#but that's just what I've observed so far

[bamfkeeper]

Absolution. | K.W

warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI | AFAB reader | Religious themes | Priest/sinner roleplay | Soft dom/sub dynamics | Dirty talk | Spanking | Slight bondage | Anal sex | Sex toys | Corruption themes. Obviously not realistic don't just have anal sex without prep 😭

Do not read if this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just skip it. I mean no disrespect to religion, this is just a stupid fanfic please do not take this seriously.

a/n: I started this fic in JULY. So if the writing seems a little weird, that's why. I've grown a lot since I first started this blog so my style has switched up a bit. I tried to keep to Kurt's character even with the scenario, hopefully I balanced it out okay. Probably not everyone's thing so...don't read if not. Slowly making my way back here. Not proofread, will do at a later date. ;; wc: 4.7k

You were so bored.

It was a lazy day at the mansion, your boredom drove you into a cleaning frenzy. While rummaging through Kurt's wardrobe, you stumbled upon something you hadn't seen before. "Kurt, is this..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you carefully extract the garment from its hiding place.

Kurt glances up from the book he held, perched on the chair sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes softening with recognition. "Ah, ja...my robes," he responds, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Rising from his seat, he approaches you with measured steps, gently taking the robes from your hands. "I have not worn them in quite some time," he muses, his fingers tracing the familiar fabric with reverence.

Intrigued by this glimpse into Kurt's past, you can't help but tilt your head, "You should put them on." Your curiosity piqued, you add, "I'd love to see how you look in them." You didn't share the same views, which might've been why Kurt was a bit reserved about that part of himself, not wanting to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed, eager to see how he looked in his robes. Kurt, ever obliging, nods in response to your request and begins to don his priestly attire. The process is unhurried, almost ritualistic, as he carefully slips into each layer. Once fully dressed, he turns his attention to the details, his fingers working to adjust the collar just so. Standing before the mirror, Kurt takes a moment to assess his reflection, his expression a mixture of familiarity and something like nostalgia crosses his features.

"Well, what do you think, liebling?" he inquired, slowly rotating to face you with his arms slightly extended. His end of his tail tail swayed under the end of the robe in a languid motion as his eyes met yours, curiosity evident in his gaze. As you observed him, an unexpected sensation stirred within you, a powerful and undeniable attraction that you found impossible to ignore. You felt shame bubble in your belly, you shouldn't be this attracted to him like this. It was wrong, but...it felt so right.

Drawn by this magnetic pull, you rose from your seat and approached him. Your voice was low and appreciative as you commented, "You look really good wearing this." Your hand, almost of its own accord, traced a path up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. He responded with a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah... I see that mischievous glint in your eyes. You're thinking naughty things, aren't you?" he remarked, gently placing his hand over yours to halt its exploratory journey.

"I understand what you desire, liebe," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "However, I'm not certain I can fulfill that wish while wearing these garments. They hold too much sacred meaning for me...engaging in such activities while wearing them would feel far too blasphemous." His words trailed off, leaving an air of regret hanging between you.

Kurt held his religious beliefs close to his heart, creating a conflict between his desire not to disappoint you and his need to maintain the sanctity of his attire. The struggle was obvious in his expression as he grappled with the dilemma of wanting to please you without compromising his deeply held convictions.

"Why don't we pretend?" you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Something along the lines of roleplaying, maybe? Given your natural flair for theatrics and showmanship, I'm sure you could have fun with it." The proposition wasn't without merit, and he thought about it for a moment, his mind clearly working through the possibilities. His head tilted to the side in contemplation, and reaching his internal consensus, he nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well," he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm. "We can certainly give that a try. If it brings you happiness, then I'm more than willing." His smile widened as he leaned in, planting a gentle, affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. "However, I'll need a moment to prepare. Allow me to make some alterations to my appearance and demeanor. I have a different robe I will change into, very similar to this one, don't worry. Just less significant to me."

And just like that, the scene was set.

In what felt like a few moments, Kurt had transformed. He now stood towering above you, his presence suddenly commanding and authoritative.

You were on your knees before him, a position that encouraged the power dynamic you both had agreed to explore. Kurt reached down and cupped your chin in his hand, gentle and assertive, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and playful, now held a hint of stern judgment, perfectly in character for the role he had assumed.

"Well, well," he began, his voice taking on a rich, sonorous quality that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been quite the naughty sinner, haven't you?" His tone carried a note of playful admonishment, but there was an underlying current of something more intense. "After all the transgressions you've committed, you now come seeking absolution? Seeking forgiveness from me?" He questioned, his delivery starting off with a hint of theatrical flair.

It was clear that this was new territory for him, and initially, he felt a touch of self-consciousness, a slight awkwardness in inhabiting this unfamiliar role. However, as he continued, you could see him settling into the character, his confidence growing with each word. His initial hesitation was rapidly giving way to a more controlled, measured performance, as he found his footing in this improvised scenario.

You felt nervous and excited, the feelings coursing through your veins, having never engaged in 'roleplay' before. A slight tremor shook your voice and a few nervous chuckles followed, you managed to formulate a response. "Oh, Father Wagner," you began, your words held playful desperation, "I've been so busy, I haven’t had the time to come to you. But now, I find myself in dire need of spiritual cleansing. You're the only one who possesses the power to absolve me of my sins." As the words left your lips, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario.

"My child," he responded, his tone suddenly shifting, "The act of sinning is no trivial matter to be taken lightly." His abrupt immersion into the 'role' caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. He released his grip on your chin and fixed you with a stern, unyielding gaze. "However," he continued, his voice low and resonant, "You are fortunate indeed. For I have been bestowed the ability to purge the corruption of sin from your very soul."

A part of you wanted to burst into laughter, seeing him adopt such a serious demeanor for this playful charade was a surprise. However, not wanting to shatter the illusion or dampen the enjoyment of the moment, you made a conscious effort to maintain your composure and play along. You gave a slight bow with your head, responding in a soft, reverent tone, "Yes, Father Wagner." You repeated his title, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue.

Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, your eyes wide and imploring, your features arranged into the most innocent expression you could muster. "I humbly beseech you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, cleanse my soul of its impurities."

Kurt gently lifted you from the floor and guided you to the bed. "I will have to start with the basics, my dear, but do not be afraid. I promise you, I will purify your soul," he whispered, his voice acting as a soothing balm to your nerves. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he guided you to lay across the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and gentle. "Now, stay perfectly still..." he hummed, his voice a low, melodic rumble. You felt him move away, his presence shifting to the side as he reached for something unseen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you attempted to turn your head, eager to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. However, Kurt's hand swiftly returned, his palm warm against the back of your head as he held you in place. "Ah, nein, my little sinner," he chided softly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You must remain still for the cleansing ritual to work its magic." His fingers began to move, gently scratching your scalp in a soothing manner before he slowly withdrew his touch.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff of frustration, torn between the desire to see and the need to obey his instructions. Despite your impatience, you forced yourself to comply, your body relaxing into the position he had placed you in.

"Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice a mixture of resignation and anticipation. "What exactly do you have in store for me, Father Wagner?" The question hung in the air, your curiosity peaking as you waited, body tense with expectation. The soft sound of Kurt's footsteps reached your ears as he moved around the room. When he returned, you sensed his presence beside you, accompanied by the subtle rustle of fabric.

