#i want to make them suffer kind of. maybe. probably

[outrunningthedark]

On Tina that mid season finale pissed you off 😭😭

As soon as the 'handcap' comment came out of that kid's mouth I probably should have changed the channel. 😶 I think I'm more frustrated than pissed, tbh. I'm frustrated that the fandom continues to mischaracterize Chris and misinterpret scenes that involve the grandparents because they remind people of their own parents or something idk. I'm frustrated that Tim had the plan to send Eddie to Texas since the start of the season and the father-son relationship had to suffer for it because if Eddie went to Texas "too early" there's not that ~suspense~ at the beginning of 8B as to whether he's really going and for how long. I'm frustrated that the show tried to be "funny" about a suicide attempt, and did so in front of Bobby, the guy who could have accidentally killed himself while under the influence. I'm frustrated that Madney has felt like they might as well not be there at times, and now the upcoming serial killer arc is probably going to the thing that sends them both (?) away to accommodate Jennifer's filming commitments. I'm frustrated that arcs were fast forwarded to make room for....Brad. I'm frustrated that the Brad arc was even able to be pushed to the mid-season finale because of Tim extending the plane emergency to one more episode, shortening the amount of time for everything else in an EIGHT EPISODE starter. Not 9. Not 10. 8. (As others have said) I'm frustrated that Buck is obviously going to "spiral" over Maddie, have to be without her for a bit - maybe Chimney, too - and also deal with his best friend wanting to relocate to another state, which is why any kind of serious relationship would not "make sense" right now anyway. Buck wouldn't be so quick to decline if he had someone to lean on every day, someone he trusted. (The fact that Tommy is gone while Taylor stayed through the struggle in s5 should show you the difference in how the two relationships impacted Buck's life, lol. Tommy was a positive influence. Taylor...not so much!) So, yeah. I'm frustrated. By a lot of things. But mostly? I'm frustrated that we're watching the show die in real time.

[luvismenu]

Something Stupid — Kim Taehyung One-Shot

navi ,, m.list ,,

warnings: ANGST. unspoken love, one-sided love, co-workers, Taehyung's POV, tae doesn't speak much, he's just a little sad guy. lowercase intended.

wc: 3.6k

pairing (well not really): quiet taehyung x fem!reader

a/n: apology one-shot for discontinuing the art of love 😞 (worst kind of apology ik but idc huhu suffer w me <3) i teared up writing this. don't let this flop i swear 🫵🏼

November 21

a year ago.

it was the day i met you.

it was your first day at work. you were glowing, so full of excitement, and so happy to be starting your dream job. i could tell from the way your eyes lit up that you were ready for this, ready for everything.

i remember how i welcomed you, and you looked at me, and you smiled.

“thank you! i’m ___, nice to meet you.”

there was something in the way you smiled that made my heart skip. it was simple, but it made me freeze for a moment. i couldn’t help but stutter.

“i-i… i’m kim taehyung, nice to meet you too…”

you nodded, still wearing that bright smile, and then turned to greet the others. and i just stood there, watching you.

i didn’t realize it at the time, but i couldn’t stop stealing glances at you. the way you came in every morning, the way you greeted everyone with a bright “good morning!” and how you always wished everyone to have a great day, no matter what.

even though we barely talked, even though you never really spoke to me much, it still made my day. just seeing you, hearing your voice, feeling the warmth you radiated. it was genuine, simple, but it made everything feel a little better, a little easier to bear.

November 28

you baked cookies, and handed out small bags, each tied with a neat bow. you didn’t miss anyone in the office, not even me. you made sure to thank everyone for making you feel so welcome.

everyone was happy to receive them, and so was i. but i overheard a few people talking behind your back, saying you were trying too hard, that it was all a little much.

but when i looked at you, all i could see was that you just wanted to fit in, wanted to make everyone around you feel comfortable. i saw it in the way your eyes shined, even though they were tired, like you were trying to prove something.

your dark circles told me you probably stayed up all night baking those cookies. i wanted to tell you how much i appreciated it, how i felt like you didn’t need to push yourself so hard. you were perfect just the way you were.

“i hope you like them, mr. kim! let me know if you prefer chocolate cookies, i have those too!”

but i couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“these are fine…”

December 10

the office holiday party was approaching, and the excitement was tangible. decorations were put up, and the air smelled sweet. everyone was talking about their plans, about what they were wearing, about who was bringing what dish.

and there you were, always the one to make sure everything was perfect, organizing the little details, ensuring no one felt left out. you were always so kind, always so giving.

i watched you from across the room, helping the others with the setup, your smile lighting up the entire space. you seemed so at ease, so comfortable in your role, but i could still see the exhaustion hidden behind your cheerful demeanor. the way your shoulders dropped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes would gloss over for a second before you’d catch yourself and smile again.

i wanted to say something to you, tell you how much i admired your strength, how much i wished you’d let yourself rest, how i’d do anything to make things easier for you.

but i never did.

instead, i just kept watching, my words trapped in my chest, my heart pounding every time you passed by, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’d catch a glimpse of the way i looked at you.

"mr.kim, can you pass me the tape?"

“yes,”

December 25

i was walking to a store. christmas had never been anything special for me, but today felt different. i wanted to get you something, something to show you that you matter to me. that you’re someone special.

i found a little keychain; red flowers. when i first saw it, it reminded me of you. so bright and beautiful. i thought, “maybe you’d like this.”

as i walked out of the store, the cold air hit me. it was christmas, so the streets were packed with people rushing around. but i wasn’t in any hurry. i just wanted to buy you something, to let you know how much i appreciated everything about you.

then, i saw you.

a figure i recognized, standing by the candy store, looking at candy canes. the world seemed to slow as i watched you. you were wearing a soft, fluffy coat, a muffler wrapped around your head, your hair dusted with snow, your cheeks flushed from the cold. you were smiling at the candy canes like they were the most magical thing in the world.

i stopped, not sure if i should approach. i had the keychain in my hand, clutching it tight. my heart raced at the thought of finally giving you something, of finally telling you how much you mean to me.

i thought, this was it.

but then, i saw him.

someone else, someone taller, someone who looked like he belonged with you. he walked up to you, took your hand, and smiled at you. your eyes lit up when you saw him.

i froze.

my stomach twisted when he leaned down and kissed you. i watched you smile against his lips, and i could see the happiness in your eyes.

i stood there, completely still.

the moment i’d imagined for so long, the one where i’d finally be brave enough to talk to you, to give you the gift and the words that had been stuck inside me. but it wasn’t for me.

it was for him.

i turned away, my grip loosening around the keychain. i don’t know why i thought you’d feel the same way. i shouldn’t have been surprised, but it hurt. it hurt more than i could have ever expected.

as i walked, i bumped into someone. the sudden jolt made the keychain slip from my hand, and it fell to the ground with a soft clink.

in a panic, i reached out, my hand stretching toward the tiny flowers that had somehow come to mean so much to me. but the crowd was relentless, people moving quickly, oblivious to anything but getting to their next destination.

someone stepped on it.

then another.

and another.

the red flowers, so beautiful just moments ago, was crushed underfoot. pieces of it scattered across the pavement, the petals breaking apart with each step

i stood there, helpless, my fingers trembling as i watched it all happen. i wanted to scream, to shout, to stop the world from moving so fast. but all i could do was watch the remnants of the flower.

i should’ve known.

you were too perfect.

too perfect for someone like me.

January 23

"mr. kim?"

i looked up, surprised to hear my name. it was you, standing there with a soft smile on your face.

“yes, ms. ___?”

you smiled again, this time a little warmer.

"you can call me ___," you said gently, as if you were giving me permission to speak to you like a normal person.

i nodded, too nervous to say anything else. i wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to call me mr. kim, that taehyung was fine, but the words never left my lips. they got stuck somewhere in my chest.

“me and my friends are going out for lunch, and i wanted to invite you too,” you said, still smiling.

"m-me?" my voice caught, the surprise clear in my tone. i couldn’t understand why you’d want me to join you. i barely ever spoke to you outside of work, and i could never bring myself to be as casual as everyone else.

