#divine arm of dawn

[dailyfatefigures]

Divine Arm of Dawn by Mad Hands

[pseudowho]

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

[lordprettyflackotara]

Till Dawn || Eyeless Jack

Smut, 18+, minors dni. Tw: size kink, overall rough ass sex, unrealistic demon sex, stalking, a sprinkle of cnc, safe word IS in place, obsession, blood, blah blah. all the things. i had to lock tf in to finish this, it’s been sitting unfinished foreverrr. here you go my lovely’s <3

part two is here

part three is here

You were a fascinating creature.

EJ thought so, anyways.

Many years had passed since he had been human, his interest in mortals having previously faded. That engrossment only slipping away further after he had moved into Slenderman’s mansion.

Typically, besides killing for food, (and maybe fun), he never strayed from home.

When Jack wasn’t home, he was never staying. Always passing through.

That was, until he saw you.

Your scent was divine, the demon lurking inside the depths of EJ clinging onto the idea of a tasty snack.

Once Jack had found you, he began studying you from a far.

You weren’t hard to find, the annoyed curses leaving your lips giving away your location easily. You were awkwardly stumbling over your arms full of groceries, struggling to unlock the front door to your tiny home.

Typically EJ wouldn’t have noticed your behavior at all, his animalistic instincts shouting at him to break into the window upstairs. To slide in, waiting for you to get settled. To creep behind you and slit your throat. He could hear your heartbeat, the steady pulse sending adrenaline through his veins. His mouth was beginning to salivate under his mask, his interest now peaked as he observed your life.

You liked your coffee mostly black, with a single sugar cube. You were a night owl, giving Jack plenty to watch as he hid in the shadows of darkness. It occurred to EJ as he watched you join another round of an online game, your thick headset covering your ears, that he hadn’t really thought about what humans did in a long time.

Over the years he had sort of lost the man he once was, forcing himself to view mortals as meals, nothing more. After all, one sensitive vital organ and they’d be dead. Humans were so fragile. They aged so much quicker than he did. Why would he ever get attached?

The thought of a potential attachment hadn’t occurred to him, ever. EJ was content with passing through. He was content with his minimum social interacts with his fellow creeps back at the mansion.

But your scent.

Eyeless Jack grew more and more puzzled the longer he studied you. Why did you smell so fucking good? He had never cared for blood before, wounds not visible on your body anyways. Your pulse was normal, but he heard pulses around him all the time. Including two sets he lived with. Unless he was hunting, EJ had grown accustomed to tuning them out.

What was it about you?

It wasn’t until one night he was perched up in an oak tree, watching you prepare for bed. EJ had never considered himself to be a peeping tom. The female body held no interest to him other than the organs it contained. That was of course, until he saw you changing. You had tugged your shirt over your head, your bare breast bouncing as you pulled down your pants. Your panties were lacey, a material EJ hadn’t touched in ages. For the first time in years, Jack could feel his boner brushing against the fabric of his boxers.

You were so innocent, so unaware of his presence. EJ felt heat rush to his cheeks, awkwardly looking around to make sure no one else was looking at you like he was. You were so careless, leaving your curtains open like this. He was sure you figured since you were on the second story no one could see you. Jack liked that idea, him being the only one that could see you like this.

This made him only pay more attention. His attention now was not only on you, but the people you associated with. EJ liked that you mostly had friends and regular coworkers. He had no competition, no problem to deal with. His mind overworked itself trying to come up with realistic scenarios where he could meet you. Where he could feel the heat of your body, his cock buried in your cunt.

Despite Jacks obsession, he knew that the situation wasn’t ideal. His being over 6’5 and having dark gray skin the very least of his appearance issues.

The longer he watched your life, he noticed you were lonely. It didn’t matter how many friends you hung out with, he saw the look on your face deep in the night. The photos in your room of everyone you loved, every single photograph missing yourself. The filthy books you spent your time reading, the romance movies you watched. You needed a lover. Someone to tend to your needs, every dark desire.

He was over the moon when the opportunity presented itself.

Ben had given him a heads up, letting him know a ‘gnarly storm’ was heading the way EJ had recently been camping out at.

Standing in the rain wasn’t ideal for EJ. He didn’t particularly like being wet, the rain beginning to pour down. The thunder clapping and lightning striking was comforting for him, the wetness of the situation, not so much.

It was a usual night for you, your teddy bear wrapped desperately in your arms as you attempted to fall asleep. EJ watched you turn over restlessly, the storm clearly delaying your regular sleeping cycle. His gaze wondered over to the bright pink vibrator charging on your nightstand, his eyebrows raising.

When did he miss that?

It had to have been when he went to hunt earlier. Living off of deer was borderline revolting, his craving for human organs much more prominent. However he knew if he wanted to stay, eating one too many human organs created too much attention. A good chase from the cops taught him that lesson. Took him lots of stitches to heal, ones he had to do himself.

It occurred to Jack in that moment that if he was going to go through on his idea now was the time. He slowly walked down the thick branch of the oak tree, careful not to slip as he approached your window. He crouched down, raising his hand. He tapped on your window with his index finger, the unfamiliar feeling of fear filling him. Would you call the cops? What would you do? He watched you stir in your bed, as if you were internally debating if the noise was real.

EJ waited patiently for the thunder to subside, before tapping again. This time you sat up, your eyes landing on the window. EJ nervously realized this was the first time you were looking at him. He raised his large gray hand, waving at you. Your eyebrows furrowed, throwing the sheets off of you as you approached your window. EJ knew your window was broken, unable to be locked. He noted you pretending to unlock it, before shoving it upwards.

“Can I um, help you?” You asked. The rain droplets were splashing into your dry room due to the wind. EJ didn’t like that. He cleared his throat, trying to sound as non threatening as possible. He knew humans to be sensitive and after all of these years of not thinking twice about his voice, he was thinking about it now. “May I come in? It’s a bit wet out here,” EJ said as calmly as he possibly could. He watched you study him, your eyes fixated on his gray hands.

“I’m n-not so sure that’s a good idea. My brother’s home and I don’t think-” You stuttered, the lies spilling from your lips. Jack didn’t like this. You weren’t a liar. Without touching you, he slid into your room nimbly without a second thought. His drenched clothes were dripping water on the floor, his sights scanning the room up close for the first time.

“Hey! You can’t just barge in here!” You yelled. You stormed over to your nightstand, grabbing a baseball bat with ‘Vikings Middle School’ engraved on it. You rose the bat over your shoulder, swinging it with full intent to hit your intruder. Your eyes widened in fear as EJ caught the bat in mind air, his slender gray fingers wrapped around the metal. He tiled his head to the side, observing you.

First lies and now an attempt at assault. This is not off to a great start.

Jack immediately caught a whiff of your scent, the newly founded fear reeking off of you. And it was divine. EJ pushed the bat aside, taking a step closer to you. “Dont lie to me. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to offer you what you truly want in exchange for shelter from the storm,” EJ said. You were adorable, practically shaking in fear as he towered over you.

“I don’t want money if that’s what you’re offering. I’m not interested-” You began protesting. Jack noted your heart racing, his ears twitching at the delightful sound. He made you nervous. EJ’s dark chuckle cut off your sentence, causing you to stop talking. “Thats not what you truly want,” Jack purred. With another few steps towards you, he had backed you into a wall. With his arms on each side of your head, he slowly rose his knee. With an unseen smirk, he placed his knee between your legs.

A skimpy nightgown rode up your thighs, your face turning a light pink. “You’re lonely, I can fix that. I’ll only stay until dawn,” EJ said. Consciously he made an effort to be gentle as he rose his hand to touch your face. You were softer than he could’ve imagined, the softest silks having nothing on your skin. “I’m n-not-” You stuttered. Your heart was racing faster. It was music to EJ’s ears. “The vibrator sitting on your nightstand says otherwise,” Jack replied cockily.

His new found confidence was evident, your attention fully on him. Finally on him. EJ leaned forward, tilting up his royal blue mask as he leaned towards your ear. His voice was deep and soft, his breath hot as you trembled beneath him. “I promise i’ll make you feel really good,” EJ purred. His words were utter filth, your face flushing with heat. You could feel your core throbbing, your lust for a stranger so dirty but so thrilling.

“What’s your name?” You whispered. EJ was surprised by your question, causing him to lean back and slide his mask back into place. “I’m Jack, but you can call me EJ,” He replied. You toyed with the idea of asking him what EJ stood for, but decided against it. You stood up a little straighter, attempting to take more control of the situation. “Well EJ, if you’re going to fuck me, you better fuck me like you mean it. I want you gone at dawn. Understood?” You asked boldly.

A devious smile was curling up EJ’s lips, his mask blocking the view of his razor like teeth. “I knew you’d give into me, I can smell your arousal,” EJ replied. His gaze traveled down your body, soaking in your cleave that was revealed and your plush upper thighs. As if you could sense his devious thoughts, you pushed at his chest. “Hey i’m not kidding. Be gone at dawn or i’m calling the cops,” You threatened. Jack chuckled, before grabbing both of your thighs.

He picked you up with ease, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. “Gone by dawn. I got it. If you want me to stop say red. Say anything else and I won’t, got it?” EJ asked. He carried you over to your bed, plopping you onto your soft mattress. You audibly whimpered an agreement, staring up at the man in front of you.

“Oh and one other thing,” EJ began, shoving his hoodie over his head. You marveled as his bare chest, his dark gray skin defining his muscles. “Dont freak out,” Jack finished. You stared at him blankly, blinking before he slid off his mask. EJ wasn’t a fan of removing his mask for any reason, not even to his victims. The most he would do is show his razor blade teeth every once in a while. Matter of a fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had removed his mask in front of anyone.

Jack had pondered about what to do about his appearance, the oozing black empty eye sockets something that couldnt be ignored. He figured revealing it immediately would get it out of the way, and based on the way you reacted, he’d know what to do. His obsession with you wasn’t just pure filth or attraction, you smelled absolutely delicious.

He would win in every scenario.

He would know how to make his choice based on your reaction. You were confused, watching as EJ leaned down over you. He pinned you to the bed, your body on fire with desperation. “Scared?” Jack purred, waiting to hear all of the insults he heard in his worst nightmares. You found yourself nervously chuckling, thunder rumbling outside. “Only of not cumming,” You replied in a cocky tone, causing EJ to smile. Surely the unsettling rows of animalistic teeth were going to set you off.

But they didn’t.

Your approval and calmness gave EJ confidence, his lips bringing themselves to yours. He was careful, restraining himself so he didn’t accidentally nip you with one of his teeth. He kept his tongues in his mouth, deciding that would be a surprise for later. He was rough and needy, his lips practically begging yours to respond faster. His hips pressed down lower on yours, his bulge visible and pressed against your clothed cunt.

You tasted like mint, the taste flooding his tastebuds with an intense craving. You bucked your hips upwards, whimpering in his mouth as he grinded against you. “Needy huh?” Jack taunted. He pulled down your night gown, exposing your bare breast to him. He leaned down, placing soft and gentle kisses onto your chest. “I know you aren’t talking,” You teased.

EJ growled into your skin as he lowered himself down your body, prying open your thighs. “Whys that?” He murmured, pressing his chapped lips against your plush inner thighs. You clamped your mouth shut, your hips involuntarily moving upwards towards his mouth. “Dont think I get any play huh? Thats funny, considering you’re practically begging me to touch you,” Jack snickered cruelly. He was relishing and thriving in your desperation, dragging your panties down with his razor sharp teeth.

They poked holes in your thin panties, the shredded clothing being dragged down your legs. EJ couldn’t take his eyes off of your bare cunt, your cheeks flushing a shade of red as the demon above you admired your dripping wet cunt. Jack had seen a cunt before, in his human life and accidentally in his demon one. But yours, yours was a sight for sore eyes.

With his index finger and middle finger Jack spread open your lips, admiring how wet you were for him. “I don’t have all night-” You began complaining, only for one of EJ’s tongues to lick a stripe up your cunt. Electricity shot through your body, causing you to let out a sinful moan. “You do have all night. I have you until dawn. And trust me, you’re going to remember this long after,” Jack said, returning his attention to your aching core.

To your surprise Jack had three tongues, each of them assaulting your cunt is different ways. Two had made their way inside of you, abusing your cunt by fucking you. The other was attacking your clit, stimulating you into a babbling mess. You grabbed his hair, his name spilling off of your lips involuntarily. It was all happening so fast, your body struggling to keep up with the pleasure. Jack couldn’t contain himself, unable to tease you any longer.

Your pussy tasted better than any fucking organ he had ever eaten. You yanked at the roots of his brunette hair, chanting you were going to cum. This didn’t encourage him to slow down, the killer in between your thighs only wanting to make you do it again.