"I have something special for you, mein Schatz," he murmured, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. You heard the gentle thud of an object being placed on the bed next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a small, ornate box. The sight of it only heightened your curiosity, and Kurt knew it.

"This has all of my cleansing tools, my dear. I promise you I will be forgiven when I am done," Kurt said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand glided over the curve of your ass, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and electrifying. The anticipation built with each passing second, your skin tingling under his fingertips. Just as you began to relax into his caress, he suddenly laid a firm smack to your backside. The sharp sound echoed in the room, followed immediately by a stinging sensation that spread across your skin.

Your eyes widened in shock, and before you could process what had happened, a sharp cry of surprise escaped your lips. "Ah, Kurt!" You spat out, shock in your tone as you blinked and registered the sensation. The unexpected nature of his action left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend that he had actually spanked you, of all things.

"Es tut mir Leid, schatz...are you okay?" Kurt asked, his voice shifting from the dominant tone he had adopted earlier to one of concern. He paused, breaking character for a moment as he gently rubbed his hand over your backside, soothing the lingering sting from his unexpected strike. The tender ministrations of his fingers helped ease the sensation, and you realized that while the spank had been surprising, it hadn't actually hurt. You still appreciated his attentiveness and care, even in the midst of your roleplay. You nodded, meeting his gaze to reassure him of your well-being.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, your voice a little breathier than usual. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you continued, "I just didn't expect it, but I'm down if that's what you wanna do." Your words came out as a purr, laden with a newfound excitement.

A playful glint danced in your eyes, reflecting your growing intrigue with this unexpected turn of events. Kurt's cheeks flushed a light shade of violet, betraying his initial surprise at your enthusiastic response.

For a moment, his carefully constructed persona faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the sweet, sometimes shy man beneath the dominant exterior.

He quickly cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain his composure and slip back into character. As you watched him struggle to maintain his role, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. You were genuinely touched that he had taken the time to check in and ensure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. You gave him a nod, silently telling him you were good to continue.

He delivered another firm smack to your ass, this time with increased intensity. "Such a mischievous creature you are, I certainly have my work cut out for me, ja? What shall I do with such a naughty thing..." he mused, allowing his hand to caress one of your cheeks tenderly before administering another spank. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you bit down gently, eliciting a smile from him. "Remember, liebe, if you wish to stop, simply say 'red'," he cooed reassuringly, planting a gentle kiss along your spine. You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the safe word.

Kurt delicately parted you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing and somewhat playful smile. "My, my, you're already quite aroused, my little sinner...truly a naughty thing indeed. It seems I shall have to purify you in an alternative manner." His voice carried a blend of amusement and authority, causing your heart to race even more rapidly than before. He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing your skin, as he continued in a low, seductive murmur, "This cleansing will be most thorough, I assure you. It will be an experience that shall linger in your memory for quite some time to come...and make you think twice before committing a sin again."

You could feel something warm on your ass and you stiffened slightly, feeling a lubricated finger gently teasing the ring of muscle. He felt your body grow tense, noticing the subtle shift in your posture. Kurt circled his finger around the tightened muscle, trying to ease the tension. "Are you alright, Liebling?" Kurt asked softly, his voice concerned again. "Remember, you can say 'red' if you want to stop at any point," he reminded gently, emphasizing your safety and comfort above all else.

"I-I'm okay, just new...is all." You managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. The sensation of your stomach tightening made everything feel a lot more sensitive. You had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling a bit unsure, but willing to try it.

Kurt slowly pushed his finger past the muscle and you gasped. His finger weaseled its way into you, gently pumping in and out, the lube making it much easier than without. The sensation was so weird, but it felt so good too.

"Nngh...that feels good..." you murmured softly, your entire body melting into his gentle caress. With each delicate movement of his finger, you instinctively leaned back towards him, craving more of his touch. The sensation coursed through you, feeling so alien and unfamiliar, yet simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. The pleasure it brought left you yearning for more, desperate to feel more pleasure from your puckered entrance.

"Does it now? Well...a delicate little thing like you would naturally be drawn to this, wouldn't you? Such a taboo act...and here you are, completely enthralled by it." Kurt's voice was a low, melodious hum, tinged with a playfully sinister undertone. He deliberately withdrew his finger at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every second of your squirming reaction. His intense gaze locked onto yours, observing with rapt attention as you quivered while looking over your shoulder at him.

The corners of his lips gradually curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing the profound effect he was having on you. "Look at you, already trembling like a leaf," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper, the intoxicating thrill of dominance unmistakable in both his tone and his piercing stare.

He decided to indulge in further exploration, his hands delicately gliding up the expanse of your bare back. He paused momentarily to bestow a gentle, comforting massage upon your shoulders, gradually easing away any lingering tension that might have been nestled within your muscles. His fingers traced a path down your spine, offering a soothing rub that coaxed you into an even deeper state of relaxation. You could feel each individual vertebra beneath his expert touch as he worked his way down your back with practiced precision.

As you surrendered more fully to his ministrations, he boldly ventured his hands lower, teasingly and playfully toying with your sensitive nipples. The unexpected sensation shot pleasure through your body, causing your face to flush deeply with a mix of arousal and bashfulness. Unable to contain your reaction, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed in the room, instinctively pressing your hips back against him in a clear display of eagerness and desire.

"Now, my lovely sinner, we shall proceed to the next crucial phase of your purification," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the delicate shell of your ear. "For this part, I'm afraid I must restrain you. Are you comfortable with that, my dearest?" His words, though softly spoken, carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

You could feel your heart thundering within your chest, its rapid beats seeming to reverberate through your entire being. Your mind was racing, filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you tried to imagine what might come next. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, growing more intense and charged.

Every small sound became magnified in the growing silence - the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of breath, the faint creak of floorboards. As you mentally steeled yourself for what was coming, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching out as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

He retrieved a delicate string adorned with small, shimmering beads. The intricate piece bore a striking resemblance to a rosary, yet it was not one in the traditional sense; the carefully chosen beads served a purely aesthetic purpose, devoid of any genuine religious significance. Kurt began to wrap the beaded string around your arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he secured them to the bed. Each loop was placed with thoughtful consideration, ensuring both your comfort and the effectiveness of the restraint.

He then turned his attention to your legs, repeating the process. The beaded strings were artfully arranged, positioning your limbs wide, you were unable to close them. The sensation was novel and a little weird, yet not unpleasant. Before going any further, he paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of restraint and the gentle pressure of the beads against your skin. His eyes met yours as he softly inquired, "Gut?" His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with care and seeking your approval.

After a brief moment of introspection, you responded with a nod, you found yourself surprisingly at ease. The bondage, expertly applied, caused no discomfort whatsoever. He made sure that the bindings around your wrists and ankles were secure without being restrictive or painful for you. Finding your voice, you replied, "I'm good, Father Wagner." Your tone carried a hint of playfulness, embracing the theatrical nature of the scenario.

He was pleased, so he continued. He shifted himself so his cock was exposed, he slowly stroked himself hard and he stepped closer. His cock head gently massaged between your folds and you mentally prepared for penetration but instead, he angled up at your other hole. You took a moment to realize what he was doing and you smirked, "Father Wagner...are you sure I'm the sinner?" You questioned playfully and wriggled your hips back.