“you always work alone, well i am sure you prefer it that way..” you chuckled. “i don’t know, i just thought you might enjoy spending time with us.” you looked at me with those hopeful eyes, as if you were waiting for me to say yes. as if you genuinely wanted me there.

it felt like the moment when i first met you all over again. everything became still. my heart raced in my chest, and i could feel the weight of your gaze on me.

i could’ve said no.

i could’ve come up with some excuse.

but i didn’t.

"that would be nice," i managed to say, the words barely above a whisper, but enough for you to hear.

you smiled again, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world was just you and me.

February 12

"you know, i like your quietness, mr. kim."

we were walking together, you had invited me to lunch, and you mentioned you had something you wanted to ask me.

"oh..." was all i could manage to say.

you glanced at me, your eyes catching mine for a moment before you looked away, your smile barely noticeable. i felt a little flushed, a little nervous under your gaze. i quickly looked forward, trying to focus on anything else.

you chuckled softly, your voice breaking the silence. "you remind me a lot of my boyfriend," you said, the words casual, like they didn’t carry the weight they did in my mind.

"oh..." i stammered. so it was your boyfriend.

"do you like him?" i asked without thinking. it was a stupid question.

you laughed, a soft, light sound that seemed to come from somewhere genuine. "i wouldn’t be dating him if i didn’t."

my heart sank just a little.

of course, you liked him. why would i even ask? but i couldn’t take it back.

when we finally reached the restaurant, you led us to a quiet corner, and i sat across from you, feeling a strange mixture of comfort and tension. you looked at me, as if expecting something.

"i thought you’d prefer it like this," you said.

and i did. it was peaceful, calm. just like you.

"so!! the thing i wanted to ask you about," you started, leaning in slightly, your voice lowering in a way that made me pay attention to every word. "it’s valentine’s day soon, and i really want to get something cute for my boyfriend."

"oh..." i said again, my voice barely above a whisper.

"don’t take me wrong, but like i said, you remind me of him. you’re a lot like him. quiet, calm. so maybe you could help?" you leaned in a little, and i could feel my face getting warmer.

it felt strange. unsettling. like a weight pressing against my chest.

"i don't know, ms. ___—"

"you can call me by my name," you reminded me, your voice soft. it made me feel even more unsure of myself.

"___, i think you’re asking the wrong person... i-i’m not good with stuff like... valentine’s day," i stammered, my gaze shifting away from you. i couldn’t meet your eyes. the words felt wrong, awkward.

you studied me for a moment, then leaned back in your chair. "that’s okay, mr. kim," you said, and there was something in your voice that made me feel even worse.

what if you were just trying to make small talk? what if i had ruined it? what if you were just being kind, as always, and i made it so... uncomfortable?

"b-but you like to bake, right?" i suddenly said, not really thinking. "so... that’s a good present, i guess. i mean, i would love it. i mean, they were delicious! so.." i quickly added, flushing slightly at how ridiculous it sounded.

your smile returned, this time wider. "that sounds nice!! and i am glad you liked them" you chuckled, and for some reason, the sound of it made me smile too.

just then, your phone rang. you excused yourself, your voice light as you answered the call.

"oh, excuse me," you said, and i nodded in response, trying not to listen too closely.

"hey, honey... oh, i’m just with a colleague right now.” you chuckled. “i miss you too, joon"

it must’ve been him.

i didn’t mind.

i couldn’t. i just sat there, watching you, wishing this moment could last a little longer, even if it meant nothing more than a colleague relationship. even if it was just fleeting moments like these.

and as you spoke softly to him, my smile faded slightly, but the warmth remained.

February 14

valentine's day.

i hated this day.

but that morning, i couldn’t help but notice you. smiling to your coworkers, your friends, as you handed them small boxes of what i guessed were chocolates, all tied with a bright yellow bow.

even though you weren’t smiling at me, just watching you made me feel warm. it softened the bitterness of the day, just a little.

by afternoon, i was at my desk, buried in work as usual. i didn't see you approach, but i felt the air shift when you stood infront me.

“mr. kim?” yourvoice was gentle, like you always were.

i looked up, startled, and you placed a small box with a purple bow on it in front of me.

“happy valentine’s day,” you said, your smile soft but genuine. and just like that, my heart skipped a beat.

you turned as if to leave, but i couldn’t let it end like that.

“___,” i called out, my voice catching in my throat. you stopped and looked back at me, waiting.

“you can call me taehyung,” i said, the words coming out almost too quietly.

you smiled again, that same warm, reassuring smile. "taehyung," you nodded, as if it were something important.

it was.

to me, it was.

June 13

it was the day you were transferring to a different city.

it was the last time i saw you.

you were a little emotional. there were tears in your eyes as you bid goodbye to your coworkers.

i didn’t expect you to talk to me. i stayed at my desk, silent, watching everythin

it was sad.

hell, it was heartbreaking.

then i saw you walking towardsme, and for a moment, i froze.

“taehyung, i—” you started, your voice soft, hesitant. you looked down, a little sad. “i wish i got to spend more time with you.”

that’s when everything around me shattered. again.

“i regret not becoming a good friend of yours,” you said, your voice wavering, “i… i tried.”

you looked up, your eyes glistening.

“you’ve always been so quiet, so reserved,” you said, letting out a nervous laugh. “i guess i never knew how to reach you. but i wish i had.”

i wanted to say something, anything. but the words got stuck in my throat, just like they always did.

“i hope… you’ll let someone in someday,” you continued, your voice growing softer. “you’re a good person, taehyung. i hope you know that.”

i felt my chest tighten, my heart aching with every word you spoke.

you turned around to leave, taking a few steps, and something inside me broke.

i love you.

you froze for a moment, then turned back to face me, confusion etched across your features. “did you say something?” you asked, your voice tentative, uncertain.

i said it. but it was all in my head.

i hesitated, my chest tightening. “you are a good friend, ___.”

your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, we both just stared at each other. your gaze held something i couldn’t quite place.

was it surprise? sadness? relief?

“thank you, ___,” i added, trying to steady my voice.

your lips curved into a soft smile, one that reaches your eyes. the smile i love.

“thank you, taehyung,” you said softly.

you gave me a small nod, and then, with one last lingering glance, you turned to leave again.

i stood there, rooted in place, watching as you walked away, your figure growing smaller with every step you took.

i wanted to chase after you. to call out to you.

but i didn’t.

instead, i stayed silent, clutching the words i couldn’t say louder in my chest, where they would remain forever.

you disappeared around the corner, and with that, the last piece of you i had left slipped away.

and all i could do was whisper, too late for you to hear.

“i will miss you.”

November 21

today.

the day that started everything.

it’s strange how vividly i remember it, even after all this time. it feels like it was just yesterday when you walked into the office for the first time, bright eyed and full of energy, ready to take on the world.

i miss you.

a lot.

i don’t know where you are now. i don’t know what your days look like, or how you’re living your life. i don’t know if you’re happy, if you’re struggling, or if you ever think back to those days.

but i know one thing for sure. you’re strong.

no matter how tough things get, you always find a way to smile and keep moving forward, like nothing can hold you back. you don’t dwell on the past, don’t let it weigh you down. you just... keep going.

maybe that’s what i admired about you the most.

maybe that’s why it hurts so much now.

because you were always moving forward, and i was always staying behind.

i think about you every day. the way you smiled, the way your laugh lit up even the dullest corners of the office. i think about how you never seemed to falter, even when things were tough.

but i also remember the small things. the moments when you were quiet, staring out the window like your mind was somewhere else. the way your hands trembled slightly when you were overwhelmed but still tried to keep it together.

i wish i could’ve told you then how much you mattered. how much your presence alone changed everything for me.

but i never did.

and now it’s been so long, and i don’t even know if you remember me. if i was just another face in your story.

maybe i was.

but you were everything in mine.

“hey, taehyung, can you get these copies for me?” jimin’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the office.

“yeah, sure,” i said as he placed the stack on my desk.

he lingered for a moment, his teasing smile creeping onto his face. “you look happy today,” he said, raising a brow. “thinking about someone?”

i looked down, avoiding his gaze. “someone…”

he doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes catching something around my neck. “nice necklace you got there. what is it?”

i held the pendant gently, a faint smile tugging at my lips as i showed it to him.

