#fic: flesh is the only virtue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

accioscarheadthings · 5 months ago

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heyy, i love ur fics and love you so much 💗💗💗💗

can you give us a more of switch! kenji, begging for fem!reader's attention from the ultramine series?

i loved him in the series and wanna see more of him

thank you smm😩💖of courseee, i hope you enjoyy <33

Dirty Monologue

after the events of ultramine series

warning: smut 18+, use of petnames (baby, darling, sweetheart), switch!kenji, breast play, edging, cum eating, slight degradation

summary: post Giants afterparty, you and kenji take a cab home and kenji gets needy for you.

masterlist !

after a big party that was hosted by the baseball team, you and kenji clambered into the backseat of a taxi.

you were wearing a beautiful satin dress with a slit that opened at your thighs, while kenji was in formals, covered from head to toe in black.

you both were giggling and whispering to each other, but the driver was patient and didn't seem to mind the pair of you.

You snuggled closer to Kenji, resting your head on his shoulder as the city lights flickered past the windows.

while you were more quiet and introspective in your drunken state, satisfied with little touches, kenji was the complete opposite.

he was clingy and affectionate, his arm around your shoulders and his body pressed against yours. he nuzzled his face against your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear and occasionally planting sloppy kisses on your cheek.

"you have no idea how much i want you,"

"patience, handsome," you chided, pressing a smooch to his nose, " y'know patience is a virtue,"

kenji scoffed, his face flushing from your tender kiss, "i don't care about virtues when it comes to you," his voice dropped an octave, eyes drooping and raven locks falling all over his forehead.

you brushed them back out of habit, hand caressing his flushed cheeks.

"want you. now. here. please," he mumbled, emphasising each word, leaning closer to your lips.

you met him in the middle, ghosting your open mouth over his as your ring clad fingers cupped his chin.

you pulled back without a word, smirking down at him.

kenji looked like he was splashed in the face with cold water. your teasing had hauled him out of his drunken state.

"prove it, then," you leaned on your seat, eyes fixed ahead on the road.

what you hadn't noticed was kenji's cocky smile spread his face.

you stiffened when you felt his breath on your neck one second; the other, his tongue tracing a drunken path to your ear.

"I want to touch you, to taste you, to make you moan my name,"

one of his hand settled on your bare knee, rubbing circles.

"I want to lose myself in you, to forget the world for a moment, and exist only in this moment, with you,"

kenji's mouth travelled down your collarbone, his hair tickling your skin. you squirmed in place.

"I know what you like," he simpered, sucking on your sweet spot again. "I have every inch of you memorized,"

his hand slid up your thigh through the slit of your dress, squeezing the flesh slightly as he placed kisses along your jawline, his scruff tickling the column of your throat.

you gasped, slapping your hand over his, "kenji,"

"shh, don't interrupt me," he caught your hand and brought them to his lips, kissing each knuckle with such care, "or i'll be forced to punish you," his other hand slipped behind your back, grabbing your ass possessively, "you know i don't have a problems about putting you over my knee and spanking you until you can't sit right for a week,"

"fuck," you whimpered, eyes dazed at it had nothing to do with the alcohol you had consumed.

"all the pretty little sounds that leave these lips," he thumb traced your lips, tugging your bottom one and watching your lips part.

by now your breathing was ragged and came out in gasps.

he withdrew his hands from you, causing you to shrink in your place.

desperate for more, but too prideful to ask for it.

and kenji knew it. that's why he enjoyed getting you all soft in his hands.

kenji pressed the button that closed the blind betwen the driver's seat and back seat, turning back to you with all his attention.

"now, back to my promise," he loomed over you, one hand caging you between the door and his body.

his other hand slipped betwen your thighs, fingers cold.

hissing at his touch, you clamped your legs around his fingers, our core clenching around nothing.

"ah-ah, none of that," he spread your legs lightly, enough for him to access, "want you all spread for me, baby,"

his fingers circled on your clothed cunt, tracing your puffy lips.

"I want to feel your skin against mine, your body against mine, to be so close to you that I don't know where I end and you begin."

you noticed his hard-on through his pants, and the awkward position he was sitting on.

without thinking, you touched him, cupping roughly.

kenji whined, face settling into the crook of your neck, "darling-"

"keep talking," you cooed into his ears softly, rubbing your palm against his groin.

two can play this game.

"mmph," his voice was muffled against your skin. his teeth caught the strap of your dress and he slipped it down your shoulder, revealing more skin to pay attention to.

kenji kissed all over your shoulder, groaning against your skin when you gripped his length.

"I want to take you to the edge," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "And then bring you back, again and again, until you're breathless and trembling and unable to form a coherent thought,"

his finger rubbed against your sopping core, catching on your clit with the right pressure.

you hand fell from his crotch, caught off-guard by his actions.

kenji was back in control now.

he cupped one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple and feel it erect under his touch.

"I want to make you mine, to claim you and mark you so that you'll always remember this moment, and always know who you belong to,"

pushing your panties to the side, he pushed two fingers into your pussy.

kenji groaned at how wet your were, "so wet and ready," he shuddered against you, "s'taking everything in me to not fuck you against the window for everyone to see what a needy slut you are," he emphasised with a curl of his fingers.

you gasped aloud, goosebumps rose in your skin as a result of his words.

he felt you clenching around his fingers and added another, "taking me so well, my love," he rasped.

"mine. all mine," he traced his tongue up the column of your throat, licking your sweat, "mine to love, mine to worship,"

he squeezed your breast, palm slipping to your hip, thumb caressing your pudgy stomach.

"mine to fuck," he increased his pace, and when you moaned, he smushed his lips against yours, swallowing your whines.

he increased his pace, pumling his fingers in and out vigoursly. you gripped his hair, kissing him so hard you were sure your lipstick was smudged.

"k-ken," you panted, "m'close," you felt your orgasm build, rising steadily in you.

just before you could come, kenji pulled back.

he withdrew his hands without a words and brought them to his lips, locking eyes with you as he sucked them clean.

he settled into his seat beside you, adjusting his clothes and tugged at his pants to conceal his painfully hard-cock.

you lipstick was smeared all over his mouth, and he brandished them proudly, chin lifting with a grin.

he adjusted your dress and faced forward, leaving you all hot and bothered.

tit for tat

you stared at him in bafflement, eyes wide and blinking, "are you kidding me?"

"patience is a vitrue sweetheart," he parroted your words, "you taught me that,"

you deadpanned at him, "jerk," you turned away with a huff, watching the passing city through the window.

kenji pouted at you teasingly, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you on his lap, "just wait till we get home, my love," his mouth pressed to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "gonna ruin you tonight," he thumbed at the lipstick smudged on your mouth.

you turned and gripped his face, squishing his face. his glassy eyes, your lipstick across his mouth and cheeks, his chest rising and falling, his fluffy raven hair...

you could just eat him up.

"you better make it up to me for all the teasing, kenji sato," you spoke in a low voice, eyes demanding.

kenji captured your lips in a soft kiss, conveying his promises for the night, "yes ma'am,"

#ultraman rising #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato x reader smut #accioscarheadthings

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lilianade-comics · 2 years ago

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My Cheese Melt AU is an alternate series of events beginning in Kindred Spirits (in which Vlad never sends Dani to capture Danny, because he convinced himself that it would be a waste to get rid of a perfectly serviceable clone so quickly, leading directly into him getting so unreasonably attached to her that he forgets all about the original "perfect son" plan) which then turns into a Dani inclusive, family dynamic focused rewrite of season 3. (the fic series starts with spirits less than willing)

Dani is present for certain important canon episodes (currently Eye For An Eye, Urban Jungle, and Living Large are the ones I've fleshed out) but she also gets episodes about her. Such as her first day at school, her obligatory identity crisis episode in which she recruits Sam and Tucker to help find her some hobbies and interests that are sufficiently different from anything Danny or Vlad likes, and Aloha From the Other Side, the vacation episode where her dad breaks Hawaii by simply being Vlad. Overall, she's a sweet kid who hilariously has a better moral compass than Danny and Vlad combined, but she also has INCREDIBLE capacity to be worse than both of them, if the situation calls for it. Her arcs focus on self discovery/identity, the looming threat of destabilization, and her relationships with Vlad and Danny.

Danny's relationship with Dani is more complex in this AU, because he doesn't trust "Vlad's daughter" at all at first. It doesn't help that the first time he meets her is in Eye For An Eye, right after sending the GIW to destroy Vlad's (and Dani's!) house. And now, Vlad is obnoxiously hellbent on replacing him with "Ellie Phantom" as the protector of Amity Park! But after Dani proves she has a mind of her own and hasn't been completely brainwashed by Vlad, and doesn't necessarily approve of his villainy, Danny shifts from animosity more toward concern for her. He knows Vlad well enough to realize that he's inevitably going to break her heart, and Danny is going to be there to protect her when it happens. (But what Danny doesn't know is that Vlad already broke Dani's heart when she discovered the truth about his initial plans for her before they moved to Amity Park. He saved her life in a fit of petulant guilt immediately after to make up for it, which is why she's still with him.)

And then there's Vlad himself. It would be helpful to think of his arc here as less of a redemption arc, and more of a domestication arc. Vlad is still a supervillain and Danny's arch enemy, but because of his parental attachment to Danielle his antagonist status is just as likely to be seen in him hauling Danny back to FentonWorks by the ankles because it's past his bedtime as it is in his latest cringefail brilliant scheme. In general, he finds himself in increasingly mundane situations by virtue of being involved in Dani's life, which generally results in comedy because Vlad is anything but equipped to handle parenthood (or mundane situations) normally. He's also allowed to have a rare reflective moment now and again and generally be a little more layered than just a villain. There's also increased opportunity for temporary allyships, because Vlad and Danny agree on Only One Thing: Dani is to be protected at all costs.

#in other words Vlad calls Dani 'Princess' like he calls Danny 'Little Badger'.#PLEASE feel free to ask me questions about this AU. it consumes my every waking thought #danny phantom #cheese melt #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #dani phantom #danielle phantom #danny fenton

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divine-misfortune · 4 months ago

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The hoes asked for more virginity kink Aether, with a side of corruption kink, and honestly I fully blame @iamthecomet because of that fucking Aether/Phantom fic from a while back (comet you know what you DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I haven't been okay and or normal since.)

I made a post a long while ago about Alpha being Aether's first, just had to take the fresh quint after seeing him so painfully and obviously lusting after Omega for so long. Had to dangle every filthy detail he knew about his mate over Aether's head. It's Alpha's fault he's like this, taking such visible glee in pushing Aether into every new feeling. His new vessel is so sensitive, so unexplored, and he tells him as such.

Aether realizes it with Dew, when he moans into his mouth and flinches from his big hand palming at him through his slacks. The feeling is surprising and it confuses him, Dew looked like a deer in headlights that day - flushed and panting, straining and leaking in his boxers, brows pinching upwards as he stares back at Aether. The naivety in his pale blue eyes makes something dark and sick claw at the back door of his mind, a beast fighting for its way in to wreak havoc on the water ghoul trapped between his body and the wall.

He shushes the surprised whimper Dew questions him with, the doubt muffled in a kiss fueled by greed. A desire to take what can never be given back.

Promises of 'I'll take care of you' 'I know exactly what you need', and 'you'll feel so good' to soothe away hesitation. The final nail in the coffin is when he squeezes Dew's cock and begins to stroke him through the suffocating fabric, his little body twitching and reacting without his permission as Aether whispers 'you trust me, don't you droplet?' Dew's dick jumps in his hand and he knows he has him even before the shaky, feeble nod.

The first time is intoxicating. He wishes he could defile Dew's innocence over and over and over. Dew indulges him sometimes, plays demure and sweet the way he once did genuinely. It scratches the itch for the most part - Dew is a good actor after all.

But sometimes the greed rears it's ugly head.

Aether tries to keep himself in check but it's hard. All the siblings he passes in the hallways reeking of virtue yet to indulge in the most pleasurable cardinal sin. His teeth itch to become acquainted with all of that unsullied flesh.

The hardest, most strenuous test of his will is when they bring the new summons to him after their arrival. Still unaccustomed to their bodies, moving awkwardly and carefully like they don't quite understand why every part does what it does. He's tasked with assuring they're healthy, that nothing went awry in their arrival, and of course he does. It's his top priority after all! He's been professional each time but his mind wanders on him, that he can't help.

He eyes the warm untouched body with a hunger that none of them pick up on at the time. New summons hold no shame, no learned sense of modesty yet, unknowingly teasing him with every inch. There have been a few times he's dared an inch too far, brushing softened cocks in passing or kneading more than necessary at breasts under the excuse of examination. Makes his heart race and his body ache with desire, horribly aware of the way his dick sticks to his thigh, a feeling becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

The second they are whisked away Aether is fumbling with his zipper. Growling as he tugs at himself, hunched over his desk with a hand flat to the surface, nails digging into the wood. The idea is wrong and he should be ashamed for wanting it but all Aether can do is want.

He wanted to take them, all of them. Introduce their bodies to addicting sensation. Mold their wants to align with his own as they simply don't know any better.

Aether knows the position he's in, how trusted he is, and truthfully it only makes the desire to corrupt more voracious.

He spills into the waste basket with a groan, and the beast is satiated briefly with fantasy, but for how long it will remain that way he can't tell.

#its 2 am help #is cold medicine fueled void making sense do i sound insane be honest #spicy tag #void rambles #aether ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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pursuitseternal · 3 months ago

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Unholy: a Priestarion fic

Dawnmaster Ancunín x Jenevelle |E| 3.4K

Summary: Before she can be ordained as Mother Superior and Chosen of Selûne, Jenevelle Hallowleaf must past trials by a Dawnmaster of Lathander. Is purpose is nearly secret, and his methods are… unholy.

CW: Massive corruption kink, Never-kidnapped-by-Sharrans Shadowheart, the irony of an undead Dawnmaster of Lathander, vaginal fingering, oral male receiving…

Ao3 link | Masterlist

To be a Chosen was to be alone. To be silent. To be submissive.

To be holy.

Jenevelle knelt on the cold stone, bathed in silvery light from the lanterns and crystals of her chamber. It was a chilling light, one meant to keep her attentive and alert so as not to fall into sloth during her prayers. For the prayers of Selûne’s Chose were the sweetest of all. No lapse in attentiveness would suffice, especially if she wished to be deemed worthy of the title Mother Superior for her Cloister.

It was humble, this small group of buildings that made up the Selûnite convent outside of the Baldur’s Gate. But the woods were always bathed in moonlight, the forests so dense, barely any sunlight breached the foliage. It was a haven of serenity for the Moonmaiden and her most devoted followers. Those most perfect.

Those like Jenevelle Hallowleaf and her bright shining heart. Even from her birth, her parents had known her value, raised her in tradition apart from the world, sparing her the darkness and suffering that was of the enemy. Even sparing her the knowledge of matters of the flesh, keeping her spotless to be an offering to Selûne.