"Hush," he said back quietly, his face blushed a bit before he got back in the mindset. "This is necessary for your sins. I unfortunately can't cleanse you through your womb, I must use the other hole you have..." he whispered, his spongy, blushed head pressed against the ring of muscle gently, prodding you lightly and teasing you.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Oh, are you sure I cannot pay for my sins with my pussy?" You asked with a gentle strain, turning to look back at him and blinking with feigned innocence. "Or have I been so naughty that my sweet cunt isn't worth my sins?"

Kurt grinned at your playful words, though caught a little off guard by the vulgarity, he was still enjoying the banter between you and he continued to prod your ass. "Oh, my dear, your sins are far too great for just one part of you to pay...I'm afraid only this hole will do." His tail curled behind him and handed him a small toy, he reached between your legs and teased your throbbing clit before he dragged it through your wet folds and pushed it inside your pussy. "Can't have temptation now can we?"

The surprising action from him made you let out a desperate whine, you could feel your pretty bundle of nerves throbbing at the light touch he had given you. "Only my ass, there isn't any other way?" You questioned, playing along with the direction the scene was going.

He leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades gently and he leaned close to speak in your ear. "Now then...let's see if we can't absolve some of these sins of yours." he whispered teasingly, spreading you a bit more before sliding into your ass slowly. The sudden intrusion into your ass made you stiffen in surprise. It was uncomfortable at first, the muscles not used to being stretched out.

The sensation was intense, causing you to inhale sharply as he eased in just past the tip. Immediately, he halted his movements, his eyes fixed intently on your face to gauge your reaction. Your comfort and well-being were important to him, regardless of the intimate act you were engaged in. He had no desire to inflict any discomfort upon you. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a gentle, concerned tone, his body completely motionless as he awaited your response.

"I just..." you exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, "Need a moment to adjust..." you managed to say, your voice slightly strained. The initial discomfort was challenging, even with the careful preparation he had undertaken beforehand. His hands moved to your hips, gently caressing them in soothing, circular motions, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still, allowing you the time you needed.

Several minutes passed as you gradually acclimated to the new sensation. When you felt ready, you cautiously shifted your hips backward, assisting him in entering further. "Mmm...it's better now...f-feels good," you murmured, your voice a mixture of relief and growing pleasure.

"Gut...I will purify you, my child, do not fear," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He began to move his hips steadily, a rhythmic motion that gradually increased in intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he rocked into you, his thrusts careful and measured until he was fully seated within you. Kurt's arms encircled you, holding you close against his body, the warmth of his embrace felt good against the cool bedroom air.

The soft fabric of his robes swayed gently with each movement, creating a whisper of sound in the quiet room. "Ach....you are tight as a drum," he breathed, his words barely audible. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lose himself in the moment.

You sighed deeply, your body responding to his movements with a shudder that ran from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you were rocking back against him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "I can feel it working," you panted, your voice breathy. "I feel it, getting better...aah...the sins are leaving me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan.

"They will fade, just let me cleanse you..." Kurt hissed against your skin, his hips thrusting faster against you as he focused on pumping himself in and out at a good pace. His cock stretched you so good, your previously unused hole now burning with hot desire, squeezing every ounce of him into your cavern.

"Kurt, oh my god...keep going," you moaned loudly, feeling every single bit of his dick deep inside you. Every vein against the muscle of your ass, the curve of that soft tip and the thickness pushing its way in and out with each piston of his hips. It felt so damn good, you were molding to him.

"I...am almost there, liebling..." Kurt rasped, his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly as he focused his thrusts. His endurance was impressive as hell, and he was determined to continue the pace he set without faltering.

The spade of his tail slithered over your clit and rubbed over it, gently teasing the bud enough for you to react and moan. His hands moved from your hips and ran under you to feel your chest. He was practically laying on you now, his hips not stuttering for a second.

You felt your climax approach and wash over you before you could warn him, and you let out a loud cry of pleasure as you came. Kurt's eyes widened, you tightened around him with your orgasm and his hips halted. He shot his climax deep into you, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he held you still.

Kurt gave a few more solid thrusts before he pulled out of your swollen hole, watching his cum drip out of your throbbing muscle. He felt such pride seeing you this way, but he knew you were extra sensitive now and the play was over after your respective climaxes. He reached and carefully removed the toy from your pussy, earning a soft whine from you.

"Ach...liebe...you will be the death of me..." He moved to unbind you, his fingers working methodically to remove each restraint one by one. As the bindings fell away, your limbs were finally free to relax from their confined position. Your muscles, having been held taut for so long, now felt completely boneless - like warm honey flowing through your veins. You rolled languidly onto your side and curled up into yourself, savoring the pure bliss that came with being able to bend and stretch your limbs again.

He settled beside you, shrugging off his robe before taking one of your arms into his hands as he began to massage the places where the restraints had been. His strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles to encourage proper circulation. Each press of his fingertips was perfectly measured, firm enough to be therapeutic but gentle enough to soothe. He punctuated each rub with soft kisses, his lips trailing over the subtle marks left behind on your skin, trying to kiss away any lingering discomfort.

You were grateful for his gentle touch, melting into his embrace as he carefully tended to you. The warmth of his hands was soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into the comfort he provided. You weren't hurt, but there was definitely a pleasant soreness settling into your muscles now. "That was...amazing," you breathed softly, your voice filled with contentment, "I mean...wow... I don't even know what to say..."

"You liked it?" Kurt asked, a gentle smile playing across his features as his hand splayed across your back, fingers working in slow, methodical circles to ease the tension around your hips.

"I didn't expect you to take the role so easily, or seriously..." You chuckled lightly, looking up at him from where you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. "But...it was fun. I mean, really fun. Did you enjoy it too? You didn't feel pressured into anything, right? I know it was kind of a weird request..."

"Of course not, liebe. I enjoyed it very much. Besides, seeing you so completely blissed out is one of my absolute favorite things to see...~" Kurt teased with a gentle smirk, his playful tone making you squirm as his tail lazily wrapped around your waist.

"Kurt..." You whined and quickly pulled the soft blanket nearby over your flushed body, burying your face against his chest, "We just finished! Don't get any ideas!"

"Okay, okay...no more play tonight. Just let Father Wagner take care of his precious little sinner now. You need your rest."

"Kurt!" You exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm despite the smile you couldn't quite hide. Regardless, you curled up as he continued to pamper you after the scene, his slow rubs and hums lulling you into a much needed nap.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image from unknown source. I searched for over an hour to find the source but wasn't able to find it. If you know please message me so I can update this.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 4

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

The sterile lighting of Captain Jenna’s office cast an unforgiving glow over every surface, from the polished metal of her desk to the file she had in front of her. Your file. The office that had once brought you comfort, now felt cold and oppressive, leaving your nerves on fire. You had been back in the office for only a few hours, just enough time to settle in, before being summoned by your boss. Now, sitting across from her, you could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you, like an invisible shackle tightening around your chest.

Jenna’s gaze was sharp and assessing, but there was an unusual glint in her eyes - something unreadable. She would never allow herself to show it, but you knew she held a soft spot for you. Which made you feel even more nervous about the upcoming discussion. Her voice was cool and controlled, as she opened the file and glanced over the last official report before your unexpected week off. 

"So," she began, folding her hands on top of the document, "how have things been progressing? Your notes have been detailed and useful but I wanted to get your view on the situation"

You took a steadying breath, careful to keep your expression neutral, but a faint pulse of anxiety beat under your calm exterior. "I've managed to observe some of his business dealings, mostly just meetings in the N109 zone," you replied, keeping your tone casual. "But... so far, everything I've seen has seemed pretty routine. Business transactions, nothing overtly illegal. I have got a good sense of his routine though, and he does seem to be a creature of habit."