“uh... a red piece?” he guessed, leaning in to get a better look.

“it’s a flower,” i muttered, my fingers brushing over the broken piece of petal.

he squinted, then tilted his head. “that looks like a piece of broken glass.”

“it is,” i whispered, my voice soft as i stared at it. “beautiful, isn’t it?”

jimin gave me a look, clearly confused, but he didn’t press further. “right, okay.. uh i’ll see you later,” he said, walking away with a shrug.

i closed my eyes, clutching the small, shattered piece in my hand.

even now, i couldn’t forget you.

your eyes.

your laugh.

your cookies.

your smile.

how could i ever forget you?

i would keep you in my heart, even if it hurt. forever.

i hope you’re happy.

i hope you’re smiling the way you always did, bright, warm, as if the world didn’t weigh on your shoulders the way it did on mine.

i hope whoever stands beside you now knows just how lucky they are. i hope they see you for everything you are. your kindness, your strength, the little quirks that make you... you.

and i’m glad

truly glad that..

that day...

i didn't go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like..

i love you.

📜 permanent taglist:

@lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

@internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @beigerin @nikidream24 @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, I have a silly request BUT- young John Price shenanigans WITH Macmillan.

I can see it now tbh. You think that man is sassy now? You should’ve seen him in his sergeant days.

Dude cussed out a whole Lieutenant, commanding officer, AND a few of his peers. He probably even got suspended a few times before the higher ups just gave up and made him scrub the showers.

I feel like Mac would also be a dad to him in a way. Stern, no nonsense, yet very tolerant of all of Price’s bullshit antics.

I’m very convinced that Price went on many solo missions by himself against orders, stole a few of his superior’s cars, and was out late past base curfew. Almost gave Mac a heart attack a few of those times and DEFINITELY got a smack to the back of the head.

I know little about MacMillan, I'll admit but one thing I do know is that he's Scottish. And as a Scot, [I need to bring it u every so often to you lot never mistake me as English], I know a lot about pissing off Scottish elders. Therefore:

"Hawl you, you crabbit little git. You're the one who insisted on playing hero, you're the one who fucked your ankle so if you're gonna be annoyed about not going on the next mission, you're to fucking blame."

The sheer angry look on little John Price's face would intimidate many, not Mac. He knows better. To him, it's just a boy with a petted lip.

"My ankle isn't even that bad, you're-"

"If the next word out of your mouth is overreacting then you're leaving here with a face like a skelped arse."

That promptly shuts him up, on more than one occasion he's smacked John with his gloves when he's holding them and they're fucking nippy, he knows that from experience.

"Time do you call this?"

The cheeky little fucker has the audacity to laugh at him.

"You look like a Bond villain, sitting there."

"Well, Mr Bond. You'll be scrubbing the loos clean with a fucking toothbrush."

Is it patriotic to say he likes watching the Englishman suffer? No, he doesn't but maybe it'll teach John not to make him suffer when he pulls another one of those fucking disappearing stunts.

"That's a pisstake, Mac."

"You're far too cocky for someone that'll spend tomorrow on his hands and knees, scrubbing bogs."

There's a brief moment of silence where he makes the mistake of thinking he might've gotten through to John before-

"Connery was the worst Bond."

"Get back here, you twisted little shite."

John is concussed. Everyone but John is willing to accept that he's concussed. Even when he's leaning a little too heavily into Mac's side and using the other man's head to block the sunlight from his eyes, he isn't willing to accept the fact that he's concussed.

"This gonnae teach ye not to run ahead like a fanny?" Mac is sympathetic, to an extent.

"Saved a rookie." John did and maybe later, he'll clap him on the back and tell him `good job, son` but right now he kind of wants to strangle him.

"That you did, not without taking a header when you landed tits o`er taes, mind you." His heart about hit his hole when he saw it, John had taken a hard hit saving a cocky younger boy who'd barged ahead against orders thinking he was the dog's bollocks.

"He has a little one at home, showed me pictures, Couldn't let him get killed even if he is an arrogant bastard."

"Aye, showed me pictures of the wain. She's a wee sweetheart, still doesn't give you the right to act like a prick."

"Who've I got at home other than the spider that lives by my window." One day he was going to kill John Price and he wouldn't feel bad about it, he was positive of the fact.

"You've got me, ye daft fanny. No getting yerself blown up tae fuck, too much paperwork on my end." That and it might kill him. John Price was a bitchy, reckless arsehole with no self-restraint when it came to the job and he'd wormed his way onto the short list of people that Mac could find himself giving a fuck about. The bastard.

[murmurmurl]

I made some bunbys + design notes

No idea what I wanna do with them, I was just mainly having fun. They're siblings because of course they are. I might wanna try to draw them as anthros and as regular bunnies too later,, also I thought it'd be fun to name them very typical bunny names

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

I have Gravity Falls and Etc. fic(s) idea(s)

Which, I am going to write now while I am having this fic idea (probably going to be a short one, but in the future I might make a revised expanded version or something. Who knows).

I actually have multiple Gravity Falls and GF TAU and Reverse Falls and etc. stuff that stems from this specific The Book of Bill thing.

Specifically stuff exploring Dipper's nightmares.

(I have some other ideas for the other dreams and/or nightmares too. Sometimes even in relation to Dipper's in some way).

I love my boy, and his nightmares hurt my heart.

But also because I love him, I want to explore even more of issues/trauma/suffering and/or to do Dipper angst. And etc.

Because I want both happiness and/or suffering for my faves/the characters I love very much.

Like Dipper.

So he is going to be getting even more of that from me, probably.

Because he is great and I love him.

[volivolition]

what's the theme you're fucking going for here voliiii!!! what are you fucking getting at!!! what are you trying to say, what's the point??

[pezpenser205]

me being largely nonhuman/antihuman and a lesbian, therefore being forced by my brain to be attracted to humans has actually allowed me to fully understand how men attracted women who say they wish they were lesbians are real and based and do not deserve the hate they get. like girl i get it thats literally how i feel about you.

no offense to the good humans out there #notallhumans <3

[krysmcscience]

Did somebody say Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear? I think somebody said Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear. Thanks to that, have these retooled The Good Place jokes:

The "powers that be" can refer to either the Theraprism staff, the Axolotl, or just. Ya know. Disney in general. Or all three! Whichever you think is funniest. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The "party" Bill's referring to is Weirdmageddon, of course. He was quite the ashhole to everyone back then.

Ford has probably gotten pretty good at the 'tune out your psychopathic ex with dank memes' challenge.

It must be very cathartic to be able to make Bill shut up whenever you want with just the press of a button. I'm sure Ford doesn't abuse this ability at all.

Oh, sure, 'Not now,' he says, before he immediately backs out of the newly-made hole in the Theraprism wall. 🙄

Don't worry, Bill doesn't get far.

also yeah i know this one doesn't have an attempted swear - i just wanted to use the joke because of the massive stink-eye involved in it because it makes me laugh

⬇️ More goofs beneath the brief ramble if you wanna skip it lmao⬇️

Why is Ford even there, you might ask? Well, he either decided he preferred to watch Bill suffer in person over being distantly and repeatedly harassed with the same evil desperation book for the rest of his life, or he got roped into some kind of contrived community service for 1.) all his many counts of interdimensional thievery, and 2.) his ignoring all the very clear warnings to NOT summon Bill in the first place (which I like to imagine is also illegal). Theraprism staff were just like, 'Wait, this guy matters to Bill? Ooh, we can USE that! It might be the only thing that can help him want to get better!' It is not considered that throwing Ford at Bill so soon after Weirdmageddon could instead make them both WORSE - in new and altogether special ways! :D

Anyway, I'm calling it the Community Service AU, and I am most likely not going to do anything else with it beyond appropriating these silly Good Place jokes. So, feel free to adopt the concept if y'all wanna??? Just make sure that Bill is still not allowed to swear, no matter what, full stop. It's gotta be a real linguistic corkblork of a situation for him, is all I'm sayin'.

