soulless apartment. Though full book shelves lined the wall and a computer sat at his desk 90 degree angled desk, he had barely touched any of the objects. Including the bible sitting idle on the desk corner. The only thing that showed his presence in this room was his coat hung in the corner and the name plate given to him a few weeks after accepting the job. Besides that, he got all of his sermons online and used his common sense for his role. His only use for this room was the occasional bible study or just simple mental escape. It wasn’t much, but his time alone helped.

As Ransom sat in his own office chair, he grinned at you. He was ready to quit the bullshitting and feel every inch of you and now that you both were alone, his dick was slowly starting to harden at the thought itself. God, he was desperate for you.

���Talk to me, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue before he realized it. For comfort or seduction- whatever you wanted to take it as- he didn’t care. Now that you two were alone, he wasn’t putting on a front anymore.

Your pretty little eyes roamed the room. Never going high enough to meet his own but quickly moving, just like whatever thoughts were spinning in the small head of yours. Ransom calmly licked his lips and couldn’t stop himself from slightly leaning forward and resting his clasped hands on his desk. Whatever words left your mouth next, he was gonna love.

“I…” A flush rose on your cheeks and you stopped yourself for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip. “I-I have a confession to make.”

Oh, you couldn’t even look at him as you said that. Your eyes had scrunched just to get those few words out.

“So, confess.” It came out more impatiently than he intended but he couldn’t help it. He was already imagining what your carnal sin was. That you had lusted after him. That at night you couldn’t help but imagine him there with you, feeding into all your desires and more. Probably fucking yourself dry with your fingers, just trying to curve the craving of his cock in you. Maybe even riding a pillow, desperate for friction on your small bud.

“I let jealousy consume me…”

That was definitely not what he was expecting.

His reaction was nearly physical. It felt like a slap in the face and pressed pause on all of his fantasies of you.

You came to him because you got a little envious of someone? That was your big confession. No, that wouldn’t do. All your doe eyes and coy smiles and now you finally sat in front of him, alone, all because you got fucking jealous. What?

He couldn’t mask the confusion on his face as he repeated your statement. “You got..jealous?”

“Yes, well. I mean…I did but it wasn’t only that.” You were talking so quietly now. Your hands nervously fidgeting with each other as you stammered out your words. Your eyes cast downward in shame.

“I let it affect me and my relationship with others. One day I came home and was short and said angry words to my mom. I ditched my friends in the mall last week because they practically called me crazy and just overa-“

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Ransom chuckled and shook his head, holding his hand up to pause you. “I guess i’m just confused because…well, what does a pretty thing like you have to be jealous about?” He tried to mask his irritation with a charming smile but it was half hearted and clearly forced.

Ignoring his compliment you cocked your head and went back to staring at your hands as you continued on with your explanation.

“There’s this boy that i’ve liked forever,”

“A boy?” His voice proceeded to get more agitated as he cut you off again. Ransom brought you to his office because he thought he was going to be able to bend you over his desk. Now you were plowing through his plans because you had a schoolgirl crush on some post-puberty prick?

“Yes, his name is Timothy. You probably,”

“Look at me when you’re speaking.” The command came out fast and the shortness of it even shocked Ransom. He was losing his composure much quicker than he realized.

He could’ve sworn he heard you squeak in surprise but immediately your eyes were on his and you didn’t combat his harsh tone. Clearing your throat you continued, your eyes never leaving Ransoms again.

“Timothy is on the choir as well. He sings tenor. We both grew up here together. Even playing tennis together, sometimes practicing with each other in our free time. For years i’ve had a crush on him and didn’t help that our families were close as well, so I see him pretty regularly. But then a few Sundays ago, he brought another girl to church with him. I guess they met somewhere on campus. N’ ever since then, Timothy has just been solely focused on her. And I just…I can’t help but be jealous of her. She is where I have wanted to be for years and I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Ransom tried to make sense of your strewn together thoughts. So what if your little boy crush found his own snatch? You were the prettiest little package just waiting to be opened. Ransom had never been selfless, he was aware, but he knew he couldn’t let you leave this room until you knew that you were deserving of so much more than that bare chested twig.

Licking his lips subconsciously, Ransom knew just how to convince you of it.

“Baby, you got nothing to be jealous of.” He enunciated his words with a casual cock of his head. Your cheeks heated and he grinned at your helpless reaction.

“She’s blonde and tall. She looks like a model!”

“Honey, I guarantee, whatever she’s offering him- you can offer better.”

“Well, no. It’s not like that for me. If Timothy likes her then I want him to be happy. I don’t think I can do anything better- I don’t want to.” Your words came out in a plea of defense and he just about groaned at your innocence. You were so fast to defend others, you would run yourself into a hole. You were so perfect, so clean- wanting nothing more than to do right by others. He needed to show you just how much you were worth.

“But you already have.” Ransoms statement clearly caught you off guard as you blanched back an inch. Confusion marred your face and Ransom took advantage of this moment to stand slowly, his eyes never leaving the prize in front of him.

“Here you are whining about this boy that broke your heart, but honey you have a man right in front of you.”

Your mouth formed into a perfect o and Ransom immediately wanted to see it filled. With trained poise though, he eased slowly around the desk and neared you.

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying, father.” Your eyes still didn’t leave his own as he approached you and he mentally reminded himself to praise you for that later.

“Baby, you offer so much more than you realize. He may not have noticed that, but I have. I’ve watched you for a while now and I know just how precious you are. A real man would never waste an opportunity with you. Lemme’ show you, honey.” He let his hand trace the side of your face as he spoke. Ransoms pointer finger catching a lock of your hair between his thumb and he let it ride between his fingers as they snaked downwards before he finally cupped your cheek.

“I…” You were speechless at his confession and finally your eyes left Ransoms. “Father, I”

A groan left his mouth so softly but he knew you heard it from your frozen features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just love when you call me that.” He rubbed coaxing circles into your cheek to ease his action, but having you wide eyed and below him because of the white collar he wore was turning him on more than he usually got. “Continue, honey. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

You peered up at Ransom in stunned silence and he watched as you nervously swallowed.

“I don’t think this is appropriate, Father.”

You said it so quietly but there was no sureness in your statement and Ransom knew he had you.

“Isn’t it? God brought you to me, baby. He knew what I needed and here you are.”

“Well, maybe but..but we shouldn’t let ourselves take our own preferences to what is before us. It could lead us to sin.” He tsk’ed at your response.

“You let me say what is sin or not. I’m the priest, remember?” You nodded in response and Ransoms smile was approving.

“I know how i’ve felt about you from the moment we met. Now, I know we’ve spent little time together but I know you’ve felt it too, princess. N’ I can bet there’s some proof of it coated on your panties, huh?”

Your response was a shake of your head. You tried to move your head out of Ransoms clutch but he was quick to wrap his hand in your hair at the bass of your neck, keeping you still.

“Lust shouldn’t cloud us.” You whimpered out to him.

“It’s not lust if we were destined for each other. I know this was in Gods plan to bring you to me.”

“Satan can tempt you-.” Ransom didn’t like your response and jerked your head forward.

“Nothing is tempting me. There’s temptation and there’s knowing. I know what I can do for you. I know that you can please me. Don’t you wanna please your father, baby?” Ransom was growing impatient with your protests. He needed you weeks ago and he wasn’t about to let this perfect moment slip from his grasp.

“We’re not husband and wife. We can’t.” You were whispering now. Your silent pleas laced your words but Ransom wasn’t going to let you go and resort to another night with his hand.

“God sent us to each other. He knew I needed you and He knew you needed a real man like me. So what does it matter if we wait until after a piece of parchment is signed. It’s all apart of the plan, honey.”

You nervously chewed on your lip in silence. Your brows were down in worry but he saw his words work its way into understanding behind your eyes.

“But we will be married then?” The question was hesitant. Your final resort and protest to your priest. Ransom just smiled in response, his grip on your hair turning gentler.

“Lord willing.” He stated.

Two, three, maybe four heartbeats passed before your chin dipped. It was barely a nod, but Ransom took it.

“Stand.” He demanded and you immediately listened. Fear or obedience, Ransom didn’t care what fueled your actions-just that you had obeyed.

Without releasing you, he swept the objects off his desk in one quick motion with his free arm. You gasped in shock but he didn’t care. His hands grabbed your waste and he planted you firmly on his desk in front of him.

You were right where he wanted you now. His for the taking, the breaking, and there were no more protests from your pretty full lips as you spread your legs so his hips could hit between them.

“Over here speaking about temptations, when you wore this teasing- skimpy outfit.” Pure want laced Ransoms voice as his hands traveled down your thighs. They met the edge of your skirt and he couldn’t help but slip them underneath, running his hands higher up your bare thigh.

“I-I had tennis practice before rehearsal. It ran longer than usual. I didn’t have time to-.”

“Shut up.” Ransom didn’t want to hear any more of your ramblings. He only wanted you.

In a rush of excitement, with less restraint than he usually practiced, he leaned forward and pushed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was hungry and demanding as your mouths slid together. You fought to keep up but it was impossible with Ransoms hunger.

His cock was already straining against the front of his slacks and his desperation got the better of him as he gripped the top of your thighs aggressively. You let out a whimper in protest to the pain and Ransom seized that moment to slip his tongue into your open mouth.

You tasted of peaches and mint and damn it, Ransom couldn’t remember when he had tasted of anything better. His tongue moved expertly around yours, catching a fast rhythm but yours was wild and inexperienced. Had you even been kissed before? Maybe, but properly like this, probably not. Being a girls first and knowing they wouldn’t have better was a huge turn on for Ransom, but even with a kiss? Ransom wasn’t sure he would be able to handle himself slowly when it came time for him to fully take your innocence.

The thought alone forced a growl up his throat. His hand left your thigh simultaneously, cupping your chin aggressively. Pulling your suction on each other apart, he watched as your eyes slowly fluttered open.

Your pupils were blown, lips swollen from barely being kissed, and your cheek was flushed beyond measure. You were the perfect picture of innocence and Ransom needed to contain himself. He was so fucking turned on that his mind kept skipping 3 steps ahead and there was so much pre-cum coating the front of his boxers from you. But that wouldn’t do. No, he needed to make sure you fit him and if Ransoms anticipation kept growing he would actually end up breaking you, but he was tired of kissing you now. He just wanted to feel how tight he knew you were.

“Lay down.” He commanded you in a husky impatient voice.

Immediately your back was pressed against the table and your head was angled so that your eyes were still on him. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You were perfect.

Ransom let his hand release the hold on your face and slowly draw down your neck and fall in the middle of your chest. In reaction you gasped, your back arching off the desk slightly. But the movement had brushed your cunt with the front of Ransoms slacks and he knew you both had felt it when your eyes widened.

“My baby’s so eager, she’s rubbing herself on my clothed cock.” Ransoms body was out of his control now as his hand gripped your thigh and his hips rolled to firmly rub your clothed crotches together. Your whimper and response at his phrasing could’ve been enough to make him bust in his pants. He had just jerked off last night-what was wrong with him?

Letting Ransoms hips roll and press into you, he quickly made work of pulling your shirt off of you. Once he caught sight of how you looked laying in front of him without your shirt- he was on autopilot. In a frenzy your bra was next, Ransom only stopping for a moment to give one good squeeze to your tits and huskily saying:

“Baby, you fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.”

Before he was moving to the rest of you. Shoes, socks, and finally he was ripping your skirt down your legs before he stilled. Taking in the sight of you lying on his own desk, he was rendered speechless. This was perfection in itself, like his own fantasy coming alive- here. Naked except for your underwear. Your face already looked so fucked out and he had barely touched you!

You didn’t like his stillness and immovable gaze as Ransom watched you. You whimpered at him and your hips raised slightly as you were desperate to get back the contact you lost from him.