All her life led to this night, the eve she would prove her worth and virtue, to be named the new Mother Superior in the moon’s glow at its descent in the morning light.

Fitting it was one of the Dawnmaster of Lathander that would be her adjudicator and confessor then.

She hadn’t heard his name before, this Dawnmaster Ancunín, and the rest of her order had assured her it was merely because he was unique, an almost secret Dawnmaster, the one they trusted most with flushing out clerics for their impurities and sin.

He was the expert, after all, at least that was the rumor.

“He has arrived,” Mother Isobel Thorm whispered into Jenevelle’s ear, “I have seen the wonders of the Moonmaiden from Moonrise to here, and I must say, you will need to pray with extra fervor, Sister. This Dawnmaster is… not like the others. Be wary, and be mindful of your vows.”

With that, she departed Jenevelle’s cell, leaving her kneeling on the stone floor by the hearth, her silver hair tied up neatly at the crown of her head.

Vows… Jenevelle steadied her resolve. Chastity, Silence, and of most importance, Obedience.

In the silence, she shifted her robe over her shoulders, the neckline just a bit too wide so as to let it slink off the curve of one, baring her pale skin to the moon…

Or to the eyes of the Dawnmaster who entered her cell noiselessly. His voice dripped with honey, smooth as silk and swirling like embers on the night wind. “Why, I feel almost blessed to be in the presence of the Moonmaiden’s Chosen,” he purred, robes of blackest night billowing as he shut the door behind him. A quiet incantation, and a thickness filled the air as he cast Silence. Only then did Jenevelle look up at him.

She wished to the Maiden she hadn’t.

No… no this couldn’t be… she thought, screaming to herself, unwilling to break a single vow. He was… handsome, devilishly so, his deep hood dropping back to reveal a face etched by the heavens themselves, skin like pearls and eyes that glowed crimson, catching the moonlight of her chamber. He was sharp, exacting, and intense, staring down at her with that subtle smile on his twitching lips.

“Do you feel ready, child, to be your Lady’s Chosen?” he asked, to the point. A few steps closer to where she knelt, the image of devotion, and she inhaled his scent. Citrus… and smoke, incense and sandalwood.

Far too sensual to be a simple man with an eye for nothing but his prayer book.

Moonmaiden, why did her mouth start to water… and why did she have to swallow so loudly. Jenevelle caught herself before she so much as considered cursing at the thought. She shifted on her knees, her insides fluttering and warm, her breathing growing ragged like she had just run uphill.

And Jenevelle could only look into his eyes at his queries, her tongue locked at the bottom of her mouth by her vow of silence.

The Dawnmaster tilted his head, chilling fingers gripping her chin to angle her pale face into the moonlight. “Oh yes, that’s right, your Lady demands a vow of silence to help prepare yourself for her merciful light.”

He giggled. High pitched and breathy, short and… gods… humorless.

But why did it still make her smile, her chin yet resting in the cool bed of his grip.

“It’s been some time since I’ve been asked to test a maiden of Selûne, your goddess is far more demanding and stricter than most. But that’s my duty as Advocatus Tenebrae…”

Advocate of Darkness.

Jenevelle might have been young, naive in the ways of the world and devoted to serving on her knees, but her studies had been thorough.

A rare ministry of the Lathanderites, a single priest, bound to test those deemed most chosen in the service of the deities of Light and Dark, of Death and Life.

“I can practically hear the wheels in your brain grinding, little Cleric,” he whispered, even as his voice drew closer, lips pressing against her ear as he bent down. Was… that his thumb on her neck? The single stroke of that thumb pad traced down the vein of her pulse.

A pulse that was rapidly accelerating to a full blown gallop as she felt his breath on her skin, ice cold.

Something in her body screamed to run, a primal instinct like the times she had been in the forest, too close to beasts that could devour her in one gulp…

A predator, hungry for slaughter.

She grunted at the faintest pressure he put around her neck.

Grunting was allowed, surely, she reasoned. Like sneezing or coughing.

But the Dawnmaster only tutted his tongue as he withdrew. “Already such little sounds from your delicate voice box. You’re failing to impress me, Chosen of Selûne. You better stay on your knees if you’re going to withstand my darkness, for it is my vocation to try and break you.”

She shuddered as she met that crimson gaze… as she saw the flash of his fangs behind those smirking, plush lips.

“Ahhhh,” he cooed, “the special little girl has pieced it together.” He gave that damned giggle again. “I don’t need to hear your words to have enough insight and read your thoughts as they run rampant across your pretty face.” His hand strayed from her neck, tracing the arc of her cheek before leaving her skin entirely. Leaving only the residual burn of his corpse cold touch. His tone was mockingly innocent as he widened his eyes and falsely softened his smile into surprise. “A vampire? An undead servant of Lathander? How could it be?”

Fuck, if he didn’t almost read her thoughts word for word. Perceptive arse.

Jenevelle dug her nails into the tops of her thighs where her hands rested, using the pain to offer atonement for such crude cursing.

But those keen red eyes caught that too.

“Now now, darling, don’t be hard on yourself. Being so easy to read only makes my job here all the easier. And that’s what we both want, isn’t it? We want this to be… easy.”

Fuck, the way he purred that last word. As if she were the one that was easy…

“The sooner I break you, the sooner you can go about your much needed preparations and atonement.”

Jenevelle glared at him as if to say: And if I should succeed and resist?

But the Dawnmaster only giggled once more, darker and deeper in his broad chest this time. A sound that made some inner muscle in her lower belly clench and burn.

“Don’t lie to yourself or to me. I know you’re not ready, not pure enough to resist me.” Then he did something that made her gasp aloud, he knelt before her too, his robes of blackest cloth draping over her bare knees where they peaked out from her silver muslin wrap. That cursed hand trailed a finger across her pulse point again, “I can hear every rap of your unbridled pulse…” That cold touch caressed over the fabric of her gown towards her hips, sliding over the naked skin of her knee, her thigh, before he stopped his advances just shy of her hip.

Of where she burned with something… unholy.

“I can smell you, you know…”

Jenevelle shifted on her knees, and suddenly she realized that the burning heat in her belly wasn’t just inside… Her sex was wet, so dripping and so slick from this man’s presence and ghostly touches that it squelched as she moved.

That sweet damp sound only made him give the widest, most fang baring smirk yet.

“Shall we begin, my child?” he whispered, that little epithet only making Jenevelle wriggle more on her knees to squelch her wet thighs louder this time. His thick silver brow arched at the noise, and he gave that bone rattling chuckle again. “Not off to an auspicious start, darling…”

Jenevelle shuddered, shivering as his cool touch swept slowly higher, a soothing balm promised for the burning. She didn’t even notice when or how she parted her knees, letting his fingers creep over the soft plush of her thighs to soothe her ache.

“Mmm, good girl,” he hummed, keeping his frame at a distance to observe and note every twitching reaction. “You’re lucky you know, Selûne likes her chosens extra bright and shiny, which means…” he paused, fingers sinking into her folds as he watched her face silently screw tightly in pleasure, “you’ll have to withstand my darkest desires.” The smirk on his face dripped with sin as he licked his lips, playing his fingers in and out, twisting them and crooking them to draw extra wet and lewd sounds from under that silvery gauze shift. “I do so love my calling, and it’s sweet, innocent darlings like you that I enjoy testing the most.”

Jenevelle bit her tongue until she tasted blood, fixing her gaze on the window slats in her ceiling that let in the moonlight.

She fought every instinct screaming at her to move as his finger played inside, their damp exploration widening her channel, three fingers wide now, pushing her apart.

“Oh, darling, I doubt you’ve ever been wetter. Certainly makes my task easier,” he gave that rolling chuckle again. “How else am I to verify your vow of… chastity?” Those crimson eyes had dilated almost to pitch black now, his lips quirking at random… or was it in time with the rhythm of this hand pushing up into her cunt?

Those wicked fingers thrust and curled, over and over again. Something burned, called forth by his touches and summoned by every wash of his chilling, undead breath as it fanned down her neck. She felt his lips purse and press a kiss beneath her ear, and it took all her strength to keep the moan in her throat locked away.

Then his thumb brushed something hard and aching right at the crest of her sex. A grunt struggled free from her control, her hand splaying back to catch her as she crumbled. Whatever spot that was he circled now set an unholy fire in her body, every limb, every muscle shaking and tightening to a state of pure… ecstasy. Yes. That was it. Ecstasy. Rapture.

This wave of bliss so intense, it stole her breath as she shook on his hand, it was surely divine. A boon given so intensely, her mouth watered, her eyes wept, and her sex flooded with slick….

…slick he began to suck from his lithe and pale digits as he stood once more. Those black robes fluttered, heavy and loud through the strange haze that had swallowed her.

“Can you feel it, my little Chosen? The fire in your veins, the heady intoxication of how your body craves more of my touch?” His voice was soft, dripping… sweet like honey from the comb. His sticky fingers pushed under her chin to force her eyes to meet that crimson stare. “You have proven yourself once chaste,” he chuckled, dark and dangerous, that sharp implication of something lost, never to be reclaimed sent an unholy tremor down her spine.

And gods, did it make her belly coil again so soon.

One cool thumb slipped between her lips, pulling her jaw down. “Now, my duty says to push on,” he chuckled again at his words, “Obedience or silence, that is the sweetest of questions.” He growled, sliding his thumb deeper inside the warm cavern of her mouth, the tang of her own juices still coating it as she unknowingly sucked it. “Or both at once…”

His red eyes flared, smirking down at her, at the way her body responded so automatically and innocently. She’d let him do anything… anything for the sake of testing her light against his darkness. And by the Dawn Lord, would he make certain she was thoroughly tested….

His thumb skated over her teeth, opening that silent mouth for him. “Oh yes, let’s move on to a trial fit for both your vows at once. Think you can keep this tongue occupied with worship in place of those sweet little grunts you’ve been making?” That free hand of his reached for the buttons of his robes, opening just a few at his waist. “Think you can give me your full obedience?”

It was then she noticed that bulge protruding under their billowing lengths. Something long, pale, and hard stuck out from the gap, his hand wrapped around it as he stroked it lazily.

She knew not why, but her heart raced. Her mouth drew more spit that she had to swallow loudly before she choked on it. Of course she had seen animals rutting in season, but this…. This made her whole body hum with an unfamiliar need. A heat that needed to be cooled. And all she could think of was the cool of his touch.

“Never seen a manhood before?” He laughed, fingers gripping around him as he beat up and down… “Further proof of your chastity, I suppose.”

Those green eyes widened as he stepped closer. “Now, keep silent and obey, and perhaps you’ll be a pleasing offering to your Moonmaiden.”

So many questions ticked her brain… what it was, what it would do… and his crimson eyes drank in the sight of her confusion, a wicked smile on his lips. “Oh, if only your queries could be voiced, my little Chosen,” he purred. “I guess you’ll have to go on blind faith and trust me when I command you to open your lips.”

Her body snapped to attention and obeyed, a mind of its own that craved being told just what to do…. Obedience was a virtue after all. And virtues came with so many graces.

Her pink tongue jutted out just a bit, and his hand deftly guided his cock, brushing its weeping head over it. That pearl of precum coated her, her wide eyes wincing at the unusual taste as a little breath left that gaping mouth.

“Hush, child,” he soothed, hand in her silver hair, carding in the loose tendrils until his grip rested as the back of her head. “Show me true obedience, demonstrate for me your silence, and you’ll earn your place as Mother Superior and Chosen of Selûne. Fail and the consequences…” he trailed off for a moment, head rolling back as he slowly thrust his cock deeper into her mouth, “the consequences could be most dire for you and most delicious for me….”

Fingers held fast suddenly in her hair, his hips snapping forward in surprise. And Jenevelle gasped, her voice box rough and strained from neglect as she suddenly mewled. Her hands pressed into his thighs through that wall of black cassock, and it was all she could do to keep her wits about her. He pistoned in and out of her mouth, her lips closing around his cock out of some long suppressed primal instinct.

“Yes, good child,” he groaned, his breathing labored and huffing, “Obey me. Use your tongue, your lips, your throat and please me.”

The floodgates opened, and a deluge of desire consumed her every action, her every thought. She suckled and licked, her throat straining and gagging around his length as he rammed into her mouth over and over again.

It was numbing… hypnotizing, the repetition of his flesh over her tongue and down her throat. The growls and grunts he made as he thrust into her was like a never-ending chant. And her own voice couldn’t help but to give answer—high pitched whines and deep moans summoned with almost every tickle of his cockhead against the back of her throat.

“So needy, so untrained,” he groaned as he slowed a moment, keeping just that bulbous read on the tip of her tongue. “Lick the tip, little Selûnite, and taste the fruits of your obedience.”

Again, she obeyed, savoring the sensations of him between her lips. Her gaze was fixed now up on his face, those glowing red irises boring into her face. His mouth parted in a slack-jawed grin, revealing the glistening points of his teeth.

His fangs.

And for all of her that feared the dark, that should have been repulsed by an undead vampiric Dawnmaster, all that should have forced him away for the heresy of it all… she just grinned and whined and sucked him deep into her mouth again.

“Nine bloody hells,” he groaned, his breath catching as he hissed through those gritted teeth. “Come on, girl, make me come. Make me come now.”

The words barely registered in her lust-hazed brain. Her hands ran to the back of his legs, keeping his body pressed against hers as close as she could handle. Her cheeks hollowed, her throat strained, eyes running with tears as she couldn’t get enough of the feeling. She wanted more, wanted all of that smooth, hard cock in her mouth.

His thrusts slowed, keeping his depth just as persistent as he snarled. His hand held her head tightly, and that thick shaft began to pulse and twitch as something filled her mouth. It was bitter and sweet, thick and oily as she swallowed it, whatever it was that came from him in full, throbbing bursts. Whatever it was of him that was now part of her.

He held still in her mouth, that grip in her hair easing, his breathing rough as he tried to steady it. “Well,” he chuffed, pulling from her slowly, “I haven’t given such a thorough examination for a long while. I must say, you’ve done enough to please your deity and mine…”

Jenevelle gave a long sigh, even as part of her echoed in… disappointment.

“Ah,” he hummed, tilting his head as he caught her chin and bent low to hover just out of reach. “Am I right to see that this… displeases you?”

She nodded her pretty little head in his grip.

“I must say, I concur. Personally, I find myself yet to be totally satisfied by your virtues.” He purred, his thumb stroking her bottom lip, savoring the way it swelled from his aggression. “Perhaps you must suffer the consequences of failure. If I deem you unworthy, then I return in a tenday for another… examination… on behalf of our god and goddess, of course.”

The way his voice dripped with need, the quirk of his own full and smirking lips made her sex clench.

“If you wish to succeed today, say nothing, but if you would rather accept failure… say anything…”

The offer hung heavy in the air. Temptation. Its corruption was already as deep in her belly as his essence that she had swallowed.