Finally, have these bonus Good Place jokes, but with Handyman!Bill this time:

'Opposite tortures' doesn't sound so bad...at least until it's an all-powerful chaos entity known for torture saying it.

you may think i forgot mabel's cute pink cheeks but the truth is that i did in fact forget but then immediately stopped caring which makes it okay, SHHHHHHH

And, finally:

lmao this is shit

True facts, if you cram Season 1 Eleanor Shellstrop and Michael into a singular triangle shape, they turn into Bill Cipher. This is science, look it up. Or don't, and just trust the source that is me, bro.

Anyway, I should be in bed, y'all have fun with these, I guess. Tune in after like a week or so and maybe I'll have an addendum to my comic about how Bill was drawn naked for karaoke night. Because him actually being naked was not the only thing I considered as a plausible explanation. XD

Also if you see any inconsistencies or errors in any of these comics, No You Do Not :D

Also also, reblogs are rad as hell and I appreciate every single one, just don't repost, please and thanks. Every time a repost is made, an artist somewhere cries. :,)

[hipipi]

.

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 4 (use whole signs)

🌟 Moon in 4th is one of my favourite placements. These people usually have a good career, like an emotionally fulfilling one. They won't stay in a job that doesn't make them happy. Their mom can help them choose a career or give them interview tips.

🏮Mars in 2nd house people are so lucky when it comes to earning money, it's like, they get a new money making opportunity just when they're on their last penny. They're also not afraid to get their hands dirty and are willing to do almost anything, very hard working people. They're also the ones managing all the money in their family.

🌟 Mercury in 8th house people are the ones with a "sexy brain" like the WAY their mind works, are so good at analysing arguments and coming up with the best possible solution. Good debating skills. These people have great manifestation skills, I have a list of 100 + incidents, it's honestly a little scary. Can also develop clairvoyant abilities if they work on it.

🏮I haven't met a single non religious, Sun in 9th house person in my life. Even if they're not that religious in their younger years, they will be when they get older. Always willing to help others even when they themselves are suffering, my mom has this, and.....it pisses me off so bad. The "put your own oxygen mask on first" advice is for you all. Stop helping people, be selfish, it's not your duty to make everyone else's life better. My mom doesn't listen, but maybe you all will.

🌟 Venus in 11th house is a placement that's really good from a business perspective. They're great at negotiations so that's helpful. They won't like doing a regular 9 to 5 job as it will suppress their freedom and creativity. They will open their own business pretty early on in life, in like late 20's or early 30's. Great architects and interior designers. I remember when I made the architecture and astrology post, a lot of people had this.

🏮I haven't seen anyone talk about this, but moon in 6th house people can be really good leaders, they're very helpful and kind and their ability to understand emotions makes them extremely likable. They have more of a people oriented leadership style. They focus on building strong relationship with their group members or employees. Also, why are you all always sick 😭? Prone to anxiety and stress and this leads to body pain and digestive issues. Please put your health first.

🌟 It's really funny how ALL my friends, every single one, has Venus in 1st. I would say that rather than us being pretty, we're just very likable. Even if they're introvert or shy, they have a communication style that makes other people want to talk to them. It's just an aura thing, tbh. Also, they're huge people pleasers and will do their best not to offend anyone, like even if a person is being annoying, they won't say anything. (Mars in 1st can change this)

🏮 Jupiter in 2nd house is not good for marriage but great for career and friendships. I know people with this who are still in contact with their pre school friends. Their friends will help them in their career as well. They're intelligent but they think they're not, and this makes them lose a lot of opportunities. Need to have a little bit of courage to succeed in life.

🌟 Sun in 12th house people probably had a painful childhood (more so than others), if mercury is with sun in 12th, then they write poems to express this pain. They're good writers, and can be lyricists, authors, script/play writers, etc. these people are physically weak. Might also not know who they are, as in, not aware of their own personality traits.

🏮Saturn in 12th house people lack confidence when they're young, but become more confident as they get older and learn to get out of their comfort zone. These people have better luck outside of their homeland. This is a good placement if you want to become a psychologist as it gives you the ability to properly analyse those with mental disorders. They also look aloof most of the time. This is another placement that is good in terms of writing skills, many famous authors have this (those who write sad stuff)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Halloween is over but I have a thought-

Dazai and Fyodor in slutty nurse costumes—!!!

-

They both show up at your Halloween party in ridiculous (albeit flattering) nurse costumes. We're talking thigh highs with garters, heels (Dazai can walk in heels just fine, Fyodor is suffering. Save him 🥹), exposed chests, low cut necks, panties or nothing at all underneath 😏

How did they wind up like this? Maybe for funsies, maybe they both lost a bet and chose each other's costumes in an attempt to humiliate the other, maybe they just want to seduce you. Who knows? Anyways–

They fight over you all night long. Dazai will pull you aside and flirt with you. Telling you that you “need a physical exam” then proceeding to strip you, acting shy & innocent when your cock springs free (probably hard already because his skimpy dress is quite flattering in the rear...and Dazai has a nice ass to begin with-)

Nurse Dazai sucks you off in the bathroom, Fyodor just so happened to catch you exiting together, disheveled and sweaty, Dazai holding onto your arm like a clingy girlfriend

Nurse Fyodor has someone divert Dazai's attention, only so he can steal you away of course~ That other nurse has no idea what he's doing. “I can give you a more thorough physical, I'll make sure your body is working just fine” ;)

Next thing you know Nurse Fyodor is dragging you into a closet and bouncing on your dick. He senses Dazai close to the closet and moans louder and more obscenely on purpose... Fyodor also left the door unlocked on purpose, so nurse Dazai walks right in and sees everything 😐

Being as kind and generous and graceful as you are, you take them both to a spare bedroom and fuck their horny brains out. They shove each other out of the way, try to monopolize your attention, insult each other the whole time

It's hard giving them both the attention that they deserve, but you manage. By the time it's all over you're stuck with two clingy, exhausted nurses. Painted and stuffed with your cum, bruised, aching, babbling. You really did fuck them dumb. At least you'll have some peace once they pass out...

[colourstreakgryffin]

Oh my gosh! HELLOO!

Anywho~

I had a request for Alastor with a reader who’s contract with Valentino just ended and Angel brings them to the hotel to help them get on their feet, they have lots of trauma from what the endured, maybe they stay close to Alastor because he’s very much a gentleman and never treats them like Val did?

Thank you!!

Oooh! I like this one a lot! We got a second Angel but unlike Angel, we’re probably better and less snarky and bitchy. Sorry, Angel. Anyway! Idk if it’s meant to be romantic or not so I am gonna guess—

Alastor- Redemption Path

Alastor can’t help but feel sorry and feel pity for you. You’re just like Angel but you aren’t as bad as Angel. A ex-pornstar that has finally been free from the pimp Overlord, Valentino and your dear friend Angel Dust is so relieved that you’re safe from him, now, he’ll take even more measures to make sure you’ll do better than him

Bringing you to the Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust introduced you to the Hotel Staff. Hoping they could help get you back into Hell more stably. Out of Charlie feeling immense sorry for your sexual abuse trauma, Vaggie considering to sign you up for counselling and Angel Dust barking at Husk to be nicer to you. Alastor is the one who is the most interested in you

Alastor is the one who escorted you around the Hotel. He is the only one who treated you so perfectly, he is a true sweet gentleman and he is doing much for you that it’s unbelievable. He doesn’t want anything from you? How is that possible

Throughout the days since you first checked in as a client, Alastor notices the way you follow him around and he finds it adorable. You’re such a lost lonely little puppy needing somewhere to feel safer and he doesn’t mind playing that little safety spot for you. It’s quite amusing

“Oh. My dear, is something bugging you?” Alastor asked curiously as he finally turns around to face the cute eager shorter sinner that has been clinging onto him and following him around ever since he was polite and ‘respectful’ to them. Treating them like a person and not like an object. Unlike the first and only Overlord they knew at the time, he doesn’t even notice their curvy attractive body or make creepy sexual remarks in the slightest

He just compliments the cozy colourful classy outfits they’d wear, calling each and every one ‘adorable’. He finds you adorable as a whole and he is entertained that you’re so enamoured by his kindness, that you act like a baby fawn following his mother around

The sinner that has been following him around all day, takes a few seconds to even blink. You’re shyer around Alastor since he actually gives you a voice and a say-so, something you’re unfamiliar with. Having that… you never did back with Valentino and it’s almost overwhelming that such a friendly treatment is addictive to have, the way he handles you with delicacy. He isn’t usually a man to sympathise with an awful situation but for some reason, he sympathised with you in his own special little way. You’re thankful that he is even more polite and caring than anybody you’ve ever met, even Angel!