“F-fuck Jack I-I can’t,” You whined, closing your thighs around his head. Jack smirked as he removed one of his tongues from your clit, allowing him to speak. “You know what to say if you actually want me to stop. I think you like this though. I think you like being treated like the whore you are,” Jack panted. You felt humiliated at his words, your walls squeezing around his tongues.

This made EJ chuckle, his gaze now settled on your bright red face. “You like that don’t you? Being a whore for me?” Jack asked mockingly, continuing to fuck you with his tongues. Truth was when Jack had caught you reading the dirtiest of books, he ensured to do his research. To imagine himself being the one to do the things to you like he read in the filth romance novels.

You tried to hold back your unholy moans, biting your lower lip as Jack stared up at you. His third tongue playfully licked across your clit again, causing your hips to jolt upwards. “I asked you a question,” Jack said sternly. His large hands pinned down your waist, prying your thighs open. “Y-yes I like being a whore,” You replied pathetically, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. Jack brought his spare hand to your cunt, drawing quick circles around your throbbing clit.

Your legs began to tremble as an animalistic, low growl left EJs throat. “Whose whore are you? Tell me,” Jack ordered, your walls squeezing around his tongues. You could barely make sense of his words, the ecstasy he was providing you too heavenly. “I’m yours, i’m your whore Jack. Fuck, please make me cum,” You pleaded.

She taste good and can beg? Fuck me.

“Cum for me like the good little whore you are.”

Your legs shook violently and attempted to close as you came, Jacks merciless assault coming to an immediate halt. He watched you ride out your euphoria, slipping his tongues out of your cunt. Your pussy was red and puffy, suffering from the abuse of a demon. He wiped his chin with his hand, crawling up closer to you. Your heart was pounding so loudly it took everything in him for Jack not to tear it out of your chest.

“You’re going to feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” Jack growled, sloppily pushing down his pants. He leaned back, lightning flashing as he stroked his cock in front of you. “You sure you can handle me? You seem tense,” Jack asked teasingly. He knew was far bigger than you, your eyes widening at the mere sight of his shaft. “I can handle anything you throw at me,” You say, swallowing to create some moisture in your dry mouth. Your throat and mouth having gone dry from making so many sinful sounds.

Jack smirked as he slowly slid inside of you, his tip alone stretching you out. You whimpered, causing Jack to lean forward. He sank into you slowly, peppering soft kisses on your neck. Purposefully he targeted your more sensitive skin, testing the waters to see which areas made you loosen up more. You clawed at his back, your face scrunched up in pain. EJ studied your face carefully, slithering one of his hands down to your puffy clit. “T-too much,” You babbled, your words beginning to slur. Your hand slid down to grab Jacks wrist, the killer above you not changing his mind.

“Need you loosen up a bit more. You’re doing so good. You can do it for me, yeah?”

His words were like a remedy for your pain, his cock now fully buried inside of you. You pulled your hand away from his wrist, your fingertips brushing over the outline of his cock inside of your stomach. You forced yourself to open your eyes, the sloppy circles Jack was drawing around your clit helping you adjust. You swallowed hard, meeting the gaze of the lust filled demon above you. “You can move,” You whispered. Jacks ears twitched, almost as if he was making sure he heard you right.

“Play with your clit for me while I fuck you,” Jack ordered. You did as instructed, your small fingers trailing down to your abused clit. You drew slow circles as Jack propped himself up, slowly bucking his hips into yours. You let out a loud moan, his cock hitting your g spot. The demons gaze fell down to your womb, his eye sockets widening as he saw the shape of his cock slide in and out of you. “So fucking tight for me,” Jack snarled, picking up the pace.

His thrust were brutal and animalistic, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Or felt before. His pace was relentless, his body not seeming to tire. “Jack!” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you into a sloppy kiss, struggling to be careful not to cut you with his teeth as he fucked you. “You feel so much better than I thought you’d feel. Fuck,” EJ groaned into your mouth, losing his control.

One of his teeth nicked your lower lip, a small tinkle of red crimson blood dripping down your bottom lip. Jack didn’t have time to think, his mouth on yours immediately. But this time, for a different reason. He sucked at your bottom lip as he pounded you, moaning at the taste of your blood. You felt disgusted how accepting your body was of this, your eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to suck at your lower lip. Jacks orgasm was coming closer, even if he didn’t want it to.

His pace didn’t let up for a second, his body a slave to your pussy. He released your lip with a pop, growling as he felt his orgasm come closer and closer. “I’m going to fucking breed you. You’re gonna be all mine, all fucking mine,” Jack huffed, his control long gone. His gaze met yours, your face fucked out and your moans incoherent. “Cum with me. Cum all over me,” He panted, his orders now weak. Your small fingers were replaced with his own, his slender fingers resuming the assault on your clit.

“Fucking shit, EJ!” You cried out, gripping his arm as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your walls were milking his cock, begging him for his cum. They were pleading with him to breed your pretty little cunt, to make you all his. Your orgasm was all it took, his hips stuttering as he came inside of you. His moans were no longer the human language, his sounds of pleasure reverting back to incoherent growls. EJ panted as he looked down at you, your bottom lip puffy.

Your neck was covered in light purple and brown bruises, his light pepper kisses not as light as he thought. You were fucked out, your body lying limply on the mattress below you. Slowly he slid his cock out of you, your cunt red and puffy from the abuse. EJ watched as a mixture of his and your cum dripped out of you, your breathing slow and heavy. “Y/n?” Jack whispered. He was terrified he had broken you, his gaze landing on the bruises in the shape of his fingers that had littered your soft thighs.

You murmured an audible response, causing Jack to sigh in relief. He looked over his shoulder, the sun coming over the horizon. The storm had subsided, a light spring shower coming down from the sky above instead. You sat up slowly, watching your tall demon lover dress himself. You were dizzy and tired, blinking slowly as he shoved his pants back on. “You don’t wanna stay?” You asked softly, yawning. EJ gave you a cheeky smile, before shoving his mask back on.

“We had a deal didn’t we? It’s dawn,” Jack said. He began to put his hoodie on, your eyes softening with disappointment. Jack could feel his stomach growling, the taste of your blood fueling his desire for a tasty meal. He wanted to stay, but he knew he would kill you if he lost control again. Without thinking he handed you his hoodie, before heading over to the window. You sat there dumbfounded, watching as he gave you a small wave goodbye.

“Don’t worry, i’ll be back,”

[earthtooz]

earth do you have any spare alhaitham thoughts 🥺 thinking ab him a little extra hard tonight 😵

nothing but fluff, reader and al-haitham are engaged, so much banter.

"What do you think about inviting Nahida to our wedding?"

Al-Haitham looks at you incredulously, blinking slowly to register your question. You know a lengthy discussion is imminent when he uncrosses his leg, a habit of his whenever he needs to prepare for a conversation that requires most of his attention.

"You don't mean Lesser Lord Kusanali, do you?" He asks and you nod, as if it is typical to invite a god to one's wedding. "Dear, do you understand what you are asking right now?"

"I do," you sit down beside him, Zaytun peach in one hand and a small knife in the other, cutting up slices that you feed him.

"Then do you realise how ludicrous your question is?"

"I think you are overcomplicating it."

His book snaps shut. "Am I? Or is it appropriate because you just suggested inviting an archon to our very ordinary wedding?"

"You still think you're ordinary after overthrowing a corrupt government and being promoted by said archon?"

"You're crazy," Al-Haitham murmurs, shaking his head with an affectionate smile, one that he always likes to conceal by pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You poke his side gently. "Then we are cut from the same cloth."

"That does not diminish your madness."

Still, you persist. "Well, you haven't said anything in response to my suggestion."

"I called you crazy."

"You haven't said anything I want to hear."

Once again, he sighs, but the noise is too airy to hold any true malice. "Even if I reject your idea, you would personally go to the Sanctuary of Surasthana and deliver the invite yourself."

Instead of answering, you merely feed him another slice of the Zaytun peach, smile growing more and more mischievous.

There is a reason Al-Haitham wants to spend the rest of his life with you. The bouts of delightful juvenility paints endless blotches of colour on his plain canvas, carving a certain feeling of warmth and admiration in his chest that no one else has managed to recreate.

No one compares to you, and he's certain no one ever will because even after all these years of knowing and loving you, every moment he spends with you is as priceless as divine knowledge. Even when you ask ridiculous questions that perplex him greatly.

"How do you even deliver messages to the Sanctuary of Surasthana?" You wonder.

A kiss to your temple halts your thinking. "Let's find out another time. How did this idea of inviting Nahida spring about?"

You shrug. "I was merely thinking back. She's always been so thoughtful and kind to her subjects, even when the Akademiya hid her from us. Then the idea of inviting her made itself quite at home."

"I see," he hums. "Ever so thoughtful."

"Maybe it's a good omen for our partnership to invite an archon. She won't have to bring a present, her presence alone is enough."

Al-Haitham huffs. "My faith in our relationship exceeds that of a good omen, but I agree."

"Aww, you love me that much?"

"Do you still doubt me?"

"Still?" You parrot. "Darling, I've never doubted you."

"I'd like to contest that. Remember when you were vehemently against me resigning as the Acting Grand Sage?"

You feed him another slice. "It gave me bragging rights! Who else could claim that their hot boyfriend-now-fiancé was the Grand Sage?"

"So you prefer when I'm away at the Akademiya working tirelessly from dawn to dusk?"

"Well, no," you set the knife and pit of the peach down before throwing your arms around his neck, pressing yourself close to him. "I prefer having you all to myself."

Al-Haitham huffs triumphantly and you stay pressed close to him for a while, watching as he returns to his novel. He flips back to his exact page despite the lack of a bookmark.

"I'll be sure to send the invite to Nahida tomorrow."

"Alright."

Two days later, you wake to a message written in beautifully precise handwriting on Al-Haitham's blackboard.

'Can Wanderer be invited too? - Nahida'

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[lightseoul]

Hello! For your event can i get #11 ?

hello, sure! this took quite a while for me to get around to doing, but i hope the wait was worth it <3 thank you for playing!

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

warnings. minors dni, please!

11. "IS THAT MY SHIRT?" (1.4k)

under other circumstances, today would’ve been filed under the non-descript mornings with which you start your unremarkable days.

the sun is barely peeking through the curtains, the temperature is not too cold but not too hot, and you’re buried in freshly washed bedding that smells divine.

and so it’s not really your fault for thinking for a modicum of a second that today was just like any other day.

if it weren’t for the muscled arm slung across your bare waist.

you’re yanked from your half-asleep stupor the second you see it, and you jolt in shock before you can stop yourself. the man beside you, thankfully, doesn’t stir awake.

with wide eyes, you chance a glance at the decidedly naked person next to you (if your sense of touch wasn’t betraying you), and the sight that greets you nearly makes you faint.

because what the fuck are you doing in bed—naked—with the bakugou katsuki?

suddenly the areas where your skin meets his are becoming way too hot, and you’re hit with the visceral urge to get away from the man.

and so as discreetly and quietly as you can, you lift the arm that’s wrapped around your midriff, but freeze when his grip tightens and he shifts every so minutely. sneaking a peek again, now at his face, you study the man with caution as his eyebrows furrow for a beat before they relax along with the rest of his features.

you don’t allow yourself to revel in how peaceful he looks, or dwell on the fact that you may have just fucked this man last night, choosing to try again and wrestle yourself out of his hold. to your relief, he doesn’t resist, even in slumber, and you’re able to slide out of the bed with minimal noise and motion, thanks to his firm, exquisite mattress.

you wonder how firm it proved to be last night…

you mentally slap yourself.

now is not the time to be horny.

it instantly dawns on you how naked you are, standing in this man’s bedroom fully bare, and so you scan the room for any sign of your undergarments and clothing. it doesn’t take you a while to spot your panties, and then your bra a few seconds later—both of which are notably plain and not at all sexy. you try to fight the cringe as you shimmy into them—obviously, you didn’t anticipate getting any action yesterday—eyes darting across the area in search of your shirt. they finally land on the black article that’s unceremoniously sprawled across near the foot of the bed, and you waste no time putting it on.

and as you find your trousers and squeeze yourself into them, you let your brain wander to what got you here in the first place.

you remember being strung along by your girlfriends into that exclusive bar that’s said to be frequented by many pro-heroes. you don’t know how your designated planner friend managed to get you guys entry, but you didn’t question it, choosing to just enjoy the atmosphere and drink good booze with good company.

in fact, you may have drunk too much good booze because your memory drifts in and out a few hours into settling into a booth in the bar. you recall one friend pointing to a group of three men who looked suspiciously like pro-heroes cellophane, red riot, and dynamight, as well as you laughing at how it couldn’t be.

you wince at the memory of said friend, who knows about the big, fat, embarrassing crush you have on the ash-blonde hero, dragging you to where they sat and introducing yourselves to the men.

at that point, you were tipsy and bordering on drunk, and dead convinced that they were just wannabes who wanted to look like their hero idols. but the guy with the crimson eyes that were notably boring into you looked too much like bakugou that you threw all caution to the wind and just went along with it, too curious about the person in front of you.

but now, as you stand smack dab in the middle of this pristine bedroom that can only belong to a very highly-paid, famously all-might-loving hero, you’re flooded by a wave of dizzying nausea.

dizzying nausea that doubles up when your eyes catch the ridiculously sculpted arms of the man who’s still lying on his stomach, seemingly fast asleep.

you can relive and fact-check your fantasies later, when you’re alone and in the safety of your much more modest apartment unit, but not now.

and so with a slightly heavy heart, you turn around and silently twist the knob, ready to tiptoe the hell out of his room with your purse in tow.

but all hopes of making a quiet exit get thrown out of his bougie-ass windows when the door fucking creaks so loud, that you don’t have to look behind you to know that the man just shot awake.

you stand there, frozen with your back turned against him, for what feels like forever, before ultimately deciding that you can’t just walk out the door now like nothing happened lest you come off as a fucking lunatic.

and so with a deep inhale, you steel yourself for the incoming shitshow, and turn.

you try not to stare at his crazy, stupid, built torso or his beautiful face that’s looking all too stunned as you awkwardly gesture to the door.