Leaning forward, she placed the chastest of kisses on his softening cockhead. “Yes, Dawnmaster,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” came his stilted reply. His fingers left a fire in the wake of his corpse-cold touch. “Until next tenday, then, my child…”

With that, he fixed his robes, replaced his hood, and left with nothing more than the echo of his deep and wicked laughter in the air of her cell.

For my lovely betas/coven sisters @nyx-knox and @marimosalad

And for my lovely degenerate writers @lets-just-daydream and @astarionancuntnin

🎨 📸 by @casualya

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throwaway-yandere · 11 months ago

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Ansy maybe I can send an idea about this. Maybe this yandere is turning into a zombie/monster, Reader sacrifices or willingly let's the yandere eat reader so the yandere wouldn't hurt others. Other idea, Yandere is a monster/cannibal and reader has a flesh that is very addicting to eat so yandere feels guilty for eating their darling but can't as darling tastes so delicious.

A/n: I'm actually currently writing the prompt I got earlier so here's some short ideas. also, what's up with me writing cannibalism fics for two older brothers with blue-white color schemes?? *shrug*. I'll go with the 2nd idea-ish (I'll tweak it again) in this one. First time doing headcanons so... I'll adios lol.

Content Tags: hello its yandere cannibalism lmao + Whodunit spoilers

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who strangely takes too long to respond to his childhood friend's messages. You're starting to get worried that he's spending too much time inside the dreamscape. Although your race greatly differs from his- being an ordinary human resident and all- you heard numerous stories that Halovians tend to carnally seek glamorous feasts after hosting series of events.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who finally replied to your recent message, telling you "DON'T COME, PLEASE." with bold capital letters. You can only raise an eyebrow, considering you're already on his front door with a fruit basket at hand. In hindsight, perhaps you should've considered giving him a heads-up beforehand instead of rudely announcing your visit. But you are genuinely worried for his overall wellbeing, especially given what happened to his sister.

And perhaps, you were also just looking for someone who could understand your grief as well. He wasn't the only one stripped of their family so suddenly. The thought of your friend starving himself had pushed your own sadness away in favor of sheer platonic worry. That was how strong your bond was.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who shook, mortified at the knocks on his front door. As much as possible, he can't let you in. The current nightmare he calls "HUNGER" was an unforgiving beast. He leaned against the other side of the closed door, breathing heavily.

"(Y/n), n-now is not the time for a visit! Forgive me for this crudeness, but I shan't open the door at present." You hear him inhale shakily. "To have you see me like this undermines all the work I've put in our... friendship."

You sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry. But... can I please just leave this on your porch?"

"... I will not bar you from doing so..."

"Thank you."

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY whose hands refused to stop trembling. You're so close. He can almost taste you behind that door. A chill runs down his spine as he noticed just how much his mouth was watering at the thought of taking a bite.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who thought himself most detestable for his cravings. The Odes of Harmony preaches honesty among its many virtues, and he would drown himself for omitting the grim truth from you. THEY will not be happy with this relapse of his.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who bit his thumb, drawing blood. THEY wouldn't endorse this behavior from a representative of the Family.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who looked at his bleeding finger and laughed sorrowfully at the lingering question on his mind.

Whose blood was it? His... or THEIRS?

Sunday could never be at ease after committing this crime. A Halovian like himself would never allow their vision to be clouded in red, and it appears the devil had saw an opportunity to hurl at two birds with one stone. But that would be an inaccurate way to describe it. His wings had not been clipped; he had brutally torn it away himself.

Penacony's most shrewd man lied to the arrogant fool that evening. There were four murders in that timeframe. One was a stowaway, the other was his precious sister, and the last pair was both your father and mother.

THEIR vision of a happy future for you did not welcome HIM.

All he recalls now was their polite disapproval turned screams when he made an attempt to ask for their blessing. Sunday only realized what he had done the moment he had sunk his teeth down your mother's arm, noticing how your father was already but boney remains of himself.

This Halovian ancestry's secret... it served him no good.

Why was he born into this race and why wasn't he raised just like you?

"Watchmaker... How can I ever forgive myself for this...?"

How can he dare proclaim to mete out justice when he deserves to be served the same sentence? "Sunday" himself is a transgressor, unworthy of yielding Harmony's name.

What heathen he was, to partake in flesh and blood that was not for his stomach simply because they both smelled just like you. What heretic he was, to place anger and hunger above his better judgement.

What karma it was, to find out his sister has been killed in his moments of guilt.

What retribution it was, to face that what he had done to others, will be done unto him.

#ansy-writes #yandere sunday #tw: cannibalism #yandere fic #yandere hsr #yandere sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere headcanons

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fiendishfables · 11 months ago

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Can you make a top Lute x fem reader nsfw?

a/n: I most certainly can; love my girl Lute. Definitely going to try and write some more for her in the future. Enjoy!

warnings: nsfw, fingering, eating out, cursing, Adam being a funny lil' guy, mention(s) of killing

words: 1.5k+

characters: 8624

additional notes: thanks for 20+ followers, y'all! More fics are on the way; requests are always open!

format: Oneshot

"L-Lute!~"

"Tsk. Stay still, brat."

Your girlfriend had just come back from the usual annual extermination. Being an exorcist angel under Adams command was quite stressful, as she often took it upon herself to make known to you. Having her come back to you all irritable and angry was a normal occurrence on many days, but she did have her good days in between.

But, you'd have to admit that you liked getting to be subjected to Lute's bitter attitude sometimes.

Especially if those times happened to turn out like this one.

Lute currently had her hands purchased on the plush, supple flesh of your thighs, using her very evident strength to keep them apart from one another; keeping you exposed to her. Your legs would never be closed for as long as she had her head between them. Crush her skull all you like. She was determined to get what she deserved; claim what was rightfully hers.

Her tongue lapped at your sopping folds, nose just barley bumping your clit to provide that extra shock of pleasure. You had your fingers tangled in her short, silver hair, which she would normally scold you for, claiming it took her forever to get it to look so nice. This time though, she says nothing, as she knows you're only doing it due to the immense amounts of pleasure she is causing you to feel, the euphoria swirling throughout your body like a rapid whirlpool, ready to suck you into its deep, dark depths. Never to be seen again.

Your heavy breathing mixed with the sounds of her tongue in and around your pussy; the pace of her skillful tongue bringing you spiraling towards the edge. It was all so pleasurable, yet beautiful.

One of her hands moved upwards to your lower stomach, applying gentle force to keep your hips from bucking upward towards her mouth in an attempt to get more friction. Her tongue delved even deeper into you as she got a soft moan in response to her dominating action, exploring every spongey wall, every sensitive nerve.

Every damn place her tongue could reach in order to mark you as hers.

The shaking of your thighs, the heat of your breath, all must have been a sign for Lute to switch tactics. She never let you get off that easy. She wanted, needed, to have her fun with you; her little angel.

As she lifted her head from between your legs, your own slick covering her lips, you could've mewled. As the cold air now hit your pussy lips, it made you miss her skilled tongue almost immediately. It took most of your will power to refrain from pulling her back to you and pushing her head back down between your thighs where you both knew it rightfully belonged.

But that wasn't how things like this worked.

At least not with Lute.

She had taught you that patience was a very valuable virtue when it came to getting what you wanted. Especially if you wanted that specific something from her.

"Good girl. Seems like you can learn after all."

Lute spoke surprisingly soft, even with that smirk still playing on her face. The same smirk she always adorned whenever she knew she had denied you that sweet release; the one she had been helping to build for the past half-hour now.

At this point, you were surprised that Adam hadn't come busting into the room looking for his lieutenant. Lord, it was a miracle in itself that the two of you had managed to get this much time to yourself without the fucker interrupting you. The amount of times he had walked in on you, either with Lute's face between your thighs, or her fucking the living daylights out of you with a strap on.

Adam being Adam, he had tried multiple times to try and convince Lute to let him stay and watch, or even join in on the action.

Not surprisingly, he had failed each of those times and often left with a new bruise added to his face; the result of Lute blasting him with a beam of light and cursing at him, yelling at him to leave before she got up and made him leave.

The threat usually worked, because neither one of you wanted to know what that would look like.

You were instantly snapped out of your thoughts, feeling Lute's nimble fingers now rubbing heavily pressured circles onto your clit, sending rakes of pleasure running up your spine. A choked moan left your lips as she then proceeded to add a finger, then two, into your gaping hole, so eagerly sucking her digits in.

"Such a tight little pussy you got, babe." She cooed, fingers picking up their pace, movements becoming relentless in their pursuit of making you cum.

"Nice to know you haven't been touching yourself whenever I'm out for the evening. All because you know I'm the only one who can make you feel like this, huh?"

You only gave a weak nod in response, stars and spots beginning to fill your vision. It felt like the whole room was spinning around you.

"Y-yes, Lute. Fuck, yes. Only y-you."

Your voice sounded almost hoarse, as if you had been screaming to your hearts content only hours prior. But your mind was quickly put back on track as your girlfriends nimble fingers sped up their pace, both on your clitoris and inside, pumping those digits vigorously in and out of you in a steady pattern that had you on cloud nine.

Before you had time to fathom anything currently ongoing, you let loose a strangled cry of pure bliss from your throat, as Lute let her fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm.

Your entire body seemed to go through a series of tremors, showing the real effect Lute's fingers had been having on you. Your thighs shook; your chest rapidly rose and fell.

It was like a whole new heaven.

Once you had calmed down a bit from the intense wave of pleasure that had just so recently washed over you, she removed her fingers from in between your wet folds. She seemed to carefully inspect them before bringing them up to her lips, which already happened to be glossy with your slick from earlier, and licked the juices right off of them, as if she were a starving woman and this would be her last time ever tasting you.

She licked her lips, looking quite satisfied as she smirked down at you. She then gave you a gentle, affectionate kiss on the lips, letting you taste your own produce on her mouth.

"Mm. Damn. Sweet as always, angel."

You were busy catching your breath as she said this, swallowing the spit that had collected in your mouth and around your lips, thanks to the disheveled state your girlfriend had reduced you into. Even your hair was in a fray and she hadn't even touched it.

"Lute, do you want me to...return the favor? I know you're bound to be stressed from extermination earlier-"

You were cut off by her scoff, almost as if she had been offended that you would even begin to offer such a thing.

"Heavens no. What do you take me for, some selfish bastard?" She asked, lips pulling down into that signature grumpy frown she normally wore.

"What- babe no. Lu, its not selfish for wanting your partner to return the favor for you, especially if you just gave them an orgasm as good as that."

She huffed, looking almost cute with her face scrunched up in a scowl. But it had wiped clean off her face, eyes softer now, as she looked back towards you.

"Whatever. But I'm fine, babe, really. Tonight was about you, and you did so good for me. Thank you for letting me get to taste you."

She seemed to think for a second before adding:

"It was even better than getting to slaughter those demon bitches down in hell today."

You offered Lute a tired smile and let out a soft laugh at her attempt to compare your pussy and killing demons in the same sentence. Eventually, she too ended up chuckling, though still holding the statement to be true, no matter how much you seemed to want to laugh or disprove it.

At the end of the day, you both loved one another more than either of you could ever bring out into words or actions.

So many emotions came to surface when loving the fierce-spirited, exorcist angel known as Lute.

It was rough.

It was different.

It was maybe even a bit playful.

But by all the angels and their beautiful wings, was it fun.

(Bonus + featuring the 'original dick')

…Though of course it could never last too long, as the sudden booming voice of Adam rang out throughout the room as he practically kicked down the door, no doubt looking for his favorite lieutenant and her girlfriend.

"Guess who's back , bitchesss! Ey, Lute, looks like your party here is missing some of the 'original dick'! All ya had to do was ask-"

He never did get to finish his sentence, for there was already an angelic spear being flung at his head, resulting in a high-pitched scream from Adam, which was enough for him to go silent in shame that his lieutenant could manage to evoke such a noise from him.

He never did seem to walk in on you two much after that.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #lute hazbin hotel #xreader #female #fem reader #oneshot #hazbin hotel oneshot #exorcist angel #exorcist angels #adam x reader #adam x lute

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canon-gabriel-quotes · 9 months ago

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I have a fic where Gabriel's true form is more similar to Virtues but that he's strong enough to shape shift into a more humanoid form almost as a show of power and he can wield weapons with his hands unlike Virtues who can only use light to attack people. So he has like skin and flesh and blood but only because he willed it into existence.

there's 2 types of gabe opinions

Option 1 (see above)

Option 2

both are good

#this is a based take and i agree #i think he could transform into a freak if desired #asks #ask #non voice post

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voxofthevoid · 1 year ago

Text

WIP Wednesdays are back! Dickfest Wednesdays continue to be suspended because if I write Gojou PoV for another longass fic, I'll start biting things. But instead of switching to some Yuuji-PoV story like a sane person, I've opted for Nanami. Again.

This is one of my nanaita+goyuu ideas, specifically an a/b/o one where alpha!Yuuji goes into rut soon after the Mahito+Junpei mess, and beta!Nanami ends up lending a hole. And then they wake up to omega!Gojou gleefully playing voyeur. It escalates predictably.

It starts out as just nanaita. Gojou won't pop up until a few chapters in, and then it's goyuu plus nanagoyuu. I think the first WIP Wed snippets will be just nanaita.

Surprise Rut Wednesday #1: Nanaita lovers, come get ya'll juice.

“Itadori-kun,” Kento says quietly, “will you look at me?”

Itadori makes a sound that’s some strange cross between a growl and a whine.

He looks up.

The hunger in his eyes almost takes Kento out at the knees. They’re all pupil, a depthless dark that threatens to suck in everything inside the room, and Kento doesn’t know what his own face does in response, but it does something, and Itadori’s expression shifts in answer, all animalistic intensity. A wave of pheromones follows, a veritable flood of concentrated need, and this time, Kento’s reaction is a lot more physical, points of heat flaring across his body—throat and belly, thighs and underarms.

Groin.

Itadori growls.

Then he slaps a hand over his mouth, and the hunger turns into horror.

“Nanamin,” he whimpers, muffled through his own fingers. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

Kento’s beside the bed in a few long strides, and at first, Itadori flinches back as if struck, but then he’s leaning in, nostrils flaring as he sucks in huge, gulping breaths. Kento is careful to keep his eyes on only the boy’s face, but his own nose tells him a thing or two about how the rest of Itadori’s body is responding.

“Calm down,” Kento tells him. “I’m not mad at you. And you’re not going to do anything you’re afraid of. Forget what popular media and schoolchild gossip has told you—an alpha in rut isn’t a mindless animal. You’re still you. Understand, Itadori-kun?”

Itadori’s hand falls away from his face. He nods, but it’s hesitant.

Kento sits down on the edge of the bed.

Itadori’s eyes flutter half shut as he leans in further, except the shaky arm supporting him gives out entirely. It’s instinct that has Kento reaching out to stop Itadori to collapse face-first, and he knows before he makes contact that it’s a bad idea, but it’s too late. His fingers find bare skin, and Itadori groans and shudders like Kento’s touch dug deeper than flesh.

There’s a blur of motion. Nothing Kento doesn’t see coming. Nothing he can’t stop.