“Oh. My, you’re shivering. Are you cold?” You didn’t actually answer Alastor with words but instead with actions, approaching him and shyly reaching out for a handhold but you didn’t actually touch him, reminding yourself of his no touching clause. You hoped he’d let you slide this once. You don’t really have anybody to talk to after you were jolted awake from night terrors over what that awful squeaking sex-obsessed freak of a moth did to you throughout your contract with him

Angel is there as a friend but he’s busy still suffering under Valentino’s maniac rule right now, you don’t want to bother any of the staff nor Charlie about your problems whilst they are busy. Sooooo

You figured your emotional support, the one who has been very patient and understanding with you. He hasn’t let you down once just of yet

Alastor willingly takes your hand when he recognises your reach out attempt and brings you up to his side in a lone but strong tug. Not minding the sweater you wore being your only coverage for your bottom half. Just a cute off-the-shoulder sweater and thigh highs. Whilst your style mirrored Angel’s in an odd way, you didn’t gross the Radio Demon out like the current top pornstar did. You’re more innocent, more sophisticated

You’re nothing like Angel, despite escaping from the same ugly world as that spider sinner is still trapped in. You’re a recovering traumatised, overexploited pornstar in need of help to gain a new life within Hell and Alastor actually likes the idea of playing that knight in shining armour you clearly view him as. He can’t tell why but he likes it

Leading you down the empty, slightly dark hallway with one arm around your body to keep you close, pressing your face against the side edge of his broad chest and the other slightly stylishly twirling his signature staff-like microphone cane, the Radio Host plans to take care of you in other ways then just hand you some blankets and set you out to your own Hotel room. He’d prefer to personally put you to sleep and the process would be begin with a picture show, a talk and a darker warmer room

You didn’t know why but your face was beet red, your heart was pounding in your chest and your eyes sparkled as you tilted your slightly fuzzy head up to look at Alastor. In, what felt like a blink, his crimson red eyes flashed a sense of genuine affection before returning to the usual half-emotionless bloody haze as the radio effect on his rather mighty voice kicks in with the overlap of both sincerely caring and classic semi-mocking Alastor style caring

It doesn’t help that you swear you can feel his heartbeat grow faster…

Is Alastor feeling the same you are?!

“Come now, darling. You’re clearly having bad sleeping patterns. How about me and you watch that picture show you’ve been holding off? Yes. Yes, I know. I don’t like your technology but I wouldn’t be a help provider if I didn’t provide you help, now would I?”

[gregrulzok]

I got kinda poet-ish about it in my last post but I need to be more direct:

Genuinely what the FUCK is wrong with Daniel Molloy.

Like okay, yes, 100+ year old broody vampires with incredibly tragic backstories will be hot and a little bit insane. That's literally a given.

Daniel Molloy is a 30-somethings man with a budding alcohol problem and verging on a midlife crisis, and his response to a world-shattering revelation that vampires are real is to go SO fucking off the rails that his 500 year old millionaire stalker that blends rats for fun, reads 70 books a day at mach speed, and once SEWED A YOUNG GIRL'S HEAD TO AN OLDER WOMAN'S BODY AFTER MURDERING THEM has to be like "Daniel you're being weird again".

Like this man.

- Has no backstory as far as I know? Certainly no tragic tale I've ever heard. He'd literally some dude off the street.

- Is one of the only characters to ever be with Armand and NOT fetishize the fact that he looks 17 (hats off)

- BUT he DOES fetishize him being a literal fucking corpse, direct quote "I like kissing. And snuggling with dead things, yes, hold me." so maybe we should place him on some kind of list anyway

- Is literally ADDICTED to vampire blood, and the reason for it is that it gives him fucked up visions of suffering and torment and he's into that

- (I'm cutting him a lot of slack for also being not dissimilarly addicted to having his blood drunk, because this is Tunglr and I think we can all relate to that, but let the record state for real world purposes that's still fucking weird)

- Yells at and berates his deranged vampire stalker WELL before the time they become Lovers, in the MIDDLE of said deranged vampire stalker having some kind of angry meltdown. ("I WANT YOU TO DIAL PARIS, I WANT TO SEE IF YOU CAN REALLY TALK TO PARIS" [...] "WHAT ARE YOU, AN IMMORTAL IDIOT?" This is during a time period where, for all he knows, the deranged vampire stalker is fully comfortable with and even vaguely planning on killing him.

- Hears OVER AND OVER AGAIN how becoming a vampire is nothing but a terrible irreversible eternal curse, sees how every vampire he meets (all... Two of them, to be fair), longs for humanity, and STILL thinks "Nah. I'm built DIFFERENT."

- Like. Listen. He's aware of the pain and suffering he'd bring to others. He fully knows about it because he drinks Armand's blood. And he WANTS TO DO THAT, like that would NOT be an issue for him.

- At best that's a sacrifice he's willing to make so he gets to cuddle his dead boyfriend for all eternity. At worst, and more probably, that's a fun perk for him.

Like Daniel what is your fucking PROBLEM, man.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

König x Nun!Reader

Word count: 12.5 k Tags/warnings: 18+ pure FLUFF & SMUT & COMFORT

First time/loss of virginity, implied consent, teasing, corruption kink, fingering, cunnilingus, thighing/intercrural sex, protected p in v. Silly, sweet, kind of innocent, kind of naughty. Romance, forbidden love trope, love as a religion, happy ending. 

Part 3/3

Everytime König enters your life, you start to lie.

You lie about where you’re going and where you’ve been, you lie about who you see and what you do. People think you’ve helped some foreign man to hospital, that you were away last night to make sure he got safely into treatment. You told them he was some poor fellow who got stabbed and robbed on the street and that you called the ambulance from his phone and that the police needed to see you today for further questioning. 

You lie and lie and lie, and then slip out to see König, who’s hopefully alive and still in the same place you left him last night.

When you enter the old, half-demolished building now serving as a B&B, the same old man from last night looks up with wary eyes. He immediately relaxes back to reading his paper when he sees you’re only the harmless, grey nun from last night. 

You sneak upstairs without exchanging a word with him and go straight to König’s door. Giving it a quick knock and uttering, “It’s me,” you half expect to get shot through the wooden entrance. But there only comes a happy “Come in” from behind the door, and you notice König hasn’t even locked the damn thing. Is he expecting you, or is he simply that confident with his gunslinger skills?

Turns out he’s probably both, because you freeze right there on the doorstep when you step in.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers this time, and your eyes fly straight back to his eyes after being glued to the prominent package between his legs for far too long. And good God, the man’s got some muscles on those legs... 

“Hallo, Kätzchen,” he greets, giving you an obnoxiously flirty smile upon noticing how flustered you look.

“You… You shouldn’t be up yet,” you quickly turn to close the door. 

“I have to use the bathroom, no?”

He looks at you from across the room, so innocent and sweet and, at the same time, so mischievous that you don’t know what to do or where to look. He’s gotten rid of the hood, but there are traces of black paint around his eyes, it still clings to his brows, making him look like someone who just came home from a carnival. You want to go to him and wipe it away and tell him that he missed a spot and that he’s clumsier than you thought, but you can’t... You can only fall deeper into your awkward shyness as he raises his brows. 

He turns what appears to be the shreds of his old shirt in his hands, then dumps it into the bin, suddenly a little nervous too. There are moments when you have suspected that König might suffer from social anxiety or shyness around people, but he covers it very well. Around you, the man seems to be at ease, flirts and jokes with you often and is very straightforward with his intentions.

You wonder if he likes you so much simply because you are unattainable. 

Maybe you represent some girl next door to him, perhaps you remind him of his first love. Perhaps you happen to be something so sweet, innocent, and unreachable that he feels strong and safe in your company. Perhaps holding hands and trading a few passionate kisses feels safer than going after a real relationship… Perhaps this Will they, won’t they situation is enough excitement for him, too.