“you ought to lubricate this door of yours,” you quip, capping it with a laugh, although it comes out stilted.

and when he doesn’t say anything, “…sorry i woke you up.”

that must’ve been enough to sober him up, because he finally speaks up. “shit—no, i—”

he cuts himself off as he scrambles to get up, and you turn around just in time to not see his dick dangle as he searched for his boxers. you hear rustling and things being turned upside down as you wait for him to get dressed.

“just a sec,” he calls out, before: “have you seen my—is that my shirt?”

before you can think better against it, you whip around to look at where he’s gesturing, only to be met with him, now in his boxer shorts, staring straight at you.

“wha—?”

you look down to where his gaze is fixed, and sure enough, the shirt you’re wearing is decisively not yours.

“fuck—” you start, flaming in embarrassment, “i’m sorry, i thought it was mine. i—let me just—” you trail off just as your eyes land on another black shirt near your feet, and you’re about to scoop it up and turn and hurriedly strip off his shirt when he speaks up.

“no, it’s okay.” you freeze, bent over and hand just barely having grasped the shirt off the floor. and when he doesn’t say anything, you slowly straighten up, fighting to maintain eye contact.

he’s scowling now.

“you don’t have to scurry like a fucking rat, dumbass,” he spits, although there’s not much bite to it. he’s looking a tad bit embarrassed, too. hesitating for a second, he diverts his gaze, before: “can’t i at least cook you breakfast?”

you pick up your jaw that just dropped to the floor as fast as you can. “you—you mean you don’t want me to leave just yet?”

at that, he scoffs. “what do you take me for, a fuckboy?”

he says it so incredulously you almost snort. instead, you cock your head a bit to the right, not entirely able to deny your impressions of him.

“seriously?” he splutters for a beat, before sighing in resignation. shaking his head, he finally shifts to meet your eyes and regard you, the switch in the air to that of palpable seriousness so potent.

“i don’t normally do this,” he states, gaze remaining fixed on yours, as if he’s trying to communicate the rest with just his eyes.

you don’t have to ask him what ‘this’ means.

and so you reply just as honestly. “me, neither.”

neither of you says anything for a brief moment, the revelations from both of you taking up the small space between.

“so,” bakugou breaks the silence eventually, “breakfast?”

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Imagine reader putting on pheromone perfume before going on a date with bf!Logan but they never made it out the door bc he got his freak on 💋💋

Godddddddd the thoughts this gave me. Explicit content under the thread. Minors dni. F!reader, P in v, unprotected sex, Logan is feral asf for his girl

He could never say not to you, no matter how much he disliked it. You could make him do anything by just batting your eyelashes at him and smiling. He had such a weak spot for you. So here he was, a nice black button-shirt replacing his usual flannel-undershirt combo. He was sighing, glancing at his watch every two minutes. You had been so adamant about going to this new restaurant that opened in town, and yet you were taking your sweet ass time.

“Darlin’, cmon you’ve been in there for like three hours.” He called out to you, impatiently tapping his fingers on his arms as he crossed them over his chest.

“You can wait two minutes Logan!” You shouted back from the bathroom as you applied the finishing touches. Your hair looked so soft and bouncy, your lips were the perfect shade of your favorite lipstick. Just one more thing.

You had bought this new perfume after your friend had told you about it, she swore it was like magic. You didn’t truly believe the pheromones in the formula would do a whole lot, but at least it smelled divine. You gave your neck two, three and four sprays, followed by your pressure points on your wrists. And with one final look of yourself in the mirror, you were happily leaving the bathroom to join your man.

Logan instantly whipped his head in the direction of the bathroom, a strange, unknown yet pleasant smell suddenly filling his nose. He scrunched up his nose in confusion as he tried to figure out just what the fuck this sudden aroma was. And then you came out of the bathroom, as pretty as ever—he thought. And then it dawned on him. That unknown smell was you. Blood rushed to his face and his heart raced as more and more of that sweet smelled filled his nose as you oh so unbothered walked up to him, a sweet smile on your face. By the time you were in front of him, his pupils were completely dilated, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tried his best to control his primal urges.

“I’m ready.” You smiled, completely unaware of just how mad he was going over this new perfume of yours. The sweet scent mixing oh so deliciously with yours. He said nothing as he leaned down, his cheek pressing against your jaw as he took in the scent closer, straight from the source. The growl that rumbled in his throat was animalistic at best.

“Fuck dinner.” Was all he murmured into your soft skin before he was pressing you against the nearest flat surface—a wall.

You had little time to protest, with his mouth claiming yours and all. His hand reached under your dress, scrunching it up to your waist. He tugged at your panties and it took little force for the flimsy fabric to rip at the hip. Logan was unbothered by this as he ran his fingers through your slit. You were breathless, panting as you protested but you were ultimately giving into his plush lips and the delicious feeling of his fingers.

One of your legs was thrown over his shoulder, the other barely touching the floor due to his tall height as he held your by your hips. Your sweet moans were in his ear as he pressed his face into your neck, sharp canines leaving marks on the skin as he split you open with his cock. You still didn’t know what caused him to completely lose control like this. You’d expected him to end the night this way, but not before you even left out the door.

The mess of your mixed releases was dripping down your thighs, heels long forgotten somewhere on the floor. You wished you had taken pictures of your pretty makeup before it was ruined. Black residue of mascara and eyeliner stained your cheeks, your perfect lipstick stained your face, and Logan’s. And don’t even mention your hair. What a mess.

“Was it the dress?” You eventually asked in a quiet voice, your chest still heaving as you looked at him with blurry eyes. He chucked, glancing down to look at your pretty dress. It was a new one. He ultimately shook his head lightly as he gently set you down on your feet.

“It was your perfume actually.” He chuckled, pressing his nose to your jaw to give your soft skin one more inhale as he held you against him. “Is it new?”

You snorted. Well guess the pheromones did work after all. “Yeah, it has like pheromones or some shit.”

Logan pulled his face back to look at you and his eyebrows were pulled into a frown, “what now?”

“Yeah, like you know, pheromones. It’s supposed to be sexy or something.” You shrugged, pursing your lips into an innocent expression. Logan groaned.

“Fuck.” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he was hoisting you up around his waste to take you to the bathroom. “I’ll take you to that dumb restaurant tomorrow, yeah? Just couldn’t help myself.”

“You better.” You huffed playfully as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t wear that shit again. Unless you want me bend you over the nearest surface.”

You smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[dragon-ascent]

I think it would often…strike you, that you’re romantically involved with a god.

Like you’d hold Zhongli’s hands, running your thumb across his knuckles, equally aware of the rough underside that makes his palms. Palms that built his nation from the ground-up, forged countless divine yet deadly weapons to uphold peace, and vanquished friend and foe alike to protect what was his.

And here he is now, those same hands gently squeezing yours, then sliding up your arms and chastely mapping their claim on you; and finally, snaking around your waist and pulling you into a slow and tranquil dance.

When Zhongli speaks in that smooth, silky baritone, you often imagine how this was once the voice that issued commands of massive proportions, words that had to be carefully contrived and spoken, for they could make or break the future.

Now with you, he finds pleasure in recounting silly anecdotes – and a bit of singing, too, as he’s found he’s taken quite the liking to serenading you with melodic poetry.

And don’t forget his eyes; his beautiful, mesmerising golden eyes that serve as the curtain to layers and layers of history. Eyes that had to be ever-watchful, vigilant, lest even a moment of relaxation could mean destruction. He’s witnessed the eventide of tragedy and the dawn of hope, playing impartial where it mattered.

And now, those eyes are honeyed with love, corners crinkling every time you speak to him, his gaze etching you in gilded ink in his photographic memory.

…naturally, thinking of these aspects makes you want to explode (out of love), and your dear, sweet, darling husband Zhongli can only watch in confusion as you try and fail to articulate yourself on the matter.

I know I haven’t written a proper piece in a while but, rest assured Zhongli is all that takes up my brain space! He makes me want to squat on the floor and scream

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Workaholic!Reader. That's it.

Kidding, but think about it: the Dozing General and his over-caffeinated, bleary-eyed lover. Perhaps you work in the Alchemy Commission. While you're already a hard worker—too hard, in Jing Yuan's opinion—with the recent uprising of the Sanctus Medicus, you've been more stressed than usual.

Jing Yuan, ever the strategist, knows he can't just force you to stay home against your will, even though he wishes he could. Alas, you'd never forgive him. He can already imagine the hurt that would shine in your eyes; even the thought of it sends pain shooting down his spine, piercing straight through his heart.

No, he must be clever about it.

So, he decides to perform a siege, slowly tearing your dreadful, self-destructive working habits to shreds. Really, he's doing you a favor.

Surely, you'll understand.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

One morning, you wake up, tired as per usual due to finishing paperwork and writing reports for hours last night. You get up to move, but feel something—two things, actually—rendering you immobile. Arms, strong and warm, holding you tight. Jing Yuan, still soundly asleep, shifts a little, his grasp on your torso growing tighter.

Reaching with an arm, you attempt to wake your husband up by shaking his shoulder. "Jing Yuan," you whisper, trying to be gentle, though a shred of panic creeps into your voice. "I have to go to work."

The General lets out a soft groan, eyes fluttering open. Even in your fatigued state, you can't help but admire how divine your lover looks, haloed by the golden light of dawn. "Mmh, five more minutes, dearest," he whispers, pressing a series of sweet, tender kisses down the side of your neck to your shoulder.

Five minutes turns into ten. Ten minutes turns into twenty. Before you know it, you're late to work.

Rinse, and repeat. Through it all, Jing Yuan subtly reminds you that you can quit any time you'd like. After all, he earns more than enough money to support the both of you. And besides, he'll be retiring soon. He'll be so lonely at home without you with him. You don't want that, do you?

Eventually, you'll concede. Jing Yuan knows it. On the off chance that you don't, however, Jing Yuan has plenty of other ways to force you to surrender.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory. 

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus. 

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…? 

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you. 

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way. 

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…” 

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips. 

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts. 

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night. 

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8. 

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on. 

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it. 

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens. 

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?” 

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?” 

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.” 

“...What’s that?” 

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one. 

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through. 

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?” 

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh. 

“Why not?” 

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back. 

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it. 

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him. 

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him. 

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world. 

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?” 

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap. 

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being. 

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you. 

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain. 

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one. 

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.” 

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground. 

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance. 

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe. 

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need. 

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. 

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one. 

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.” 

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt. 

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants. 

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size. 

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood. 

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back. 

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured… 

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose…. 

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead. 

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.” 

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

[astrolocherry]

~Astrological Archetypes

Aries archetype - Hot as ice, firelight Leaves an impression while being impressionable Suggestive and suggestible, Fever dreams breaking in the dawn, Wounded warrior, Broken though never forlorn.

Taurus archetype - Patroness of The Flowers of Life, Festivities, & Enchantment. Embodies the Creative Fertility Principle; nurtures All Life in her surroundings. The Stylist of the Star Signs.

Gemini archetype - Personification of the rainbow – delivers messages to Gods and mortals on the other end; Mercurial style, dressed in all of its colors, winged platform shoes, with the caduceus scepter – her timeless accessory.

Cancer archetype - Guardian of Girls ages 12–19 in the night; She is the Queen coming to reclaim her daughters. Kept awake at the helm of the Lunar Chariot; a quiet & internalized life by day – a spiritually dangerous secret night life.