“Father..please. I need you, back.” You whimpered at him and Ransom groaned in response. He knew he would eventually have you pleading for him, but you were still innocent and shy. He didn’t think you would’ve used your words that quickly.

In answer Ransom let his hand cup your calf and slowly draw up your leg. You gasped in response. Your hands clutched the edge of the desk and your head fell backwards as the response of skin contact with you.

As Ransoms hand got higher and closer to the last clothed piece of you, you were impatiently writhing on the desk. A whimpering mess as his hand got nearer to your mound.

As Ransoms hand got just centimeters away, he pulled back and clutched your thigh instead. You whined in protest but he couldn’t give two shits what you wanted. Despite the constant throbbing in his pants, he suddenly had all the patience in the world.

“Tell me, princess. How often do you touch yourself?” He grinned wickedly down at you. You raised your head to look up at him, your body stilling. There was shock written on your face from his words.

“I-never, father! I promise!” Your words were begging of belief but Ransom knew better. Nothing was ever pure and certainly not a pretty thing like you.

“Don’t lie.” He grasped your thighs harshly and gritted his teeth at you. “I asked a question, now answer. Honestly this time.”

Worry took over your features and you shook your head at him. “I promise, i’ve never touched myself down there. Not like that.” Despite Ransom wanting to believe differently, he knew you were telling the truth. Holy shit. There was no way the universe let him get this lucky.

“Then what is the reason for these pretty lil’ panties, huh?” Your undies were pink with a white trim. Bikini cut and a little bow took place on the top hem.

“I just like them, that’s all.” Of course something as innocent as you would naively pick something that would have every guy on his knees at the sight.

“Well you’re ruining ‘em, baby. They’re all soaked in the front.” His index finger ran over the darker shade on your panties and he groaned as he properly felt how wet you were. Your body was craving and calling for him and to think moments before you were trying to tell him no.

You whined and bucked your hips at his contact and he pushed your hips down in protest.

“Sit still.” He commanded you and with a whine you obliged. Little pants left your mouth instead and he watched as your bottom lip slid between your teeth as he pressed harder on your cunt. Snapping your eyes shut, you jerked your head away but couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving your mouth.

So fucking reactive.

Ransom let his finger softly trail around on your undies, teasing and taunting you. He wanted more from you. He wanted to see your control slip. Finally, he let his thumb press into your clit and rub a slight circle.

Obeying Ransoms command to not move, you tried to keep your hips frozen but couldn’t help it as your back arched. Your grip on the desk tightened and a helpless sound left your throat as a spark ignited up your spine from his thumb.

You had never felt anything like this. Your whole body felt Ransoms one touch and you felt like you were vibrating. You needed more. More of him, of his touch-just more. The craving of friction between your legs was so strong and you wanted to close your legs so bad but restrained from fear of Ransoms reaction. But he was teasing you. His kiss was pure fire and lacked restraint, but now he was still. Every one of his moves intentional. Maybe if you asked he would oblige you, even though he hadn’t before.

“More, please, I need more.” Your eyes stared at his but he didn’t look up at you. He seemed to be in some sort of trance, his eyes seared wholly on his thumb as he gently nudged you. “Father…” You begged and finally he looked up.

Once his eyes met yours and he saw the eagerness in them, his resolve snapped. In a blink your panties were off and you lay bare before him.

You were so much more soaked than Ransom had realized. It was practically pouring out of your hole. He needed to fill you now.

Something between a groan and a growl left his mouth and he reached forward for you. Clutching the back of your neck he harshly sat you up. His other hand was already waiting and was quick to push past your surprised mouth.

“Suck.” You immediately took the two fingers around your tongue and obeyed, your wide eyes never leaving his.

Pulled his hand from your mouth, Ransom let it fall to its rightful place between your legs. Fuck him, you were dripping. Messily he smeared your wetness around on your cunt, “All of this for me, baby, and i’ve barely fucking touched you.” Your eyes flashed as you recognized his language but you didn’t do more than whimper at his assault on you.

In circles he rubbed your bud, abandoning the idea of two fingers and using his whole hand. You whimpered and panted as you looked up at him helplessly. Towering over you, he tightened his grip on the back of your neck and pushed you higher to meet him.

Just as your mouths met, he pushed one finger inside of you. Fucking hell, you were tight. Ransom didn’t think he had ever had a cunt this tight before. Not even mentioning the fact that it was untouched. He knew you were going to be the death of him.

You let out a low moan at his intrusion in you and he couldn’t help but let his need out by gripping the back of your head harder and his mouth moving against yours faster. As he moved his single digit inside of you, you let your head fall back and Ransom watched as your eyes fluttered shut. Tired of ordering you around but wanting your submission to him, he changed tactics.

“So fucking tight but you’re grinding on my hand like a bunny, baby. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t make you pure, honey. You’re a slut just like the rest of ‘em, huh?”

Because of his words or because he had slipped a second finger in you, harsh and quick, your eyes snapped open meeting his. Your jaw was slack but the only sound that left your lips was helpless moans and whimpers at his pace inside you. You shook your head no at Ransom but he only grinned in response.

“Really? ‘Cause i’m fucking you stupid with my fingers, haven’t even gotten my cock yet, and you can’t even form a sentence.” His tone was mocking and condescending and you couldn’t help but whimper. You shook your head at him harder in denial but with a curl of his fingers you were back to being subject to the onslaught of his fingers.

Ransom quickened his fingers rhythm and tried to add a scissor motion within you to help widen you out, but fuck. You were still sucking his fingers in just as much as his first one. Even if he had to tear you hole to hole, he was gonna make his cock fit. You would take him.

“Don’t fucking argue with me.” He seethed down at you and your response. You whimpered but Ransom gripped your neck harder, forcing your face up to his. “Your soaked cunt is sucking my fingers in like it just can’t get enough and only greedy whores act like that.” You whimpered but didn’t shake your head at his words this time.

“Admit you’re nothing but a greedy slut.” He ordered and you gaped up at him. At first your mouth opened and closed in shock but finally you swallowed and obeyed.

“I’m nothing but a greedy slut,” It left your lips so shamefully and was followed by a soft moan from the constant motion of his fingers and he growled. Fuck this, he wasn’t waiting any longer.

“Undo my pants.” He grunted out to you and his gaze dropped to his hand sinking into you. With fumbling fingers your hands met his belt and you quickly tried to undo it. It was haphazard and took you longer than you wanted but you blamed it on the two fingers inside you.

Once his belt was loose and his fly was down you looked back up at him expectantly. There was a glint in his eye as he licked him lips and focused back on you.

“Take my dick out.” Ransom watched as your throat bobbed nervously, your hands lacking less urgency as they moved to the waste-band of his slacks. With a slight push, his pants lay at his ankles and he stood before you in his black button down and boxers. “Take it out!” He ordered harsher this time and his fingers matched his cruel tone as they pressed harder inside you.

You moaned helplessly and obeyed. Pulling at his boxers until they slipped down his legs, you freed his dick. You didn’t want to look at him, at his most intimate body part, but your eyes couldn’t help but ogle.

Ransoms dick looked almost angry- all puffy, red, and dripping in need. But it was the length and size that made you gasp. He was big. Bigger than his fingers, big. You already felt so stretched from his two fingers alone, how were you ever going to take him? As if he could read your mind Ransom cut off your thoughts.

“I’ll make it fit. ‘N you’re gonna take every fucking inch.”

Like they were never there, his hands left your cunt and he mixed your juices with his as he stroked himself with the same hand he just had inside you.

You whimpered helplessly at his lack of contact on you again. Your body was alive, buzzing and burning, and you felt…close. Close to what- you weren’t sure but you knew you needed him back.

His hand dropped from around your neck and he pushed your chest until you lay back on the desk again. Nerves bundled up into your stomach as you saw him move himself closer to your mound. This seemed like a really bad idea.

Ransoms hand cupped your breast and squeezed as he tried to ease the tension building within him. He was stroking himself as he leaned forward and pressed the tip of him into your clit. You whined at the pressure, it was everything but not enough at the same time.

He moved his dick around on your cunt, groaning to himself at the sight. Your hips came up slightly as you sought for more pressure from Ransom and he obliged tapping quick, sharp slaps to your bud with his cock. This was about to be the best fuck of his life.

Finally, he lined himself up with your entrance. His hand pressing down on your pelvis to keep you still. His eyes flickered up to you for a split second and he cursed under his breath at the fear that was held in your eyes, as you should be.

With precision he rolled his hips forward and felt as just the tip slid inside you. You whimpered from below him and he couldn’t even blame you. He could feel all of you, wrapped around just that bit of him and he still had so much more to go.

With a little more pressure he pushed forward and immediately you gasped in protest.

“I can’t! It’s too much! Father, please!” You pleaded with Ransom and your eyes screwed shut at the pressure and pain at your hole. You weren’t ready, you were scared. He was too big.

“Shhhh…” Ransom shushed you and left your breast to cup your chin. “It’s okay. You just need to relax, baby.”

You shook your head at him. You couldn’t do it. But just when you thought it was already too much, Ransom pushed into you some more. A cry left your mouth and you moved to get away from him. Your hands came up in a flail, pushing at his shoulders and you tried to move your legs to gain leverage to push him off of you.

You couldn’t help the tear that left the corner of your eye as the pain sank down your legs. You wanted him off now, but Ransom was ignoring your resistance. He only held onto you harder as the pressure and pain became worse between your legs. In desperation you slapped at him and he growled angrily as he finally lifted his head to your attention.

“Stop fucking moving.” He ordered at you and released his hold on you to grab your moving arms. In a second, they were pinned at your sides, his breath heavy above you. “It’s only going to hurt worse if you don’t stop fucking moving. So when I tell you to relax-you fucking relax. Now stay the fuck still and take it.”

“But it’s too much!” You cried at him.

“Then fucking scream for all I care but stop moving.” He growled at you and you whimpered. Your breaths came up short as you tried to stop your crying but nothing helped. The pain didn’t fade, it only got worse as Ransom started to push forward again.

He wasn’t even in halfway and you were already a blubbering mess. ‘N fuck, he couldn’t seem to get any further. Your cunt was practically pushing him out but he wasn’t gonna fall for that.

In one stroke he pulled himself out and then gave a sharp thrust into you, your body heeding at his force and Ransom had to release your arms to catch himself on the desk. Fuck-he felt like he was about to cum. His thrust had worked, he was sitting in you almost to the hilt, but you were so damn tight around him he couldn’t move. How fucking pathetic of him if he got this far only to cum in one stroke.

Underneath Ransom though, you were not as happy. Your now free hands were gripping his biceps as you sobbed in pain underneath him. You felt him everywhere, was he in your stomach? He was so deep and you were so full but it didn’t feel good at all. It was nothing like the sharp tingles he was giving you earlier with his fingers-no it was pure pain and intrusion. Tears left your eyes and you mumbled incoherent pleads to Ransom to stop. You didn’t like this at all, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat inside you.

“Fuck, baby. Your cunt is gripping me like a vice. I don’t even feel like I can move, you’re holding me so tight.” Ransom lowered his forehead to rest on the desk above your shoulder.

Inch by inch he rolled his hips backwards easing out before slowly plunging back in until finally he sat fully inside you. You cried out loudly but it seemed to be drowned out by his loud groan. The movement burned and scraped your walls. Your nails dug into Ransoms shoulder as you tried to find some outlet for the pain but nothing was helping.

“Please, it hurts!” You tried one more time and you felt Ransoms breathe on your shoulder before you heard him chuckle.

Slowly he leaned back up above you, his eyes meeting yours again. His eyes held pleasure and mischief whereas you knew yours were full of tears and pain. How could be laughing at you, right now?

In a slow thrust he pulled out of you before pushing in again, harder this time. You cried out woefully as the pain bloomed again within you.

“Baby, nothing could stop me from fucking you right now. This is the best pussy i’ve ever been in and I would have to be fuckin’ crazy to give it up.” With his words he stood fully up again, seated in you.