He doesn’t, and there’s the belated realization that it’s only a pattern of behavior—indulgence, strange and surreal.

Warm weight settles on his lap, Itadori’s limbs wrapping around him tightly. A bold face slots against the curve of his throat, hot skin and hotter breath.

“Nanamin,” Itadori rasps. “You—you smell so good.”

Itadori presses even closer, shoving his whole body against Kento like he’s trying to crawl into him, and like this, there’s no ignoring the hard length poking into Kento’s stomach. Itadori’s squirming motions make it slide against Kento’s shirt, and even through the fabric, the heat of it feels branding.

For a long moment, Kento does nothing, says nothing.

There’s no excuse.

A groan is buried in his throat, trembling along the skin there.

Kento raises an arm to grab Itadori, only to freeze an inch away from a heaving shoulder. There’s nowhere that’s safe when all of him is naked, hot and damp with sweat, and Kento’s palm is still warm with the memory of touching bare skin earlier. In the end, he sinks his fingers into Itadori’s hair, grabbing a fistful as gently as he can.

He’s barely given it a tug when Itadori makes a pained noise.

Kento freezes.

It’s clear the next instant that the noise had nothing to do with Kento’s grip. Itadori’s writhing in his lap with renewed vigor, but the movements are all in the hips. The limbs wrapped around Kento flex erratically. Hard heat slides along his clothed stomach.

There’s the distant thought that Itadori’s core strength and muscle control are impressive, but it’s viciously buried under the realization that he’s using Kento to—

“Itadori,” Kento hisses, and he’s not gentle this time, pulling on Itadori’s hair with every intention of dislodging his face from Kento’s neck, but Itadori’s head doesn’t budge even as his movements grow faster and more frenzied. And there was never any doubt about what he was trying to do, but Itadori’s movements are even more blatant now, the whole of his body caught in a dirty rhythm.

Kento’s also caught in it, and it’s ten times filthier than what he witnessed in the guest room earlier.

He doesn’t know why he’s allowing it, why he hasn’t torn Itadori off him and thrown him away, why he’s just sitting there as he’s violated—

Itadori makes that noise again—all soft, animal hurt.

“Nanamin,” he whines, and his mouth is open against Kento’s throat, every breath hot and wet. “It feels—it’s not—sorry, I’m sorry, Nanamin—”

It’s not desire or pleasure that’s drenching Itadori’s voice. He sounds agonized.

Kento loosens his grip in Itadori’s hair, splaying his fingers along the crown instead. Even the strands are damp and clumped with sweat, a stark contrast to the silken undercut rubbing against the heel of his palm.

Itadori’s breathing grows labored. Every exhale brands Kento’s flesh.

It won’t be long now.

Kento briefly looks at the opposite wall before the flashes of color he can’t help seeing prompt him to just close his eyes. The darkness isn’t particularly calming, especially when it leaves him at the mercy of the rest of his senses. Itadori’s scent fills him from throat to lungs; it’s sharper than before, downright acrid. The bare skin pressing against him is too hot for comfort. Even the harsh, clumsy thrusts against his stomach feel more desperate than pleasurable, and the noises spilling out of Itadori to shatter against Kento’s skin and echo in his ears confirm that impression.

The whole thing feels barely sexual. That’s what allows Kento ignore the horror of it and just hold Itadori, hoping it offers at least a modicum of comfort.

It doesn’t take long for Itadori to climax.

Heat stripes his stomach, seeping through the fabric to stain his skin. Kento can’t hold back a grimace at that, but it’s too late to back away. Itadori shudders through the aftershocks, rubbing his cock against Kento until it softens.

His scent remains concerningly rank, practically seething in the air. His body doesn’t lose an iota of tension despite the orgasm—the opposite, if anything. And his face is still tucked against Kento’s throat, but even that doesn’t feel like hunger anymore, just shame.

Kento presses his palm a little more firmly against Itadori’s head, opening his eyes and blinking away the blurriness.

“How are you feeling?” he asks the boy.

Itadori seems to shrink in on himself. “Embarrassed.”

“Ah.” Kento…doesn’t know what to say to that. He understands. That’s the problem. “Itadori-kun—”

“It won’t last,” Itadori cuts in, every word a puff of heated air against Kento’s throat. “Soon, I’ll start—I’ll want to—”

The words die as a frustrated growl, lashing at Kento’s skin, but he can guess all to well precisely what Itadori will want to do.

Kento resists the urge to sigh. “Your body is going through some severe changes right now. There will be unpleasant effects.”

Fingers dig into Kento’s shoulders, and he has to fight down a shudder. Itadori’s still panting into his skin, and Kento would like to peel him away, preferably before certain substances dry between their bodies, but every inch of Itadori is screaming that he’s not ready to face Kento right now. And what’s the harm in indulging that wholly understandable reticence when Kento just allowed something that’s a hell of a lot worse?

“You said I’m not an animal,” Itadori says finally, and his voice is calmer, steadier, but there’s still an undercurrent of urgency that has Kento’s free hand twitching on the mattress. “But I feel like one.”

“You’re not,” Kento says; it’s the truth, but it feels like a platitude.

Itadori doesn’t bother acknowledging it, nor does he make any effort to uncurl from Kento’s lap. Kento finally looks down and is predictably greeted by long stretch of glistening skin. At this angle, Itadori’s spine stands out prominently, bracketed by hard muscle.

Kento doesn’t realize he’s moved until his own hand enters his line of vision, settling at the small of Itadori’s back.

A slight shiver answers him.

Kento does nothing else. He even tries to take his hands away, but that urge never makes it to his limbs. They stay on Itadori, buried in his hair and pressed lightly to the base of his spine.

The effects start to show in a little while. Itadori’s thighs are still clenched around Kento’s waist, but they start to feel a little less like warm rock. The bruising grip on his shoulders become hands fisted in his shirt, the desperation gaining a different flavor. Even Itadori’s breathing has calmed, though his breaths are no less hot against Kento’s skin.

A brief eternity later, Itadori detaches his face from Kento’s throat.

His eyes are downcast, and Kento suspects that the red staining his cheeks has nothing to do with the rut.

“Sorry for messing up your shirt,” Itadori mumbles.

Kento blinks.

Itadori’s still looking down, eyes dark and glossy.

A slew of different responses flit through his mind, all varying shades of dismissive. Each one would be honest, but none would be what Itadori needs right now. Kento doesn’t know what he needs.

No, that’s not true. He knows.

He says, “I forgive you.”

#nanaita #jjk snippets #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #wip wednesday #my fic #fic: flesh is the only virtue

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aechii · 2 years ago

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₍₍ GiVE AND YOU SHALL RECEiVE ₎⁠₎

PAiRiNG ?! toxic!jude x toxic!blackfemreader

GENRE ?! angst

SYNOPSiS ?! jude thinks his nonchalance is acceptable, and finds no fault in it. but two can play at that game...

C/W ?! she/her pronouns used, unhealthy relationship, i made jude an asshole in this sorry not sorry, but he has regrets?, reader is just petty, break up *sobs*, reader deserves better

A/N ?! was gifted a prompt by @loadivine and it was love at first sight. i knew i had to write this fic immediately so all credit goes to them, thanks babeee ❤️ anyways, sit back and enjoy the hellish doings within a toxic relationship. hope i did it justice 🤗

~°~

[y/n] took pride, and found contentment in, the fact that jude didn't reside within the stigma of footballer, swearing by the truth and only the truth, finding no shame in being vulnerable and open with her as couples do.

so jude wasn't always like this. there was a time where the relationship was 100/100, both received and both gave love, found it much more beneficial to dissolve an argument as quick as it came into fruition. communication is key, and it was a virtue they both stood by, because at the end of the day, they lived together, and would have to conclude to a resolution anyways.

but now, [y/n] couldn't even consider jude as her boyfriend. couldn't look at the man that held a countenance so foreign and distant and proclaim that he was her's and vice versa. because frankly speaking, she felt vastly the opposite.

it was like jude was a dead weight, and she was forced to drag him along with all the other burdens that she had. the relationship now distributed at 0/200, [y/n] could slowly sense the demise of her patience, a ticking time bomb, but she knew she loved jude more than life itself, and letting him go- breaking up with him was heinous. unfathomable.

she was told, urged, to end things things with him. remembers crying to her sister the hour she came home from a night out with jude. they had both left the house with hands linked and returned without the other.

jude had found no wrong in the girl that had seemingly bonded her body to his all night, and when [y/n] had noticed, confronting him about it in the car, he turned a blind eye. offered no reassurance that whatever happened at the party was on the woman's own accord and that he wasn't to blame.

it was almost as if he enjoyed it.

"so how would you like it if a random dude followed me around the whole night, hm?"

looked at her as if he was listening, feigned attentiveness as he nodded calmly and said, "i dunno."

shrugged and began to recline his seat backward, sensing the crawling ache of sleep in his muscles. would rather doze off here than listen to his girlfriend rant about something he had no fleeting thought for.

he didn't have the intention to even talk to the girl outside the four walls of the grandeur hall. couldn't find it in himself to care about anything, really.

jude could hear the nipping anger as his girlfriend's eyebrows scrunch and she became more rigid.

"you dunno?"

"exactly what i said."

felt dumbfounded at his blunt response, as if he had physically forced tape upon her lips to keep her silent.

"you keep pestering me about shit that i couldn't give a flying fuck about, [y/n]. we are together, not me and her." voice had raised in attitude just an inch. riddled [y/n] in a horrid way and immediately snapped at him back.

"check your tone with me, jude."

"haven't done shit." his retort was quick and mortifyingly calm. remained with loosened flesh as he retreated into the cushioned car seat, closing his eyes.

"you're not going to sleep until we sort this out," [y/n] chastised. jude could honestly are less, though.

"watch me."

and she had indeed. looked on in disbelief as the man in front of her shut his eyes, arms enveloping his chest. whether to actual sleep, or to pull her leg, she didn't care. was completely done with everything to do with jude.

she hurriedly gathered her things in the car, muttering, "i'm so fucking done with your shit," before exiting the car with a vexed slam of the door. made the inconvenient but rather preferred idea to call an uber to her sister's house, which wasn't that much further from her and jude's. she would undoubtedly stay over for a night or two than look at the stranger she had called her boyfriend.

didn't have an ounce of care on whether jude got home safely or not. put her phone on silent as she sat at the back of the taxi, tears already permeating down her face. [y/n] could feel the stare of the driver from his mirror, but was too exhausted to reprimand him for his blatancy.

she didn't know what else she was expecting when she sought comfort from her sister. had heard all those words before, many a time, and although she knew her sibling was right, [y/n] couldn't muster up the courage to actually go through with it.

"it's either you settle all of this once and for all, or you break up with him."

she had wanted to laugh right there and then, remembering what had occurred when she had attempted to talk things out, a few nights before.

had asked jude to chat, to which he replied with a low, dismissive hum, it hurt more than she showed.

"jude."

his eyes didn't leave his phone, leaving his girlfriend frustrated. took matters into her own hands and snatched it from him, but received a minutely dazed jude, staring at his empty palm, sighing.

"what do you want, babe?"

the endearment sounded wrong, in all directions and in every twisted way. it made the girl scoff.

"babe? so now i'm your babe?" tone incredulous, [y/n]'s glare remained stitched to the side of jude's head.

he turned to her, face relaxed and composed, without a silver of care. found it within himself to feign the affection, however.

"what do you mean? of course you are! we haven't broken up, have we?"

it was not a question but rather a statement. urged to end the conversation right there and retreat to their room upstairs but [y/n] emanated persistence.

"well you're fucking acting like it," [y/n] retorted, "do you even care about me anymore?"

jude didn't think about his response, it was all habitual, second nature, " 'course i do."

his words triggered a disbelieving scoff from the girl beside him, "really?"

jude nodded and left it at that. picked at a curl in his fingers and started rolling it between his thumb and index.

his lack of reply irritated [y/n], face scrunched into an almost permanent scowl, "you're not even trying, jude! you barely acknowledge my presence or even talk to me. what the hell is wrong?"

shook his head and mumbled, "nothing."

"i'm not stupid, ju-"

interrupted by a man who, despite his laid back attitude, held so much vindiction. head slumped against the back of the sofa, eyes finding solitude in staring ahead rather than at the woman before him.

"maybe see that the glass is half full, and not half empty, [y/n]."

there's an inkling of dread, masked with confusion however, that stabbed the girl's heart at his insinuation. silently begged the heavens that what she thought is a product of stupid overthinking.

"what are you talking about?" wished it came out stronger and harsher, as intended, but only released as soft questioning.

"be happy that i'm still here- still with you. you're lucky."

if she had relayed his words to her sister, she knew she would've received a slap to the head. they were a flashing persistent warning sign that it was time to leave. that it was the beginning of the end. jude saw the relationship as [y/n]'s honour, something that would benefit her as long as she remained with him.

but this time around, [y/n]'s sister concluded her lecture with a sentence that had her younger sibling's mind scream fucking eureka!

"or you could do neither, and make him feel what you feel. return that energy, [y/n]."

+_-

jude couldn't conjure a reason as to why he had counted just how long [y/n] had been like... that.

he knew that something was off the second she had walked back in the house 2 days after their fight in the car. had not felt the rippling force of a slamming door, or the frustrated collision of keys upon wood.

everything was sedated. the vibe, especially, had plummeted down to a neutral level, and as much as it should've put jude at ease, he would've rather she had burst in, angered, than strolled in with not a vehement thought in mind.

but at that point in time, it wasn't anything he was deeply concerned about. pushed it in the back of his mind, just in case he had to retrieve it later, but everything came rushing back at an unforeseeable velocity that it gave jude whiplash.

on the scale of their relationship, [y/n]'s side seemed to have abandon more than half of its weight. as jude could slowly envision their sides levelling out as he began to plunge from his high, and she commenced her rise.

and then it became 0/0.

+_-

shamed him to say that it had been weeks since he has received any form of affection from his partner. it was baffling the first day he left the house the ritual kiss from his girlfriend. he may have not returned the sentiment, or said anything toward appreciating it, but he internally found it grounding. and without it, he feared a curse would come.

he was just about to leave for training, yet halted as he realised that he hadn't felt the remnants of his girlfriend's lips on his. turned around with a confused face and said, "no kiss?"

[y/n] had not lifted her attention from the phone in front of her, attentively watching a new episode of her current fave, "you'll be fine, jude."

"uh, no?"

she sighed, cocking her head as her face screamed apathy, "jude, you'll be late. just go."

still confused, jude left the house with the inkling feeling that things were to go downwards. yet kept the façade that he was unaffected, though he was palpably the opposite, and proceeded with the day. had thought that maybe she in a temporary sour mood, and things would turn around soon enough.

it never did.

+_-

"you're not listening to me, [y/n]."

the girl rolled her eyes lazily, "i hear you, jude. i'm just not in the mood right now."

the tv blared with another saturday night show, left jude severely disinterested, but [y/n] appeared invested.