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of scepticism flickering across her face. "Routine transactions in the N109 zone? That’s all" she repeated, almost as if testing you. "Sylus’ illegal activities are well known by the association, I doubt he’s been acting completely above board.” She levelled her gaze at you and you felt your stomach drop. “We need more than just routine observations from you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and a pang of guilt twisted through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady, meeting her gaze. "I know. And I’m keeping a close eye, but he’s... careful. Nothing about his movements or meetings have given me any solid evidence, yet. But I’m dedicated to ensuring this mission’s success Captain," The words rolled off your tongue with a practised ease that surprised even you, each one a hint of a betrayal that somehow felt both foreign and familiar. 

In truth, the images of Sylus and the blood-stained floors of that dimly lit warehouse were burned into your memory. No amount of justification could scrub them clean, but telling Jenna about that night felt like exposing something raw and vulnerable within yourself. As if reporting it would make your twisted sense of loyalty, of protectiveness, suddenly real and undeniable. You physically couldn’t tell her. 

Jenna nodded slowly, but her eyes hadn’t lost that calculating gleam. "How about this recent meeting with Albert Clements?" she asked, as she flicked through the reports, indicating that specific entry. "There’s been reports that he’s interested in joining forces with Sylus. That could be dangerous, of course, an alliance between his father’s company and Onychinus." Her tone was probing, likely due to that entry being short and noticeably lacking detail. 

You forced a nonchalant shrug, doing your best to appear unaffected, even as the memory of that night flashed vividly behind your eyes. "I was there to observe, but it seemed more like preliminary talks. Clements wants to make a name for himself, but he hasn’t done much yet to earn Sylus’s trust. I don’t think an alliance is likely Captain. Sylus seemed uninterested in the discussion, almost as if he was distracted by something.” 

Captain Jenna tapped her fingers on the file, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Anything else you think I should know? Unusual patterns? Allies he seems particularly close to?"

For a brief moment, you could still feel the ghostly weight of the gun in your hand, hear the muffled shot as you’d acted without hesitation, saving Sylus from betrayal. Allies? Did you count? But instead of confessing, you kept your face impassive, letting none of it show. "Not particularly," you answered, your voice even. "Nothing that stands out."

The silence stretched, her gaze unrelenting as she seemed to study the depths of your expression. A faint tremor rippled through you, but you buried it deep, knowing that any crack, any flicker of doubt, could unravel everything.

Jenna leaned back in her chair and sighed. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face as her gaze bored into you. "Look," she said, her voice softening slightly, almost as if reaching for an understanding. "I know this assignment is intense, and the N109 zone isn’t an easy place to navigate, but you have to give me something. You’ve been a dependable asset to the Association, Y/N. Your record is commendable. That being said, I need to present something to the higher-ups to prove it." There was a moment’s pause as she regarded you with something close to concern. 

You nodded, trying to maintain an air of confidence. “I understand Captain, I think it might just be that this mission will take a little longer than expected.” Taking a deep breath, you steeled your expression further, fully committing to the web of lies you were spinning. “Captain, I want to do this right, to make sure I have the best information possible so I’m not willing to rush this. You can tell your superiors that I’m fully committed to doing this to the best of my abilities and to that, I need time. There’s a reason that all the other missions failed before me, maybe the common thread is expecting results too soon. Nothing good will come from rushing in and making mistakes.” The words flowed out of you, the slight edge to them spoke of your resolve. Resolve for what? Well, that remained to be seen.

Captain Jenna nodded, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "Okay, now that, I can work with. Just remember, the Association has your back. If anything feels off, or if you need help, I need you to report it. I don’t want you getting too deep in this, it isn’t worth losing yourself over. I know you can do this and do it well."

The words struck something deep inside you, a pang of conflict twisting through you. It was almost laughable how far you'd drifted from the Association’s purpose, how tangled you'd become in your own emotions. But you nodded, forcing a small smile to settle on your lips, playing into the comfortable rapport that you two shared. "Understood, Captain," you replied, voice steady. "I’ll make sure to keep that in mind"

Jenna seemed to scrutinise you for a long moment, her gaze heavy with the weight of her expectations. Despite her doubts, you knew she believed in you, in your integrity, that you could stand firm in the face of whatever Sylus represented. And that faith, unspoken but palpable, twisted your gut with a wave of guilt you barely managed to keep hidden.

Finally, she closed the file, tapping it thoughtfully before looking up at you. "I've been thinking that it might be time we begin to push this mission forward," she said, her tone resolute. "Keeping tabs on his routines and associates is all well and good for establishing a preliminary, but if you’re not able to observe anything more useful soon, I think it’s time to move into the second phase of this operation."

Your throat tightened. "The second phase?" you echoed, already knowing the answer.

Jenna nodded. "Start to gain his trust. Get close to him and make contact with him. Become someone useful, someone he can rely on. It’s time to start creating opportunities to make him believe you’re on his side. We should start refining the identity we set up for you. I’ll have someone start working on it"

The weight of her directive settled heavily on you, every syllable pressing against the tangled mess of emotions you’d been hiding. You forced yourself to nod, even as your mind spun, grappling with the impossibility of what she was asking. The idea of getting closer to Sylus, of creating trust, felt like playing with fire - but it also ignited a treacherous thrill inside you. The idea of meeting him finally, having his crimson eyes focused on you, and his sweet honeyed voice saying your name, made your excitement swell.

Jenna's voice softened, her eyes steady. "Just remember... This mission is about bringing him to justice, not getting caught up in his world. You have to maintain your integrity while getting close to him, okay? Don’t lose who you are.” She warned you. “The Hunter’s association will not pardon any illegal activity during this mission unless it’s absolutely necessary, and there will be an investigation should that happen. From now on your reports need to be more detailed.” 

"Understood, Captain," you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. 

You swallowed hard, the conflict simmering beneath the surface as you held her gaze. She had no idea how blurred those lines had already become, how far you’d drifted from the Association’s purpose. And as you turned to leave, Jenna’s words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the path you were supposed to be walking.

As you stepped out of her office, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You knew you were spiralling into a darkness that neither the Association nor Jenna could pull you from. 

The meeting with Captain Jenna had allowed you to return to surveillance within only a few days of your return to work. It was nice to do away with the usual week of desk work you'd expected to be on after a period of sickness like that. You’d settled back into the routine easily. Daily reports; endless streams of surveillance footage; and the sterile language of mission updates all felt hollow like a pale imitation of the vibrant, chaotic world Sylus inhabited. You’d taken Captain Jenna’s advice, making your reports much more detailed. The fear of being removed from the mission was enough to spark you into overdrive, prompting you to add little embellishments here and there to the official documentation. Well maybe that wasn’t quite true. You’d begun to flat out lie in order to ensure that your reports were satisfactory by the Association’s standards. 

There was only one bright spot that pierced through the dull haze: him. Seeing Sylus, even from a distance, was like inhaling fresh air after being trapped in a suffocating room. His presence was magnetic and ensured that the monotony of your days was well worth the effort you took to remain on this mission. 

The seasons had begun to shift back in Linkon. The crisp mornings and early sunsets reminded you of how fragile the boundary between day and night had become as summer’s oppressive heat gave way to autumn’s cooler days and crisp air. The change was almost imperceptible in the N109 zone however, where the sun rarely shone and the air always seemed thick with tension. The city was dangerous enough in the light, but under the cover of darkness, it transformed into something feral and untamed.