He reached down and lifted your legs, locking them around his waist. Nervously you played with your hands again, unsure what to do with them now that they left his biceps. Ransom reached for them and lifted them above your head. He placed your grip on the edge of the desk you were lying on.

“You’re gonna need to hold on, princess.” His voice washed over you like water and you listened.

Your grip tightened on the edge as he pushed into you again. A whimper left your lips and you let your head fall back as you accepted your fate. Ransoms hands roamed your body greedily before he anchored them on your hips.

His thrusts were hard but measured as he started his slow rhythm inside you. He let his gaze wander from your pinched face to your tits. They bounced when his body found yours each time. He was in pure heaven. His cock wrapped by your tight cunt and the sight of you finally submitting to him.

He couldn’t help it as his hips started to roll into each thrust, desperate for contact with you. As he moved your eyes flew open and a gasp left your mouth.

“Fuck, I found that spot didn’t I?” He mocked you as he rocked and you whimpered in response. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as before and the feeling blooming in your stomach was better than just his fingers. Everything you were craving before seemed to be answered by his thrusts. As your body heated again, you felt that familiar buzz on your skin and you moaned helplessly as he started to pick up speed.

“Fucking milking my cock.” Ransom teethed out and you felt a sharp hold on your jaw.

“Open your fucking eyes.” You quickly obeyed and he pulled your face up, angling at the lewd act in front of you.

Blood coated the base of his dick and he let out a moan from the sight of your lost innocence.

You watched as he disappeared in you over and over again and moaned as each thrust hit home. Watching, as well as feeling him inside you, sent jolts across your skin.

“That’s right,” Ransom huskily said to you, seeing your reaction to him. “What would that prick Timothy think of you if he could see you being fucked, right now. Hm? That you’re a fucking whore? Being fucked by your pastor in the back of the church he attends every Sunday. Such a god damn slut.”

His words sunk deep and you tried to deny his proclamations but they only fueled the fire in you. He was so deep and you felt every single thrust. The buzz in your bones reached further and you helplessly tried to meet each of his thrusts. Your clit caught on his pelvis at each rock of his hips and you couldn’t stop the little noises that left your throat as the feeling within you reached a pinnacle.

Ransom felt your pussy spasm around him and he grunted at each thrust. Releasing your face, you fell limply back flat onto the desk and he rutted into you harder as he grabbed onto your waist again. He knew you were close and it was all but animalistic how he chased it for you. He wasn’t gonna let some wimp bastard steal your first orgasm. It was going to be him, all of your first were going to be with him and, fuck, that made his hips roll harder.

One moment you were present, the lewd claps and sucking sounds echoing through your head, and the next you were in the heavens. Your body arched off the desk as blood rushed into your ears and you barely heard as you cried out from the feeling that overtook your body. It was pure electricity. Running from your toes to your skull and you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want it to stop though. No, you wanted to live here. In this constant state of pleasure and stars. It was the best feeling you had ever experienced and it consumed you whole.

“Hol-ly shit!” Ransom shouted. Your cunt squeezed his length as you came and he knew he was right fucking there. You grasped him perfectly, every inch being swallowed by you and watching you come around him was all it took for him to find his own nut.

He fucked you through your shivers and spasms and you still whimpered underneath him as his thrusts became faster and irregular.

“Fuck, fuck-FUCK!” He grunted out as finally his orgasm overtook him. At his dicks first flex within you he fell on top of your still body. His hips still moving as his cum bursted out of him in quick ropes.

His own orgasm seemed to last for hours. His dick still twitching as he finally got the hearing in his ears back. Never in his life had he came that hard. Even when he was a virgin, pussy didn’t feel that good. Cumming didn’t feel that good. No, that was all you. Ransom gave you that credit.

You moved beneath the weight of Ransom, your breathing slowly starting to become normal again. You couldn’t help but let your hands fall onto his back, slowly feeling the muscles that were hidden beneath his shirt. Realization struck you as you both settled down from your highs.

You had just lost your virginity. Had sex before marriage. Let him curse and mock you as he took it from you and you couldn’t help but feel…content. You knew you should be regretting your actions. Shoving him off of you and leaving the room in a hurry, but you didn’t.

It was the priest who took it from you. He knew much more than you and you couldn’t help but feel pride that it had been with him you gave yourself to. Still worry pinched your stomach.

“Am I going to get pregnant?” You questioned. It was more of an inward thought but you had whispered it aloud to Ransom.

Fuck, he had forgotten a condom and of course you wouldn’t be on birth control. Never had he been so consumed by pussy that he let safety slip.

Ransom groaned as he pushed himself up on his forearms. He was rarely ever spent after sex. Maybe on very drunk nights he lazily passed out or even after multiple rounds but you had exhausted him just from that one cum alone. Looking down at you he took in your state. Your hair was a mess around your head and your cheeks were still flushed from being fucked. He had the urge to take you again but the urge to sleep was stronger.

“I’ll take care of it.” He responded. He didn’t really have it in his budget right now to pay for a fifty dollar pill but it was better than the thousands spent on a kid.

Pushing himself fully off of you and standing, Ransom eased out of you and you hissed in protest. Your walls were sore from the sex and he knew he had done his job properly. Hopefully you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a couple of days.

Tucking your elbows under you, you leaned up fully taking in the sight of you. Faint bruises laced your hips from his grasp and you gasped. Had he really been gripping you that hard?

Ransom moved to tuck his dick into his boxers as he pulled his pants up, quickly tightening his belt. He tossed you your under things and clothes and you stared at him in confusion. That’s it? So much had just happened and he was giving you your clothes like it was casual. This was not casual.

“But,” You moved to sit up as you quickly worked to cover your nude state. “we’re gonna be married right?”

Ransom turned to you. The question catching him off guard. No one had ever asked him such a wild question before and it brought reality back to him. He was a priest, you were his pupil, this could spread like wildfire and his whole position could be threatened. He didn’t want to stay here permanently but until things cooled down for him, it was his safest option. Marriage, on the other hand, was a little too permanent for his liking.

But as Ransom took in the sight of you, wincing as you stood and frantically trying to put on your undies, he was reminded just how perfect you were. You were easy and convenient. You had obeyed his every command without fail and none of his previous fucks had ever gotten him off like you had.

He smiled at you and moved to cup your face with his hands. Pulling you up to your toes he let his lips press into yours. So different from the previous times he had kissed you, he put meaning and care into this one.

“Baby, you were made for me. Of course we’re getting married.” You smiled at his response, leaning back into his lips.

But you missed the glint in his eye when he spoke. He wasn’t gonna marry you because it was the proper way for you to be treated. No, he was marrying you because there was no way in hell another man would ever touch you again. You were his. For whenever and wherever he pleased. An object for his pleasure, not yours.

Ransom released you and let you return to finish dressing. He desperately needed to shower off the sweat that had collected on his back and go to fucking bed. Your pussy had drained the life out of him but he couldn’t complain if every time he fucked you it left him this spent.

“I’m all sticky and wet. It’s uncomfortable.” You whined as you finished putting on your last shoe. You moved awkwardly as you stood. Your face scrunched at the feeling of cum running out of you. Ransom wished he would see it dripping out.

“Let it sit, baby. I want you to remember me for a little bit longer.” He grabbed hit coat off the rack and folded it over his arm.

“Can I tell my parents we’re engaged?” There was so much hope in your voice as you collected your belongings yourself.

“No, not yet.”

“But they’re gonna be thrilled by the news!” You eagerly looked up at him and he felt irritation climb his spine. Maybe a sweet cunt wasn’t worth this much annoyance. Youth was also an ignorant curse.

“Some people won’t understand us, princess. Won’t understand God joining us together. Just give it time and i’ll let you know when we can tell them. Together, hm?” He cupped your cheek and even appeased you with a kiss on the forehead. You still sighed in complaint as you both head towards the door, but stayed silent.

Ransom knew you would abide by his word and wouldn’t tell a soul. Maybe one day you would realize the fault in letting him command you, but it wasn’t today. ‘N he knew it wouldn’t be for a long while. He had you whipped good. Especially when your soreness passed and you were craving only what he gave you, you would come to him begging for more. Probably go down on your knees for him.

Blood rushed to his dick and the thought and he grinned to himself. It was only after he had flipped the light switch and closed the door behind ya’ll, sealing the memories of your actions in the room did he realize he didn’t even pick up the stuff from the floor that he hurriedly shoved off.

He didn’t even catch your name.

[violettaskies]

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

[liquidluckandstuff]

Drabble? oops

(Witch hunters torture Harry, Voldemort adopts Harry)

(Also this grew legs and i really just wanna write write this now? you know?)

Witch hunters were real.

They've hidden themselves well in the "real world" as they like to call it, though they have a healthy fear of wizards. They have long since abandoned any notion of eradicating the world of witches and wizards and have since focused their efforts to isolated cases.

Young muggle born children with wild magic who's parents think they are possessed, or children who are too disruptive for their parents to handle.

Used to be the hunters had "morals" but now they will take the money where it comes.

Thats how Vernon found them. For a large price, they promised to save his nephew from the corruption of magic. He knew better. Those who were saved by them never returned the same and that is what he was hoping for.

Harry wasn't a child anymore, but that didn't mean they weren't up to the case.

Vernon paid them extra to steal him away in the night. Cuffs with strange markings were locked on his wrists and upper arms that prevented him from accessing most of his magic, so he was helpless against them.

It was simple. They tortured him.

They beat him. Starved him. Locked him in a cell so small he couldn't even sit down. Harry was introduced to shock therapy and every time his magic reacted to defend him on instinct, they would shock him again until he was too tired physically, magically, and mentally to fight back.

They thought they had won, even Harry thought so for a time. Until deep into one of their whipping sessions, Harry started hallucinating Voldemort.

It had to be a hallucination, because he had never seen such a look of shock on the man's face before.

or fear.

The man did nothing to help him, just stared openly as Harry was whipped until blood ran down his back and he was begging for them to stop and asking for forgiveness for being such a burden to his relatives.

They called him their greatest success yet.

Harry went back to his relatives with deep burns from the cuffs on his arms and his cupboard now covered in the same strange markings that had bound his magic. The only magic Harry cast was hiding his new markings.

Living was torture.

Breathing was a chore.

Harry was too terrified to fight back when his relatives demanded more and more from him.

But his instincts never really died, that saving people thing of his.

He saved Dudley by casting magic and now he was in the second bedroom (his aunt was too scared that someone was watching them) clawing at his arms waiting for the punishment.

The order came to rescue him and soon he was standing in front of the ministry pleading his case to deaf ears until Dumbledore came to save him.

Why didn't he save him from the witch hunters?

Harry said nothing. He didn't talk about what really happened to him over the summer. Either they would call him a liar, call him weak for letting a muggle get the best of him, or at worse... they already knew and didn't care.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

Harry got a letter in the mail with nothing but a muggle newspaper clipping of an old reform school being burned to the ground with everyone inside. Harry recognized some of the victims. Why would someone do that?

Who knew what happened to him?

Who would do that for him?

Then, he was informed that his his last remaining relatives all perished in a house fire. Nothing of their bodies or home was left. Harry didn't even have to attend a funeral for them since there was no one liked them enough to organize one, and there was nothing to bury.

Harry knew who did it of course, but couldn't figure out why.

The question came of who would take care of the boy-who-lived.

The Weasleys eagerly put forth their name and so did the Malfoys hoping to impress their master.

But a third option appeared. A strangely familiar man , Thomas Gaunt, had proved his magical power, a long distance connection to the Potters, and enough money for the two of them to live modestly.

Of Course, Harry instantly knew it was Voldemort.

Harry was asked his opinion. "I love the Weasleys, and would like nothing more than to go live with them. I always begged to spend the summers with them, but have been denied due to my safety. And i'm giving that same reason now. They are not equipped to protect me for an entire summer. i would only be putting their family at risk. I know you don't believe Voldemort is back minister, but I do. Which is also why I refuse to go with the Malfoy's. I choose Thomas Gaunt."