Leo archetype– The Genies of the Sun draw the golden carriage of Divine Power and Royalty; they are the psychic protectors & guardians of Light against Darkness, supplying life’s natural desire to recreate over and over

Virgo archetype– The Genies of Mercury contain and awaken the wisdom of the Divine Feminine; working alongside the Great Mothers of Healing & Medicine, & responding to all those who send a message for assistance

Libra archetype – Flower crowned, keeps the earth spinning on its axis. The arch opponent of Discordia/Eris. Personification of Reason & Redemption. Responds to the call of injustice, deliverer of merciful compassion & absolution.

Scorpio archetype – Personify Moral Retribution, armed with psychic defenses & the mysteries of supernatural powers. Children of the Eternal Night serving the Lord of the Underworld, the conscience of the Dead, agents of Fate.

Sagittarius archetype – Personifies Fortune, Chance, Pot Luck, & the Unexpected. Libertine & hedonistic, she encourages the risk for the windfall it may bring. Mutability; changing faces & personas as the wheel spins from favor to misfortune.

Capricorn – The archetypal sacred women who thread and spin the wheel of destiny and govern time, life, and death. An image that honours older women in the affirmation of their authentic selves and trusted inner Feminine wisdom And she does appear to become internally and immersibly more joyous for those early years

Aquarius archetype – The Celestial Queen and receiver of starry prophecies. Unobtainable, ubiquitous, impossible to capture; personifies the stars that fall from the sky as the result of an unwanted romantic pursuit.

Pisces archetype– The Little Mermaid: Earthly existence is blurred by a view below the surface, a plexiglass of ideals that she imagines the world to be. And yet when she arrives, she realizes that nothing is as it seems. Pisces is the zodiacal ruler of the feet where the spell is set.

Cherry

[cxzsr]

𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮..𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? - 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮

[𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨] [𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨] [𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦] [𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘭] [𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧!][𝘴𝘪𝘳 / 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭] [𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶] [𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦] [𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭] [𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣-𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳] [𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩] [𝘸𝘦𝘵, 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘺] [𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢����𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭, 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘱𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘣/𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘢, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫, 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝…𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞..𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐚..𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰 𝐦𝐞..

your mind kept racing..tossing and turning, these thoughts, that little voice in your head, it wouldn’t shut up. you figured caleb might be up so you decided to head to his room to cuddle with him, a big teddy bear was what he was and you needed him tonight. “can i just lay with you tonight?” you quietly called out to caleb as you were standing in the doorway of his bedroom. you were stiff, debating and going back and forth in your head about bothering him. ...he didn’t answer for a minute so you assumed he was in a deep slumber. you made your way over to him, crawling into bed behind him..it was pretty cute, you being the big spoon. caleb felt so comfortable, you kept pressing up on his bum and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as if he was your big plushie. he was stirring and shifting in his sleep, but you held him close to you, not wanting to let him go. as some time passed, you still couldn’t sleep, all you smelled was his scent, a mix of cinnamon and freshly baked apple pie..fuck he smelled divine, mixed in with his own personal musk. the two of you were obsessed with the smell of one another. but you were more intense with it, it dawned on you one day when you caught yourself humping your pillow while you had held his DAA jacket up to your nose..inhaling his scent. you couldn’t control your secret desires that day, putting the jacket beneath you, leaving your personal mark.

you were so fucking shy after you saw the stains you left on his jacket, throwing it in the wash quickly. he still doesn’t know and you don’t plan on telling him either, it embarrassed you a bit too much. all these memories started pouring back in of your little adventures with some of his clothes. it was setting you off, you couldn’t hold it in any longer and you were mindlessly grinding into his ass. “fuck that feels good” you hissed under your breath..you had on some black pajama shorts and a old tee, but the friction was intoxicating. you were wearing nothing beneath your clothes so it was like easy access for anyone. but you only wanted him, you craved him, his lingering touch, the way he’d slip his tongue into your mouth, how he’d caress the curve of your back. squeezing your ass even when you two are out in public, he wanted everyone to know that you were his, only his. he was madly in love and so were you, it was like the both of you would burn heaven, hell and earth just to be by each others side. but for some reason self-doubt just kept creeping in, those horrid thoughts that everything is a lie. this nagging feeling has been bothering you for months on end, ‘am i good enough’ ‘for him or anyone else’…constantly yelling and screaming at you. all you could do was just shake it off and try to lock it away.

“you like that angel?” caleb caught you off guard, that hoarse morning voice of his, you could tell he was groggy but he knew exactly what was happening. you stopped grinding on him abruptly as you heard his voice crack through the air like lightning. shock came over you and you realized how you were feral n’ humping his bum..you looked down between your legs and saw the wet spot on his grey shorts..you scooted away a little bit and looked at him. caleb turned around to face you, grinning at you as if what you did wasn’t enough to faze him. “I- i’m sorry caleb, i was…fuck..” you didn’t know how to lie yourself out of this one. this felt so embarrassing, your face was heating up rapidly, making you sweat a little.

“you were just what? huh pipsqueak? humping my ass?” he leaned towards you shaking his head chuckling and kissed your forehead softly.. “it’s alright bub..i didn’t say i didn’t like it. you act like you can’t come in here whenever the hell you want and do whatever the hell you want.” he winked at you..you knew consent was already enforced and that you both trust each other immensely.

you still felt that pang of guilt, feeling as if you’re too much sometimes, that he wouldn’t appreciate you being bold or taking the lead. caleb saw those wires firing up in your head as you fought your own thoughts. “baby c’mere…” caleb opened his arms inviting you to come closer, you hesitated for a moment but then you went over to him. as you embraced him, there was this heavy sigh of relief, you felt like you made it home and landed safely. “i love you pipsqueak..please understand that. i’m always going to be here, no matter what.” he made sure to enunciate every word and make it clear to you. you felt so protected, to be in his arms, feeling him wrapped around you “i know i tease you a lot angel but that doesn’t mean ill poke fun at my girl when she’s feeling down.” caleb caressed your eyebrows, gently tracing them with his fingertips.

nothing could ever take you away from him, you’re all he sees, looks forward to. the way you let yourself be unapologetically you is what he loves the most, nothing will ever change it. he couldn’t understand why you’d put yourself down like this. caleb pulled away gently, scanning your face trying to see what was running through your head. you kept avoiding his eyes..those beautiful purple eyes that were always so hard to gaze at. the way he looked at you with such intensity always made you feel uneasy. “bub, look at me…what’s happenin’ up there in that lil noggin of yours? you can talk to me.” before you spoke up, your were fiddling with the comforter, pinching and pulling at it. he instantly recognized your discomfort but he didn’t say anything, he let you take your time to gather your thoughts together. “caleb…i’ve been having dark thoughts again…really terrible thoughts, my inner voice has just been bullying me lately.” caleb reached out to rub your back…those heavy warm hands soothing that tension radiating from your back. “angel, are you embarrassed for waking me up by-“

“no no no..it’s just..i feel like im behind, i know i have so much to be grateful for and i understand that but i genuinely feel like im not doing enough for myself or anyone else..” you raised your head…still avoiding him. you just stared at the door, thinking of your escape plan from this annoying conversation. you felt like you weren’t doing enough for him deep in your heart, but you didn’t feel the urge to tell him.

“please look at me pipsqueak.” caleb gently turned your head towards him, his grip was firm though.

“i don’t want to do this right now caleb! i can’t, i don’t even know how to articulate what i want to say when…when i feel like no one will truly listen to me” your face was heated, it felt like someone put you into a human sized oven. it was always like this when you were anxious, your mouth getting drier and parched. your palms were sweating, how your throat felt like you swallowed a full bag of pebbles, it was tight. you couldn’t take it anymore, especially the lingering feeling that’s been sitting with you for months..feeling like you’re. not. good. enough. caleb was getting frustrated but not at you, at whatever was making you feel this way, he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault, like it was his responsibility to find the culprit and teach them a lesson. but the culprit was your brain, those limiting thoughts you believed more than the man who was sitting right in front of you…

he finally spoke up “who is it?” caleb had that look in his eyes. the look of someone who’s plotting, calculating their next move. he had that dangerous menacing glare in his eyes.

you grabbed his hand “caleb! you don’t need to do anything to anyone, i can already see you’re getting ideas..” you had to reassure him, making it crystal clear “and it’s no one, well it’s nothing physical…not unless you can fight my inner demons tormenting me.” you laughed dryly, you saw no amusement relishing in your own pain and sorrow. he knew there was no way to fight your mean inner thoughts, he knew there was nothing he could physically do except just being there for you. “well even though i cant fight them, we can work together and i can have a little chitchat with that brain of yours.” you scoffed, little giggles escaping your lips.

“youre gonna have a chitchat with them babe?”

“hell yes! scoot over, let me sit in front of you.” he shifted himself on the bed, caleb held your hands. he was so delicate and soft, it made you feel even more safe and protected knowing he was there, he was here. “okay my love…now listen here mean brain torturing my sweet angels thoughts…” caleb got himself into it. he was talking to your forehead as if it was a human being getting a lecture from their parent. after a while of him using his best effort to wash away your thoughts he rested his head on yours. you could feel his pain, it hurt him…the way you were feeling, its something he always tried to help you block out, but he could only do so much on his end.

it never lasted though, they would creep back into your mind, making you spiral and overthink. he knew that the overwhelming thoughts would eventually lead to you questioning his motives and how he truly felt about you. even though he expressed it every day, at any moment that he could see you, that ‘i love you’ meant more than words could even explain. although it was sweet hearing it, after looking out for yourself for so long and finally having him here wth you, you still believed that it was going to be short-lived, like all of this would be taken away within seconds. caleb kissed your forehead, as tears kept spilling from your eyes, you couldnt hold it in any longer…”caleb i love you so fucking much but i feel-“ he cut you off, interrupting. “listen here angel, no matter what demented thought that comes up about me, having you question my love for you…know that its bullshit.” he stated it so bluntly. “and i dont mean that in a derogatory way either, what i mean is that im right here, im right fucking here baby, and knowing that even though im sitting in front of you, those thoughts still continuously throwing you down this hole making you doubt yourself. im still going to be right here.” he went on… ”we dont have to do anything tonight okay? just lay here with me, let yourself be here with me..okay?” you cupped his face while your other hand was still holding onto caleb’s. “okay baby…okay..” caleb couldn’t help himself, leaning in to shower your face with light kisses, it brought a light smile to your cute face.

as you felt his soft lips on your cheeks, temple, nose, and chin..he stopped for a brief moment in front of you. his eyes boring into yours, he leaned in, pressing a gentle sweet kiss on your lips. caleb didnt want to let go of you, not now and not ever, you were his and his only.. ”fuck baby, i love you i love you i love you, please, dont shut me out, i will always be here and i mean that, for eternity, until we both grow old and wrinkle, watching our grandchildren. i. fucking. love. you.” your heart was swelling with emotion, you were almost sure it was about to pop out like a chestburster.

“caleb…fuck, i know you dont want to feel like youre taking advantage of me in this vulnerable state but..” under your breath whispering “but i want you baby, i want you so bad…please..” you were basically begging him. but that begging, coming from that pretty little mouth of yours, it made him grunt under his breath, but it was barely audible. you saw this as a need more than a want.

“yo- you want me?” it surprised you that he struggled to get what he wanted to say out “in what way pipsqueak? enlighten me..” ‘did he want me to vocalize it and tell him my desires?’ that made your body tense up, overthinking what he wanted from you. as you were lost in your own world, you didnt even notice him lean down, whispering in your ear “remember how you woke me up?” realization set in, you did come into his room to lay down with him, but instead your horny ass ended up humping his ass. recalling the wet stain you had left on his shorts.. “you- you want me to hump you?” now you were all flustered, your face felt all flushed out. “theres no need to be embarrassed my love, i actually liked it, feeling your sexy ass grinding on me…leaving your lil mark on my shorts..hmm” he was making you blush hard, biting your lip unconsciously. caleb laid back on the headboard, sitting up so he could see you. he needed to see your face, how your body moves atop him, seeing your hips roll and thighs clenching around him.

“go ahead love, come over here and stop bein shy.” caleb reached out to grab your arm softly, pulling you closer to him so you could get on top and straddle him. “like this baby?” he felt your weight on him, enjoying the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his, feeling the heat of your pussy made his dick rise. little did you know, he wasnt wearing any underwear underneath his shorts either. “fuck caleb, i can already feel you poking me, are you sure?”

“mhmm, fuck yes princess..go ahead..show me, and dont fucking hold back. i want to feel you. i want to see you unravel and get messy for me, mmkay?” he came closer, landing a soft kiss on your lips, moving his hand to your hip encouraging you to grind into him.

you began to work your hips, starting off slowly..to keep you present and in the moment he kept kissing you, and only held his hands on your ass, squeezing them, gripping your bottom. “aah, fuck caleb, like that yeah?” as you both released each other for a moment he said “mhm, mhmm just like that baby…”he kept groaning into your mouth”just like fucking that.” you could feel your pussy starting to leak, your own arousal pooling, making you feel gushy as you kept humping his hard dick. it was like this man couldnt stop growing, the more you kept grinding on him, his dick was getting harder and thicker, that hard feeling pressing into you made your hips twitch, he was hitting your clit through your shorts. “that feeling” you whined, “oh fuck that feeling!”