Or perhaps König has been so wounded by women that he prefers to be around a frigid – or at least very virginal – nun rather than face the dangers of approaching a real, attainable woman.

But flaunting himself like this in front of you is yet another clear sign that he, at the very least, loves to tease you to death. He looks like he’s in far better condition than yesterday, and starts to peel off the bandage like it’s just a scratch he suffered. 

“Let me help you with that,” you rush to him, silently relieved when he lets you clean the wound and change the bandage. He even lays himself down to be treated by you and smiles with his signature grin as you fuss around him.

“Not a word,” you risk a glance his way while gently cleaning the wound.

“Not a word,” he promises with a cheeky smile, and gets another erection. 

It’s even worse when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear... You can see the bulge stretching the fabric, forming a tight, thick curve right next to you as you try to focus on your task.

“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” you offer while trying to concentrate on examining the skin for any signs of irritation.

“Eh. They’re dirty.”

“I can go and ask if they have a laundry room here,” you propose. “I could wash them for you. Do you need a new shirt?”

Ugh, what a stupid question...

“Why not,” he shrugs. “If the view is unpleasant...”

“Behave yourself now,” you say with a soft smile. “XL…?”

“At least.”

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. You bite your lip as he dares to moan on the bed, too. You’ve brought him food last night, and he’s being treated carefully and touched softly, he’s getting his clothes washed for him, he’s got his own personal nun worrying about him 24/7. Of course he’s moaning.

And you’re in danger because you just love to pamper him. It feels more meaningful to treat his wounds and run on errands than do the eternal dishes at the convent. You feel like you’re saving a life here... Like someone actually needs you, depends on you. You feel so wanted, and König seems to fully agree with you.

“I could live the rest of my life like this,” he purrs on the bed as you gently put a fresh bandage in place.

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Are you really going to get me a new shirt…?” He asks with bright puppy eyes – the faked innocence is so blatant you want to throw a pillow over that face.

“If you give me some money to buy one, then yes.”

“You can have as much as you want. Buy yourself something nice while you’re at it, hmm? As a reward.”

“I don’t do this for the sake of rewards.”

“I know... But you could buy yourself anything you want. A new dress, new jeans, lingerie… Give me a little fashion show when you get back?”

König knows you’re probably the last woman on earth who’s interested in shopping sprees, let alone new jeans or sexy lingerie. Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to see his face when you do a little twirl before his bed, wearing nothing but a laced bra and some matching strings… 

“Give you a fashion show?” you laugh. “When did thanking me turn into you profiting from it?”

“I’m just saying... If you need new underwear, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You snort and shake your head slowly. “You’re far too cheeky when you’re injured. I truly hope you get better soon.” 

“I don’t,” he crosses his arms behind his head, looking perfectly pleased with himself while lying there in nothing but his underwear. “And neither do you.”

“Excuse me? Of course I do…!”

“No, I don’t think so. You like to take care of people, I can see it. You’d make a good field medic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You remain calm under pressure,” he says. “And you take good care of me.”

“That’s only because you were silly enough to get shot.”

“...And I would do it again if it leads to this,” he grins.

“Cheeky,” you shake your head reprimandingly. “Far too cheeky.”

“You are an angel,” he says gently. “And I mean that.”

You rise to put the trash in the bin, then look back at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. It’s like he's stripping away pieces of your armour – you fear nothing will be left before this visit is done.

“Did you eat any of the food I brought you…? You need to eat something, and drink a lot of water–” You take a look at the side table, noticing he has already eaten everything you got him last night. “Gosh. You must be getting better if you have an appetite like this...”

König only laughs on the bed. “I’m sorry, Kätzchen, but that was just a snack.”

You brought him three sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and a bag of walnuts, but they’re all gone. Of course a soldier of his size eats like a horse, and he needs all the food he can get, having gone through the wringer last night.

“I’d kill for a Schnitzel and a tall beer,” he sighs dreamily on the bed, no doubt knowing you well enough to tell that you’ll get him anything he wants if he only plays this wounded soldier role right. 

You begin to doubt if his injuries were ever that serious. It just looked bad last night because he was so tired, and there was blood everywhere... With a bleak blink, you realize most of the blood you cleaned off of him last night probably wasn’t his own.

He’s in a cheery mood now, looking at you hopefully from the bed, arms crossed behind him, legs out long, wearing nothing but those stupid black boxers and that goshdarned, sweet smile.

“Do you think you could get me one of those big Schnitzels somewhere…? You know, the really big ones.”

“Maybe,” you cross your arms over your chest, and furrow your brow when he visibly perks up on the bed a little. “I said maybe. We’ll see. And you’ll get water instead of beer.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t need alcohol right now. Plus I can’t just go and buy beer looking like this.”

He smiles. The man’s all smiles today… Probably because of all the blood loss. Or maybe because you’re the girl next door who’s going to bring him his favourite food. 

“Of course not,” he says, with hazy love in his eyes. “I am already forever in your debt, Kätzchen.”

…

It’s not a sin to take a nap together.

That’s what you tell yourself as you curl next to König after you bring him his Schnitzel, shirt, and a few bottles of sparkling water. 

“There’s plenty of room for both. Come on, I won’t bite,” he shifts on the bed and extends his hand to invite you in. 

You lay yourself down next to him and tell yourself it’s just to please a recovering man. There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

Still, your body is singing by the time he takes your hand in his own, wrapping both your arms around your middle like you’re an established couple about to get some sleep together.

Raindrops are slowly tapping on the window, and you tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes a bit as your lids drift closed. König is already snoring behind you, with another erection pressed against your back. You’re not intimidated by it: it only feels natural to cuddle him like this. The rain turns into a languid rap, and you know you won’t be leaving this building in a while. With the contentment of a cat who’s finally warm and safe, you fall into a deep sleep.

You stir after an hour or two, waking up to such a pleasant, safe feeling you don’t quite remember when you’ve ever felt this good. König has buried his face in your neck, somewhere in the folds of your coif, probably in an attempt to reach some skin. He pulls you closer when you try to shift, rumbling contently behind you.

“Sleep well…?”

“Mm...”

The moment is so lazy and cosy you don’t want to get up. A large, warm hand flexes against your stomach as König buries his face deeper under the veil. He reaches the skin of your neck and inhales deeply, making all the tiny hairs across your body shoot up. 

You let him kiss you there, and he does it with reverence, like he’s kissing a holy idol. It’s chaste enough but makes you go taut in his hold – in fact, you have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud.

“I think I need to go now,” you whisper, doing absolutely nothing to act on that threat.

“Mm–hm,” he agrees while keeping your body hugged tight against him. 

“König… Really, I need to get back...”

“Ja... Ok,” he mutters, hand traveling up the thick black cotton of your habit. It meets your breast and cups it without shame. You feel the hot, hard length twitching against your back, making leaving this bed less and less tantalizing.

You whine when he starts to fully paw your breast, thrusting his hips up and against your butt. The kiss turns into a love bite right after as he starts to use teeth on your neck – your back arches on instinct, a broken sigh slipping through your lips. He can't be serious... A hickey-covered neck is the last souvenir you want to bring back from this nap.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” you whimper, but he just laughs softly. The sound is thick and breathless, cinders and smoke so close to your ear that you’re shamefully wet even without his other… advances.

The afternoon is mellow, it has stopped raining, but you wish you could stay on this spun sugar bed with him forever. You know what you want already; in your heart, you’ve made a giant decision, but the overwhelming realisation is too much to bear. 

And so you rip yourself away from his arms and flee once again. He’s the devil himself, smiling on the bed with another proud erection tenting his pants. Rushing back to the convent, adjusting your veil as you go, your mind is plagued with the image of König reaching a hand down those boxers and enjoying a long, drowsy masturbation session while you have to hurry home for Mass.

Christ… 

It only took 24 hours to make you melt in his arms like snow.

And the “naps” become a habit as you haul him food or clothes, new from the store or clean and warm from the drier. You bring him a fresh pair of boxers, too, since he only had the clothes on his back when he was shot. He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

Sometimes, he’s cleaning his gun or doing wall pushups when you arrive, indicating that he’s still recovering but getting better every day – and more restless by the minute. At some point, you’re not even napping anymore; you only lay down with him to snuggle and make out, feeling like a shy teen when you only let him touch you over your clothes. His hands explore you literally everywhere except between your legs because that’s when you gently guide his eager paws away.