The Weasleys were upset, clearly thinking Harry was put under some spell. But Harry, somewhat spitefully, reminded them that they had refused to take him in even when he begged again and again. They had a family to look after. To love and protect. And Harry was alone in the world.

Thomas Gaunt, Voldemort, took him away to a little house that surprised Harry with how comfortable it looked.

Before Harry even put his bags down, before he even began to delude himself that he wasn't about to die by Voldemort's hand, the dark lord took Harry's arms to look at his new scars.

He led him into the kitchen where he treated his wounds, and put new wrappings over them. Then, to Harry's shock, he removed glamour on his own arms and showed harry his matching scars.

"Never again." Was all he said.

_________

Voldemort said he had no expectations for him. Which stung a little. Harry had done so much to be so much so someone would want to take care of him. until it was too late, and now he was here with Voldemort.

But then, Voldemort corrected himself. He had no expectations of Harry, other than to take care of himself and do well in school. He ensured Harry completed his homework and it was done right.

He even taught Harry how to duel. Not in front of jeering death Eaters, but one on one and with patience. Harry flourished instantly and Voldemort even taught him more defensive spells.

Harry was waiting for the other shoe to drop so to speak.

Why was he being treated with kindness? he didn't know what to do with it when he didn't have to put on a brave face to practically beg for someone to love and take care of him.

He knew Voldemort didn't or couldn't love, nor did he care about him. So why?

Their relationship was... something. They didn't argue, Harry found it easy to do as he was told since Voldemort never made him do anything unreasonable.

Then, it was time to go to school.

Thomas Gaunt saw him off at platform 9 3/4 and Harry had never felt so awkward in his life. What was he supposed to do here?

He saw the Weasleys and the Order across the train station with both worried and relieved looks on their faces.

Thomas pulled him aside and said "I don't expect you to not preach about Voldemort's return, but I do expect you to keep my identity a secret is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And I expect you to keep your grades up. It's your O.W.L year after all..."

"Yes, Sir."

"And you will write to me every week."

"Sir?"

"We will keep up this pretense... and I want to make sure you are safe. I have never trusted the ministry and I do less so now."

"Oh.... " Harry looked over and the order seemed to be getting impatient.

"and Harry... Have fun."

"Oh." Harry said with surprised and found himself smiling softly.

Suddenly, he didn't want to go to Howarts. He wanted to go back to their little home where he was safe and comfortable and it was a little awkward, but he had no expectations or worries of the real world.

Maybe that was Voldemort's plan all along.

"If you would indulge me... " Thomas smirked, his eyes looking over to the impatient order. "While i would love to kill most of them, I wouldn't mind settling for pissing them off a little." He opened his arms slightly and Harry found himself find a piece of himself he didn't knew he was missing.

Everyone else got to hug their parents goodbye before they set off for school, and now he finally got to do the same.

Harry hugged him tightly. He buried his face in his shoulder and he had never felt more complete in his life.

"Have a good term. You are welcome to come home for the holidays if you wish."

Home.

He had a home. He had a family? At least someone who cared about him. About just Harry.

Even if it was pretend, it was better than he had ever experienced in his life.

As he pulled away and walked toward his friends, he held his head high and had a happy smile on his face. He couldn't wait to go home.

[anundyingfidelity]

MEMORIES LOST — Jareth x ofc/fem reader. Ch. 2.

Summary: A mysterious woman falls into the Underground, claiming she does not have memories and not knowing why she is there. Jareth, who's bored and taking slight pity on her, takes her under his wing to ease some of his own misery. Post Labyrinth (1986).

Warnings: nudity, masturbation, voyeurism, manipulation, corruption, smut in general.

Word counter: 866.

Note: female character is named Leah, but no physical characteristics (such as skin color, hair, eyes, etc.) are described on this story. Feel free to imagine how she looks like.

In this chapter: Just Jareth watching (spying) his visitor. Warnings of voyeurism.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

This fanfiction is also posted in Ao3 under the name undyingfidelity.

Chapter 1. | Chapter 2. | Chapter 3.

The next time Jareth was sure he would not forget about Leah came soon enough. He would not forget her so easily.

The woman was calm and submissive to him, taking in every order and indication the King was giving, either to her or his goblins. She was a fast learner, something Jareth truly appreciated a lot for sure.

Each day that passed in the Castle, was an exciting day of learning new things from the mind of the new mysterious woman doing her way around the place.

A smirk formed on his lips as he looked over Leah through the crystal in his hand. Jareth used to check on her from time to time using the small crystal, and lately it had become more of a daily habit before going to bed. Was it wrong? Maybe. She could do personal things he wasn't supposed to see, but since when Jareth did care about that? He wasn't very fond of moral and good behavior anyway.

Leah was graceful and phisically beautiful, and Jareth liked that. Her appearance and looks complemented the way she would talk to him, like a scared puppy who was barely rescued from a thunder storm, giving all her loyalty and fear only to him, the Goblin King. He really missed the feeling of being feared and respected at the same time.

She was doing excellent by serving and helping around. Jareth even found out she loved working in the Castle when he read his mind some days back. Anything he asked, she did for him without hesitation. He wondered if that could be useful in some other ways.

He was no fool. When he came around, the woman would certainly feel electricity running through her body. A type of energy that was known and uncertain at the same time - something that was trully exciting to her. Leah didn't know why or how, but the Goblin king slowly created this type of masculine and strong energy around her whenever he entered the room, and she grew up to admit to herself she actually liked it.

That night, Jareth observed the woman around her bedroom, taking her dresses and clean clothes to the wooden closet. Once she finished and organized the place, Leah started to undress in front of the full lenght mirror. She took off the straps of her dress slowly, loosing herself in the reflection of her own body, barely recognizing her own reflection.

Leah wondered what had happened before she fell to the Underground. How her life would have been without her being under the orders and the hands of the Goblin king. She didn't remember a single thing... yet. And Jareth found himself again looking after the woman, trying to get back any memory on her mind. But she did not remember any single thing, as in countless of times she tried before in front of the same mirror before going to bed, and repeat the same routine the next day.

She asked herself if Jareth was guilty of her being trapped in the Goblin city. And her thought made him smirk.

It wasn't part of his plans, but there she was. Questioning her own existence in front of the mirror, half naked, with a hand carresing the skin of her neck and her breasts delicately with one word in mind: Jareth.

Her hand found that sweet, prohibited and slightly wet place between her legs. She didn't remember feeling something like this before, but the sting and excitement felt like the first time Jareth laid his hand on her cheek.

The Goblin king became amazed with the girl, touching herself and discovering her own body on what it looked it was the first time - at least that she was aware of. Jareth read her thoughts, finding out he was the reason of her arousal. The simple thought of him creating that sweet sensation on Leah sent him over the edge. He was ridiculously proud and immediately inflated his ego - and his pants at the same time. But he was also bothered knowing he was only able to see her through a miserable crystal.

Sweat ran down her body as she, gently, worked two of her fingers between her legs. Leah tried to hold back her moans, but small whimpers escaped her lips even if she tried to stop them. Her fingers transitioned their slow and delicate motion to a rather fast one, and a weird, explosive sensation built down her stomach, until it felt like she was almost touching the sky.

Jareth noticed she was close. It filled him with excitement and anticipation. He wanted to keep her face coming down from her high on his mind forever. The way she tried to catch her breath and how she bit her lip while her body trembled was certainly a heavenly view. And again, he felt his dick extremely hard on his tight pants, and disappointed for not being there and give her what he knew she deserved.

"One day, little dove. One day," he mumbled to himself, still looking at Leah through the crystal, coming from her high. "Soon you will give in to me, in body, mind and soul."

[yuujism]

Tainted Promises (geto suguru x reader)

Part 1: Tainted

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x gn!reader x getou suguru

| WARNINGS: suggestive, explicit language, smut soon (next chapter will have tags) woo plot, established relationship, cheating, toxic, revenge, angst, kinda modified so it can fit the story (implied to be set after riko's death and geto's spiralling but uhh...), reader's sex and physical appearance is never mentioned, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2.1k

| A/N: i'm back but im not really back lol this is the first part of a small series I started writing like 2 years ago and found in my notes app so... why not publish it and let people read it even if i am not currently writing? anyway idk if people remember me but thank u for supporting my works even after all this time and liking them :) see you in 2 more years LOL (jk ... unless...)

They were the strongest.

Those words resonated as an echo in Suguru’s mind since that day, the meaning behind those words still a total mystery. Perhaps it was meant as a responsibility. An inevitable fate. 

An implicit promise. 

He didn’t think much of it before Satoru’s serious words struck him like a lightning inside the eye of the storm, coming back to Suguru in form of dreams. Nightmares. Images of welcoming bloody hands spread towards him, an invitation, perhaps even a threat, to join a lawless world dictated by the untouchable. The strongest.

No. That wasn’t Suguru’s ideal.

Who cared about being the strongest among all? Rules were necessary. Listen to the higher-ups, complete missions, save and protect humans, swallow curses, taint yourself. Swallow, taint, conserve the peace. That was the job of a jujutsu sorcerer. That was the job of Geto Suguru.

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong.

So why was Satoru—his teammate, his accomplice, his best friend—different from him? A rule breaker, a rebellious soul with god complex issues, an idiot, incapable of seriousness and apathetic.

Why, even with all those flaws to Suguru’s eyes, could Satoru get someone like you in his life?

You, just like Suguru, followed the rules. A professional sorcerer that cared for the weak, getting out of their way to protect the smallest and even the biggest. Top of the class after him, Yaga’s right hand, the favourite of the higher-ups, probably even more trustable than Suguru himself. However, now with your brand new relationship with Satoru? Not that much. He knew that way too well.

Tainted. Making a promise with Satoru would get anyone tainted. 

The probelms seemed to have started one month after the beginning of your story together. A few weeks later, they were too obvious for Suguru -or anyone- to ignore. Hints of sleepless nights appeared on your features and the memories of an unknown scent that followed Satoru’s clothes kept haunting you along with the jealousy and hurt in your body. Missed calls, ditched dates and  a small bruise on your lover’s neck. It quickly became toxic. Almost unbearable. Suguru knew it. You knew it. 

And you both played dumb.

Responsible. You had to be responsible for your actions. You made a promise after all, and, ever the diplomatic sorcerer, you were intending to keep it. Swallowing the pain and hatred, the sadness and sorrow, the embarrassment and anger, you decided to keep living with the lie that was Gojo Satoru as proudly as your shattered dignity allowed you. You were better than him but for how long? 

Rules were necessary. You followed the rules as a religion. But what good did that ever bring you? 

Suguru could already sense it, perhaps even before you noticed. The corruption that anger and impotence could bring you. It was unstoppable once it started spreading, taking over your thoughts and ideals to then consume your actions. Satoru was the strongest in almost every sense that he became a poisonous time bomb for the ones surrounding him. It just happened to explode in your face to suffer the majority of the consequences. 

But were you the only one living them? You certainly weren’t the only one ignoring the menace that Satoru was. And definitely not the only one involved closely with said sorcerer. 

Suguru vividly remembers the shared laughs between him and his best friend after the story of how Satoru cheated on you. Repeatedly. A good fuck, he described you, his favourite toy so far. But Suguru knew him too well, right? He understood him better than anyone to even expect him to get in a serious relationship, right? That’s why they were best friends, the strongest, the rulers of the new to come sorcery world. Right? 

Right. Satoru was right. Even if Suguru’s brain didn’t stop replaying images of you with clenched teeth and hands closed in a tight fist, angry eyes staring at Satoru’s figure from afar to quickly change into your usual loving and submissive demeanour when he turned to look at you, he agreed. Even if Suguru felt himself become worse than he ever was when you gave him the sweetest of smiles even after laughing at you with Satoru for the nth time behind your back, he agreed. 