“what feeling baby?” he pretended as if he didnt know what he was doing to you, a smug smirk plastered on his beautiful face. “dont play like that caleb, you know exactly what the hell im talking about.” you kept panting, your bodies heating up becoming slick with sweat. he could see the tiny droplets on your forehead and licked your face, this fucking guy! “caleb ew! why would you do that”

he looked at you amused, you dont like that bbay?” he chuckled, “every part of you tastes sweet baby, even your sweat.” gosh, you didnt realize how obsessed he was with you. “well thats good to know i guess hehe..” he pulled you down on him harder, holding your hips firmly, you knew there were gonna be some slight bruising once he was done with you, even though his grip hurt a little, it added even more pleasure to the experience. that grip he had on you was telling you how much hes been holding back, how much hes been feigning for you. “ohhh fuck baby! you feel so fucking good, let me see more of you..please? i wanna look at your breasts baby.” he lifted your tee, revealing your swollen breasts. your nipples poking out, caleb groaned at the sight of you, instantly grabbing your titties. he was taking it all in, the way your hips were rolling and grinding into him, both of you were mutually soaked, you could feel the wet pre-cum leaking through his shorts and he could feel you, your shorts were ruined, it was an obvious fact, but you craved more. “bubba..i wanna, i want us to watch each other cum.” you were insinuating having a session of mutual masturbation, you wanted to watch him cum on himself as he watches you play with your pussy until you’re dripping wet. “you sure angel?” that idea had him going insane on the inside but he had to keep himself cool in front of you so he didn’t come off as some impatient hornball.

“fuck yes im sure!” as soon as you said that he helped you take off your tee and shorts, revealing your beautiful body…then you did the same with him. “youre so gorgeous baby, oh my god let me hold you like this..just for a moment.” you agreed and you both hurriedly embraced one another, feeling each others sweaty bodies, the scent of each others arousal lingering in the air, making it even more intoxicating and intense.

“okay, get in front of me bub.” caleb held you in position with his evol so you didnt feel any back pain while you were sitting up. it was uncomfortable at first but then your body eased into it, letting go of that tense feeling. you spread your legs revealing your soppy wet pussy, the way he fucking hissed at the sight of you opening up for him made your tummy flutter and tighten up. caleb was already stroking his dick, fuck he looked so sexy to you. both of you were slow and deliberate with it, not wanting to rush anything at all, just dragging it out. as he was stroking his cock, you let your hand drift to your entrance, playing with your wetness, you felt yourself and it was surprising how wet you were because of him.

“caleb look” you held up your fingers, spreading and parting them showing him how sticky and wet you were. “can i have a taste baby?” he gave you no time to answer and pulled you even closer with his evol, bringing your arm up so your hand was positioned right in front of his mouth, caleb leaned in and sucked your fingers clean, moaning at the taste of you, grunting because he wanted to be inside of you, pounding your pussy as he heard your naughty noises coming from down there. he never expressed it too much but he loved the sound of you, every fucking part of you, even the most nastiest of noises coming from your pussy as he slams his dick into your wet heat. he released the hold of your arm and lt you touch yourself again. you were slowly circling your clit, that gentle rub, nothing too intense or hard. as you were going at your own pace lost in thought, caleb saw how your eyes were shut and your legs were beginning to close slightly. you were daydreaming in your own land. “eyes over here pipsqueak!”

“hmm?!” he pulled you out of your thoughts, looking a bit jealous bc whatever you were thinking about had your pussy fucking creaming and leaking, creating a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. looking at you with a firm smile “i said…eyes. over. here…don’t make me say it again..” his tone was low, menacing even, why the hell is he acting all weird..?

you caught his gaze, trying your best to keep those beautiful eyes of yours open…”is this better colonel?” you tested him, he liked the idea of being ahead and in an authoritative position but right now, he was just caleb to you nothing else but only your caleb, and he wanted to remind you of that. “much better pipsqueak…god you’re fucking adorable..look at how drenched you are” he didn’t have to tell you, your fingers were insanely wet. you then decided to slide down further and slip a two fingers in, slowly pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt. seeing the way your whole body was squirming set him off, you could see dribbles of cum leaking from his tip but he didn’t fully orgasm yet. he wanted to know something “so what were you thinking about?” you gave him a cheeky smile, he knew you were about to spill, but then you hesitated a moment before you opened your mouth again “you really wanna know? nosy..”

“yes i wanna know, you’re fucking soaked angel, so what was it..let me into your mind.” caleb was eager to hear you say it aloud…the way his eyes never left yours, fuck..he always had to make it so hard and especially in a moment like this. where you’re both vulnerable and naked, alone in the dimly lit room, he was driving you crazy. “i was thinking about you…you taking me…but in my ass..” fuck that was unexpected…you swear you saw his dick twitch as he heard that “ohhh so you’re into anal huh? no need to be shy with me babygirl..keep that thought in your head, i want you to let your mind wander and create that image of us together. me slowly sliding in and out of that tight hole…your pussy clenching around nothing, just dripping onto the bed…keep that that thought in your head princess.” as he let you close your eyes and drift off into your daydream…caleb pumped his dick harder, squeezing his shaft, imagining exactly what you told him. all you could hear were the filthy sounds of your pussy and his dick squelching as you both let yourselves fall into this deep abyss of lusting after one another. you were tensing up, the way your mind was so imaginative, seeing the entire scene in the darkness, those images forming together in your mind, you didn’t even hear him panting “fuck fuck fuck angel…i’m- i’m about to fucking cum! i’m gonna cum for you my love…all for you…” it was blocked out…grinding your hips into your own touch, the feel of your slick cunt making you more insatiable, chasing that beautiful release…

“CALEBBB…please…bubba pleaseee…” but what were you saying please to? you’re whining and sobbing but he isn’t even inside you. but the thought of him fucking you in the ass is too real, seeing him lube you up..taking his time with you. seeing him delicately kiss your shoulders from the back, trailing his hand down the curve of your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples “mmm…FUCK! i can’t baby, i cant-“ you heard his sweet voice “yes you can angel.” you opened your eyes to see him right next to you, he let you go, letting you fall into his arms as his evol vanished…your body felt lighter. caleb was holding you tightly as you kept circling your clit, picking up so much speed. “let me do it baby, i’ll finger you and you can keep playing with that pretty pussy…mkay.” you looked up at him innocently biting your lip nodding “yes sir..”

he admired your submissiveness and praised you “ugh you’re such a good girl for me huh? my good little princess??” he gently slapped your face with his other hand, then grabbed you, leaning in closer to plant a wet kiss on your lips. he lowered his voice some “you wanna cum on my fingers while you make out with me angel?” you couldn’t help yourself, feral like some horny dog, grinding on his fingers as you kept rubbing your clit “yes! oh my god yes please…please baby…don’t stop…” he chuckled lightly at your response, pressing his lips on yours again but longer this time. the both of you were in such an intense trance. you couldn’t hold it in any longer, the mix of him finger fucking you, your fingers circling your clit and the way he held you as you both were sloppily making out. it all made you squirm, that tight feeling was there again, “cal- cale- caleb im gonna cum! you’re gonna make me fucking cum…please…plea..!” as he whispered against your lips, still fingering you with that slow deliberate pace “then cum baby, i want to feel your pussy clench around me..go on baby..cum.”

”oohh fuck! fuck! CALEB IM-!!” as your orgasm crashed through you, his dick was already hardening up again… “atta fucking girll!” he felt it, the way your whole body jolted, how you were shivering against him…he fucking loved every damn second of it, but to drag it out even more as you took your fingers off your clit because of the sensitivity. caleb kept fucking you with his fingers…adding a third to stretch you out more…watching you cream all over them…

“caleb! it’s tooo…it’s too much!” you begged him to give up and let you go but he kept overstimulating you, your bodies reaction to him was lighting a fire under his ass. he couldn’t get enough of seeing you like this. in such a mocking tone “it’s too muchh?? but you were just begging me for more pipsqueak..i know you have a few more in there for me huh?” all you could do was let your body succumb and surrender to him, that’s all he wanted, to see you let it go. “i know you can do it my love…” he impatiently kissed you…watching you whimper and squirm was such a beautiful treat.

it went on until it was light outside…the sun peeking in through the sheer curtains..showing off that golden glow to your skin, showcasing how much of a mess you both made. caleb spent some time admiring how your folds looked, all puffy and wet. the scent of you filled the room, he didn’t want to creep you out, but he kept inhaling your pussy like an addict “you’re so mesmerizing princess, i could watch you like this all day and never get bored of it.”

he cleaned you up afterwards, drawing you a warm bath, he didn’t want you lifting a finger after how many times he made you fucking cum back to back. you were really sensitive but it felt nice soaking in the water with him…being able to cuddle with him and get all wrinkly together..

“please never have to feel like you can’t confide in me my love..please…don’t ever forget that angel..” he was sitting behind you, petting your soaked hair “i love you pipsqueak…i want you to seriously understand that from the deepest depths of my heart, i mean it with every fiber of my entire fucking being, i don’t care how cliche it sounds…i fucking love you..” you both spent the rest of the morning snuggling together, hearing the his heart beat, it brought a sense of peace to your mind…feeling clearer and lifted…caleb felt like home, your safe haven.

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐥..𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞…𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐥

[cece693]

Could I request some Hannigram for a reader who operates on a backwards schedule? Like eating breakfast at 9pm and dinner at 7am.

Anytime they’re seen during the daytime they just look exhausted, lol

My Morning vs. Your Night

pairing: hannigram x gender neutral reader tags: hannigram are worried, your job is vague so it's up to your interpretation, you look dead and are exhausted, caring hannigram

You didn’t mind the hours at first. Working through the night suited your quiet nature, and the city seemed more peaceful under fluorescent lights and moonlit streets. You liked the dark, the hush it carried, and the way no one needed anything from you except your job’s unrelenting demands. But even you had to admit it was taking a toll.

You could feel your body fraying at the edges. Nights had become days—your sun rose while others slept, and your “good morning�� was usually a mumbled greeting at 7 p.m. Then, when the world was waking up, you were crawling under the blankets.

Will was the first to notice the strain. He always noticed things—something about the way your eyes lost their usual spark, the way your head would loll forward in the middle of conversation. He’d be sitting at the kitchen table, feeding the dogs in the early morning, while you stumbled into the house just before dawn. His brows would crease in that concerned way, the same gentle worry he wore when coaxing stray animals to trust him.

Hannibal, in contrast, observed you more subtly. He measured the dark circles under your eyes, the slump in your posture. He noted the times you arrived too late or too early for a meal, rummaging for breakfast at nine in the evening. He witnessed how exhaustion made you forget to eat proper dinners, your last substantial meal too many hours in the past. Their worry was shared—spoken in Will’s gentle voice and in Hannibal’s carefully worded suggestions.

Hannibal was a blur of precision as he artfully arranged your plate—a culinary masterpiece that qualified as breakfast by your schedule. Hash browns with a fried egg, a delicate drizzle of sauce that smelled faintly of herbs. He placed the plate in front of you, leaning in with an elegant posture. “You must eat,” he said softly, voice like silk on porcelain. “Your body needs care even if your hours are reversed.”

You tried to give him a small smile of gratitude, but your eyes slid closed for just a moment of rest. It felt like even blinking took more energy than you had. “I am eating,” you replied, forcing cheer into your tone. You sank your fork into the food, and as always, it was divine. This didn’t escape your notice, but your taste buds and Hannibal’s cooking had begun to take a backseat to pure fatigue.

Will hovered by your side. He still wore a sweater with a few dog hairs clinging to the sleeves, and the usual shadows of his own weariness had nothing on the purple bruises beneath your eyes. “I’m worried about you,” he said, gently patting your shoulder. “This isn’t healthy. You’re coming home in the morning and not even sleeping properly. You hardly rest before you go back out again.”

Your gaze shifted to him, and your heart clenched at the genuine concern carved into his expression. “It’s just the nature of the work,” you said quietly. “I can’t exactly turn it down. They need me.” Will exhaled, and Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder as if reminding him to tread carefully.

A week later, the inevitable crash came. Maybe it was a double shift that turned into a triple. Maybe it was the pounding headache that refused to relent. You wound up driving home while the sun was already high in the sky—past 7 a.m., well into your typical “dinnertime,” but you’d missed all your usual signals.

You stumbled into the house, tears of frustration threatening to fall. You kicked off your shoes, ignoring the annoyed whine of your tired muscles, and almost collapsed in the foyer.