"so when will you be all ears to listen to what i have to say?"

the girl shrugged and left his words unresponded to. annoyed, jude grabbed the remote from the sofa, shutting the tv off. heard [y/n] exhale exasperatedly, then felt his side of the couch dip as she arose from her seat.

"i'm going to bed then."

jude didn't give her time to step an inch away from her place, gripping her arm firmly as he spoke, "you're not going anywhere until we speak."

[y/n] began to maniacally chortle, and it slightly frightened the man behind her.

"oh, haven't i heard those words before."

realisation hit jude like a punch to the gut, and anger is the first instinct that overtook his thinking, "so you know what you're doing?"

"i'm not doing shit jude." yanked her arm out of the man's hold as she turned around to face him, "and leave me alone, for God's sake."

jude looked at his girlfriend incredulously, finding it hard to believe that the girl in front of him was acting unlike herself.

"speak to me, [y/n]," could hear the urgency in his tone but knew that there were more serious matters at hand, "we're a couple, we communicate."

"oh fuck off with that, jude," her words were visceral, eyes hardened into a seething stare.

"you didn't care when you were doing it to me, but now you know how it feels, all of a sudden, 'we communicate'."

the truth in her words left the boy dumb, looking at her helplessly as he tried to rummage his mind for words to say.

to tell her that he was sorry. that, although he never said it, he needed her as he needed air to breathe.

but pride, the downfall of men, was the manacle that chained him away from resolution. was well aware that he was in the wrong, but had too much dignity than necessary, and saying 'sorry' was almost bitter in his throat.

"you're being petty, [y/n]."

"and you're not seeing the real problem, jude!" stopped herself before her mouth lead her mind.

"you know what- i'm leaving."

mind sped to a screeching pause, and [y/n] almost laughed at the shock that painted jude's face.

"l-leaving? to where?"

hadn't planned for this to happen. it was all too ill-fitting in this timeline, everything was against them, yet he had no one but himself to blame.

"baby, look- i'm sorry, so sorry. we can fix this, just... don't leave, okay?" jude cupped his girlfriend's face in his hands, placing his forehead on her's, "i've been stupid, i know. i've been an idiot."

waited for the girl to reply, but could physically feel his heart compress into itself as her touch came upon his wrists, gently peeling his palms from her cheeks.

"let me go, jude."

"go where, [y/n]?! home is here... with me," jude insisted, feeling his voice crack. knew that where they stood were at different frequencies, and now he fought for something that was dwindling with no point of return. he had a chance in the past, but was foolish to not take advantage of it.

[y/n] didn't find it within herself to reply, walking away as she picked up her keys from the kitchen counter. jude was hot on her trail, locking her in a backward embrace.

"don't go, please."

she squeezed her eyes shut, sensing his authenticity as his despair siphoned into her skin. but she was so over it, over how he cared so late into decline of their relationship, over how selfish jude was every moment up until now.

his shit didn't faze him, until it came back to strike him tenfold.

"it's not worth fighting over anymore. you know this jude."

his arms loosened around her waist, resting dead by his sides. felt sickeningly weak at the inevitable, looming demise.

"so we're done?"

never would've [y/n] thought she would be hearing those words,.pertaining to her own relationship. but here she was, losing the man that had once had been knitted to her soul.

"yeah. we are."

#work de aechii 🫧#jude bellingham x black!femreader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fanfic #borussia dortmund #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #x black fem reader #x black reader

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smilingformoney · 10 months ago

Text

The Eternal Summer

I. Welcome to Australia

Summary: Your husband, Lord Turpin, has been instructed by the Queen to bring the British judiciary system to Australia. You travel with him, and and on arrival you meet his cousin, Elliott Marston, who invites you to stay with him while your husband make arrangements in Melbourne. In return for his hospitality, Turpin offers you to his cousin, and although you're reluctant at first, you come to find you're rather fond of the gunslinging pastoralist.

Sequel to Sins of the Flesh.

AN: Yes, I have started another fic. Yes, I will still finish my other stories (eventually). No, I didn't see a Sweeney Todd/Quigley Down Under crossover coming either, but my pussy is horny and my imagination is wild.

Content/warnings: sharing, non-consensual touching, oral sex, period-typical racism (specifically against Aboriginal Australians), gun violence, consensual infidelity, vaginal sex

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

When your husband told you that the Queen herself had asked him to work temporarily in Australia to assist in the establishment of the British judicial system, you went through multiple emotions over the weeks leading up to your departure. You mourned at first that he would be away from you for so long, until he told you that you were to come with him. Then, you had been daunted by the prospect of moving to such a distant place. A small part of you registered that your brother was in Australia too, but the chances of seeing him were slim.

Finally, as the day of your departure approached, you began to feel excited. You had never even left London, yet here you were travelling to the very end of the world as the lady wife of Lord Turpin, the formidable English judge who would bring peace and justice to Australia just as he did England.

The journey itself was difficult. You spent just over two months at sea, and learned quickly that your delicate stomach wasn’t made for such journeys. You had the greatest of luxury that you could, of course, and the inside of your cabin wouldn’t look out of place in a manor. But even the finest of luxury couldn’t contest with the rage of the sea, and you spent more time than you wished churning your meals back out when the seas were rough.

The worst part was, the onboard doctor advised that to fall pregnant on the journey would be unwise, as your frequent nausea meant your body was lacking nutrients enough to keep a baby healthy, so you were forced to suspend your attempts to have a child. That didn’t stop your husband taking you regularly, however - only that he spilled elsewhere, but you sorely missed the warmth and satisfaction of feeling his seed filling your womb.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you docked at Melbourne, and to feel solid ground below your feet at last was both discombobulating and a relief. You stayed at a hotel for the first night, where your husband was finally able to spill his seed inside you again, and for the first night in a long time you slept through without being woken by your churning stomach.

In the morning, you woke to find your bed empty, so you got yourself dressed and headed down into the parlour in search of your husband.

You found him sitting at a table with a coffee and a plate of breakfast, accompanied by a man whose face was obscured by virtue of having his back to you. William spotted you and smiled, waving you over, and his companion turned to look at you.

You hoped your face didn’t blush when you locked eyes with the man and you were immediately struck by how handsome he was. He had a moustache and the shadow of a beard, and he looked somewhat like your husband, maybe a decade or so younger.

“There she is! Come sit with us, darling. I didn’t want to wake you during your first night on land. Elliott, this is my wife, [Y/n]. [Y/n], this is my cousin, Elliott Marston. He’s a - what was it you called yourself, Elliott?”

“A pastoralist. I own a lot of land and farm it. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Turpin.”

Elliott took your hand and kissed it, his moustache tickling your knuckles slightly, and you gave him a small curtsy.

“Likewise, sir,” you said politely. Elliott laughed and released your hand, letting you sit in the seat that had been left open for you next to your husband.

“You’re not in England anymore, my Lady. No need for sirs, I’m not a knight. Just Elliott will do.”

“Ah, well… in that case, you may call me [Y/n], if my lord husband permits it.”

“Of course I do!” William said with a smile just as a waitress brought you a plate of food. “We’re all family here. Elliott’s father, my mother’s brother, was my favourite uncle.”

“I apologise, my love, I - I must have not heard you say we were meeting your cousin.”

“Well, of course you didn’t hear it, because I didn’t say it. I knew Elliott had moved here, of course, but I hardly expected we’d run into one another in such a large place. Simply a case of good fortune.”

“Yes, well, I heard from Major Ashley-Pitt that they were bringing in a judge from London to establish the judiciary,” Elliott explained. If he was of a similar class to William, he had lost all table manners long ago - he was currently sat slouched on his chair, his legs spread out, a cigarette in one hand. “I mentioned as an offhand comment that my cousin William Turpin was in the London judiciary, and as luck would have it I was told he was the very judge, so when I heard when you were docking I thought I’d come to meet you. Unfortunately, you docked quite late last night, and I was already drunk in the saloon. I came in here to wait for the two of you to awake, only to find William already at breakfast. You should have seen, [Y/n], the look on his face when he recognised me!”

“I almost didn’t recognise you with that moustache and the ridiculous hat. I won’t be made to wear something so outlandish, I hope,” said William, and you decided not to mention how very garish his own judge’s garments were.

“You’ll find yourself choosing to wear the widest brimmed hat you can find once you’re out in the midday sun. It’s nothing like London out here. I always say, the natives are brutal and so is the wildlife, but Australia itself is the greatest killer of them all.”

“Elliott’s invited you to stay with him for a few days while I attend to administrative matters here, darling,” William said to you, as if he were offering you some great prize and not suggesting you leave his side for several days. “Once I’ve ironed out the paperwork and so on, got us a place to live, I’ll join you for a while, then we’ll return to town to move in properly and I can begin my work. How does that sound?”

“Must I go on without you, William? If you’re to stay in town, I’d much rather be by your side.”

William chuckled. “Until we have somewhere of our own, this hotel is all we have to live, and I won’t have my darling [Y/n] resting her head here every single night. Elliott assures me he has a much more comfortable lodging for you with him.”

You bit your lip anxiously. The thought of being away from your husband for even one night was enough to make your stomach churn as if you were back on the ship all over again. You hadn’t ever spent a night without him, not since that first day you came to his house in exchange for your brother’s life.

“But, sir —”

“Are you questioning me, wife?”

“No, sir,” you said quickly, ducking your head slightly. “Only… well, I worry that we may miss our, um… window. For my… medication. We already missed two months!”

William laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “Her womb is struggling to take my seed,” he explained to his cousin, and you blushed to hear him speak so publicly about such private matters. “The doctor prescribed that I should spill inside her often, but her sensitive stomach didn’t agree with sea travel, so we had to suspend our attempts until we reached land. We continued to make love, of course, but last night was the first time I spilled inside her since London.”

“William! We oughtn’t speak of such things —”

“Nonsense! We can speak freely in front of Elliott. Do you have a wife of your own?”

“I did, but she passed a few years ago before she could give me any children. I take the occasional whore back from town, but otherwise I sleep alone.”

“Well, that won’t do. I’ll tell you what - since you’re being so kind as to put [Y/n] up while I stay in town, she’s yours to do as you please until I join you.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and fortunately you had no food in your mouth in that moment, else it might have dropped from your mouth in a rather unladylike manner.

“But William - I can’t - I can’t lay with another man! You are my husband!”

“And as your husband, I am to be obeyed, am I not?”

“Well, yes, but —”

“Then you’ll do as I say and keep my cousin’s bed warm. You’re not to spill inside her, of course, Elliott. She’s only to take my seed.”

“Of course. Very generous of you, William, thank you.”

You could scarcely believe what you were hearing. Your own husband, who had claimed possession of you the very day you met, who had wedded you in the eyes of the Lord and promised faithfulness, was now offering you up for warmth as if you were nothing more than a spare blanket!

And yet, he was also right that your wedding vows had included not only a promise of fidelity, but a promise of obedience too. And here he was, commanding you to lay with his cousin or… whatever it was the stranger wanted you to do. Suddenly you felt like that scared young girl again, who had knocked on Judge Turpin’s door begging for mercy and ended the night surrendering your maidenhood in exchange for your wish. Although your husband had been cruel at first when you resisted, once you accepted that you were his he became kind and you even grew to love one another, and you had almost forgotten that you were simply property.

You tried your hardest not to cry when the time came to depart. Your single bag of belongings was loaded up onto a wagon, and for once William allowed you to publicly embrace him before you climbed into the wooden contraption yourself.

“I shall miss you every moment, William,” you said, holding onto him tightly, as if trying to memorise the feeling of his body against yours.

“And I you, my love. It will be lonely not to share a bed with you, but I’ll follow you as soon as I’m able. Elliott will take good care of you, I’m certain.”

You sniffed, not wanting to think of what kind of care the stranger had in store for you.

William pulled away from the embrace and looked into your eyes.

“I love you, bunny.”

You smiled. “I love you too, teddy bear.”

Reluctantly, you let him go, and Elliott gave you a hand up into the wagon. It was hard and uncomfortable, nothing like the carriages that you shared with William when you travelled around London, and already you understood what the stranger had said about Australian weather. You wrapped a bonnet around your head, and as the wagon departed, you kept your sights set on your husband, watching him shrink into the distance until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, and then he was gone, leaving you alone with only Elliott, two of his men, and the burning Australian sun.

You were a long way from home.

Elliott’s station was very far away. You were tired of travelling all the time, so when you were told it would take “only” a few days to get there, you resigned yourself to complete and utter boredom.

When night fell, the men made camp for the night, and you gathered around the fire, sitting in silence as the men told stories about hunting dingos, whatever they were, and Aborigines, whatever they were. Although the day had been sweltering hot, as night drew on the air became colder, and you shivered slightly. Elliott, who was sat next to you, shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said politely, speaking for the first time in hours, although you didn’t look at him.

“Hey, if you’re cold, I got a way I can warm ya up,” said an Irish man who’d introduced himself as O’Flynn, and his laugh with the other man, Hobb, was quickly interrupted when Elliott tossed a rock at him and bounced it off the Irish man’s head.

“[Y/n]’s no whore to be passed around,” Elliott said firmly as the disgruntled O’Flynn rubbed his head. “She’s my cousin’s wife, and back in London she’s a Lady. No one’s to touch her, you got that? Don’t even look at her.”

The men mumbled their apologies, then went back to the game of backgammon they’d brought along for the journey.

“Sorry about them,” Elliott said to you quietly. “With your husband being a judge, I’m sure you know that convicts get sent out here to work off their debts to society. A lot of them come to me, and most of them become honest men, but they’re still scumbags.”

You paused.

“My brother was sent out here,” you said quietly, frowning as if you’d only just remembered.

“Hmm? What was that?”

You looked up at him.

“My brother. He - he was a thief. William was going to send him to hang, but I begged him for mercy so he sent him out here instead. It’s how we met, I… I showed up on his doorstep begging for mercy. He said he’d spare my brother if I gave him my maidenhood. Then he kept me.”

Elliott raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Your brother was a thief?”

“Only bread. We were hungry… our parents were dead and I didn’t earn very much. But a crime is a crime, my husband says, no matter the reasoning. I’m very grateful he showed my brother mercy that day. Now my brother is working to become a better man, just like your men, and I have the most devoted husband.”

Elliott was looking at you with a strange expression on his face, as if you were a curious puzzle he was trying to solve. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short when Hobb let out a whoop of victory as he won his game.

“Well done, Hobb. Now, keep it down, I’m going to bed.”

The men mumbled their discontent and folded away their game. Elliott, meanwhile, stood and offered his hand to you. You took it gratefully, and followed him into the tent he had set up to share with you. There wasn’t a whole lot of space, especially with there being two of you, and you blushed when he began undressing in front of you.

When he was down to his undergarments, Elliott looked over at you, and chuckled when he saw that you were pointedly facing away from him, struggling to get out of your corset on your own.

You twitched in surprise when you felt his hands reach around to assist you in untying the lace that held the corset together. You let him take over, his movements surprisingly gentle for hands so large and calloused, and you kept your head turned away from him, trying to ignore the tickling of his breath on your neck.