Because Satoru was hard-to-swallow for Suguru, yet he kept indulging himself into the bittersweet taste that was that friendship over and over again. 

Rules, responsibilities, strength, empathy. None of that mattered when Satoru was in the picture. The only thing that mattered was a promise. At the end of the day, they were best friends for a reason and you were with him for a reason.

That didn’t change the fact Suguru could treat you so much better. Be so much better. His heart dropped at the thought. Was he in the position to even think that after being accomplice of Satoru’s actions? After playing along and laughing at you? At this point, he was as guilty as your current cheat of a lover. But he could still have a chance, could he not? He was strong, responsible and professional. Would he be any better than Satoru? He thought he would. He hoped he would. 

Suguru’s mind started flooding with questions once again, self-doubt dripping from every single one of them until his thoughts were flooded with insecurities and rage. Rage? Strange yet oddly familiar. The warmth travelling over his body felt nice for once. No longer suppressed and set free to quickly come down from that high to feel guilty once again. Why would he feel rage towards Satoru? He was his best friend.

Was he?

Oh, how Suguru missed that little voice inside his head. A voice that he silenced long ago. The one that told him to commit the unbelievable, that went against all his morals and ideals, the one that ordered him to swallow and swallow, not for the greater good but for him to become stronger. Because he could. Because he wanted to. The voice that was as tainted as his thoughts were right now.

And now, as his chest tightened with anger and his body ached with hunger of power, Suguru never felt more as himself as he did now. Strong and capable, the maker of his own rules and own world. A perfect world. He was right back then when he thought of the weak as simple as that: weak. And he was right to feel what he avoided to feel all that time.

Power.

Suguru had the power to ignore the responsibility that came along with it. He had the power to follow his own path with his own decisions without having to live behind someone else’s shadow. To get what he wanted whenever he wanted. 

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. 

That was Geto Suguru. And right now, he wanted you.

And nobody noticed. Not Satoru, his proclaimed best friend, who kept playing around lost in the pleasure of both you and the freedom of being the strongest. Not the higher-ups who kept relying on him to keep an eye on the threat that was Satoru. Not his acquaintances that followed him mindlessly into a slowly growing empire. His empire.

Nobody noticed the power growth in Suguru. Nobody except you. 

Strong. Suguru was strong in your eyes. With sly movements, smug smile and a powerful stance. Completely overshadowed by the confidence of your current lover until the day he looked at you from above. Both figuratively and literally. His eyes held a promise, a completely different kind from Satoru’s that you understood way too well it scared you. 

Carnal, passionate and angry. That was his promise. A shiver ran down your spine at the mere sight of Suguru, responsible and respectful Suguru, smirking at you. Dark and dangerous. A different Suguru. Because you both shared the same ideal. Rules were necessary. And this time he was the one who made the rules. 

You weren’t interested. At least you tried to convince yourself you weren’t. Rules weren’t meant to be broken nor renewed, not by Suguru, not by you, not by anyone. So why did you feel excited at the thought of going against your own morals? To break, destroy and betray everything and everyone along with your lover’s best friend? It shouldn’t surprise you, in fact, you were not surprised. 

Your promise to Satoru started losing importance when you considered meeting with Suguru. You lied to yourself by thinking it would be to have a small talk, to ask for an explanation behind the meaning of that moment between the two of you and kindly reject whatever he wanted to propose. It sure didn’t matter anymore when you were under his dark gaze at the step of his door, mouth open in a silent gasp at the power Suguru, overshadowed Suguru, radiated, never losing his gentle and highly demanour as he let you in with a soft smile on his face and the smooth sound of your name leaving his mouth. 

A treacherous silence filled the room as time seemed to freeze between the two of you, staring at each other seconds after closing the door. 

You wanted to yell at him for even thinking he could get away with whatever he had in mind. For deeming you so low to think you would break the promise to Satoru and betray him when you were better than that. But were you when excitement was making your legs shake when Suguru’s eyes landed on your lips for a small second? Were you better when you couldn’t stop thinking in the way his large hands would feel on your body?

The answer was crystal clear: you weren’t. You never were. 

And realisation hit you. It hit you harder than Satoru’s cheating. And it sure hit you harder than the surprise you felt when you threw yourself at Suguru’s arms, lips crashing in a desperate kiss.  

Because all those times, Suguru could see through you and he was a great pretender too. He saw your hatred and your thirst for revenge, the constant fight within you to stop yourself from breaking the rules. To disobey the higher-ups. To betray Yaga. To hurt Satoru. They all deserved it. How pretentious of you to even think you were any better than any of them.

You and Suguru were the same. Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. Suguru just happened to be stronger.

As Suguru’s large hands roamed over your waist to push you closer to his own body as his tongue entered the warmth of your own mouth, you realised something else. You didn’t want Suguru and neither did he want you. What you both wanted was the power taht was long taken away from you. 

Power over a certain sorcerer.

It seemed Suguru noticed your change in demanour as your tangled your hand in his long silky hair and slightly pulled, the aggressiveness of your tongue along with his making him let out a groan that you swallowed with a whimper before he pulled away, a sly smirk on his face.

“You sure didn’t need any explanation, did you?” Suguru muttered as one of his hands traveled to your cheek, his thumb caressing your now wet lips as he eyed you. Such a gentle move yet so dominant. Expected from someone like Suguru. “Finally grew tired of Satoru cheating on you?”

That was unexpected.

Rage filled your body once again as you slapped his hand away from your face, glaring at him just the same way you’ve glared at Satoru when he wasn’t looking. Suguru chuckled as he grabbed your face once again, this time a little rougher as he turned you to face him again, other hand sneaking under your shirt to feel the soft skin under it. You held back a moan.

“Oh, come on. It was a small joke.” He playfully stated, long fingers drawing circles on the side of your waist as you grew impatient and angry. At what? You weren’t sure.

“An unfunny one at that.” You finally spoke and Suguru raised an eyebrow at the unknown and new stern tone your voice held. The sweet, professional and kind goody two shoes forsaken under his influence. “I didn’t come here for a stand-up show.” 

Your hands made their move again, landing on the collar of his shirt as you got closer again, anticipation giving you the confidence you lost before.

“I can see that.”

And just like that, your mouths crashes again, this time angrier, hungrier. Suguru’s comment about Satoru cheating on you lit an agressive fire within you that you tried to extinguish. But here, between Suguru’s arms and the feeling of his mouth now travelling down your neck, you finally felt free.

Next chapter (spicy) preview: "Your boyfriend likes sloppy seconds, did you know that? Should I just cum inside you and send you off to him dripping with my seed? Hm?"

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Thinking of Noctis is Tenebrae.

Specially, when he was in Tenebrae.

Noctis was born on August 30th, and was eight years old during his time in Tenebrae.

Lunafreya, who was born on September 4th, was twelve.

Considering the main game generally takes place over the course of a year (I think? Don’t quote me on this, all I know canonically is that it starts May), in the year of M.E 756 and he visited twelve years prior:

M.E 744.

I’d guess very late winter, early spring. Possibly late January through February - maybe to early or mid March, at the latest.

Why so early in the year?

In the Kingsglaive movie, the prologue when we see the fall of Tenebrae and Queen Sylva’s murder, several characters are wearing clothes that seem suited to chilly weather - namely Ravus, Lunafreya, and Noctis.

Ravus and Noctis are, respectively, wearing a padded jacket or padded vest. The puffy sort you wear when it’s getting cold out, but not big-puffy full blown winter coats.

Also, Lunafreya is wearing a shawl or capelet with a hood, and it looks like it has a fur collar(?). Her dress looks, at least to me, like a thick fabric - wool, maybe. She’s not wearing stocking or leggings (or maybe she is and I didn’t notice), so again, it’s not winter-levels of cold.

There’s no snow either, which means either it’s before winter has fallen or afterwards - and I am inclined to believe the latter.

(That’s dependent on the general climate of Tenebrae, though)

We don’t know when Noctis was attacked, except that it was after he turned eight years old - in other words, some point after august. Possibly early September 743 at the earliest, and March - July 744 at the latest, since he was out catching fireflies, which usually appear most often in spring and summer.

We know he was comatose for a period of time following the attack, but not how long.

He possibly had been afflicted by the starscourge in canon (I don’t know if this was ever confirmed).

We also know he was paralyzed, or his body was still recovering from his injuries to the point where he was still wheelchair bound in Tenebrae.

My idea is this:

Noctis is attacked some time in late M.E 743. He is rushed into emergency surgery in an attempt to save his life, no doubt after Regis had used his magic to keep the Prince alive on the way to the nearest hospital (he’d probably be transferred to the Citadel later? He woke up in the citadel in Brotherhood, at least).

Noctis is possibly comatose for a month, maybe two. As a result of lack of movement, his muscles - on top of the damage done to back and legs - begin to atrophy.

(The symptoms of starscourge infection are stymied, because starscourge adapts differently to the body of a Lucis Caelum, and makes Noct effectively asymptomatic for a time).

When he wakes up, and probably even before that, immediate therapy begins. When possible, rehabilitation in regards to spinal cord injuries begin as soon as possible, I believed.

For a time, I think it would be…not okay, not happy, but workable. Regis would be there every step of the way, and if not him - a team of nurses and doctors ever on standby.

But at some point during his rehabilitation, from the Acute and Sub-Acute phases which will stretch over into the new year, which can generally (and I mean this broadly, every spinal injury and situation is different) take around six to eight months, he begins to show signs of the starscourge.

Regis can’t do anything to help with the appearance of the scourge, and then the realization that it must have been there for a while, that this was why Noctis’ healing was so slow - even, and especially, compared to a normal person.

The crystal, the LC magic, would have been straining to heal him - but it was almost sluggish, unfocused, as it coursed through Noctis’ body.

Regis could feed Noctis magic, take the burden of how it pulled at one’s lifeforce so that his son already so close to death did not have to.

He couldn’t take away the scourge which corrupted his son’s magic, which was just as much as the family’s magic eating away at his son’s life. The doctor’s could give estimations and exams and exercises on how to help Noctis walk again, if he ever could, and even an inability to do so was not an impossible fact - not in the long history of the bloodline -

But the starscourge?

Sooner or later, it was fatal. Regis knew of no known member in the bloodline who had gotten it - most who died to daemons died outright in battle, or as a result of injuries, long before the scourge could set in and take them - but no one had ever survived the scourge.

And only one bloodline could do anything against it.

The House of Fleuret, The Oracle.

And that meant heading to Tenebrae. Even if it was an autonomous ‘kingdom’, Tenebrae had long since been annexed by Niflheim - just like Accordo.

To bring Noctis there would be like to deliver all of Lucis into the jaws of a snarling best.

If it had simply been Noctis’ back and legs maybe, maybe Regis wouldn’t have done it. It’s a big maybe, considering how much he loves his son, but maybe.

Starscourge, though?

Hell no, it’s off to Tenebrae. They have to fucking go. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is, to go through imperial Territory. Noctis might die either way.

A route to reach Tenebrae has to be made, means for the two of them to leave the wall unknown, then travel to Tenebrae still unknown, also having Lucis ruled well - all the while, trying to keep Noctis as stable as possible? Things like that take time.

So, they arrive in Tenebrae some point in early 744. My personal headcanon is that the two are there for maybe a few months, around March, and then Niflheim strikes and everything subsequently goes to hell. It has to be before his ninth birthday.

[farfromstrange]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!vampire!Reader

Masterlist ° Parts 1 , 2 , 3

PART 4 - New evidence appears and the situation seems to grow more dire for the coven by the minute, and the uncertainty is frustrating enough as it is. To add to that, Matt Murdock just had to go out of his way and not leave it be, and she has to rush to save his glorious ass.

Warnings: Description of vampirism, blood, death (vampire death, to be exact), some plot, suggestive language, cussing, dark themes!