Will was there in an instant, arms catching you around the waist. “Whoa, easy,” he said, voice thick with concern. “Let me help you—just breathe.”

Hannibal appeared like a shadow, as swift as a heartbeat, pressing a gentle hand to your forehead. You saw the flicker of alarm in his eyes. You must have looked truly terrible. Your eyelids fluttered, the world turning blurry. “I’m so tired,” you mumbled, as if your exhaustion was something new and shocking.

Will and Hannibal exchanged a look above your hunched form, and Will gently scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the couch. You sank into it like a wilted flower. Before you could register it, Hannibal disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. No one spoke until you took a few sips, water dribbling down your chin. Your hands shook so hard it was difficult to hold the glass.

Then Hannibal, with a low, steady voice, said, “We can’t watch you do this to yourself any longer.”

Will nodded. “We talked about it and we think you should quit this job. Please. For your own sake.”

It wasn’t an easy decision. You’d put so much into this job. But you remembered all those times you nearly passed out at your desk, times you neglected meals, the nights you promised Will you’d be home by dawn only to arrive in the bright glare of midday. So you stood in your supervisor’s office the next afternoon (evening, by your internal clock) and handed over your resignation. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—fear, relief, regret, and anticipation. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a proper sunrise while wide awake.

Stepping out of that building for the last time, you felt lighter. Your phone buzzed with a waiting text from Will:

We’re so proud of you. Come home safe.

It took a while to reset your routine. At first, you still found yourself awake at bizarre hours—your stomach growling at midnight, craving what it had learned to call breakfast. But now, when you emerged from the bedroom at odd times, you were greeted by Will in the living room, dozing lightly, as though waiting for you. Hannibal often had a small snack prepared, an elegant amuse-bouche to tide you over while your body adjusted.

Some nights, Hannibal would read aloud from a book of poetry while you rested your head in Will’s lap, focusing on the cadence of Hannibal’s voice to soothe your restless mind. Will’s fingers combed absently through your hair, grounding you. Slowly, you found yourself drifting off earlier and waking closer to what most people called “morning.” You’d have breakfast around nine—actual nine in the morning. Will smiled at you over a cup of coffee, and Hannibal offered you a plate of fresh fruit and delicate pastries.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had breakfast with both Will and Hannibal in natural morning light. It felt surreal, a luxury you hadn’t realized you’d been missing for so long. The kitchen was bathed in a gentle glow from the rising sun, and for once, you didn’t have to squint against it, half-conscious from a grueling shift.

“How do you feel?” Will asked, sliding you a cup of tea.

You paused, steam rising into your face, the warmth of the mug cupped in your hands. “I feel…rested.” The word sounded alien, but it made you laugh a little. “I forgot what that was like.”

Hannibal, perched elegantly across from you, inclined his head. “It is good to see color in your cheeks again. You have a natural glow this morning.”

Will’s foot nudged yours under the table, an affectionate gesture. “Not that you aren't handsome/beautiful, of course,” he teased in his soft, playful way, “but you did look like a ghost for a while there.”

A shy laugh escaped you, and you reached across to squeeze his hand briefly. “It’s strange, but i’m glad I quit.”

“Good,” Hannibal responded, his smile as subtle as ever. “Because your well-being is paramount. To both of us.” A comfortable silence settled among the three of you. It was only broken by the quiet clink of silverware on plates and the soft hum of the dogs in the next room. You took in the moment, letting your shoulders relax in a way they hadn’t in ages. The day stretched ahead of you—not night, not the sleepless hours, but a real day full of possibilities and the promise of healthy routines. Will winked at you before biting into a piece of toast, and Hannibal sipped his coffee with measured elegance.

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs 3

Summary: As Alucard grapples with his grief over what he has done, secrets are unveiled and graver foes awaken. Is it too late to save you? (Plot takes off months before *that ending* in part 2. Some parts are off-canon.)

This chapter is written in Alucard’s POV.

Themes: Dark fantasy, horror, romance, angst I Words: 4k

Warnings: MDNI. Horror, blood, gore, violence, religious themes, mentions of suicide, grief, depression, anxiety, slight smut

Pt 1 I Pt 2

_____________________________________________________

To the lovely folks who are holding out for part 3, thank you! 💛 Sorry I couldn’t put this out sooner.

@s-i-l-v-e @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @celly-fahrenheit @skychaser777

I tasted blood, cherry and salt. 

And I wanted more, more, more.

We were tangled in each other, our bodies suspended in the cosmic cerulean of the deep ocean. 

She was my salvation. Her kiss was my atonement. And her blood, oh her blood…it was a gift so heavenly. All my immortal life had desired only that very thing, and now that I had it, I couldn’t let go. 

Every shred of my primordial essence — powerful yet cursed, now entombed in the marrows of her soul. My blood now flowed in hers, as her blood, mine. We were fused as one, we were divine. 

My darling’s fingers traced the sharps of my jaw as she kissed me, our married blood spilling from her mouth, diluting the water. They formed red rivulets around us, as if in symbolic reverence that we were the almighty givers of ichor. 

We were safe, entwined together in eternal damnation.

I love her. I love her so deeply that I’d doomed her with my blood curse, so I could have her by my side till the sun swallowed us whole. And for that, I’d forever fester in my blasphemous sin.

“Adrian…” she seemed to say, but the snare of the ocean strangled her words, slowed our every caress… as if time at all wanted to still for our undying love.

Oh what I would give to hear her voice — seraphic, like a birdsong, my name chaste upon her lips. 

Her ivory chemise clung to her body like sculpted granite, her nipples just peeking through. They were for my eyes only. Yes…her being, her blood, her body…they all belonged to me.

But in that sacred moment, something felt…amiss. There were those jade-green veins, palpable under her eyes… they ran like fine cracks on marble, so like those on a delicately-carved statue.

Raven hair hovered around her tiny frame, resembling venomous serpents held buoyant by witchcraft. They were so in contrast to my gold, like the exact moment dusk bled into dawn.

There was the red rivulet again, this time saturating the white ribbons of her nightdress. They coiled around my arms, binding me to her. Not that I’d ever let go. 

But I had to, for her lingering touch was frost impaling even my vampiric skin. Why was she so cold?

“Adrian…” again she seemed to call out.

Her eyes, despite being underwater, were wide open, the blacks of them bereft of the soul I once knew. She was pale. So pale. And she looked every bit the angel of death. 

My angel…when did she slip from my arms? 

Our fingers entwined one last time, before a sombre gloom dragged her under. Slowly she sank, like a fallen star ousted by the heavens, syphoned of its light. 

But I’m right here, darling. Stay. 

I willed all of my immortal power to reach for her outstretched hands, but my body was deadened, as if held prisoner by spirit shackles. Further and further she sank from me, and I so terribly wanted to tell her that wasn’t where she was supposed to go.

Words evaded me, as my tears had.

The hollow abyss seemed to rise up — impatient, almost — to receive its new sacrifice. 

Blood gushed from her mouth — they were viscid, as if so thickened they had to be forced out or she would choke. The blood kept coming. They streamed out of the sockets of her eyes, running like bloody tears of the living dead. 

They say that monsters like us lack the ability to fear, yet I’d never felt more afraid than I did then. The love of my life, drowning, dying, yet I could do wholly nothing. Alucard, son of Dracula — weak, worthless…

A fissure cracked her chest open, the cavity creeping wide to reveal her beating heart. Her human heart. 

The blood kept coming. 

“Come back to me…” I begged, the futility of it sickening me.

Still, she descended. I watched in horror as the godless ocean buried her in its oblivion, until all I was made to see was the compunction of my sins. 

On her neck that I used to so lavish with kisses, lay the wounds only a wretch like me could inflict. 

I did it. I killed her. 

“Adrian…”

____________

I jolted awake. 

A numbing despair perforated my insides, a feeling I knew all too well. I stared out the window through heavy eyelids, the red moon magnified by sweat teardrops trickling through my eyelashes. 

For a long moment I just sat there, my lungs crushed by torment, my heart shattered by grief. I’d lost count of the nightmares that had plagued me over the decade…no, it’s been 96 years, Adrian. A century. A century she’s been gone.

What was I living for? 

Memories I longed to forget writhed their way into my mind, forcing me to once again relive the hell that fateful night. 

I had sat in the castle hall for days, her lifeless body cradled in my arms. My eyes burned from tears, and I wanted to die. I fed her so much of my blood, my immortal blood, still she slept. I summoned spirits, conjured the most powerful of magicks, still, she slept. My hope hanging by a thread, I fused my father’s sciences with my mother’s elixirs…still, she slept. 

I was about to drive my own sword into my heart — the only one ensorcelled enough to kill a dhampir, when a familiar voice stopped my contemptible deed. 

“Alucard! This place reeks of death, and here I thought we’d gotten rid of your father long ago.”

“Stop it, Belmont!”

“What? He may be pristine but his home sure isn’t. Alucard! Honey, we’re home!”

“Will you stop yelling?”

“Alucard’s probably busy shoving it in her, ha. I need to make sure he can hear me above their grunts and moans. Have you forgotten how loud you get, Sypha?”

“You’re disgusting, Belmont.”

“Alucard! Ah, there you are. In the hall, really? You two really are something. Do you have food? I’m starving. I…”

“Belmont.”

“Fine, fine. Beer is good as w…”

“Belmont!”

It took Belmont a long minute before he alas perceived what Sypha meant. My two dearest friends — immobile in silent trepidation, distress distinct on their faces.   

“What happened, Alucard? Was she attacked?” Sypha was the first to speak. As always, her presence seemed to bring solace, but it dissipated promptly.

“I killed her, Sy…Sypha. She asked mmme… to…tto turn her, and I…I drank too much…I killed her.” 

Mere speaking incinerated my throat, and it was then I’d realised I hadn’t stopped crying. I could scarce breathe through my wheezing, let alone enunciate words.

“I…I tried ever…rything, help me please…ppplease…save her please…”

Belmont, in a rare display of empathy, knelt beside us and took my hand in his. “We will find a way to save her, and we will not stop until we do. I promise.”

At his oath, I collapsed into Belmont’s arms. Anguish, shame, relief…they all coursed through my body — my face buried in his shoulders, weeping. Every emotion that I’d held in, all unfettered at the fact that I had someone, that I wasn’t alone to fight my battles. 

“Fault yourself not, Alucard. She never would’ve blamed you.” Sypha’s voice was soft, soothing, enveloping us in a reassuring embrace. I fell apart completely. 

A loud pounding at the doors disturbed our bittersweet reunion, arousing our every alarm. There seemed to be a clamour of sorts — yelling, mocking…definitely humans. Belmont took to receive the unusual affair, leaving a gap just wide enough to acknowledge a throng of men — bishops, priests and followers of the church. 

“I don’t remember ever calling for your conceited services, Father.” Belmont sneered. 

“It’s Father Caine to you, and I could hardly expect couth coming from especially you. Excommunicated and still, never learning the error of your ways…

I sense a great evil here…more so than I daresay…Dracula himself. Forgive our ruckus, for we, the good men, merely wish to rid the town of all that is malign…Hand the girl over, and all shall be well.” 

Sypha and I exchanged uneasy looks. What was he talking about? 

Belmont, entirely irked by the bishop’s pretentious drivel, was barely holding it in. “Take your horseshit hubris and shove it up your a…”

“Oh, but don’t you want to know why we want the girl? Not the speaker-magician…the dhampir’s lover.” 

What?

The dastardly bishop, words of scorn and malice, continued, “She now has the blood curse of the dhampir, and something in that transformation awoke creatures of the night…dark, hateful creatures…ones that possess an ancient evil…It is easy. We exorcise and burn her body, and as I’ve said…all shall be well.”

Blood searing in my veins, I raced past Belmont, the parasite parish’s body dangling midair in my chokehold. Eyes bloodshot and fangs hungry, I crushed his throat harder. He let out pathetic struggles of breath, rosary still firmly clasped in his hand. 

“Where is your God now, Father? If we are the impurity you so seek to vanquish, then what of the innocents you slaughtered unrepentently, all because they did not fit your cause?” 

I thought of my mother, the Belmonts, the heathens who simply held their own beliefs…and most of all, I thought of my sweet angel, so kind and full of love…

“What the…” Belmont cursed when we were doused with buckets of Holy Water. The “Men of God” started chanting prayers, as if their contrived communion would somehow free their pious leader. 

I let out a laugh. 

“The absolute gall you have, Father. Despite my mourning, I shall grant you this last mercy. Command your men to leave and never again return, and I shall kill only you. Fail to do so, and I’ll rip the tendons from all your wicked hearts. After all, I am a monster, am I not?”

A few men flinched at my words, casting hesitant glances to the others, while some implored Father Caine to choose wisely. Such cowards.

The bishop shifted a little in my grip, a faint smirk splayed across his face. “M…ark my words, vampire. Dark times ar…are ahead…The girl must di…” 

I tore his heart right out of his ribs.