“My men may be scumbags, but I’m certainly not,” Elliott said softly. “I think we both know what your husband meant when he offered you to me, but I like to think Australia hasn’t completely beaten the English gentleman from me. I won’t deny, [Y/n]… you are a beautiful woman. William’s a lucky man. But I won’t take anything from you that’s not freely given. Do you understand?”

You nodded tentatively, and Elliott helped you out of your dress, leaving you in only your underthings. You climbed under the blankets, and the feeling of the hard earth beneath you reminded you of the days before you’d met your husband, when you’d sleep on the floor because you could only afford to rent one bed for your brother.

True to his word, even though he laid next to you, Elliott made no move to touch you. You were cold, though, and so you scooted closer to him, and although you couldn’t see it in the dark, he smiled when he wrapped an arm around you and held you tight, glad to have the company of a woman who wasn’t a whore, a kind and sweet lady, with an innocence that seemed vastly out of place in the harsh terrain of Australia.

William was a lucky man indeed.

The next two days passed without much event. You started to wonder if Elliott’s station even existed, or if anything existed. Perhaps you’d simply imagined London, the ocean, life outside the barren desert that was Australia. By day you sat in the back of the wagon, and every few hours Elliott would move you to a different seat. It took an embarrassingly long time for you to realise that he was keeping you in his shadow, blocking you from the harsh rays of the sun with his own body.

The heat made you sleepy, and so you napped for a lot of the journey, and for the time you were awake you watched the world go by, marvelling at the wonders of the outback and listening intently as Elliott told you about the different creatures that you passed.

The strangest creatures you saw were called “kangaroos,” which hopped around on overly large feet and although their arms were short, Elliott assured you that they were stronger than men, and extremely dangerous to approach.

A dingo, you learned, was a type of wild dog, although they looked more like foxes than dogs, you thought. When dingos were spotted, the wagon was stopped, and the men got out to hunt the poor things. You winced at the loud gunshots, and you thought that Elliott was trying to impress you with his gunmanship, but really you were just worried for the poor animals.

The men loaded some of their kills in with the luggage, covering the bodies with blankets to stop the heat cooking them prematurely, and left the rest to rot in the sun. You gave false pleasantries to the men for their impressive hunting skills, and Elliott seemed pleased when you told him you’d watched him the whole time.

“What are the other creatures you said you hunt? Aborigines?”

Hobb and O’Flynn exchanged glances, and Elliott tensed slightly. He’d taken recently to throwing an arm around your shoulder when he sat next to you, and you felt his hand on your upper arm tighten slightly, pulling you in closer, as if to say the very word was to summon the elusive Aborigine, and he had to keep you close to protect you.

“Creatures is one word for them. But they’re people, supposedly. Backwards, primitive people, still stuck in the Stone Age. The Americans have their own primitives too, but they’ve tamed theirs, more or less. But Australia’s one great failure is our inability to domesticate the Australian Aborigine. So her Majesty’s government allows settlers to deal with the matter in their own way. ‘Pacification by Force’, it’s called.”

You frowned, trying to understand. “So you hunt… people?”

“They’re hardly people, love,” O’Flynn interjected. “They might look like people, but they can’t even talk. They just grunt. Stuck thousands of years in the past, they are. Only language they know is violence. Some you can domesticate, and you’ll find some back at the station. But some of ‘em resist, and those, we put down. Survival of the smartest, you see.”

You weren’t sure that sounded right, but you knew not to contradict men, so you kept quiet, though the thoughtful frown remained on your face. The wagon trundled on, and you found yourself relaxing against Elliott, who was still firmly holding onto you, ready to protect you from any stray Aborigine or kangaroo that might appear.

After an eternity had passed, Elliott woke you from a nap to point you towards a speck on the horizon he told you was his station.

“How far have we travelled?”

“About 300 miles,” Elliott replied proudly, “most of it mine. And we’ve hardly made a dent into Australia. Do you know, it’s estimated that Britain could fit into Australia thirty times with room to spare.”

“Wow,” you gasped, wide-eyed, peering into the distance to make out the station growing nearer. “I always thought London was big, but it’s just a dot on the canvas of the world. Is your land bigger than London?”

Elliott chuckled. “Much bigger. I’d offer you the tour, but it’d take longer than you have. Even I haven’t set foot on every square inch of my own land. But I can give you the tour of my station, and perhaps I’ll even take you out to meet some of the animals. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes!” you replied eagerly, looking up at him with the most adorable wide-eyed excitement he’d ever seen on a young woman. “Do you have sheep? I’ve always wanted to meet sheep.”

“Plenty of sheep, so long as the Aborigines haven’t tried to steal them again. Perhaps you could help shear one - cut its coat, I mean. I don’t suppose you see much animal life in London, do you?”

“Only the rats,” you said with disgust. “Stray cats and dogs, I don’t mind them. But the rats are horrible.”

“Well, I can’t promise no rats here, but at least we have the guns to shoot them.”

You glanced down at the gun on Elliott’s waistband - a “revolver,” he’d called it, on account of the revolving barrel containing the bullets - and your stomach twisted with anxiety. Guns were only owned in London by the upper classes - or by the lower classes, if obtained illegally. William had a few of his own, but you never saw them, as he brought them out only for hunting trips and he hadn’t been hunting since you’d met him. And yet, every man out here seemed to have a gun - for protection, Elliott assured you, against wild animals and Aborigines.

That didn’t stop them from making you feel uneasy.

The wagon pulled into the station at last, and Elliott helped you down from the wagon. A few of the men milling around shot glances at you that you recognised only too well, and you instinctively stepped closer to Elliott, as if his proximity kept you safe.

“Don’t you worry about them,” Elliott assured you, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively. “They’re used to the only women arriving here being whores. I’ll make sure they know you’re nothing of the sort.”

Weren’t you? William had offered you to his cousin as payment for his hospitality, after all. It seemed that no matter where you were in the world, you had nothing more to offer men than your body.

Elliott saw you into his house, one arm firmly around your waist while the other carried your bag over his shoulder, and gave you a quick tour of the house before depositing your bag in the bedroom you were to share with him.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing - there’s only the one bed, as there’s only the one of me.”

“That’s alright. I don’t like sleeping alone. Some nights William comes back late, I can’t sleep until he’s home and in bed with me. You’ve been a fine sleeping companion in the tent, I’m sure you’ll be as much of a gentleman in the bedroom too.”

“Don’t be so sure of that, sweetheart,” Elliott smirked, looking down at you with a twinkle in his eye. The arm around your waist pulled you in closer, and his other hand traced your shoulder along the edge of your bodice slowly, as if trying to restrain himself from ripping it off. “I restrained myself in the outback, but here in the comfort of my own home, sleeping next to such a beautiful woman…” He sighed. “I can’t promise much gentlemanly behaviour.”

You knew you should be revolted at such brazen flirting from a man who wasn’t your husband, but you couldn’t deny that Elliott was a handsome man, and you’d spent more than a significant amount of time during the journey wondering what it might be like to kiss him… and your husband had ordered you to keep his cousin warm…

Your eyes flitted down to his lips, as if daring yourself to kiss him, and he smirked.

“It’s been a long journey, sweetheart. Would you help ease my tension with a kiss?”

“I… I’ve never…” You gulped. “I’ve never been with a man other than my husband.”

“Of course you haven’t.”

“I’ve never wanted a man other than him…”

“But?” Elliott prompted with a raised eyebrow.

“But I find myself… wanting to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me, [Y/n]. This is Australia, after all. We take what we want here.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he met you halfway, lips crashing against yours hungrily. Elliott wrapped both arms around you to hold you tight, and you responded by threading your fingers through his hair, holding him firmly in place as your tongues danced, the desire that had built up over the last few days of travelling finally coming to a head.

He was different to your husband. He was slimmer, stronger - clearly a man who knew physical toil, whereas William had always known a life of luxury. His moustache tickled your skin slightly, and you longed to know what the coarse hairs felt like between your legs if he granted you that boon.

Their passions were similar, though, and you could feel his pressing into you - unless it was another gun.

Elliott’s hands travelled down to squeeze your bum, a cheek in each hand, and you squealed in surprise, causing your lips to part. He chuckled.

“I told you, [Y/n]… when a beautiful woman like you whips me into a frenzy, I can’t promise I’ll be a gentleman. I’ve been —”

But whatever he’d been would have to wait, because someone was knocking on the front door.

“Marston! You in? Just got back with some news about that sharp-shooter.”

Elliott sighed, and reluctantly pulled away from you. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is important. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and get yourself something to drink? Plenty of water there for you, you must be parched.”

You’d been far too hypnotised by him to notice, but you were indeed desperately thirsty, and the kiss hadn’t helped. You were relieved to discover that Australia wasn’t so backwards as to not have plumbing, and there was even a water tap to which you gratefully helped yourself as, behind you, Elliott spoke to the man at the door.

“He’s coming up with Coogan, maybe a day behind us,” said the man. “Already got himself in a fight, defending Crazy Cora of all people.”

“He can fight whoever he wants, so long as he gets the job done. Get the lodge ready for him.”

”Yessir.”

Elliott closed the door and turned back to you with a smile.

“Well, today’s been good all round. I’m off the road, I’ve got my new rifleman coming tomorrow, and best of all, there’s a beautiful woman in my kitchen.”

“It’d be even better if there was a beautiful woman in your bed.”

Elliott grinned. “It sure would. I’ll just go get one of them whores, then.”

He turned to leave, and when you made no move to follow him, he paused. Looking back at you, he saw that you were looking dejectedly down at the floor, and he laughed.

“I’m just kidding, [Y/n]!”

He walked back towards you and lifted your chin up to force you to look at him.

“The only woman I want in my bed tonight is you, if you’ll join me.”

You blushed, embarrassed that you’d taken his joke seriously. “…I’d like that.”

“Excellent. Come on, then.”

With surprising strength, Elliott lifted you from the ground and threw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise and he laughed. When he deposited you on the bed, your hands immediately flew to your bodice, trying to untie it as fast as you could. You’d decided to let him take you, and you wanted to fulfill your task before you changed your mind.

“You waste no time, huh?” Elliott remarked, his eyes firmly on your loosening bodice.

“Neither do you,” you retorted, noticing the way he was already unbuckling his trousers.

“I told you, I’ve been resisting taking you since we met. The hard earth isn’t the most comfortable place for fucking, and I don’t want you to think poorly of Australia because of it. I won’t deny, though, having a little grope before you woke up in the mornings. How could I resist when your tit had fallen out of your garments in the night? Rock hard nipples pointing right at me, just eager to be touched, licked… you may think I’ve been a gentleman on the journey, sweetheart, but I’m anything but.”

Your dress was on the floor now, his gun on the bedside table, his trousers pooled at his ankles. Elliott pulled your bloomers down, exposing you to the air, and you felt a sense of relief. You’d been wearing undergarments again since William had told you you were to sleep next to another man, but you’d gone so long without them that now they felt restrictive. You pulled the rest of your garments off, leaving yourself fully naked before him, and Elliott looked you up and down hungrily.

“Oh, look at you… whatever did my cousin do to deserve you? No matter. We’ve still got a few days before he arrives. We’d better make the most of it, hadn’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

Usually when you let a sir slip, he corrected you, but he seemed to let it slide this time. Perhaps he liked it, or perhaps he was distracted by the way you dropped to your knees in front of him and reached out to take his cock in your hand.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Elliott hissed, then he let out a small moan when your tongue began teasing at his tip. He was big, but not as big as your husband, and it was no challenge at all for you to wrap your lips around his full width.

“I confess to touching you in the night, and what do you do? Get on your knees and suck my cock. I should have told you much sooner. Should have - ah - taken you on the earth after all. It’s God’s creation, isn’t it? He made the earth, and he made us for fucking… beds are man’s invention. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll take you to see the sheep, then we can fuck out in the open air like God intended.”

You hummed your eagerness around him, sliding him further into your mouth and down your throat, and Elliott gripped your hair tightly as he groaned. Once he was fully hilted inside you, you stayed still for a few moments, adjusting to the feeling and getting used to breathing through your nose.

When he decided you were ready, Elliott began thrusting into your throat, holding your head still as he tugged on your hair. You looked up at him, hardly able to see his face as his head was thrown back in pleasure, but you could see a red flush beginning to form underneath his tanned skin, and his chest was moving up and down rapidly in time with his panting.

Elliott couldn’t remember the last time he’d fucked a throat this good - if ever. You were an expert, more skilled than any whore he’d found in town, and if you weren’t already married he might have proposed to you there and then just to keep you around. If you’d truly been with no one other than William, then either you were a natural-born expert cocksucker, or he’d taught you well. Who’d have known his strict, pious, law-abiding cousin would have such a perfect slut of a wife? Your talents were wasted on him, and clearly if he hadn’t got you pregnant yet, he was doing something wrong.

With that thought in mind, Elliott just had to know if your cunt was as greedy as your mouth. He tugged on the back of your head to pull you off him, and you whined when you became unstuck, as if you’d been getting as much pleasure from it as he was.

He lifted you by your shoulders and sat you on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs instinctively, and he could have cum there and then when he saw just how wet you were.

Elliott didn’t usually bother to pleasure women, but he felt drawn to you, as if some otherworldly force pulled him to his knees to taste you, his tongue exploring everywhere he could, the coarse hair on his face rubbing against your skin sending you wild. You bucked your hips involuntarily, and Elliott responded by probing his tongue further into your folds, searching until he found your entrance and rested there, mere millimetres away from penetrating you with his tongue.

After teasing you until you could be teased no further, he came up for air, panting, and you glanced at him, his facial hair glistening with the desire you were secreting for him. He grinned at you, a hungry look in his eyes, and, so quickly you hardly had time to register what was happening, Elliott stood and slid his cock into you. You cried out in surprise, which quickly turned into moans of pleasure as Elliott began thrusting into you, holding your ankles over his shoulders. His jaw, which was still covered in you, dropped open to join you in a cacophony of moans, matched only by the slapping of his skin against yours, the unabashedly loud squelching of his cock pummelling in and out of your cunt making it clear to anyone that might pass by exactly what was going on.

Any concern you might have had about the morals of taking the cock of a man other than your husband quickly melted away. After all, it was on orders of your husband that you were here in this other man’s bed, and far be it from you to disobey your husband.

Elliott pulled out of you suddenly, and you were about to protest when he grabbed your hips and flipped you over. You instinctively stuck your arse in the air, and Elliott slipped back inside you, resuming his desperate pace, except this time he was pushing into your G-spot with every thrust, his balls slapping against your clit, and when you moaned, the noise was muffled by the mattress beneath you.

Elliott grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and slid it under you, and you gratefully took it to rest your head on, clutching onto it like it was a life raft.

“Fuck, I could stay inside this cunt all night,” Elliott groaned.

And you’d happily let him, but you could feel your climax building, and you wanted desperately to milk him, to squeeze his cock dry as you came around him and he came with you.