You wonder if this is what drugs feel like to some people. You’re fully in the present moment, swimming in a soft bliss, calm and whole and sweet and good. Everything in the world is just as it should be.

“If you ever come to Austria, I will take you to the mountains,” König mumbles nonsense into your hair, freed one day from the confines of your veil and coif. It’s a surrender in every meaning of the word – your clothes are the last literal protection you have against his attempts to worship you.

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. “Ja, that sounds good… I’ll keep you there until you come to your senses.”

“That sounds like a kidnapping scenario,” you comment with a soft smile on your lips.

“Ah. My plan is ruined.” 

You crane your head to look at him. “No... Not ruined.” 

“No?”

“Just exposed.”

You figure it was only a matter of time before this snuggle turned into another make out session. This time, the shared kiss is purposeful, full of presence and slow need. The anxiety is gone, the rights and wrongs of this world tucked somewhere far away.

“We need to stop doing this,” you whisper into his mouth, brain turning into mush from the way he holds you so gently.

“Why…? It feels nice…”

You can’t argue with that, and when his hands start to travel, you do nothing to stop them. 

He slides a palm down your curves, pulls you closer by the waist, cups your butt when you don’t seem to protest. Usually, this sort of behaviour has been a little too much, you have treated it as a bridge that shouldn’t be crossed. Now, you let his hand travel down your thigh, you allow him to grab a handful of your skirt and slowly, slowly drag it up.

When you still don’t protest, his unhurried kiss turns into a delighted, hungry one. 

He finds nothing but skin underneath your dress, and starts to explore your thigh with a trembling hand. He's warm and big, both gentle and calloused, and you can’t help but think how obscene you must look with your black robes dragged up like that, a man’s hand desperately searching for the treasure between your legs while your mouths devour each other in a slow, sloppy kiss. 

His fingers slide up, up, up until they meet the fabric of your panties, then come to a halt right above the mound of your sex. In both horror and thrill, you find your thighs parting, inviting him in, heart racing in your chest as König finds your underwear not only wet but soaked through.

That’s when he groans – into your mouth, hot breaths hitting your face as he examines you through the panties like it’s business as usual that you’re so wet. You’re both ashamed and exhilarated – you haven’t even shaved. And he’s about to…

“Mh–”

You feel him probe the side of the fabric, then casually sliding your poor, soaked underwear aside. Your wet folds are exposed to cold air and warm fingers; the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam. 

He drags his fingers across your folds, unhurried and pleased to meet you so ready. The fact that this man could crush your windpipe or break your spine, he could grab your thighs and force them apart like sticks, have his way with you if he wanted, doesn’t make you afraid of him like it probably should. You know he would never hurt you, but the intensity, the intimacy in his glare and touch, are enough to make the air around you feel electric. 

“You’ve never been with anyone…?” 

The question is breathless and thick, causing your core to tighten.

“No…” 

Is it that obvious…?

“Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what…?”

“Nothing. You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t try to steal a peek at your glistening sex, all bared and slick for him. He only has eyes for you. Your rushed breaths, how they hitch in your throat when he brushes a thumb over your clit. Your lids, fluttering over defenceless eyes as you try to search for something to ground you. But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

“I tried to leave you alone. I truly tried, Kätzchen… But you’re so sweet it’s illegal.”

The words hit you, loaded with lust, but you’re too weak to answer him anymore. Pitch-black darkness stares back at you as the sounds of your drenched pussy fill the room. You want to touch him too, but you’re too shy, still trying to silence the buzzing beehive of your brain and come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening. 

“I should’ve come back for you… I knew I should have, right away. I was too dumb, meine Liebling…”

Starved and dreamy, he looks down at you, whole body tight as you hold on to him and take in his confession. Only, you feel like you’re the one who’s confessing here… He seems to read you like a book, giving you just enough to keep that adoring look on your face.

He slips a finger in, and you stop breathing for a second, the room seems to go darken, even when it’s high noon. Time slows down while your heart thunders in your chest, giving you a sense of urgency where there is none. Pulling out and adding another finger straight away, he ushers a mewl out of you.

Your fingers curl around his shirt, pulling and tugging it as you try to keep intact. A deep rumble echoes in his chest when he sees you so pliant, clutching him like you’re drowning. 

“I know you want this,” he says, voice so rough that you barely recognize it’s him. “Don’t hold back…”

You try to beg him for more but the words come out as a whimper without a voice, causing something dark to flash behind his eyes. That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up. He must like his victims like this, too: on their backs, begging for mercy before he finishes them…

Blinking in despair, you try to drive the intrusive thoughts away, but he’s already upon you. Crossing the last breath of air between you, he captures your mouth in his.

You can do nothing but take, take, take: his fingers and his mouth, greedy for the rapture that’s already blooming in the distance, rising like a tidal wave. He won’t stop kissing you even when you spread your legs further – to what end, you don’t even know, because he fucks you without effort, keeps you pressed against him in a way that says you’re his.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tasting him, your whole body going tense before you erupt with a miserable, pained moan.

You reach the peak and break, right into his mouth, around his fingers, the weight of it all almost unbearable. He groans on your tongue, kissing you while you milk his fingers, your inner walls hugging him in waves.

Nothing moves except you, the shudders and squirms gradually leaving your body while he draws circles on your clit, lazy and somewhat absent-minded, like you’re his favourite toy now.

The release brings with it a roaring wave of sadness, a deep grief, something that has been locked up inside you for months – no, years, now brought to the surface from the bottom of a stagnant sea.

He lets you go reluctantly, releasing your mouth so you can breathe more freely. Burying his face into your neck, you decide to do the same, escaping to the solace of his strength while trying to prevent tears from welling up. 

König doesn’t yet understand that your release continues as a cleansing wave of relief; he only pulls out, slowly and carefully, gently sets your panties back where they were, straightens your dress, and hugs you as if nothing ever happened. 

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone. 

“Scheiße… Did I do something wrong?” 

König finally realizes you’re crying, and grows taut from the middle like an iron cord. The pure concern in his voice only makes you bawl louder and grip him tighter, and the man starts to veritably panic.

“Kätzchen, I–”

“No, no,” your jaw is shaking as you try to explain. “I just… It’s…”

You’re hugging him so tight that you don’t know where you end and he begins, but as König caresses your back, swallowing as he does it, you eventually come back down to planet Earth and back to this bed. 

“Did you like it…?” He asks, still with so much worry that you could announce your love for this man right away.

“Yes… Very much.”

“Gut.”

You think about returning the favour, but selfishly, you’d want nothing more than to stay here like this, in his arms, for just a few more minutes. Or an hour... Well, if you got to decide, you’d stay here for the rest of your life.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace. He doesn’t make a single move to coax you into touching him in return, and after a few seconds, your voice comes out as a frail question.

“Should I… Do you want me to–?”

“Shh.”

…

Six months without him. 

Six months, and now you couldn’t bear to be apart from him for six hours.

You’re glad you were sensible enough to shave before running to him that morning. Making up more excuses about how you’re seeing your friend because she just suffered a terrible loss and needs some spiritual and emotional support, you sneak a couple of blocks down the street to see König. If anyone suspects something, they say nothing, but you feel the lies as a grimy cloak upon your shoulders as you hurry up the stairs of the B&B.

The shadows dissipate when König catches you in his arms. You get smothered with kisses as he spins you around, making you chastise him for being so careless with the wound. 

It’s, of course, difficult to scold a man who’s kissing you so profusely… You’re starting to feel like he wants it to open again so that he never has to leave this place. To be honest, you wouldn’t mind it either if you two stayed here forever.

“You’re crazy, and silly, and I like you,” you tell him while looking down at him – a strange thing to do, even if the man has picked you up like this once before. 

“Is that so?” 

His eyes always light up when he sees you, but now, he looks like a man in love.

“Yes... I like you a lot.”

“And I like you. Do you want to see how much?” 