He was right. I was a vampire. I was omni-sentient. I was a monster and a God all at the same time. The farcical impudence he had to order the execution of my beloved…Anyone who touches her will die.

With his blood on my hands, I felt my hunger creep in once again, ripping off the human mask I wore like a virtue. I needed to feed.

It wasn’t until Belmont started swinging his Morningstar than I realised the tumult that had ensued. “And God shits in my dinner once again…Alucard! Left!”

Veins palpitating from the heart I’d just consumed, I saw that the rest of the church, quite possibly under the predetermined order of the bishop, lit a pyre that massacred the foliage we used to read under, devoured the quince fruit trees we so loved to frolic around.

They will all die. 

“Get back!” Sypha cried, mutating the fire into swirls that wavered to her bidding. She channelled them towards the men, trapping them in rings of flame. Out of nowhere, fire arrows flew in our direction, narrowly missing Sypha’s face. That was enough to send Belmont into a scalding rage. 

His Morningstar cleaved through half of the men, dismembering some, dissecting others. My estoc weaved through throats and hearts, beheading some, mutilating others. The tragic irony of it all — the very men whose sole mission was to protect mankind, to do good, on an aimless rampage to kill because of a misguided prophecy.

And so the fighting went on for months, years... Night creatures, more members of the parish, vampires seeking a new world order…valiant efforts, alas they were no more than vermins effortlessly exterminated by us three. 

We weren’t certain why they had kept showing up. Whether it was a curse set off by my turning her, or the fact that they simply wanted us dead…it mattered not, nor did I make it my business to find out. I was going to kill them all. 

Sypha and Belmont had kept to their promise. Come hell or high water, they stuck with me, even moving into the castle with their son. We battled foes, and never once did they abandon their cause to revive the love of my life.

“Alucard, you need to seal her. Keep her somewhere safe, where no one but you can find,” Sypha had one day told me. I was no fool, I’d known they wouldn’t be around forever, and if I’d succumbed to my grief, all their efforts would’ve been in vain. 

“Promise me that when she wakes, you two will look after our kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, and…” Belmont trailed off, seemingly stumped by staple discourse.

“They’re called descendants, you idiot.” Sypha rolled her eyes. 

Managing a genuine smile I haven’t had in a long while, I replied, “I promise.”

“My lord.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yet leave my reverie.

“My lord,” Centrio again addressed, this time with more urgency. There, bowing by the door, dressed in fine leather that I had gifted, stood the first human I’d turned after…her. I’d found him by the docks, and he was all but an emanciated vagrant on the brink of death. Perhaps it was the matyr in me, but I thought it more I had wanted to experiment…if he indeed turned, perhaps there was a way…

“The council is ready for you.” 

Donning my guise of Imperious Vampire Overlord — terrifying, deadly, merciless — I made my way down to the great hall with my most loyal emissary. I clutched at the pendant around my neck — a vial forged with obsidian and laced with gold, encased with her blood. It was the only way I could feel her if she woke.  

An excruciating sorrow once again took shape, like an enemy planting tiny splinters in my heart, except those splinters were tainted with the most malevolent of poisons, inching slowly to ravage my vital core. 

“My lord,” 

The council all greeted in unison, heads bowed in utter veneration. Men, women, young, old…I had sired them all. To have a contingency if I ever needed one, to delegate my task of finding a cure, to have some goddamn chatter in the forsaken castle…

“We’ve received word that the denomination led by Gwyth is storming in from the highlands of Brasov. They are…angered by the vampires you’ve sired. She thinks just because…” 

“Just because what?” 

The gathering fell silent, as if fearful to draw my ire. Good…that’s how I intended it to be.

“Tell me, Finnor, does your gallantry waver in my presence? If so, perhaps it was my oversight in appointing you General?” 

“Forgive me, my lord. She thinks it’s a travesty that we, vampires a mere century old, are…” Finnor cleared his throat before continuing, “...exhausting all the human blood supply here in Braila. Some of our own have gone over to bordering cities, and they’re most displeased. She thinks that just because you’re… Dracula’s son, doesn’t give you the right…”

“Dracula’s son?” I scoffed. 

“Did I not sire you all? If Dracula is my father, then does his blood not also run in your veins? 

“Yes!” My council concurred in earnest. 

Does that not make you powerful?”

“Yes!”

“Good! Then let them come. We will defend what is rightfully ours, will we not?”

“Yes!” 

At that, they broke into a resounding cheer, half howling, the rest pounding staffs, swords and what have you on the marble floor. Contrary to the revelry below, I, worshipped like a God on my throne, felt wholly insentient. I cared not for war, nor truimphs, nor reign. If I’d created bloodthirsty monsters, it was merely a means to an end. 

I wanted only one thing. 

Was this how my father felt when my mother died?

“Kindly see to it, Centrio. I wish not to be bothered.”

“At your service, my lord.”

There she was — immaculate in white, clutching the garland of daffodils I’d made her, so detached from the pain I’d caused…I had all but little choice when I’d sealed her in the underground castle chambers. I had cast a spell so powerful, that save for the both of us, no one could enter, or find, our fortress in Wallachia.

Living in the castle without my friends, without her, seeing her lifeless body…it went on for months, years��I couldn’t bear it. Her lying there, bereft of a heartbeat, of a breath, broke me in ways I never knew existed. 

And so I resolved to start over in Braila, it was the only way to keep her safe, it was the only way I could honour my vow to save her.

Cape dragging behind my lifeless steps, I trudged back to my study, thoughts once again lost in her. Innumerable letters I’d written, infinite words I wanted to say — all frozen and wayward like misplaced luminaries in an interstellar void. 

What have I done, darling? I’ve created…abominations... so many innocent lives lost because of me…Will you still love me when you see what I’ve become?

“Adrian…”

I spun round, completely entranced by her voice. 

In the doorway, against the crimson glow of the stained-glass window, wearing the white chemise just as she always had, awaited my beloved. It suddenly became daunting to breathe, my mind apprehensive to behold the sight.

“Darling? Is it really you?” I uttered, my words close to a tremble.

She said nothing, but merely moved to me with such litheness I was taken aback. Her steps were languid, like a lone willow swaying in a bleak winter tempest. 

“H…how did you find me? You don’t look well, do you need to feed? Here,” I offered my bloodslit wrists to her. She pressed her lips to them at once, as though thoroughly acquainted with my gesture. 

“I missed you so much, I…”

“Shhh…” she hushed, sinking to her knees. 

Her hands made quick work of my trousers, and too soon had my entire length in her mouth. My cock twitched as her tongue lapped over the ridges of my growing erection, licking hurried circles around my tip.

“Fuck…baby…I missed you so fucking much…” I panted, pushing her face deeper between my thighs. “Ahhh…that feels so good…” and threw my head back, shutting my eyes, relishing in the absolute ecstasy of her eagerness. 

Pumping my sex in rapid fervour, she took it further down her throat, sucking, constricting…the weight of my every burden reduced to an indistinct drone.

“Slow down, darling,” 

“Yes, my lord…”

My eyes flew open. My lord?

From where I was, I alas saw it. The sable of her tresses ran an incomparable lustre to my darling’s raven. I flung the devil thrall into the windows at once, shattering the glass, red fragments giving way to golden gleams of the inconspicuous sun. 

“How very dare you,” my voice dropping to a haunting hiss as I stalked towards her. “The audacity you possess to employ such pitious artifice…who sent you?” 

The thrall quivered at my unrestrained wrath, straining to speak against the bleeding shards skewered in her throat.

“Y…you…did…m…my l..ord…” 

I froze, the lunacy of my suffering clear as day. I must already be dead. 

Refusing to bear the yoke of that truth, I instead directed all my shame and hurt at the dying vampire whom I’d sired. 

“Why do you get to live, but she doesn’t? Why do all of you get to persist in endlessness, possess my blood gift, but she is doomed to sleep for all eternity? Why!”

All that remained was the anguished aftershock of my tirade, and the spurting of blood that had slivered their way to the soles of my boots. 

“F…forrr…give me, mmy…lord…”

“I want you to listen closely. She transcends your every breath. You will never be her.” 

I compelled my estoc to sever her head. 

____________

I liked it out here. At times the ocean waves would susurrate, tonight it was a thunder against the cliffs. It offered a quiet respite from my heartbreak, the inane vampire politics, and the endless blood war of the undead.

My hair whipped in the frigid windstorm, yet I felt nothing. I was a lighthouse abandoned — hollow, crepuscular — fleeting through the years devoid of purpose. There were nights where I would see her in the middle of the violent sea — so alone, so tormented — does she know? I would cross oceans of time to find her.

Something snapped. 

I remained still as death, my gaze shifting calculatedly to the untimely intruder foolish enough to trespass into my castle grounds. Their steps, though fairly distant and furtive, stood little chance against my heightened hearing. 

The clanging of chains reached my ears long before my sword ensnared the metal. Holding it mere inches from my face, I studied the peculiar weapon — intricate weaving of iron, spikes flared at the tip…and that leather whip. 

“Simon Belmont. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save that garb for someone who gives a shit, vampire.”

I smirked at his salutation, perhaps a little more than necessary. “I see the Belmonts have a tradition.”

Unlike his forefathers, Simon had fallen out of favour with the Belmonts, insisting that vampires, regardless of their intent and relationship, are considered foe and should, at all costs, be exterminated with their bodies wrung out to dry. 

“The odious horde you have sired are arrogant beyond their means. Do you not care for the turmoil they have caused? The innocent lives they have claimed?” 

I no longer have the capacity to, I wanted to tell him. 

“I come here not to befriend, or beg, or ask. Halt the atrocities of your vampires, or I shall finish what my grandfather so failed to do — kill you.”

“Are you threatening me, Belmont?”

Taking advantage of my affront, he wielded the Combat Cross — one I’d noticed too late — for it struck the pendant around my collar, barely missing my chest. I watched as the vial containing her blood fracture into pieces, her lifesource splattered and devoured by the earth below. 

Seething, I lunged for Simon, teleporting behind him while coiling the Morningstar around his neck. He threshed around his imminent asphyxiation, blindly stabbing his dagger, attempting to find purchase on any of my organs. 

The tip of his Morningstar however, managed to etch itself onto my arm, igniting an unsteady glow. It would not combust in me, for I was neither human nor demon. Still, a searing pain barelled through the recesses of my body.

I released Simon as he collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving from the lack of air. Hovering my sword above his heart, I recalled the promise I had made to Belmont. 

“This is a fight for another day, Belmont. Take your weapons and leave, for I have little forbearance for charity such as now.”

Flinging a shard of the Transmission Mirror next to Simon, he was pulled into its magic before he could contend. As the mirror engulfed him in its sorcery, he glared at me with such loathing I thought it incredulous I had loved his grandparents dearly.

But it was his last words ahead of being teleported that unnerved me, roused me back to the verity of that very moment — “I know what you’re searching for, Alucard.”

I stared at the spot where Simon was, now an insignificant mass of rocks, amongst them lay fragments of my obsidian vial.

An uncanny cold snaked about my heart. Clutching at it, the hammering intensified to a booming knell, in the same manner as nights where the parish would pound at my castle doors with boulders, clamouring to burn her. My breathing soon withered to a wheeze, then a gasp, and I fell to my knees.

Without the pendant, I could feel her no longer. 

What if she woke? The indefinite dangers she would face outside the castle walls…Simon…what if he knew a way to find her…to kill her…

I was sickened with fear. Haste was of the essence, but the Transmission Mirror teleported at random — there was no telling where I would end up. Trembling, I raced to ready my stallion. 

I was going back to Castlevania. 

Pt 1 I Pt 2

[gnawing-suspicion]

Favorite Hannigram Fics of 2024

So! I’ve been thinking about making this list for weeks but it overwhelmed me — I started reading Hannigram fic this year and have consumed millions of words of it. I began without an ao3 account so many of the ones I started with are lost to the aether, but here are the absolute gems, the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Some are popular, others less known.

My tastes might not be yours, but I am drawn to excellent writing, slow burns, power dynamics and a healthy dose of twisted kink. So! ONWARD!

Note: The Shape of Me Will Always be You and Consenting to Dream are a given.

Blackbird by @emungere - “Shortly after Will kills Garret Jacob Hobbs, he and Hannibal stumble into a D/s relationship. It's a relief to have Hannibal telling him what to do, but the closer they become, the closer he gets to realizing who and what Hannibal really is.”

I love D/s Hannigram and this was exquisite. Everything by emungere is, of course, but this is my favorite.

Bram Stoker’s HANNIBAL by @dbmars - “Hannibal + Bram Stoker's Dracula + the classic novel = a new version of the seductive vampire legend.”

A love letter to both the 90s film and the original work. This is the longest fic I read this year and it consumed me for weeks. It’s gorgeous, sexy, beautifully-written and every casting choice made me kick my feet with glee.