It was one such night that finally tipped you over the edge. 

You had been trailing Sylus all day, tracking his movements with the kind of precision that had become second nature to you now. He’d had a quiet day - no business meetings in his usual haunts, no deals or auctions attended, just the occasional basic errand that seemed beneath a man of his stature. When you finally overheard a mention of him heading to one of his clubs for an “appointment,” your pulse quickened. At last, a change in scenery.

The club he mentioned, Opal Veil, was one of only a few in his business portfolio that you hadn’t visited yet but you knew enough about its general dealings to know that a field trip there would be no walk in the park. Its reputation preceded it - Opal Veil was an exclusive haven for the N109 zone’s elite, where power and wealth mingled under the dim glow of neon lights. The kind of place where alliances were forged over expensive drinks and betrayals were whispered between beats of the music. This wasn’t just a club. It was a domain, his domain.

As you approached the club that evening, it loomed before you like a jewel in the dark. The neon signage bathed the street in a soft, otherworldly glow, the bold letters of standing out against the grimy backdrop of the city. It seemed entirely out of place in the barren alleyway. The low thumping bassline of the music seemed to rattle the building, the boarded up windows rattling slightly as the beat thrummed. Two towering figures flanked the entrance. Their sharp suits and unconcealed firearms marked them as far more than simple bouncers they were clearly not to be messed with. You took a deep breath and continued towards them with what you hoped was an air of arrogance. They watched you approach, their gazes hard and assessing. Both men turned to look at one another, a silent conversation taking place despite no words ever being said out loud. This was it, you were about to lose your chance to get inside. You prepared yourself to be turned away but to your surprise, they stepped aside without a word, allowing you to pass.

Inside, the club was a world of its own. Golden light spilled from ornate fixtures, illuminating the velvet booths and polished wood floors. The bar gleamed under the glow of recessed lighting, patrons flashing black cards and stacks of cash to catch the attention of the overwhelmed bartenders. The dance floor was a sea of movement, bodies swaying and shifting like a tide under the hypnotic pulse of the music. The scent of cigars, top-shelf liquor, and the faint metallic tang of power filled the air, mingling with the subtle but ever-present smell of danger.

Your outfit - a slinky black dress that clung to your curves in ways you weren’t entirely comfortable with - felt almost like a costume. The hemline barely brushed your thighs, and the plunging neckline revealed far more than you’d ever consider appropriate for work, but in a place like this, blending in was paramount. The gun tucked into your clutch was a poor substitute for your usual holster, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You adjusted the dress once more as you stepped deeper into the club, willing yourself to stay focused.

You were momentarily tipped off balance by an incoming wave of men all dressed in black and clearly not newcomers like you. As they brushed past you, you felt a hand caress your ass and jumped at the contact, feeling completely out of your depth. No one else in the club seemed out of pace, their confidence came from understanding that they were right where they belonged.  People moved with purpose, predators wrapped in silk and sharp suits, their laughter sharp and hollow. Your gaze darted around the room, taking in the opulence and seedy undertones that clung to every corner.

You needed to compose yourself or your presence here would stick out like a sore thumb. You slipped into the bathroom, a sanctuary of warmth and soft golden light. The granite countertop gleamed under suspended lamps, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive soap lingered in the air. You leaned against the cool surface of the sink, your reflection staring back at you.

Your makeup was still flawless, your eyes sharp, but the tension in your shoulders betrayed the nerves simmering beneath your skin. You took a shaky breath, then another, trying to steady yourself. This was just another mission, you reminded yourself. Nothing more. You re-applied your lipstick with slow precision, forcing your trembling hands to still. The glossy sheen felt like a mask - a layer of confidence you desperately needed.

You straightened your posture, smoothing your dress as you turned toward the door. You’d gotten through tougher situations before, you told yourself. This was no different.

But the moment you stepped back into the main room, the world shifted.

Your eyes found him instantly, as though your gaze was magnetically drawn to him, his presence unmistakeable even in the crowded room. Sylus lounged in a private booth, the golden light casting a warm glow over his sharp features. His silver hair caught the light in a way that made it appear almost ethereal, though nothing about him could be called soft. He radiated control and confidence. 

His tailored grey shirt hugged his broad chest and shoulders perfectly, the fabric stretching slightly with every subtle movement. A leather harness wrapped around his torso accentuating the powerful lines and defined musculature beneath. His long legs were stretched out beneath the table, the dark fabric of his trousers perfectly fitted to his form. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Your breath caught as you took him in, the sight of him sending an unbidden heat coursing through your veins. Even seated, he commanded the space, his every movement deliberate, calculated. The smirk playing on his lips suggested he knew exactly how captivating he was—and exactly who was watching him.

Sylus leaned forward slightly, the glow of the light above catching on the sharp planes of his jaw as his gaze flicked across the room, taking everything in with that predatory sharpness. Even here, surrounded by indulgence and luxury, and the elite, he stood out as a person of power. 

And then you saw her.

Lucienne Carrion. The name alone was enough to make your stomach twist. The ruthless leader of Vokoti, an organisation that worked similarly to Onychinus but held nowhere near the same amount of power. . She was dressed in a striking red gown, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin and revealing legs that seemed to stretch for miles. Her dark hair was swept back, her sharp features softened only by the sultry smile she wore as she leaned in close to Sylus. Too close. Her hand rested on his thigh, her long nails tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his trousers. 

Your stomach churned, anger and jealousy twisting together into a suffocating knot. The sight of her touching him ignited something primal in you, a possessiveness that you had no right to feel but couldn’t suppress. He didn’t even know you existed, and yet you felt betrayed, as though his presence with her was a personal affront.

Your mind spiralled, torn between the irrational anger bubbling within you and the cold logic that tried to tell you this wasn’t real. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet here he was, letting her get closer than anyone else ever had. The rational part of your brain left the room, leaving you with only one conclusion to make. The fucker was on a date. He doesn’t know you, the rational part of your mind whispered, but that voice was drowned out by the rush of jealousy that left your hands trembling. 

You moved to the bar, ordering a drink to steady yourself. From your vantage point, you watched them closely, every touch between them like a dagger to your chest. You imagined Lucienne’s head hitting the polished wood of the table, over and over again until the smug smile on her face was replaced by nothing but blood and broken teeth. The thought was so vivid it startled you, and you shook your head, trying to clear the violent imagery.

Sylus’s carmine eyes flicked briefly in your direction, a smirk ghosting across his lips before he turned his attention back to Lucienne. The movement was subtle, so subtle that you missed it entirely.

Sylus grew even more smug at what that little look had revealed to him. He knew you were there. Of course he did. Sylus was always aware of his surroundings, and you had become a part of his landscape - one he found endlessly amusing. He had clocked you the second you had stepped into his club. After all, the security had given him a heads up that his special guest had arrived, just as he knew you would. 

You looked far too tempting for Sylus’ preference. He’d found his thoughts wandering back to the night he’d seen you pleasuring yourself, how delicious your body had looked as you’d writhed in pleasure. Seeing you in that risky little number had his entire body on edge with need.