Word Count: 3.3k

A/n: After an eternity, I have finally finished editing this chapter. This series has been pretty much neglected by me and I am so sorry to those of you who have been waiting. Will we be having smut soon? Who knows. Not today, at least ;) Maybe next time. I should start making a Masterlist for this series atp.

18+ MINORS DNI!

His scent lingered in the walls of the church and every fiber of her being. She breathed in, something she had taught herself to do to appear human and it eventually stuck, and whenever her nostrils flared, she could smell him. He was long gone, his heartbeat disappeared, but he was everywhere still. It drove her crazy that she let him go like that. A display of weakness, someone she once knew and adored would have said. It was dangerous to inform a human of her existence and then let him go without a contract, without turning or killing him. Foolish was another word you could have used. 

She wasn’t foolish. She knew the risks, and yet she did it anyway. She didn’t know why she wanted to touch and corrupt him so desperately but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She pondered that, but she came up with nothing. There was no explanation for what she did. Their residency in Hell’s Kitchen was already fragile. If someone found out that there were vampires in the city, living in plain sight, they would have to move, and they had barely started making a home there. 

The hands on her body were warm, the blue veins under the rosy skin pulsating with blood. They brushed over her bare breasts, squeezing them with gentle intensity, and her nipples responded to the stimulation. The temperature in the room was at an all-time high. The air was humid, thick with the smell of sweat and the sweet essence of human arousal mixed with her own. It was far too hot for her ice-cold skin, but the fire that spread through every dead nerve was exactly what she needed to forget the ache that was blooming in her chest, reaching around her barely beating, dead heart with claws that dragged her into the abyss. She hated her life because it wasn’t a life, it was barely existence. She wasn’t supposed to exist, yet she did and she had to suffer the curse of eternity. Who had she hurt to deserve this, and what was this excruciatingly numb pain that kept her mind reeling? 

Her skin burned brightly, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t suffice to shut off the horrible thoughts passing through the synapses in her brain. The warm hand squeezed her breast again before it traveled lover to caress her stomach. A pair of needy lips found her collarbone and the neck that connected to it, pressing kisses to every inch of skin they could find. Still, her eyes remained focused on the ceiling above. She was waiting for the delicious fire to turn her vision red so she could surrender to the feeling of the stranger’s wandering hands on her naked body, but whenever she looked down to see the head of red hair and the pale skin that stretched over a skinny body - and he was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that - she realized he wasn’t him. He could never be him. No matter how good he smelled, nothing could match up to the man she truly craved. But she didn’t just crave him out of the almost human urge for pleasure, she craved him in ways that made the claws tighten around her heart and her blacked-out soul, and it was starting to melt the ice that she claimed possessed her entire being. 

She had to forget him. The sole reason she went out to a club that night was to forget, to have her mind shut off just for one night and simply forget. That was all she wanted, to forget. Though the more she thought about forgetting, the more forced it felt and the less it worked. She couldn’t stop thinking about how the stranger’s hands weren’t the ones she wanted on her body, and it made the experience feel more like means to an end than an activity to enjoy. Sex was supposed to feel good, but the encounter was far from it. She wasn’t entirely heartless, she felt bad for the unknowing man in her bed. If only he knew she was expecting someone else in his place just to get herself going enough to allow him to touch her, he would have run. Or maybe he wouldn’t have; he wasn’t just in it for her gloriously naked body, he was in it for his pleasure as well, and he would get it soon enough. He would get high and she could come out of this a little less starving than she was when she met him. 

Tearing her eyes away from the ceiling, she wrapped her arm around the man’s shoulder and rolled over. She swung her leg over his hip and he whimpered; she loved it when men did that, but even the sound mattered less to her coming from the stranger whose name she had long forgotten. He was one of those pleasure chasers - he came with her just for the thrill of being used as a blood bank, and she usually hated treating herself to such a person, but when the need arose, she had to follow her most primal instincts. She was a monster, after all. It was time to live by it. 

He smelled nowhere near as good as him. Him. Him. Him. His name sounded like an alarm in her head, and she hated every second of it. When she opened her mouth and sunk her fangs into the pulsating pale skin underneath her, she bit harder than she intended. The poor man gasped, writhing in her grip shortly before he melted into her touch and let it happen. He came to suffer and she would make him do so as hard as she saw fit. She didn’t care anymore, she had a hunger to still and a name to forget. 

Damned be Matthew Michael Murdock, she wasn’t supposed to let anyone in her heart again. Centuries ago, that might have been possible, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall for a human again. It was foolish, stupid even, and she had to get him out of her system before he would be the one to eat her alive. The Devil knew he was reaching a point at which he could do so, and she would gladly let him. 

“There’s been another case,” the group stood in the main room as Talon declared the terrifying truth, “but this time,” he said, “it was an entire group of teenagers. They all… they ate away at their friend. Reminds me of a scene from a zombie film.”

Her nostrils flared. “When was this?” 

“While you were busy sucking the life out of that poor redhead,” Eli mumbled. 

“He asked for it,” she sneered. “Besides, you don’t get to judge me. You’re the one in this house that’s got a revolving door, not me.”

“Oh, yeah? What about the human I smelled last night? Wasn’t he one of yours, too?”

Her eyes darkened and she flashed her teeth. “He’s none of your concern, now have some fucking respect and shut your mouth so Talon can answer my question!” 

At the sight of her veiny eyesockets and the death that danced in her irises, Eli stepped back with raised arms, apologizing silently and returning to submission. 

Talon swallowed, scrambling for the right words to say. “Technically, Eli’s right,” he said. “It was a couple of hours ago.”

“Where?”

“A famous party ground here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Close to the docks?”

“I believe so, yes.”

She hummed. “I don’t know about you guys, but that looks like a pattern to me. They only operate close to the Hudson,” she said. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“It does sound suspicious,” William agreed. 

“That’s because it is, but we can’t exactly cover the entire fucking Hudson,” Adam didn’t speak often, and not in such a tone, but it had long been established that he didn’t give a fuck about anything but himself. 

Huddled over the map of New York City, Hell’s Kitchen circled with a red marker, the group shared a look before settling on their leader, but for the first time, she didn’t know what to say because she simply didn’t understand what was happening. She had her suspicions, but none of them could be proven either true or false. It was messy. 

Helen placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have you considered calling the New York Council for a meeting?” she said. Ever the woman who wanted nothing more than peace, she once again overlooked the obvious. It was an honorable attribute, her desire to find help anywhere she could and then take it, too, but in that case, it was a bad idea. 

She lifted her head, meeting the expectant eyes of her family. They all seemed to agree with the suggestion – she loathed it. 

“If I start calling all New York covens and tell them about this, it will spread panic,” she argued, and it was a valid argument, “and once there is panic, whoever is doing this will get what they want. It’s our truce with the humans that’s at risk, and with all covens in defensive mode, the next thing to happen would be a war, and we don’t want the hunters out there to catch onto what’s happening, now do we?”

She received a few hesitant and broken no’s. 

“The Council’s out of the question until I have solid proof that there is a coven in our territory that is purposely turning kids into vampires for the sake of spilling blood and spreading panic among humans. Only then will I call the council and only then will I take action. If we go at this with a half-assed plan, we’re fucked.”

“We’re fucked already,” said Adam. 

“Better be fucked once than twice,” she said. “In this context, at least, so stop bitching and start putting in some investigative work. We’re not just here to have sex and drink blood. We’re here to do whatever it takes to keep this coven alive, so put some effort into doing that, not just sticking your fangs and other body parts into helpless human beings. Are we clear?”

Everyone she looked at nodded or gave a small sound of agreement until she landed on Adam himself. “Adam,” she tipped her chin, “are we clear?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re clear,” he sounded mocking, “Boss.”

“Good.” Her eyes remained dark for the duration that he looked into them. Eventually, he turned away and she didn’t miss the small glint of regret in his own eyes. 

The night was chilly. She loved the way it felt on her heated skin and brushed through her hair like a comforting ghost. The Hudson rushed in the distance and the couple that walked Central Park giggled drunkenly as they made their way home. She could smell the alcohol on their lips even from miles away. Heartbeats blurred together as did conversations, the scent of blood thick in the air like every night. She could hear and feel the crime that polluted the city and left broken people in alleyways. She couldn’t possibly consume so much blood at once. 

She tried though. The first rapist lost his entire jugular because he deserved every last bit of what he got. She wasn’t God’s disciple, but she cared about whether people were assholes or not. Every criminal she ran into got what they deserved. She didn’t kill innocents, only those who deserved it, and their blood often tasted dirty in more ways than once. She had gotten used to the almost acidic tang in their blood. 

Her fangs hovered just above the man’s throat, he was whimpering helplessly in her arms and she thrived off of it. She couldn’t wait to make him see the Devil to receive his judgment in front of the highest jury. 

She never got to it. Through the several heartbeats, she could make out in the distance, he was the loudest, and the second the familiar smell of pure death and mischief hit her nose, she dropped the mugger to the asphalt. 

What have you gotten yourself into this time?

In a second, she was gone out of the alley and sped toward the industrial neighborhood close to the Hudson and Hell’s Kitchen’s borders. Her kind had a distinctive smell that sent goosebumps down her spine in acknowledgment, and freshly turned vampires smelled even stronger of death and spilled blood. They didn’t know how to properly eat yet, they always made a mess and it stuck to their skin; the smell was toxic, and she hated how it tickled the hairs in her nose. It was his heartbeat that activated the fear center in her brain, sending the worry straight through her veins like a lightning bolt bringing her back to life. 

His skin was hot even through the leather of his suit, she could feel it beneath her fingers as she rushed in front of him at a speed too fast to have been human and pushed him against the wall of the building he was hiding behind. 

He opened his mouth. How he recognized her, she wasn’t sure, but he seemed to visibly stiffen when she appeared. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Saving your life,” she retorted. 

Young vampires often underestimated their speed. Newborns were stupid but their senses were a lot sharper than those of the undead who have been this way for centuries. They could smell a human from miles away and following their instincts, they usually found their target fairly easy. Once they did, there was no escaping. They would tear their victim to shreds. 

Matt was the innocent fish and he was lured right into a dangerous trap. He was on the hook now. She had to intervene. 

He opened his mouth again to protest, but as fast as she had touched him, she was gone again. The win blew over his wet lips, her scent lingering on his tongue and he could have sworn he tasted cinnamon in the way she smelled. 

The sounds were new, weird almost. Her speed sounded like the wind that blew through a waving flag, and the slow thudding of her quiet heart appeared in several spots at once. He concentrated to judge what was happening. Something cracked, he suspected it was a piece of wood, and then the night filled with hisses and gasps, then groans and silent screams as the wood pierced flesh deafeningly loud. Dead flesh, cold flesh, flesh that barely bled. He smelled scorned flesh in the hair, then a body thudded, and soon enough, the other followed. 

Her boot collided with a skull. The wood left the first body, then entered the next, and once again the dead flesh squished as the teenage boy choked. His last sound was a hiss before the commotion stopped and Matt was met with silence. 

She was back in front of him, hand pressed to his chest, and perhaps her face contorted in disappointment, he wasn’t quite sure. “What the hell were you thinking?” she asked, her voice now louder than before. 

“What did you do?” he asked instead, his voice breathless. 

He could barely contain his thoughts around her. Her scent was intoxicating and the sound of her voice lured him in once again. If it was the night or the lack of sleep on his end, he wasn’t sure, he only knew that the woman was playing with his head and he hated that he was nowhere near afraid of her. 

“You walked straight into the arms of two newborn vampires. They could have torn you to shreds. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

He frowned. “I was following the intel of some of my sources I turned to,” he gave his answer through gritted teeth, struggling against her stronghold; against his expectations, she eased up and let him move freely. “I need to get behind what’s happening. I didn’t know that they… they were… I didn’t know!”