Secretary by FragileTeacup and ThisIsMyDesignHannibal - “Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head.”

Secretary is one of my favorite films ever, and this take on it had me foaming at the mouth. It’s so good. SO GOOD.

Hinterland by @pastelwell - “When they crash into the water he believes it’s over. He followed his final impulse to do the right thing by his friends, his family, the world. The last flutters of morality within him had guided him, even as he looked into the eyes of a murderer who had somehow compelled his fall from grace. Here, in the frigid deep waters, their chapter is closed and their story is concluded. Except it isn’t. This is just the beginning.”

A divine post-fall fic of rehabilitation, angst, longing and some of the hottest smut imaginable. I love a post-fall fic and this is top-tier!!

With skin intact and altered souls by romanticallyinept - Will snorts his laughter, shifting to tuck his hands under his arms. “Come on,” he says, turning his head to look over at Hannibal. “The chances of two serial killers being in one car would be astronomical.”

They’re both serial killers!!! What are the odds!! This one is so fun, so fucked, so hot. Really great dialogue.

Our Shadows, That are Bold, Sing by @highermagic - “The monster under Will's bed calls himself Hannibal. He has lived there since Will was old enough to have a bed. He is very smart, and Will likes him very much. He protects Will's dreams, wakes him when he has nightmares. He embraces Will with shadows that black out the morning light when dawn comes, and sings soft songs that Will doesn't know.”

Listen, I read basically every one of HigherMagic’s fics this year. They’re all, every one of them, incredible. This one really got me, though. Monster Hannibal is my husband now.

patroclus in furs by bleakmidwinter - “Will Graham has been acting in heterosexual porn for years but is fired when his manager encourages him to take a higher-paying job for a homosexual centric porn company. There, he finds his expectations turned upside down.”

This is obviously ABSURD but oh my god, did I love it. Will Graham having a sexual identity crisis with notoriously sadistic porn god Hannibal is like candy to me. 10/10.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia - “Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.”

Will gets obsessed with Hannibal’s secret ASMR channel. Incredible phone sex is the natural conclusion. The descriptions of sound in this are viscerally gorgeous.

Funeral of Flowers by thecountessolivia - “Venice, 1870. The heart of winter. The once great city republic is on its knees. The banned institution of Carnevale lives on discreetly in the masked balls that light up the grand palazzi of the rich and the well-born.”

Hannigram at Carnevale. Sumptuous, longing, decadently described historical AU. Loved this to death.

Black Rock Mountain by bokunojinsei - “Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.”

An even smuttier They’re Both Serial Killers fic that had me howling in the streets. You want bloody horny Hannigram? This is elite!!

To Fuel Your Radiance by GoldenUsagi - “AU where Will is the actual Devil. After Hannibal sells his soul, a fascination begins to develop between them. Will is intrigued by the unique monster Hannibal is, while Hannibal thinks Will is the most magnificent thing he's ever encountered. As their conversations continue, their involvement with each other becomes something else entirely.”

I’m not gonna lie, I think this was my favorite fic I read this year. Will as The Devil is so hot I screamed. There’s a scene at the end that is so fucked I lost my mind. Not even close to safe or sane. A masterpiece.

The Night Owl by sourweather - “Will works the graveyard shift at his University's 24 hour Library. There's another student who only comes in to study in the dead of night. Will can't explain why, but something about that boy has caught his attention.”

College AU! COLLEGE AU! Featuring some great Beverly fun.

An Ounce of Wit by winddragon - “AKA a modern magical AU where the entire point is to turn Will Graham into a catboy.”

The infamous Will is a Catboy fic that is somehow SO good. I had to be convinced to read this but I’m so glad I did. It’s an absolute delight, and the dark magic is so cool?! Goofy, yes, but delicious.

old-fashioned divinity candy by antiheroblake - “the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham”

An ongoing WIP that has me hooked by the throat. If you like the boys being absolutely stupid for each other and also absolutely stupid about it, you’ll eat this up. Young Hannibal is such an idiot. I love him.

in the gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini - “Hannibal and Will have murder husbands mind palace sex, and Alana watches obsessively.”

I mean, it does what it says on the box. It does it SO WELL. Honk honk and, if I may add, awoooga.

show me where it hurts (I’ll lick it clean) by antiheroblake - “at 18, will inherits a ranch upon the death of his father, a man who died from a supposed family curse. at 33, will becomes prone to accidents, and the new town doctor starts to see him more than he sees his cattle.”

Accident-prone Will in the Old West HATES his sexy new doctor. You won’t believe what happens next!!!

Bring Out Your Desires by TheCosmicNSFW - “After spontaneously having to save a man's life inside an ambulance, Hannibal Lecter finds Will Graham being naughty in the bathroom. He decides that Will Graham might be a more valuable asset than he originally thought, and he convinces Will to let him work out his true desires - but is offering your mind to Hannibal on a silver platter such a great idea?”

An ongoing Hypnosis Kink fic that has absolutely inspired some of Fever Dreams. Bonus points for a fic that gave me a new kink!! Doesn’t happen every day!

The Sugar Bowl by BelladonnaWyck and raiast

Listen, ok, I like a sugar daddy fic. I’m picky about them, though!! This one involves University Will and he’s such a perfect mess.

Mine to Touch by piginapoketuesday - “Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.”

This one popped up during my exploration of the Sub Will Graham tag and woooooof, yes. Yes!!

2 weeks by EarthsickWithoutYou - “After reading the news of Will's marriage to Molly, an incarcerated Hannibal cannot bear their separation or his own jealousy any longer. He breaks out and finds Will, proposing a bet: that Will gives Hannibal two weeks to prove his love and convince Will to run away with him. If Hannibal succeeds, they will be together for life, but if he fails, he'll return to the BSHCI and never see Will again. With Hannibal's heart on the line and Will's inner moral conflict hard to hear above the roar of his longing for the killer, what choice is he going to make?”

Insanely jealous Hannibal + bone-deep yearning + “I can give you what she never could” = 🔥🔥🔥🔥😤🥵

Appetites of the Flesh by Magnetism_bind - “Will gets aroused at murder scenes. Eventually this gets noticed.”

A rec from @graciereadshannigram that also introduced me to a new kink. It’s twisted, obviously, but godDAMN it’s hot. And speaking of Gracie…

CrimsonDesires by Scifibabe - “Post-fall, Will and Hannibal discover that Alana became a bestselling erotic novelist and surprise! She based her characters on Will and Hannibal. Drunken dramatic reading of various passages ensues.”

This is absolute crack and I ate it up like ICE CREAM. A kick-your-feet delight. Watch as Will blushes so hard he nearly dies. And lest we forget my fave of her Kinktober fics…

Touched for the Very First Time by Scifibabe - “One night post-fall, Will proposes something new: letting Hannibal seduce him as if it's his first time. As Will slips into a younger, more hesitant version of himself, he’s reminded of all the things he's never let himself fully experience. With Hannibal guiding him through each step, Will discovers just how much he still craves being taken care of, in every sense.”

This blew my mind. It’s so hot. Thank you for the food!!!! Bonus mention for the Daddy Kink Fisting episode.

act on it by acheforhim - “Will is lonely and his long-distance fuckbuddy encourages him to pursue Hannibal.”

It took me MONTHS into reading fic to give omegaverse a try. I’m still fussy about it, but this one is so hot.

Graham Cam by bigfootghostdick - “In nearly every aspect of his life, Hannibal is wholly unabashed in the endeavors he chooses to take on, especially where Will is concerned. At his core, he lives outside the realm of societal norms, so in a twisted effort to learn more about the beautiful empath that has captured his attention so utterly, he decides to install hidden cameras inside Will’s home.

Will is blissfully unaware…or is he?”

Hdhagahajajbfdg.

Illicit Affairs by EarthsickWithoutYou - “AU in which Will is living a quiet, safe, but deeply conflicted life in Maine, married to Molly but secretly longing for his dark Becoming. Mired in self-hatred and despair, he seeks comfort in the church. But things get very complicated once he meets the new priest at his parish, Father Hannibal Lecter.”

I have a massive Priest Kink and this did it for me in every way possible. I love how all of EarthsickWithoutYou’s fics are so deeply religious. I’m not, but I love reading it!!

suffer does the wolf by cedarbranch - “Under extreme physical duress, a werewolf's transformation cycles may fall out of phase with the moon. Will has experienced it once before. He'd hoped he never would again. But the fall was not kind to him, and when two full moons pass afterwards with no sign of a change, something has to give.

The solution: a tight leather collar, woven through with pure silver chain to prevent unwanted transformation. Will hates the collar. But it might be different when Hannibal's the one putting it on him.”

I may be iffy on omegaverse, but I LOVE fics where Will is a werewolf. It just suits him. That plus BDSM power dynamics? SOLD

even though our love is doomed by bleakmidwinter - “Hannibal solves the mystery of time travel and he and Will decide to go into the past and take opportunities previously missed along with rewriting the regrets they each hold. Changing the past does not effect the future and they have free reign to play as the please.”

I loved this, oh how I loved this, particularly when they fuck themselves. What a treat for me!!

How to Be a Good Boy: A Guide for the Novice Werewolf by HigherMagic - “Will gets scratched by a strange dog during the full moon.”

I told you I like Will as a werewolf and this is peak!!

WHEW. I know there are more I could add and some I’ve lost track of or forgotten, but these fics changed me!! I obviously pored through the archives of a few authors - HigherMagic, emungere, MissDisoriental, thecountessolivia, EarthsickWithoutYou, Scifibabe, antiheroblake, bleakmidwinter and DBMars all kept me fed this year! 🖤 without all their incredible work I never would’ve started writing my own fic, so I’m deeply grateful.

I love this fandom and now that you can see my tastes, I am very open to your recs 🖤🖤🖤

[thewardenisonthecase]

Questions for the Inquisitor

The version of this for The Warden and for Hawke.

Why were they at the Conclave? Were they trying to achieve something there? Did they go alone or were they accompanied?

What were their expectations going into the Conclave?

What was their life like before the Conclave? Did they have friends and family?

Was there anything in their life they were looking forwards to doing once the Conclave was done?

What was the Herald of Andraste's opinion about the Chantry and the war before the explosion?

Is the Herald impacted by Justinia's death? Or do they move on quickly?

What are their first thoughts upon seeing the Breach?

How do they feel about the mark on their hand?

How do they react upon being called the Herald of Andraste?

What are the Herald's opinion on the Mage Rebellion and on mage rights?

Who does the Herald of Andraste help - the Mages or the Templars? Why did they choose them?

What was the Herald's reaction upon seeing Corypheus for the first time?

How did the Herald feel when everyone sang 'Dawn Will Come'?

What type of Inquisitor are they? What are their motivations? How do they lead?

Since religion is a major component of DAI, is your Inquisitor religious? What do they believe in?

What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on their advisors Leliana, Josephine and Cullen? Who do they listen to the most?

From their inner circle, who is the Inquisitor closest to? Who are their friends?

Is there anyone in their inner circle that they can't stand/don't like? Why?

Did the Inquisitor begin a relationship with anyone? What attracted them to their partner?

What does the Inquisitor think about Hawke?

What is the Inquisitor's opinion on the Grey Wardens?

What do does the Inquisitor see in the small fear demons?

Who gets left behind in the Fade? What led to the Inquisitor making that decision? Do they feel bad or regret doing it?

What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on Celene, Briala and Gaspard? And who do they pick to rule Orlais?

What is the Inquisitor's reaction upon learning the truth about the Rite of Tranquility (as in, that it can be reversed)?

Did the Inquisitor encourage Cole to become more human or spirit? And why?

Did the Inquisitor sacrifice the Chargers or the Dreadnought and why?

How does the Inquisitor feel about Blackwall's reveal? What do they do with him?

What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on Bianca Davri?

Did the Inquisitor give the real or the fake heart to Vivienne and why?

What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on Morrigan? Do they trust her?

Does the Inquisitor run after Samson/Calpernia or do they go through the rituals? If so, do they team up with the ancient elves?

Who drinks from the Well of Sorrows? How does the Inquisitor come up with that decision?

Did the Inquisitor complete the Before the Dawn/Under Her Skin quest? And what are their thoughts on Samson/Calpernia?

What are their thoughts before confronting Corypheus one last time? Are they sure they'll win or are they scared?

Who does the Inquisitor support as Divine and why?

What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on Solas before and after his dissaperance?

How does the Inquisitor feel about the Exalted Council?

Does the Inquisitor piece together that Solas is the Dreadwolf?

How does the Inquisitor feel about the truth of who Solas is and his plans? Do they think he can be redeemed or does he vow to stop them?

Does the Inquisitor disband or keep the Inquisiton and why?

How does life continue for the Inquisitor once the game is over? How do they adapt to losing their arm?