As if he knew what you were thinking, Elliott leant down over you, dropping his weight to his elbows, and you could feel his heavy pants against your neck as he too felt his peak threatening to explode inside you.

“El - Elliott,” you moaned, and hearing his name from your lips only spurred him on, his hips slapping against your arse almost violently. “Elliott, I’m - I’m gonna cum —”

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart, cum for me, let me hear you…”

“Ah - fuck - El - oh my god, I - I - Elliott!”

Your muscles tensed as your orgasm hit, causing your legs to spasm, and if it weren’t for Elliott’s strong body crushing yours firmly against the mattress, you might have lost your footing.

Your sweet moans and your tight cunt were too much for him, and Elliott cried out your name into your ear as he came, seed filling you with warmth and comfort, and it was only when he collapsed on top of you, both sweaty and panting, that either of you remembered your husband’s firm instruction that he wasn’t to spill inside you.

You let out a small whine when Elliott sat up and pulled himself out of you, and you could feel the mixture of his spend and yours leaking from between your legs.

“You’d better get to the bathroom,” he advised you, his voice still heavy, and you quickly followed his instruction, dashing across the hall to try and push out as much of his seed as you could into his toilet.

When you came back, Elliott was already in his undergarments, although he’d forgone the shirt and wore only the lower briefs. He was sat up in bed, cleaning his gun, which he put down when you crawled in next to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, but he cupped your face and forced you to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I was too caught up in the moment to remember your husband’s instructions not to spill inside you,” Elliott murmured. “I swear I’ll spill outside next time.”

You smiled shyly, and Elliott thought his heart might just melt. How did you do it, acting a cockhungry slut one moment, a shy lady the next, and making both acts completely believable?

“I won’t tell him,” you promised. “He spills inside me thrice daily and still my womb hasn’t quickened, so I doubt once from you will cause any trouble.”

“Thrice daily?” Elliott repeated. “Are you certain?”

“Quite certain. I’m there when it happens, after all, and usually awake.”

Elliott chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t know he had it in him.”

You nodded and bit your lip. “My husband’s quite insatiable. He has been since the day we met. I struggle to keep up with him sometimes, but he’s my husband and I love him, so I let him take me whenever he wishes. Sometimes, if I’m very tired, he’ll let me go to sleep and take me then, although sometimes he does wake me.”

Elliott’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. He had thought about it so many times in the tent, taking you in your sleep without you even knowing, but he’d not wanted to risk alarming you if you woke up. And here you were, telling him you were quite used to being taken in such a manner.

“Would you allow me to do the same? If I find you looking particularly delectable in your sleep, might I take my pleasure from you?”

You hesitated, but you nodded. Truthfully, you weren’t overly fond of being woken to find your husband already inside you as it was usually painful, but as kind as Elliott was to you, you were frightened of the gun that lay just feet away, and your husband had instructed you to please him. You’d already disobeyed him once by taking Elliott’s seed - you didn’t want to disobey him again. At least Elliott was asking your permission.

Elliott stayed up a little longer than you to read his book, and he found it endearing the way you nodded off curled up against him like a cat, one arm around his waist, and he knew you were sleeping when your grip on him loosened.

He put his book down next to his gun, blew out the lamp, then settled in next to you, holding you close. He estimated he had another week before his cousin arrived at the station, and Elliott was determined to win your heart in that time. After all, this was Australia, and Elliott was a man who took what he wanted - and by God, he wanted you.

#alan rickman #quigley down under #sweeney todd #judge turpin x reader #elliott marston x reader #the eternal summer

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presidenthades · 4 months ago

Note

Who is your favorite TargBro ?

I answered this question last year, but I never saved the post to my masterlist so you all get to read my answer again!

I don’t think it’s a secret that I have a big soft spot for Aegon. And for all of S2’s issues, they did a pretty good job fleshing out Aegon’s character (I need to give TGC credit for his acting, of course).

It’s kinda funny because I started in the fandom more as an Aemond fan and didn’t care for Aegon. But some really good Aegon fics (I have recs somewhere on my masterlist) won me over.

I have fun writing about Aegon, especially his POV/internal monologue, because he doesn’t take himself seriously. He has a sense of humor and self-deprecation, which is an excellent base to work with when writing dramedy. He also has a volatile temper, so his mood can shift quickly.

This means that Aegon is very interesting and entertaining to write. That is the most important quality in a character: they have to be interesting. A character could be the paragon of virtue, but if they’re boring, then they’re not a character I’m drawn to.

Aegon has the advantage of being the Targbro whose POV I’ve written the most. I’m still early in Aemond/Luce’s fic, and Daeron has gotten zero POV time thus far. So maybe my preferences will change as I continue to write fics. But at this very moment, if I were forced to pick only one Targbro to write about forevermore…

#my writing #ask me anything

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cookies-and-mirrors · 2 months ago

Text

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Twenty Four

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier, @faceless-mirror & @comforting-madness

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: Trigger warning for past transphobia and abuse. While they are in the past they can still be triggering so please be very careful.

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @comforting-madness

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday @high-wire @awkwardalex

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Twenty Four

Chris woke when Vinny’s alarm went off before sunrise, wrapped up around her. It was always set at this time, he knew that, it was when she had to rise so she could be ready to bake for the café. He wasn’t about to complain, not at all, he was happy to get up with her, wanting to help her with everything she needed to do, all the prep work, especially after last night. Stretching slowly, groaning softly.

She got up slowly moving stiffly and got dressed in a sundress and her apron, legs still quaking, making her eyes flutter for a moment, whimpering.

Getting dressed and watching her carefully, Chris was worried about how shaky she was today, “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if you took the day off today? Maybe, at least, well, I know I don’t know how to make the coffees, but if you sit by the machine, you could make them, and I’ll serve people?” Be her legs for the day? He had been the one to do this to her, after all. “I do need to check in on Ryan before we head downstairs, though. I can’t believe he didn’t come get me for patrol.” It had been his-

“Chris, are you sure? And maybe he just thought we needed some time-”

Just thinking about how it had been his responsibility and the fact that Vinny had reactivated her authenticity rune so freshly last night, had them both activating on their own right then and Chris going tense for a second. His breath slow and deep for a moment as he stilled, he just needed to calm as he handled them clashing against each other, while they weren’t opposing virtues, they did both demand direct focus at times. Usually, virtue runes were passive runes and didn’t need to be active to be handled, they were just a part of who they were at the core of their nature. They were only activated by their choices, and on their weapons, however right at that moment, this, was something else.

“Baby…! GWYNN! RYAN!” She screamed. She knew she didn't need to scream, but… the panic struck her down hard. Moments later, the door burst open to Gwynn leaning on their cane. “What's wrong?” Only for his eyes to land on the two glowing runes.

Ryan and Justin had followed close behind Gwynn at Vinny’s scream, that was not something they were used to hearing, especially at this time of night. Neither gargoyle was used to sleeping at this time of the evening all that much just yet. So, there they were finding themselves flanking Gwynn, just to see Chris shaking his head, breaking himself out of his, almost trance like state to calm himself down. The runes fading back to black on his skin, responsibility on the side of his neck, and authenticity having been glowing through the material of his shirt at the side of his torso on his abs. He glanced between the four of them that were staring at him, “What?”

“Chris…” Gwynn murmured, inching closer. “I need to permanently deactivate Authenticity's rune. You can keep it on you… but not activated.” they promised, moving closer, “then I need to check everyone for runes… I need to fully check you, too, Chris.”

By the angels, Chris huffed, growling low, “I’m fine alright, I’m fine, it’s fine… Why would you need to, check me, anyway? For what purpose?” His arms crossed in front of him defensively, standing at his full height in the room, not something he often did.

“Chris, we don’t know what runes were put on you by Jerahmiel without your knowledge… what if he had something like the agony rune for Ryan… We… we can’t risk it.” Gwynn explained, inching closer, “Please. Just… let me…? Let me do my job?” they murmured to him, “It’s my responsibility to help you… right?”

Frowning at them both, Chris didn’t like it, he didn’t. The idea that Jerahmiel had added more runes to him without him knowing, especially when he had refused to add this rune, no matter how many times he had begged. He had begged, so many times. Huffing when they said that, responsibility, the thought that he was keeping them from that, their responsibility, it tore at him. He took his own responsibilities to heart, and he swallowed deeply, “Fine.” Moving to slip his shirt back over his head. “But I still think I am fine with authenticity.” It felt good.

“I will compromise. I will leave it activated at a quarter of its regular power.” Gwynn offered, bargaining with him as they started to look him over carefully, before noticing a rune, frowning, reaching up to the back of left shoulder blade, “What is this…?” they murmured before deactivating the rune as gently as they could, gasping as it burned them, snatching their hand back swallowing as they stared at the now inactive rune.

Chris shuddered as the rune was deactivated, a groan escaping him when it felt like the air had been knocked out of him, it had just been swept right out of his lungs. For a moment, he had to stumble forward, grasping at the corner of the footboard of Vinny’s bed, to steady himself with a gasp. Only then for the bed to give one last groan as it had the night before and the whole frame to collapse to the floor.

Shit…

Vinny watched as Chris fell with the bed, and rolled onto his front with a hefty thump. She blinked, once. Twice. Three times. “You’re buying me a new bed frame, you know that, right? One that can hold up to you fucking me like you did last night.” She said calmly, just looking at her mate, who was as collapsed as the bed was.

Blinking up at Vinny, Chris just stared at her for a long moment after he rolled over with her insistence, Justin, however, was turning from the doorway and went back to Ricky’s room… Chris heard him loud and clear. “We need to get a new bed.” Asshole.

“W… what who died? What was that noise?” Ricky groggily asked, clearly just having woken up.

“Your best friend’s ass died-”

“W… Vinny’s dead?” “I’m gonna go stop Justin from making Rick think I’m dead.” Vinny sighed, shuffling towards the door.

“Good idea,” Gwynn sighed softly, rubbing their face.

“No! No, no, it was Chris that collapsed, I mean, Vinny is the one that wants the new bed so he can fuck her again so maybe next timmmee-”

“Justin- Just tell Rick I’m not dead! He’s not fully awake.” Vinny shouted.

Gwynn turned to Chris as Vinny shuffled out of the room painfully slow, “Do we have an agreement on the Authenticity rune?” they asked gently, offering him a hand to help him up from the floor.

Justin rolled his eyes, fine, fine, “Vinny is alive, Chris passed out, didn’t you hear me, we need a new bed!” Because if the sex was that good, Justin was going to want to try, when Rick wasn’t pregnant, of course.

Chris however, took Gwynn’s hand, with a sigh, nodding slightly, “Yeah, I can agree to that, what, what the heck was that rune, though? I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” When he finally stood up, everything felt clearer for the first moment, in an exceptionally long time. The weight that had been pressing down on his body, his chest, one he hadn’t even been aware was there, had been lifted.

Gwynn sighed softly and touched the Authenticity rune, dulling it down to a quarter of power, “... It was a healing blocker… it was intended to keep you from properly healing when you go into your rejuvenation cycle.” They explained gently, patting his shoulder, “Next time you turn to stone… it should properly heal everything…”

“Healing blocker?” The words fell shocked from his lips without thinking, the next thoughts through his mind was every time he’d been injured over the years, how it had taken progressively longer to heal over time. Namely, the last time. Ryan and Justin had informed him they had there had been a moment that they didn’t think he would make it, even after that first dawn. By the angels, why would anyone even create a rune such as that? Turn to stone… “How do we do that, turn to stone, with the Sunlight Rune?” He had noticed, since they’d gotten that rune, the mortal sleep wasn’t quite the same as their rejuvenation cycle. It was nice, relaxing, but not the same.

“Not every angel is kind…” Gwynn reminded him as they gently touched his arm.

“To turn to full stone, all you need is to focus on healing. Complete focus on introspection and the rune will give you a full rejuvenation cycle.” Gwynn explained with a soft smile.

Pausing, he considered it, not that he tried it immediately, considering how Gwynn said it, a full rejuvenation cycle, it would mean being stone for a full day. After last night, he did not want to leave Vinny alone, she would likely struggle today. Tomorrow, he’d try tomorrow and see what would happen. “Well, that will be interesting, you should check Justin and Ryan too, their healing has been just as strained as mine, I’m sure they have the tainted rune as well.”

“I’m sure they do… I will be checking them. But that should better now.” They murmured, patting his shoulder, “Ryan? Can… we talk…? Please.”

Ryan had turned to go, with Justin back talking to Ricky, Gwynn and Vinny distracted with Chris, it had seemed like the perfect time for him to slip away again. He was reeling from the number of times they’d all almost died because their healing had been so slow, so resistant. Then there were those of the troupe that had died because of the rune that… he had put on them. Swallowing, before he could get too far he heard their voice calling his name and he sighed.

He had planned to patrol last night on his own, when he realized Chris’ state with Vinny, he wasn’t about to pull Justin away from Ricky after what they’d just discovered, and that they were newly mated. That would just be cruel. As he was suiting up to head out on his own, not that he was supposed to on his own, going out on patrol just in pairs was dangerous enough as it was. It was supposed to be in units when the troupe was larger, three, four was preferable for backup. However, then Gwynn pulled him aside and insisted they go with him, and he wanted to argue, but it was the most sound argument. So, they had patrolled together.

It had been quiet, uneventful, both on the demonic creature front, and their front. Neither of them speaking much at all outside of the work of the patrol itself. Now he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Sure, we can talk.” Not to mention they had to check him for runes, and he, shit, dammit, anyone, he’d rather anyone else witness the state of what he’d become now. Problem was, no one else knew what to look for with the runes, it would seem. Otherwise, they would have found the problems before now already.

Gwynn walked over to him and led him out of the room to a quiet room, settling in. “Ryan… I'm going to remove your runes, but I would prefer for you to be mentally prepared for It…” They murmured, looking up at him. “I would rather not push your boundaries.”

The slap on their cheek…. They could still feel it, and they looked down. I don't want you to hate me.

The issue was: They’d find more than just the healing rune, and the agony rune, that bastard had used runes to do a lot when it came to Ryan. He’d controlled his physical shift, and not just through his beast form. Jerahmiel had controlled all Ryan’s forms. He felt stuck, but knew that boundaries or no boundaries, Gwynn was going to find it anyway. Taking in a deep breath, steeling himself, they were alone, and he stripped off his clothes so Gwynn could inspect his skin. Ryan had to get this over with eventually, so he might as well do it now. Just seeing those runes, it was going to be a play by play of what was done to him, and he hated it, at least on the surface, but what could he possibly do?

Gwynn was shocked he had decided here and now. They couldn't stop it, a hand pressed to their mate’s chest, fingers grazing over his skin. “Ryan…” they whispered, scars… yes… runes… runes that… they found the one they hated most, deactivating them one after another, shaking lightly in anger. “Ryan… I will never ask you, or demand anything of you… I am yours. I always will be… even if you no longer want me as your mate for what I've done… for what other angels have done.” They closed their eyes, hands wandering, removing runes slowly one by one.