If she had been alive, her heart would have beat up to her chest. Turning away, she clenched her jaw. He was going to be the (second) death of her. She hated how her worry for one single human made her let the mugger get away with what he had done to the elderly lady she almost failed to save, and she hated even more that she missed out on a meal to save him. Her obsession was quite frankly unhealthy. 

“What did you do to them?” Matt asked. 

“Stake through the heart,” she stated, “kills every vampire instantly. I told you as much when you came to visit me. I thought my words meant at least something to you, but you really thought ‘fuck it!’ and got yourself in danger, again. I’ve always tried to defend your human intelligence, but some of you are really just plain stupid, and you now belong to them, congratulations!”

“You saved my life.” He couldn’t believe it. “You saved my life,” he said again. “Why would you do that? Why don’t you- why don’t you just kill me?”

“Because I’m not that heartless, Matthew.”

“You saved my life. I owe you.”

“Nonsense, I just didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with blood,” Matt retorted. 

Her features darkened. “I'm a fucking vampire,” she said. “Of course, I don’t have a problem with blood. I just couldn’t let your stupid ass die.”

Silence settled in for a moment before he let out a long breath. “I can smell it on you, you know?”

“The blood?”

“Yes.”

“Do you expect me to apologize for making sure I don’t starve?”

He hesitated, then answered, “No.”

“Good,” she said, “Glad you’re not that much of an idiot.”

“I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Just as she was about to leave, much to her surprise, he piped up. His voice filled her eyes and she shivered. “You promised me tea,” he said. “If you’re not a liar as you said, you keep your promise. Offer me a cup of tea, talk, make sure I pay my debt with you for- for tonight, I mean.”

Matt had certain ways of surprising her. It never got boring with him, but his words came as the least expected. But it was worse for him because he couldn’t let her go, physically and mentally, and her pull only seemed to grow stronger when she turned her back on him. 

He hated how weak she made him feel, how dependent, how terribly insane– God, he was so foolish. He hadn’t prayed in a while, he should have been praying every day, he should have cursed her to hell, but he was still there and she was there and he couldn’t let her go.

She looked over her shoulders, eyebrows furrowing at him. He was so close to her and he didn’t even flinch when she turned around. “What?” she asked.

“I want to take you up on that tea,” he told her, “because I want to understand.”

She had him right where she wanted him, but it felt wrong now. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his cheek. It was the devil talking. He was compelling her to do this. She dropped her hand halfway, closing her eyes at the loss of a touch she hadn’t even given him. 

Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “You know where to find me,” and she disappeared into the night, leaving Matt confused and aching for more. 

Tagging: @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t

[all-for-geek]

I Lost You Once Chapter 12: Desperate Times

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

Word Count: 1,795

Fandom: Alex Bale/Don't Feed the Muse

Warning: Body Transformations and Body Horror

This story is in part based on the fic A Better Purpose and uses elements of that story.

Kim stood in her living room doing what she had been doing everyday for the past few weeks: pacing around waiting to hear something, anything, from Ramona. It had been months since Carl had been digested and Ramona stormed off. Ever since, Kim had been lucky to get a few quick texts everyday, which turned into every week, which turned into not having heard from Ramona in two weeks.

Connie watched Kim pace from the cracks in the attic door. She was unsure about how she felt about Ramona’s absence. Ramona had been clear in her mistrust of Connie, which was fair, and the two had never exactly been close, but Connie didn’t like the worried look on Kim’s face. It made something in the area where the heart would be in the human body sink lower than it should be. She wondered if maybe she could talk to Antonio again. Only to see if he had heard anything from home about Ramona’s capture, naturally.

Connie’s excuse flew out the door as Ramona burst through it. Her appearance had altered even more in the past few months. Her hair had grown even longer, dragging on the floor, and her form no longer resembled that of a human. Her body had thinned and her limbs, four arms now instead of two, elongated, each one holding a bag. Connie wondered if anything of the woman she saw in the photos remained underneath that hair.

Kim didn’t care. She barely registered Ramona’s latest mutation before charging towards her.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Kim asked.

“Any of the footage or files that we have left are too corrupted to be used,” Ramona explained like she was returning home from the grocery store. “We needed something more we could use. Something more concrete.”

Kim quickly read between the lines, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ramona, please, for the love of God, tell me that you didn’t go back there.”

“What other choice did I have?” Ramona asked genuinely. “Besides, it wasn’t just the new leaks that I got. I discovered that I’m strong enough now to take on a Muse head-on. You have no idea how therapeutic it was getting to knock that asshole on his ass.” If Kim didn’t know any better, she could have sworn that she heard Ramona smiling. “Maybe now, we can go over and I can hold off Mark’s muse while we get him-”

“Mark’s dead!” Kim blurted out.

Ramona stood there in stunned silence.

“What?” she asked.

“He got digested a couple weeks ago. Around the same time that you disappeared off the face of the Earth.” Kim quickly pivoted the conversation back onto the important topic. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Ramona is silent for a moment, processing everything. 

“I’m sorry that I dropped contact. If something had gone wrong, then I didn’t want any chance of them tracing me back to you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what I was doing, but I’m not sorry for doing it. The more people get digested, the closer they get to whatever the hell their goal is. The IT files that I got are more than just evidence. They hold the keys to the database for everyone that HMF has targeted. We can start finding more people. Maybe actually help a couple of them for once.”

Kim sighed. “The next time you decide to do something colossally stupid, at least do me the courtesy of letting me know.”

Ramona laughed, although Kim didn’t understand what about the situation was funny.

“I promise.”

Ramona and Kim fell back into a comfortable rhythm in uncomfortable silence. Kim was checking on the files that Ramona had stolen while Ramona…Connie wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing. Probably making another video out of the new leaked footage. Connie slipped out the attic window again and started walking. It didn’t take her long to get where she was going this time.

The neighborhood where Mark lived looked different during the day. The houses were too bright and their identical formation was clearer. It reminded Connie of home in a way. Happy Meat Farms looked just as cheerful and put together on the surface as well.

She was crouched in a bush outside of one of the identical houses. It was not the most dignified of positions, but it was the perfect view at what Connie was looking for.

She peered inside the window into the kitchen of the house. Antonio was sitting at the table waiting patiently for the old woman that lived there to return. The woman’s cat hissed at him. Animals always had a knack for telling Muses from their doppelgangers. Antonio ignored it for a moment before revealing his true face to it. Connie mimed a laugh as she watched the cat run in terror.

The woman came back, smiling at Antonio. The two talked for a while. Connie did not want to intrude on what seemed like a private moment, so she didn’t listen in on what they were saying, but she noticed her brother’s smile. It wasn’t one of the big fake ones that they were trained to do in videos. This one was simple, genuine. If Connie didn’t know any better, she would have called it human.

Eventually, Antonio left the old woman’s house. He stood out on the sidewalk staring out at the world around him. Connie knew that look. She gave the same one sometimes looking out the window in the attic. It was gone as quickly as it came as Antonio’s body stiffened. He turned to face her.

“Oh, hello Connie,” he greeted in his usual chipper voice, “What are you doing there?”

Connie stood up from the bush slowly. How did she explain what she was doing? Furthermore, how did she communicate it? They couldn’t exactly reveal their true forms out here in broad daylight.

“Oh, right! You can’t talk. Let me just…” Antonio patted around in his pockets before pulling out his phone. He handed it to her with the notes app pulled up.

Connie signed a quick thanks. She went over the message and over and over again before handing the phone back to Antonio.

Just wanted to say hi.

“Well, hello then. How have you been?”

Fine. You?

“I’m…I’m just swell, thanks for asking!” To anyone else, Antonio’s answer would have sounded genuine. Connie decided to not push the matter. She didn’t want to lose this.

“Oh, we finally managed to get Mark. More or less anyway. He didn’t plant his spore, so the digestion process is on hold until a new one can be incubated and planted, but we’re finally on the right track!”

Connie smiled and nodded, hiding her relief. She would have some good news to give to Kim later.

“Hey, why don’t you come over and meet the new Mark?” Antonio offered.

Connie’s body stiffened. Something about the idea unsettled her. If Antonio noticed, he didn’t mention it as he continued walking down the street. He only paused when he realized Connie wasn’t following him.

“Come on,” he beckoned. Connie reluctantly did.

The two stood in front of Mark’s old house. Connie stood farther away on the sidewalk watching as Antonio knocked on the door. It was probably a formality more than anything. Couldn’t have the neighbors wondering why a random man was walking into the Mayhew’s house.

New Mark opened the door with a perfectly practiced smile. Connie sensed the danger right away. He was not like her or Antonio. He was created perfectly. He would not be as forgiving about her defects.

“Hey, buddy,” New Mark greeted, “Where were you?” There was an underlying threat in the question that even Antonio didn’t pick up on.

“I was smoothing some things over with the neighbors. Nothing to worry about. Say, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

“Who?” New Mark cocked his head in confusion as he eyed the empty street behind Antonio.

Kim sits in her office raking through the files that Ramona brought back. The work would be a great distraction if the contents weren’t a constant reminder of her friend’s stupidity. 

She knows why Ramona did it. Kim could even see an argument where she agreed that they needed to go back and get more information. It’s not telling her and ghosting her that leaves an all too familiar pit in Kim’s stomach. One that has never quite filled since the old days.

The fact that Ramona found some damn good information makes it all the more frustrating. The IT access portal held everything that Kim had been wishing they had since the beginning. It contained a full list of the people that had been targeted by HMF, how far along they were in the infection process, and, oh so importantly, their addresses. Kim had already started making a list of people who were in close range that were not so far gone that they were at risk of digestion yet.

As she scanned through the list, she paused on a familiar name in the files. Carlton Mayhew. She could still remember the fear and panic in his voice on his livestream. How he had tried so hard to make things right with his family. Even if it ended up being too little too late. Kim couldn’t help but open the file.

It was mostly the same standard fair as the other files. Background on Carl and the best ways to break him down to a more “susceptible state”. The information was scarily specific to the point that Kim was unsure where they could have even gotten some of it. Maybe she’d ask Connie later.

Kim kept scrolling until the file got the part about Carl’s digestion. She almost stopped there, not wanting to relive that moment more than she already had, but a few words caught her eye. Escape, Muse dead, weapon. Kim almost couldn’t believe what she was reading.

Carl was alive. He had somehow figured out a way to kill his Muse. 

“How’s the research going?” Ramona asked, her monstrous form lurking in the doorway.

“It’s going,” Kim answered, still reading the file. “Should have a decent list of people to reach out to.”

“Great,” Ramona responded. She scuttled back down the hallway.

Kim’s face dropped as soon as Ramona was out of view. She couldn’t risk telling her. If the file could be believed, Ramona would want to rush out and find him immediately which could blow Carl’s cover. Right now, it seemed like HMF didn’t know where he was either. And if it couldn’t be…they could end up waltzing straight into a trap.

Besides, Ramona wasn’t the only one who could do her own thing.

[ultimatewowdursgate]

DWC May ‘23 - Day 7

A quick pre-story note… this is for a character I haven’t written or written about yet. I’m still fleshing him out but I know enough to do this story. All you need to know is his name is Xelavyr and he’s a Void Elf Rogue.

TW: for a little gore late in the story...

Aftermath

It had seemed like a simple task. A dissident group was consorting with the Alliance and dabbling in dark magics that shouldn’t be invoked. So the posh buggers at the peak of Silvermoon’s hierarchy, through enough intermediaries to ensure plausible deniability of course, were seeking someone to be a man on the inside who could provide them with all the intel and dirty little secrets that could be used against the group.

Xelavyr had no qualms about this. He’d lost family in the Second War fighting for the Alliance and lost yet more when they decided to massacre loyal Blood Elf citizens in Dalaran during the trouble in Pandaria. The Horde welcomed his people and they helped each other through. Over time they felt far more like his people than the Alliance ever had.