Pretty little hunter, he thought, the smirk deepening as he watched you from the corner of his eye. The tension in your posture, the way your gaze darted between him and Lucienne - it was written all over you. And oh, how he loved it. You were jealous, and he found it utterly delightful. A spark of satisfaction and pride ran through him, and he leaned into her touch, placing his hand lightly over Lucienne’s as if to seal the intimacy between them.

The sight made your stomach drop, but Sylus felt nothing but delight. He could see the tension in your posture, the way your drink sat untouched on the bar as your attention remained locked on him. Pretty little hunter, he thought with a smirk. How adorable you were, sitting there stewing in jealousy, your emotions practically written across your face.

He leaned closer to Lucienne, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, the sound low and sultry. He didn’t care about Lucienne, this was a business meeting after all, but the way your jaw tightened at the sight of them together was worth every second of the charade.

Your nails bit into the flesh of your palm, the pain grounding you just enough to keep your composure. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the bitter taste of betrayal lingered on your tongue. You had killed a man to protect him, had risked everything for him, and now here he was, laughing and leaning into this bitch - allowing someone like her to touch him as though it meant nothing. 

Lucienne’s laughter rang out, a low, sultry sound that only added fuel to the fire burning in your chest. And Sylus - how could he be so casual, so unaffected, when he had consumed your every waking thought? 

Sylus stood, adjusting his shirt collar as he prepared to leave. Lucienne rose with him, her hand trailing down his arm in a gesture that made your teeth clench. He nodded to one of his men, his attention briefly drawn to the movement near the bar. You slipped deeper into the shadows, your mind racing.

How dare he move so freely, so unaffected, while he had consumed every part of you? It wasn’t fair. He had taken up so much space in your mind, haunted your every thought, and yet he lived his life without even a flicker of acknowledgment for what he had done to you. 

As Sylus rose from the booth, Lucienne following closely behind him, you made a decision. You were done playing by the rules of the Hunter’s Association, done trying to reconcile your obsession with the mission. If Sylus was going to consume your every thought, then you would make sure he had no choice but to notice you.

The mission didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was Sylus - and making him yours, no matter the cost. 

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 4 is finally done! This one took me so long and I'm still not entirely happy with it to be honest but if I have to look at it for another day, I might cry!

Please let me know what you think  

❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE FEED US MORE JUST AS DOWN BAD GOLDEN CHEESE. PLEASE MORE YANDERE CHEESE

Did you send two asks in a row screaming for more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese lol. Calm down brotato, Merchant is here. Merchant sees you (and everyone else in my inbox I swear to God Almighty I will address you all eventually). Let me see what I've got in my noodle for you

Under the cut because this is fucked and gets a little extra graphic at one particular point lol

Golden Cheese actually has tried to gather the identities of those Burning Spice has murdered. What she wasn't able to glean on her own, from her own personal knowledge of other lands and peoples (i.e. noticing certain traits she knows to be endemic to certain cultures, like a hair accessory or something), she found in books and scrolls in her kingdom's library that gave her a better idea. Whatever she couldn't find in those, she found via sending cheesebirds to travel far and wide in search of any kingdoms, cities, villages, families and friend groups with confirmed missing persons. They would report back to her and, with all the knowledge she's gathered, she's able to find a name, which she then wrote onto a label and placed under the person it belonged to. She's managed to eventually give all the heads their identities/personhood back, at least to some degree. And now, knowing who these people are/were, she can get them back to their loved ones easier. Right? ...Right? (She tries not to progress beyond being proud of herself for going that extra mile, because it just leads back to "ok so why are the heads still here, why haven't you returned them". In trying to do the right thing, she ultimately just does the WRONG thing again and reinforces her preexisting guilt and shame, because... she knows exactly why she hasn't returned them...)

Golden has started... experimenting with Spice, for lack of a better term. After she was proven correct about him paying attention when she mentions someone she doesn't like and later killing that specific person for her, she starts testing him in other ways. She makes subtle suggestions about how he ought to kill people, to see how he responds in the moment and if he actually ends up doing it later. She tries to coax him into going into detail about how the killing went, just to see if and how he does so (turns out he really does like to brag about his crimes, especially to her). She tries to hint at him giving her other things besides body parts, like certain trinkets (it... sort of works. If she asks for a watch, he... brings her a severed arm with a watch attached to it still, for example). She's observing how far he'll go and in which direction he's willing to travel in at her suggestion. (...And she revels in how much power it turns out she has over him. She really does have him at her beck and call. It's lovely.)

When her friends ask her how she's been managing her Beast (they are aware that hers is still actively targeting her, but that's it), she acts as nonchalant as possible. Burning Spice is nothing. He's just a fly buzzing around her head. She handles him just fine. When they ask her how they can help, she tells them she doesn't need it, because she doesn't want them anywhere near him she really is fine. It's fine. She's fine. When they suggest going after him themselves... thank goodness she's a good actress and a quick thinker, because her very first REAL reaction was seething fury that she had to keep under control until she was alone again - but then, when she finally is, she just has another crisis of conscience, because now she has to confront the fact that she can no longer tolerate the notion of him being harmed by anyone besides herself. She used to want him dead or imprisoned by any means necessary, but now... now, she lies about his whereabouts to everyone who asks (and she always knows where he is, she snuck a tracking device onto him), because she doesn't want anyone coming near him for any reason anymore, least of all to harm him. Because only SHE can harm him now. He still comes to fight her, not just to give her things. And she obliges him, albeit begrudgingly (never mind the sick satisfaction she feels when she hurts him or takes him down. She wonders if this feeling is what he's referring to in those letters about him reveling in their battles and how he enjoys her suffering). She... she won't let that end. She won't let anyone get in the way. In his way. In THEIR way. She can handle him by herself. Everyone else can stay home. They won't take him away from her. She cannot guarantee their safety if they try.

She once idly wondered about his past. About the people he likely once had in his life. About... if he'd ever been fond of any other women. She could hardly fathom the hatred that utterly overwhelmed her senses when the thought entered her mind. So angry was she that she broke the glass of water in her hand in said anger and injured herself. So haunted by this notion did she end up, that she tried to ask him about it the next time they met (as subtly as possible; she understands the implications of asking such a thing). He just shrugged and said he didn't recall; the only woman that mattered to him was her. She hated how relieved she felt when he told her that...

...but after that day, and for a good while, he only targeted women. He kept killing adult women and bringing their heads to her, and no one else's. She quickly surmised that he might have noticed her jealousy (or at least imagined she was jealous) and immediately set out to prove his devotion to her further than before by destroying those she feels threatened by - even if the threat does not exist, for she is all he ever wanted. He never told her directly, but she figured that's what it was. And she allowed herself to believe it. Because it made her happy.

(When the women-only killing spree eventually ended, she was struck with morbid curiosity and asked him about the men he killed. Was there anything behind the ones he chose? He revealed to her that, though his targets were mostly random, he would go out of his way to kill any man that he thought she might find attractive. He was capable of feeling threatened, just like she was. It was quite the surprise... a surprise she welcomed, a surprise she found deeply amusing. Because really, what was left for her to find attractive in anyone anymore, when no one went as far as he did to earn her favor?)