Ryan stayed still, staring blankly at the wall while he let them work, feeling the runes coming off one by one, the scars wouldn’t come off, he knew that. No matter what healing could be performed, there were some things that scarred, soul deep, some injuries that he had sustained that could never be removed, and those, no one could see. While Gwynn might be removing those runes that had opened the gates for Jerahmiel, it felt like they might never fully disappear from his soul. He might heal now, but that monster of an angel’s torture had left all its marks on him for good. There was no erasing that.

“It wasn’t what you did, Gwynn.” His voice was rough when he finally managed to speak to them, but he didn’t know what else he could say, it wasn’t, it wasn’t what they did, it was what he had done. What he had endeavoured to seek out, what he had kept going back to Jerahmiel for, time and time again. How could he go back to Gwynn knowing how much he’d destroyed himself, how tainted he’d become. Ryan had attacked his own mate, and they didn’t deserve it, so why in the world would he ever deserve them? Swallowing, as their hands ran over his skin, he did his best to try to block out every inch of skin they touched, searching out the runes, so many runes that Jerahmiel had added… He knew there were so many more than Chris, or Justin. There had always been something new to try. He didn’t like Gwynn seeing a road map to his sessions with that bastard.

It was silent as they worked, slow and steady, thoughtful as they did.

The silence was broken by words Gwynn normally would never utter.

“I want to kill him for what he’s done to you.”

Ryan’s eyes were glazed with tears that he refused to let fall. Swallowing as he just took in slow breaths, Gwynn’s hands still moving over his skin as he tried ever so hard not to think about Jerahmiel, it made him feel disgusting, dirty. He couldn’t.

“I would kill them all for what they did to you.” It wasn’t just Jerahmiel anymore, Ryan had previously always had an attraction to angels, but oh, that was an interesting dichotomy now. One walked in that door tonight and Ryan couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t have a blade, or his hammer at the ready, waiting to question them before they came near any member of his family… period. As it was, Ryan didn’t move, he didn’t blink, stood so still, just staring at the wall with a sigh.

Gwynn looked up at him, tired, “If you get the chance, baby, do it,” they whispered, pressing their forehead to his chest tears welled up in their eyes, “I…” they winced. “I should have been here.” They whispered, deactivating the last few errant runes, tears in their eyes.

He caught their hand over the final rune, just holding it there for a moment. Nothing really, no more, he, he wouldn’t press for more, but he didn’t want them to let go yet. “You were, you, you were taken, I know that now.” As dead inside as it made him, Ryan, he almost preferred that they weren’t here, that they never had to actually see it, that they never had to come back to him like that. They never had to come back sooner to find him in that state. Even finding him like this was, was… wrong.

Gwynn stepped closer, not pulling away, face pressed into his side, legs shaking, nuzzling his neck and shoulder, tears in his eyes. “I miss you… I'm here now, and you feel so far away…” he whispered, “I fought so hard to get here… I love you… I always will.”

Ryan strangled back the shudder of feeling inside of him, he didn’t know how to handle what he was feeling right now, how any of this felt. He didn’t blame them, for feeling like that, that he was far away, he supposed he was. “I do love you… I just… I don’t know… I can’t be…” He physically shuddered then as he tried to keep himself from falling apart, he, he couldn’t.

“I have to go.”

Turning from the room, he left quickly to get back to the rectory, he needed to be alone, he couldn’t do this, he was unable to handle any of this. Everything lately felt like he’d just splayed himself open, and he didn’t know what to do.

Gwynn stared at where Ryan had stood watching him go with soft eyes, “I’ll wait.” they promised softly, watching the door shut with a soft thump, like closing a book at the end of the night… They supposed they should find Justin and take care of him. Letting the silence settle before biting their lip softly as they made their way out of the small space that suddenly felt too big without Ryan there.

Ryan barely made it back to the rectory before he collapsed in on himself, no, no, no he didn’t, he felt like it, though… He couldn’t breathe… Fuck, he couldn’t even breathe. Shit, shit, shit. What was he going to do?

His hands pulled in and out of fists at his sides, and he wished he were back in the rage room from yesterday because there, he’d be able to hit something. Then he’d be able to strike out and vent the frustration he felt about not being able to lash out at the one person that had done all of this to them this very instant. To put them in this position. Almost killing them time and time again, torturing them physically, emotionally… destroying them like a fucked up poison in their lives… what had been so wrong with them, with him that he’d do that to them?

Ryan’s hands gripped themselves so tightly, high nails dug into the palms of his hands as he yelled out with pure frustration. Screaming out the rage that he couldn’t keep contained, until there was nothing left but the tears… screaming, and crying as he fell to his knees… That, was when he really did collapse in on himself, the sobs wracking his body. Ryan knew he was fucked up. He knew he was a wreck of a person. Jerahmiel had ripped him apart, twisting him back and forth until there were times he wasn’t even sure who he was when he looked in the mirror anymore.

The man he had become, wasn’t who he had ever wanted to be, but he couldn’t go back, he couldn’t. Going back would feel like letting that monster of an angel get close again, and that would be terrifying.

There was a soft knock on the door and, sleepily, Ricky stumbled in, bringing a cup of hot coffee. Vinny had used blackberries and blueberries in the grounds today, and the warm smell teased the senses as Ricky brought over one of the cakes from downstairs as well. He handed the cup to Ryan gently after closing the door, and sat down with him.

There was steady silence as Ricky moved, turning the TV on and pulled up YouTube to play some music, something calming and soothing. Finally, Ricky cut the cake, offering him a slice without a word. It was a rich orange and chocolate cake with orange flavored frosting, along with some chocolate frosting and a layer of fudge. One of Vinny’s best cakes, if anyone asked Ricky.

“Eat.”

Ryan had barely lifted his eyes at the sound of the knock, only to see Ricky come into the rectory. The gargoyles eyes were wet, blood shot, watching the nephilim as he moved around the space carefully. Swallowing. Swallowing down his pain, his grief, for the moment, letting him do as he will as he just sat there and let him go. Just watching him until he finally told him to eat…

“What, are you doing, Ricky?”

He asked quietly… at the same time… all he could think was…

Thank you.

“I get it… I know… he… He’s a monster… and I know how, looking back, you ask yourself why you kept trying… I get it. This helps when it hits hard. I figure we both need a cake night.” he murmured softly, shoving a bite into his mouth, purring softly, letting the chocolate and citrus wash over his tongue. “It’s one of those nights where I just want to be with someone who understands… and Justin made me mad earlier, after going and telling me Vinny was dead…” he said sighing, “Vinny tried a new fruit combo. Watch out, there might be rose petals in there too, she wasn’t sure if she added too much or little.”

Chuckling at the mention of rose petals, as Ryan chewed and swallowed a bite of the decadent cake, Vinny, as always, made a delicious dessert. Now, as for what Ricky was talking about, that, that was something else entirely. Sighing, he was tempted to just avoid the entire issue, like he had for so long, but Ricky was right, he guessed, talking to someone who understood, at least part of it. The gargoyle shook his head slightly, “it's not just about him though, it’s a lot more than that. It’s about me too, I’m just as, as depraved, just as disgusting.”

Ryan shook his head, looking down at the coffee, letting the sound of the music wash over him. “I kept going back because I felt so empty, and I needed to feel something, and I knew he would make me, even if I hated every second of it. I knew what he was going to make me do, how he would force me to change back into my female form, and I still went to him, every single time. I craved it, I needed something, anything, and I hate myself every day for it.” Gargoyles not being binary in their gender get to choose, and Ryan had chosen to be male, but he was not born that way. Jerahmiel, however, had forced his birth gender down his throat every chance he got. Sitting here, knowing Ricky bore scars because his father had punished him during his childhood in horrible ways, was no better than what he’d done to him.

“You're like me… huh?” He asked softly, taking another bite. “Well… way I see it. We're both away from him now… and we know better. You kept going back because you thought it was your only choice. You can't blame yourself for that. You can feel those feelings, but you need to remember that you were being abused… gaslit… all of it… I’m here to listen.” Ricky said softly and calmly, offering him a nod of support, “When you’re grieving and lonely for that touch again… you tend to search it out wherever you can get it. I’ve done it too…”

“Yea, I am.” Yea, he was like Ricky. While one might argue humans and gargoyles were different, that was a narrow-minded view, and Ryan did not prescribe to that mind set, he never would. The only problem Ricky had, was unlike gargoyles, was he couldn’t switch his biological gender at will like Ryan. As it was, Ricky was enjoying something he had fought with Gwynn for, for years before he had lost them… to carry their children. He might not be female, but to carry their children would have been an honor, and he’d spent the last thousand years avoiding the thought of breeding like the plague, especially the thought of Jerahmiel’s child. No offence to Ricky. Now the idea of switching back to his female form to conceive after so much torture at the hands of that man, he just… He shuddered. Now, the only person he’d even consider it for… it was never going to happen, for either of them, and not just because he knew they would not take him.

Listening to Ricky though, Ryan sighed, he did blame himself though, didn’t he, shoving another bite of the cake into his mouth to stop himself from admitting to that. Sighing, it would do no good, he knew it was wrong, he knew… but knowing, and being able to let go were two different things. Admitting all this though, it was a first step to something, wasn’t it? It was the first time he’d said any of it out loud, to anyone. Well, some of this Chris knew, he’d known him before he’d become Ryan, when he had been birthed in his female form.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? That we’re the ones depicted as monsters and yet, he is the one who has reprehensibly scarred us.” Mind-boggling really when you thought about it.

Ricky nodded, “he is the monster… not us… we were his victims…” he said, “he's the reason I don't believe in god.” He sighed softly, gentle as the wing of a dove on his cheek. He leaned his head back as he swallowed another bite of cake.

“I’m sorry.”

“Says the one of us that’s an actual angel, that’s heavy, dude.” Sighing slightly before, he took a sip of his coffee and enjoyed the heat as the blissful feeling filled him.

“Sorry? Sorry for me being a victim? That's not on you.”

“No. I’m sorry that my sperm donor did it at all. Ryan, you’re an amazing person with a vivid personality and I love that about you… You deserve to know that and love that about yourself. You love whiskey, and scotch, and you love when I offer you new vintages. You know that.” He whispered softly, “I know you love things, and you try not to show it. He took that from you, and I’m sorry he took your ability to share from you.”

Ryan had just slipped the fork from another bite of the fudgy cake from his lips as Ricky spoke, when his eyes were wide on him, his whole body going still. Eyes starting to glisten as they watered. No, Ricky, please stop, he didn’t need to be called out like this, he’d just stopped falling apart, he was just starting to pull himself together again, stop, please. Staring at him, silent, it took him a long moment before he could control himself again, slowly swallowing the bite, choking back a gasp… “Oh, you little shit. If you weren’t pregnant, with one of my best friend’s babies.”

Ricky smirked at him softly, “I was the same way.” he pointed out. “It took a lot of therapy… I was so angry all the time and felt so hollow.” he said softly, “You deserve to know that… it can get better if you have the right tools.”

The gargoyle couldn’t help but snort slightly though, it wasn’t that he was dismissive of the idea, except, he was. “I’m not so sure whether that would exactly work here. Don’t think I’ve ever met a gargoyle therapist, certainly never known an angel to debase themselves to be one. Let's face it, do you really think a human could handle half the things that go on around here?”

Okay, so, maybe Ricky had only seen some of it, but Ryan knew he’d seen that hellhound. That beast was pretty hard to miss.

“You don’t seem to… be the kind to go to a therapist… I wasn’t either for a bit. So I did a lot of self-help books. If you’d like one to start… we can go to a bookstore and get stared there… they have books that help with all kinds of trauma… that sound like a good outing for just us?” Ricky asked softly with a smile.

The suggestion was met with a raised eyebrow, “You’re assuming I know how to read.” he did, Chris made sure of that. When the printed word came out for mortals, namely bibles, and worship started en masse in that manner, Chris had ensured that they all knew how to read, despite Jerahmiel’s insistence that they needn’t worry about such things. Getting by and circumventing the mortals, it had certainly become necessary over time to learn, not that school was ever an option for them, only teaching themselves.

“I mean… you know which coaster is yours.” he snorted warmly, “You know how to read. But it’s up to you.”

“Oh please, the coasters were easy, I’ve been seeing my virtue scratched onto the platform from the moment we were placed here. Matching those, whatever those mark things are called, are after seeing them some thousand years.. That was easy.” Smirking as he took another bite of cake.

“Oh please, Chris isn’t irresponsible enough to not teach you to read.” Ricky commented just with a smirk, “Should I let Chris know that?” he asked, raising a brow. Ryan had to restrain himself from reacting to that, struggling, but shrugging instead, hoping like hell that Chris was downstairs with Vinny in the café… not that he wouldn’t be able to hear, anyway.

“Dude, we’re warriors, we kill demons, why would we need to know how to read, come on?”

“Okay… Chris-” he started to yell.

Ryan moved quickly when Ricky obviously called his bluff, the little shit. He had a had one massive hand around the back of the other man’s neck, and the other clamped over his mouth before he could get another word out of the yell.

“Don’t you even dare. You do not, want to open that jar of worms.”

Ricky smirked against his hand and looked up at him eyes gleaming darkly, before licking his hand slowly, mimicking oral against his hand teasingly, with a laugh in his eyes.

The gargoyle rolled his eyes at the antics, but he didn’t move his hand, “Man, I’ve been living with Justin for, centuries, you really think that trick is new to me?” Smirking himself… “Now… okay, yes, I can read, Chris had us learn with bible literature when your sperm donor figured mutts didn’t need to, so why bother anyway.” Went behind his back time and time again, the only reason they could do what they did still was because of Chris.

“Now, if I let you go, done with the yelling, yes? Because trust me, the last thing any of us want is to accuse Chris of being unreliable. It would be like calling Justin of being Dis-Loyal.. Try that, and… And — just, please don’t?”

He nodded, and as soon as his mouth was free, “You know it’s hot to be pinned like that, right?”

Ryan’s just stared at him for a moment, he did know yes, just… “You little shit… you haven’t even fucked Justin since you’ve mated yet, have you? Go, go do that, tell him. Go.”

Ricky pouted but sighed, “Fine… but bookstore. Tomorrow. You and me.” he said firmly.

“Self help section, check. Go, before Justin comes barging in.” Ryan wouldn’t put it past him, Chris wasn’t the only one that could overhear their conversation. “Scram.”

“Awe, I’m not hot while pregnant?” Ricky teased, turning to walk towards the door.

Ricky didn’t even get to the door before it practically slammed open and there stood Justin, he knew he’d made him mad earlier, but come on. “Nope, he doesn’t answer that question.” Justin just scooped Ricky up over his shoulder, glaring at Ryan as he stalked away from the doorway.

Ryan, however, was smirking at the other gargoyle, that was the gargoyle nesting instincts for you. Considering the breeding program of the past, it wouldn’t have mattered if Ricky’s babies were Justin’s or not, Justin would have been just as protective of Ricky and his young.

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