He didn’t care much for all the posh mucky mucks above him in Thalassian society but he was proud to help against the Alliance in any way he could. Even if principle hadn’t been enough to motivate him the pay sure helped!

So he did what he did best, infiltrate and observe. Make ‘friends’ and subtly try to turn them against each other or back in favour of a more loyal path.

He wasn’t too concerned about the void. One magic’s much the same as any other and maybe it could help Silvermoon. So he focused more on influencing people to loyalty than on actually trying to interfere with the research.

These things take time and he made himself appear every bit the helpful member of the group while never really caring for them in any true sense at all. Some were decent enough people, but none could make him question his loyalty to his home and the Horde.

Time passed, research continued, he influenced things as best he could in the direction he preferred. But eventually, well; you all know what happened. none of those in the community were spared the Void’s corrupting influence, not even people who had no interest in it and had simply been doing their job.

...

It had taken a fair bit of time before things calmed down enough that he could sneak out unnoticed. He immediately rode forth for Quel’thalas. He’d snuck out many little reports with what information he could during his time on the mission and of course heard nothing back, those were the rules. But what had happened would have to be reported to someone. His people needed to be prepared for these powerful, dangerous, corrupt rebels.

... it hadn’t occurred to him that he’d be seen as simply one of them. He was apprehended and captured promptly and despite giving away all that he knew there was no way he’d be allowed back into his homeland.

He could understand the logic keeping those inflicted with the void away from the Sunwell, indeed all of Quel’danas to be cautious. Maybe even Silvermoon if they were so concerned. But no, the void elves would not be allowed anywhere in Quel’thalas... or anywhere else among the Horde.

...

Escape didn’t prove too difficult. The darkness of the void helped him blend into the dark corners of the cell. Eventually a guard came in to investigate his ‘escape’ giving him the opportunity to actually make it.

Within the blink of an eye he was behind the guard and had grabbed a ceremonial dagger from their hilt. In an instant the guards throat had been slit and his body hidden under the sheet of the cell’s bed.

...

He ran and he ran. Eventually returning to the Alliance’s borders in the aftermath. His corruption was visible like most of this new group of Ren’dorei. If it weren’t he may have tried to stay in Quel’thalas. Even in the Alliance he would have to discard his identity lest they realise he’d been leaking secrets. But one more nameless, faceless void elf would go unnoticed in the slums and dark places of the Alliance cities’ shadier districts.

He discarded his family name, in his captivity he learnt that his one surviving brother had denounced and disavowed him to secure the rest of the family’s estate. And even his first name as he was no longer the man he had been. Simply going by the alias “X’ and whatever fake name he cared to use when asked for more detail than that.

[katyspersonal]

*boots down door*

You mention Bloodborr OC's

GIMME ALL THE BACKGROUND!!!!

Allllllright, I think I will tell you about my favorite!

Strangely enough, I did only draw her ONE whole time so far, back in, what?.. June 2022? And it is only a headshot! But I always imagine her wearing cyan/indigo/grey clothes, fashioned after Old Hunters' aesthetic, and... a particular iron helmet with only one eye hole, yes. She is an OC based entirely on how you choose to read this line:

She appeared in my head based off a few factors; that we can clearly see Valtr being summoned with both eyes visible (not a single effort to obscure the second eye, unlike with Djura), we know that Impurity rune that LETS you see Vermin was discovered 'within a forbidden Beast Eater' (so, Valtr himself), we know that Valtr curses not only beasts but the 'freakish slugs and mad doctors', and we know that Clocktower Dial has a rune similar to Impurity but not exactly it:

(Thank you @val-of-the-north for handy refs ( x ))

That gave me a thought, aboutl Valtr being taken right into Research Hall labs upon his (rather dramatic) arrival in Yharnam; as someone who ate a beast, he was expected to be very much contaminated, and, well... Research Hall offered the so-called voluntary-obligatory treatment for such people. Either get killed before you became a beast, or be "treated" to not become a beast :') And this is where he met an Old Hunter Geranea, that was likewise dragged into research - and already missing one eye, since all patients get one eye removed to become an Eye Pendant + for easier access to their brain.

I always presumed runes system was a deciphering system more than it was a set number of the runes, since Ludwig and Adeline were able to envision their own runes without Caryll! So, Impurity rune is special - it is a concept. Every person has their own alternative of Impurity rune, as it appeals to the individual concept of what IS evil. Geranea quickly caught up that there was something abnormally filthy in Valtr and insisted that he should not have gotten 'water' treatment under any circumstances lest he'd erupt under it flourishing and die right after. People that yearn to exterminate evil see 'human dregs' as pests, but people who yearn to treat it peacefully see evil as flowers. Geranea was able to see the flowers akin tomb mold that you find across dungeons and Hunter's Nightmare sprouting from people before they died, as indication of how 'dirty' their blood was, and... let's say, Valtr had an extraordinary amount of them because of what happened to him.

She helped him to envision his own idea of evil as someone familiar with Caryll's runes language, deciphering the weird sounds his body was emitting, and helped him to escape by giving him her eye pendant to use as a bait on the string for a giant crow that was frequenting Research Hall's balcony - think of holding a carrot on the string before a donkey! As for her own fate? Well, she was able to see through utter corruption of both 'Sea' and 'Stars', rejecting both and becoming one of the few if not the only one patient that banished the Arcane from her body with raw hatred and willpower alone.

She would manage to escape the Research Hall and cover her identity in new costume and with the new weapon, to not get caught by the Assassins. And... of course, she'd get the bucket helm, to obscure her face! She was to contact Valtr later under new identity, but their friendship was just not meant to last; they had drastically different ideas on how to treat human dregs and fell apart in a very nasty conflict over it, parting their ways.

Ever since then, Geranea was a strange cross between a Hunter and a Blood Minister (don't confuse with Blood Saint!). She would find people afflicted with human dregs through seeing whether they displayed 'flowers' sprouting from them. Her having banished the Arcane influence from her very body and soul via spite alone granted her blood a special immunity against both Beast and Kin afflictions, so her treatment? It included taking the blood from a person, transfusing it into her own body, putting up the mental fight against this person's darkest impulses (or corruption of Great Ones), and, after immunity has been worked up, she'd give the 'healed' blood back to this person. Just... Giving them free antibodies against their OWN afflictions that she'd work on her own. Doesn't it sound like too good to be true?

Well, that it was. Not only effect of such immunity still COULD virtually wear down, but also poor Geranea would let evil, insanity and pain of people through herself over and over. And over and over and over and over and over... In the end, it cracked her up, and she grew to be corrupted and no longer able to process all this - becoming evil and twisted herself. Her last sane thought however? That was Valtr.

She crawled back to him, being terribly mutated and having twisted thoughts, reflecting empathy to all afflicted people she healed from their darkest impulses. Their last meeting in long time was essentially her telling him that he was right and begging to be killed, that he did. He knew what exactly ruined her, and his conclusion was: "The filth of this world doesn't deserve compassion of a kind soul".

He took her helmet though, as a further reminder to himself to always stay relentless before human dregs extermination, and never had a heart to alter it even one bit, despite having both eyes. However, he later met Yamamura, who reminded him of her with his tender, sensitive heart, and he was not to make the same mistake twice; so he was to send Yamamura away as a "spy" for Healing Church in hopes he'd find new friends there and forget the mission. Granted, Yamamura appeared to be a very stubborn and prideful man, so the mission still inflicted insanity on him - especially since he saw it through Valtr's rune, not his own.

So yeah, that's for the story..; In general, Geranea was a kind person willing to tolerate a bit too much and to sacrifice too much, that is a stark contrast to her resting bitch face and kind of a rude demeanour. I can't even call her a jerk with a heart of gold, she is just a good person that might appear slightly too forceful with wishing to help.

And! Flowers thing comes from my idea that many patients had lumenweed subtly growing on them during treatment! Here are Adeline's and Rom's for example:

Geranea's faded and died upon her rejecting the 'cosmos' with both her body and her soul, but she never got around removing them as they became too entwined with her hair. But I like to think that when she finally broke mentally, those flowers in her hair were glowing and flourishing again, as if to seek for salvation.

...Aaaaaanyway, I can't believe I never really drew her that much ;-; That face ref is like... this is IT. Boy, I gotta fix myself.

[salazzzle]

only written hypnosis for hen and ed, so this was a Brand New Experience - bingalicious

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

The only sound in the room was the sound of the ticking clock and his beating heart.

They felt in sync, every tick lined up with the steady rhythm of the only thing keeping him sane. He didn’t know how long he had been in here, subjected to his own thoughts. The last thing he remembered was getting an email link, and then everything became hazy after that. 

The room was mostly barren, at least he thought so. Besides the chair he was tied to, the rope, and clock he couldn’t see, and the lamp above his head, dimly lit and lining what he hoped were the edges of the room with shadows, he truly had no idea of the space he occupied.

The room sounded smaller, but he couldn’t see the edges, could only hope his eyes played tricks on him, made the shadows seem to stretch far longer than they should. But his eyes had been playing tricks on him all this time.

And his ears. And his body. And his mind. 

It felt like every part of his body was revolting, the space itself corrupting him.

The shadows felt alive. They lurked at the edges of his vision constantly, and he swore he saw them moving, shifting, and making him stare until his eyes watered and he had to rapidly blink. He couldn’t look away, as they were everywhere he looked, and even closing his head didn’t provide the relief he needed, being assaulted by the swirling, whorling shadows that appeared even under his eyelids.

When there wasn’t the normal sounds he had become used to, there was this…buzzing noise, a soft static that filled in the empty space and left his brain as fuzzy as the noise. It was a surrounding, comforting noise, and he nearly fell asleep every time he heard it. When his eyes finally closed, body slumped, it would suddenly, jarringly stop, enough for his head to snap up and look for it almost longingly before he realized he was alone, and that wonderful, angelic noise was gone for the moment and he was left along with that stupid fucking clock, and his stupid fucking heart.

Sometimes he felt on the verge of a panic attack, heart suddenly racing as he stared, shouting for help, screaming for someone to come save him until his voice was hurt and tears trailed down his face. It would happen randomly, like he couldn’t even control his body, and left him shaking and confused until it suddenly stopped, jarring enough he could only blink and remain silent as he lost control of even his insides.

Sometimes he felt hands crawling all over him. Touching his hair under his hat, touching his arms under the rope, running up and down his clothed legs and leaving him squirming. It was the relief he desperately needed, stimulation that wasn’t rope burn and ticking, but it was never enough, gentle enough he told himself it wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

How many times did he repeat that mantra? It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

He was dreaming. That was why he felt like this. It was a nightmare. It was a daydream. It was a peaceful dream and he would open his eyes and he would be in his bed.

He would open his eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes.

He blinked sluggishly, staring around. He was underwater, surely, because he couldn’t think fast, couldn’t move good, everything felt disconnected. He was swimming, he was drowning, he was soaring above the water with his wax wings, and he blinked, and the sun stood shining in front of him.

The sun was green, he decided, it must be, what else could be so brilliant? The ticking had stopped, finally, God finally, and his beautiful music had started again, static filling his ears and mind and body and leaving him heavy and fulfilled. The shadows seemed to warp around his sun, running away from the glowing man, his savior, his saint, his God. 

There was a strong hand running through his hair, hat somewhere - when did he lose it? - and finally, finally, there was just someone. Something. 

It was real. He could be real.

He opened his mouth to say something, to thank him, but all that came out was a line of drool. His savior merely chuckled, empty hand coming up and wiping it away, trailing up and towards his mouth. All he could do was suckle on the object in his mouth obediently, like it was second nature. He knew his purpose, staring at his sun, and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

The other hand yanked his hair, and he blinked slowly as he stared up at the man, static tears running down his face as the sun beamed at him.

“Good boy. Now that I think you know your place, let’s have some fun, huh?”

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

HOLY SHIT !! THIS IS AMAZING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the descriptionS OF EVERYTHING oh my GOODDDD this is so good !!