She actually does find him handsome. She always has, from the beginning. It was something she considered to be a great shame; such good looks squandered on such a horrible man. But now... with her greed slowly spiraling out of control thanks to him constantly overfeeding it the way he does with his violent extremism... she's starting to dare to find that extremism handsome, too. She's slowly but surely ceasing to find any shame in the circumstance. She's starting to think he's handsome... and that's it, that's the end of the thought. He's handsome, with all of that blood coating his face and body. He's handsome, puffing his chest out and beaming with such sick pride at the handiwork he performed for her. He's handsome, in his maddened, unwavering dedication to her. He's handsome... no asterisk, no addendum, no ifs ands or buts. He's handsome. Burning Spice is handsome. It weighs on her like a stone. And it only gets heavier each time he sees him and his handsome face again.

Sometimes... just sometimes... she'll reread those letters that are particularly... steamy. There's something rather fascinating about them, in a different way than the others. They're so... uniquely visceral. She believes him when he tells her he's starving; his hunger practically lunges at her from the page, claws at her, sinks its teeth into her, sets her body alight. Pure, unashamed, blistering hot lust and sexuality, with some of that same addiction to violence mixed in (he's a sadomasochist, go figure). People have flirted with Golden before... but not like this. No one on earth has ever dared to speak to her so brazenly, not even after several pints of liquid courage. He talks about wanting to break her bed as well as she herself. He tells her how often he touches himself to the thought of her. He details exactly where he wants to put his hands. Where he wants to put his mouth. What he intends to say straight into her ears as they go, and what he wants her to say back to him. How he doesn't want to stop until they both collapse with exhaustion. Just neverending feverish rants about he wishes to destroy her in more ways than one, and how he expects her to scream and beg either way. She won't admit it, not even to herself, the thought tried to make itself known inside of her head once and she shoved it down and tried to bury it under concrete instantly, but... she's almost... intrigued. She's flattered, of course. She relishes this aspect of his insatiable appetite for her alongside all the others. (She likes being told she's pretty. He does that and then some.) But... some small part of her is... curious. Curious about... if he really would follow through on what he says he wants to do, if he really had the chance. How it would feel. How HE would feel. What the difference would really be between him overpowering her to win a fight and him overpowering her to... to...

...there are nights where she lays awake, drilling holes into the ceiling with her bloodshot eyes, wondering where it all went wrong. There are nights where all that succeeds in putting her to sleep are the warm, bitter tears that stream down her face when the guilt and shame grow too powerful. There are nights where she just gets up and leaves, throws herself out of her own window and flies off somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter - it just had to be somewhere she couldn't feel dozens of empty, lifeless eyes watching her through the walls. Judging her. Condemning her. Damning her to Hell, where she and the monster who ended their lives belonged.

...and then, there are nights where she feels... strange. Where she notices how... big her bed really is, and how small she feels laying in it. She wonders how it would feel if he was there. If she could nest in his thick, strong arms instead of thin bedsheets. How much more comfortable his chest would feel, compared to her pillow. If his hair was as soft as it looked. How he'd react if she started tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. If sharing a tender moment like that would awaken something in him. If it would somehow help him realize how wrong all of this is.

...Or maybe it would just make it worse.

Maybe she doesn't care anymore.

[marimeeko]

Secrets (post war, bkdk, mutual yearning and idiocy)

Izuku quite liked settling into a habit with Kacchan, where the young ProHero would come visit the UA campus on their lunch breaks and they would share a meal together. He was still an understudy and teacher assistant, and so he didn't have his own classroom, but Katsuki could always find him through the windows.

The more they lunched together, the more Izuku happened to notice a lot of texts popping up on Katsuki's phone, sitting on the table next to where Katsuki scarfed down his daily bento.

He could see, when the little push notification popped up, the name "Pink Support Girl", popping up more and more.

He doesn't immediately think much of it, after all, Hatsume is a skilled, professional support tech now and he likely has her working on upgrades and fixes for his gear.

But sometimes, Katsuki will pick up the phone and check the message. And then, sometimes, this strange grin would show up on his face. And sometimes he would tap back a message at an alarming speed.

Izuku is intrigued by it. But whenever he hears the text alert on Katsuki's phone and sees Hatsume light up on the screen and concludes that Katsuki is very obviously in a deep back and forth...

He can't help but feel...strangely anxious.

One day, he sucks it up and asks awkwardly over lunch,

"Kacchan...are you and Mei Hatsume...dating?"

Katsuki chokes on his food a little and looks at Izuku like he's grown a second head.

"Dating?? What the hell are you talking about?"

Izuku regrets asking, but inches forward anyway.

"Sorry, it's intrusive of me! But i just... I notice you two have been texting a lot. I mean if you are, that's fine! I was just...curious?"

Katsuki's face traveled through a range of reactions as Izuku had babbled, but landed on a vague tinge of apprehension bordering on the guilt of getting caught in something.

Shit, he should have known better than to engage in those conversations too much in front of Izuku. Izuku is clever and observant, and he knew it. Of course he would catch on to something going on.

"Hell no," Katsuki didn't miss a beat, scoffing as he usually would. "There's a project I'm having her work on, it's kind of involved...she won't leave me alone with updates and shit."

Well, he couldn't exactly lie to his best friend and rival, after all...

The expression on Izukus face went from genuine confusion(and perhaps a hint of dread), to one of excitement.

"A new project? Oh my gosh, what is it? New gear? Is it new gauntlets?" The spark in his eyes showed that Izuku's nerd side had been activated. Katsuki snorted with a laugh, thinking that the teacher in training was seconds away from grabbing his current Quirk notebook to try to update his "Kacchan: GEMG DynaMight" entries in a flurry.

"Sure, sure," Katsuki accepted the assumption as his cover story. New gauntlets, truthfully, were on his to-do list, though he had prioritized them far below funding Izuku's secret suit. "I've got some big plans. You'll see." He grinned at Izuku, and Izuku recalled all the smaller grins that he had given to the texts from Mei.

Izuku smiled, now realizing that the grins were of deep pride for Katsuki, not at all of affection for a lover. He really was eager to share.

"Oh I hope so! I can't wait! If it's not too forward of me...again... is it too late to tell you and Hatsume my own thoughts on your gauntlets?" He asked, almost shyly.

Katsuki was tongue-tied, looking at the earnest, and frankly, adorable look on Izuku's face as he implored him. He felt his face heating up, feeling the rest of his resolve just melting. Izuku had no idea that this wasn't even about Katsuki's own gear...it was all for him. And Katsuki was aware enough now to know that Izuku truly wanted to help him, one of his most heroic(and attractive) features.

Katsuki felt a yearning inside; He wanted to share his secret so badly, wanted to show Izuku so many schematics and drafts that were buzzing constantly in his head as he went about daily life, but he knew, they were still years and a whole lot of money, from the point of reveal.

Katsuki caved to Izuku's request.

He leaned closer to Izuku, whose heart skipped a beat with the sudden proximity to the blonde.

"You have 10 minutes before I have to get back out to patrol," Katsuki said smoothly, only his crimson eyes slinking to the clock on the wall of the empty classroom, and back to smolder at Izuku's sparkling green eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Tell me what's in that nerdy notebook of yours."

--

B: Hey. Need to talk to you.

H: Sure, got those specs for me?? I need em asap

B: In a second.

B: I need to move all non-urgent communication to email

H: Inconvenient, inefficient. Absolutely not. Why??

B: Deku noticed how much we have been texting

B: thought we were dating.

H: lmao!!! Dating!!!

B: stfu I dont want him figuring out what is going on until it's time!!

B: Damn nerd too smart for his own good

H: 😏

B: 💥💥💥 fuck off

H: no way to speak to your engineer. Specs please.

H: also hey, just mute your notifications and turn off push if you don't want him seeing who's texting you. I'm not waiting for emails while you're out doing hero stuff in the field all day. I'll start making my own executive decisions and charging you extra at that point!!

B: UGH FINE

B: hey...

B: there's one other thing...

H: what?

B: ....I need to get some new Gauntlets made.

[thetouchof118]

Hello! Love the art that you share with us, they're always so pretty!!! Just wanted to ask, do you have any tips on how to be better at drawing body proportions and poses in general?? Personally I love how clean and amazing your drawings are! ❤️❤️

hey hey and thank you! 💖💖

so I've been doing this thing where, whenever I was learning anatomy/poses from doing figure drawing/drawing from references/an anatomy book (anatomy for sculptors is great since it's made for artists in mind, tho I don't have the book/pdf), I'm also thinking of the several artists that inspire me and draw with what I find interesting from their art style in mind instead of just drawing what I see/observe.

each artist has their own way of drawing anatomy/poses, and learning how they approach it really helps me in understanding how I want to approach anatomy myself :)

so far my insp are: hugo richards, kim jung gi + karl kopinski + superani artists, xafeelgood/kay, loish, mike mignola + comic book artists in general, leyendecker (one thing I like about their styles: they make drawing hands+arms easier/more fun 🥴)

here're like, traditional sketches I did a while ago where you can kinda see how those artists I mentioned influenced how I draw anatomy/faces x)

also: watch proko on yt (plenty good advice there)

[irritablepoe]

mu qing being seen as someone who's dishonest and ill-intentioned is actually so misled because while nearly every god turns out to have some kind of cover up for their bad actions in the present or past, mu qing is direct about his heritage and his actions in the past, even though he dislikes it. He's not hiding from it I mean, he's at most shifting the blame onto feng xin. He is hard-working and cares about his followers, there's a reason why he's so popular among folks.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I don't know if this still happens cause I'm not too involved with the Fuuta side of the community, but when I was first getting into Milgram I remember being somewhat annoyed at how much I saw Fuuta's murder being watered down to just "Haha twitter user was twittering". And I still feel that way, not because I think Fuuta should be specially punished for his murder, but because in a series full of murders that anyone could commit when placed into their shoes, Fuuta is the character that I think exemplifies the fact that any of these prisoners could be you if you were placed into different circumstances.

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc

[thosewildcharms]

I was being completely normal (not) and was scrolling through your old posts in your richonne tag, and I saw an interview Andy gave in 2017 where he said Michonne was the love of Rick's life. And we have bitter antis in 2024 with their panties in a twist because Rick actually says it? I have to laugh. Anyways, thanks for being as unhinged about Richonne as I am. I'm glad tumblr made you a fan way back when (I watched the show from the start and began shipping them in s4).

listen idk how to be normal either, so i'm definitely not judging! i'm pretty flattered in fact and I hope you enjoyed my 2017-era richonne brainrot! I think it's only gotten worse since towl took an already God Tier ship to an entirely different level lol so thank YOU (and everyone else who understands the obsession) for being unhinged with me ❤️ and just because I'm always curious about what made richonne click for people. what made you start shipping them in season 4?

yeah, people have always been bitter and/or confused about richonne and ESPECIALLY about how in love rick is with michonne. and while I think there are some people who might have genuinely just not have been paying attention because those characters are not their priority (which I get personally, as rick and michonne and people immediately tangential to them are my ONLY priority so I completely missed the sasha/abraham build up for example) as we all know most of the time the bitterness stems from thinly veiled (and sometimes not veiled at all) racism and misogynoir. which makes it all the more satisfying that andrew lincoln is not only patient zero of richonne brainrot disease but has exponentially doubled down about it over the years. idk how much that was an intentional response to the pushback richonne got since he's famously offline BUT it's still endlessly gratifying that he's constantly and unfailingly vocal about how much he loves the ship, michonne, and danai to the point where just as rick grimes isn't doing shit without his soulmate michonne, andrew lincoln isn't doing shit related to twd without his leading lady danai gurira. the second that man had an ounce of creative control he had rick declare his undying love for michonne at every available opportunity so if they haven't gotten the point by now I guess their panties are staying twisted forever. sucks to be them I guess!

[flowerbloom-arts]

Some low-effort doodles because I've been thinking about Mymble Jr alot and just how much they watered her down in the 90s series. So I tried 'fixing' some scenes to make her atleast more expressive.

She and the Inspector would've been such a fun relationship if they just let them be themselves like in the comics (and books in Mymble's case), just, I dunno, they made her distinctly boring while they made the Inspector just a little extra silly and I think that's deeply unfair to Mymble. This is especially upsetting when they never shared the same panel in the comics besides 2 of them, and in one Mymble Jr is just standing there while Moomintroll does the talking.

[erdasmcnonsense]

Okay I know it's not guaranteed by any means, and it's common enough for reds to survive a good while after turning red, but wouldn't it be funny if Martyn were to also be the first out of the game in Secret Life? The canary curse broken by the previous winner because the Watchers are just that done with Martyn's shit by now or whatever

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

Perhaps the only good thing about Percy so far seemingly not having been cast in the show is that -- aside from my fears of what DG and writers would do with him -- I don't have to look at the actor they chose and constantly think how he's not pretty enough to be Percy. 😅

On the other hand, maybe the casting gods would've miraculously blessed us with the perfect amazingly handsome, delicate featured, beautiful-eyed and soft spoken Percy of our dreams and we're being deprived of the pleasure of gazing upon him as we speak...who knows? 😢

Oh, the cruelty of (most likely) never knowing! Sometimes I'm not sure what I want anymore...😭

But I will always love and protect Percy Wainwright, come hell or high water -- that much at least is certain. ❤

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Joining a fandom where apparently anon hate seems to be common but the fandom is really small

[neverendingford]

.

[miss-anthropyxx]

casually spiraling and dont think there's anything i can do about it at this point anymore. i wanna just give up and let myself spiral.

[chocolatepot]

Real talk, I have hated setting AUs in previous fandoms and yet I've written so many for this one and have enjoyed many more.

I think this canon lends itself to AUs better than most because so much of it is character-based rather than situational. It's very easy to write a Stede in any setting who's depressed and repressed and decides to make a major change and do something he's not remotely qualified for. It's very easy to write an Ed in any setting who's incredibly bored with his success and dealing with a toxic role with expectations he hates, who's ready to be swept off his feet by Stede's oddball charm.

And largely this comes down to the fact that the ship is canon and it is the point of the story. There is no need to come up with a larger plot to mimic the structure of the show if you don't want to, it won't feel shallow or missing elements if you don't make the romance a subplot, because the show is about them and their relationship. They also are a meet cute couple in canon, so even the typical meet-cute structure of a setting AU doesn't feel forced. It's perfect.

Genuinely I think the reason OFMD is such an AUs georg ass fandom is because the canon of the show is just so fucking good.

Like, I sure as shit was never interested in writing or reading AUs before this show. I'm working on my third 50k+ word AU fic right now and I genuinely love reading AUs for this fandom. Part of that is just how good Ed and Stede work together, you really want to see them fall in love in every conceivable universe.

But mostly? There aren't a lot of fix-it fics in this fandom, and I think that's just because they're so rarely needed. There are few things about this show that I feel strongly about wanting to change. It's such a satisfying show that on the whole I'm not surprised that most people leave wanting to write up entirely new universes because they have so few complaints about what actually happens in the show.