He gives you that slightly crooked grin that reminds you of feline predators, or fantasy creatures who are up to no good. He also moves quickly for a man of his size, and before you know it, you’re thrown on the bed like a sack of potatoes. As you laugh and try to adjust yourself on the bedding, he’s already on his knees, head quickly disappearing under your robe.

God, he’s not going to–

“What are you doing…?” 

“Giving you a kiss,” comes a muffled voice under your dress.

He’s headed straight between your legs, two days worth of coarse stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as he goes.

“But… But what about your injuries?” You try to scurry upwards on the bed, hands shooting instinctively to hold his head in place before he does something utterly shameless. 

“König–”

“Sei ruhig.” 

God – you’re not the most confident woman when it comes to these things to begin with. It’s one thing for a man to lay his fingers on you and look you in the eyes while you cum, and another thing entirely to place his mouth where you’re wet and aching. 

What if he won’t like it...?

What if you’re not beautiful enough there? 

...What if you taste odd? 

You’re shy, as any woman would be on their first time getting head. You’re infinitely grateful to yourself for shaving because there’s a delighted, surprised sound under the robe when König strips you from your underwear.

“For me…?” 

He’s smiling at your pussy, voice dampened by the thick cotton, and you thank God that he can’t see your mortified face right now.

You brace yourself for a delicate kiss, maybe a tentative lick or two. But the soft tenderness of yesterday is gone as König presses his whole face into your sex, giving it a good inhale followed by a good, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Wrenched awake from your semi-relaxed state, you jerk up on the bed as he does it again. Then come the flat-tongued, starved licks – your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock, giving a full throb against his stubbled jaw. König breathes a short laugh against you, pleased with this response.

The noise of him “kissing” you is obscene and only gets worse when he drags his tongue up and down your slit. You truly hope the doors here are solid wood because you can’t stifle all the sounds that escape you. For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment. 

You’re stunned, and a bit appalled – was this all it took to turn your nose up to your vows? A big man with big arms and a big gun? Some guy who wants to get under your dress after a few weeks of acquaintance…?

Because that’s what this is, a few weeks’ acquaintance currently under your robes, eating you out like you’re his last meal. 

The things you’ve imagined him do to you are shameful; even now, you fantasize about König picking you up and taking you against a wall when he gets better. This man treats you right, he treats you sweet, but you want more, you need something earthly and raw, and him lapping you under your habit is precisely that. It’s ravenous and adorable at the same time, so conflicting that you don’t know who you are anymore. 

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. It should concern you that he’s so eager to wreck you like this. It should arouse suspicion that the playful aura of this man changes whenever he gets between your legs... He becomes deliciously dark somehow, dark and base and addictive, and you wind into another plane of existence with him, to someplace only reserved for you two. 

“König,” you whisper. “I’m– I’m about to cum…”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission.” 

It’s dark, again, so smooth and rich that your inner walls clench, then flood with pleasure and pain. The inevitable orgasm is thigh-shaking and soul-ripping, your moans long and pitiful now. They’re not whimpers but cries, bare and pained as he continues to bully you with his tongue, grunting silky sin into your core. 

You can feel yourself leak on his chin as you cum, violently, forgetting the whole existence of the man downstairs. He turns you into an overstimulated, limp, heady mess – your chest is heaving by the time König emerges from under your robes.

“Oh God…” 

It simply escapes from your lips when you see how wet his jaw is. There’s a pussydrunk look in his eyes as he takes a look at his good work.

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

“Ja... I made you see God?”

“Stop it… You’re so cheeky...”

“Eh. And you’re technically still a virgin. We need to fix that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like a virgin.” 

“Well… I can take the blame.” He gives you a naughty little wink. “Remember? I would go to hell for you.”

And as if you weren’t in over your head already, he starts to drag your robes up. Too limp to do anything about him unravelling you like that – not even wanting to prevent it – you continue to catch your breath as his eyes go wide.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under here all this time…?”

He tucks the thick fabric up until your breasts are exposed. You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. Your nipples perk up from excitement under his stare, your panties wrenched down in a hurry, now crumpled and forgotten somewhere between your thighs – the look on his face is priceless as he takes in the view of your exposed body like you’re a Christmas present he just opened. 

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly, and while you’ve received plenty of attention these last two days, it still makes you feel odd to be adored like this. His hawk eyes fly back to you, the corner of his mouth tugging up with some new, nasty idea.

“Want to see what I got?”

Oh God…

You don’t even get to express your consent – which would be enthusiastic – before König pulls the waistband of his boxers down. 

The cock that springs free is long and thick, heavy and red-pink from the tip that’s pointing straight at you. Curving slightly to the side, it’s even bigger than you thought, somehow having been rendered harmless by his pants, making it seem hefty but never that tall.

Your friend was right about him – tall men have tall dicks… Big hands indicate a big dick, too, you remember as you watch how he wraps tall, lean fingers around himself, giving his shaft a slow half-stroke. 

“You want to practice with me?”

You quickly rip your eyes up to his – you’re the world’s lousiest nun, caught staring at a cock like that. König only seems proud that you’re so intrigued by it, his eyes watching over you with dark amusement. 

“Uh–huh,” you swallow and nod – Christ, your voice is breaking… 

And whatever he means by “practising”, you can only hope that he’s not going to put it inside. There’s not even a condom for crying out loud. 

It’s a sigh-inducing thing when he gets to it, rests the heavy head of him on your clit, then drags the fat tip down across your folds.

“F–uck…” his head falls back a bit, lids fluttering closed from the way your slickness feels against him. That’s the most sensitive spot in a man – more of your friend’s advice floods your brain as you watch how he does it again, rasping while guiding himself up and down your slit.

You’ve never seen him so serious: his brows furrow together as he explores your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself while stroking his length. Agonizingly slow, you can see his balls hang heavy and gradually pull tight as he continues to work his cock. 

You know you should touch him, return the favour at last – but it’s hard to interrupt a moment like this. You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together.

“Kätzchen…” he rasps, “Would you mind if I…”

You fear that he’ll ask for permission to slip it inside, tempted and weak-willed. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you’d have the will to deny him.

But that’s not what he has in mind, apparently, as he begins to fist himself in a slack hurry, with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He just wants to cum like this and ease the pain that must be terrible after days of sexual tension…

And seeing you laid out before him, naked and dreamy and bare, licked stupid just moments ago isn’t helping, that’s for sure.

“No,” you whisper, “No I won’t mind…”

You brave your heart to reach out and touch him: it’s just a shy hand gliding down his chest, but it makes him groan from pleasure. A brush of fingertips across his abs, and his muscles contract, and when you slide your palm over his hipbone and coax him to come closer, he finally leans forward and on top of you.

“Kätzchen…” he groans in whispers now. “You’re so wet…”

He could slip it in from this position, search for your opening and rough it inside. It’s tempting, so alluring that you almost say please – but that would be a catastrophe, and so you only look up at him, speechless when he supports himself on his hands and starts to glide up and down, fucking himself between your thighs. 

The bulged tip caresses your clit each time he pulls back – you doubt you can cum another time like this, but he sure as hell tries his everything to get you off too. 

“You want it…” he grunts above you. “You want me to fuck you. Right...?”

“Yes… But–”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No, wait–” 

Now it's your turn to panic. You were always taught that condoms are unacceptable, while simultaneously, you know you could never do it raw, not even with König.

This is a moral choice you've never had to face before, and your brain is no use to you now. It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin.

"No? It's a sin or something?" 

König pants above you, both tired and needy, and you nod with pleading eyes, not knowing what else to do. 

"Ok… Ok," he adjusts to the new reality while hovering on the brink of eruption. "I'll talk you out of it later..."

You give him a small smile, and he answers it with his own, slowly, starts to move again. Just the feel of the smooth surface of his cock dragging up and down your slit is enough to bite your lip and moan. Sliding your hands over his waist and down his butt, you give him a good squeeze–

And were he inside you, the effects would have been disastrous.

He cums abruptly, with a stiff, broken groan as soon as your nails dig into his skin. Hot, heavy seed meets your folds; it’s thick, the spurts neverending as he continues to fuck himself between your thighs with little control. How you still have anything left to give, you cannot comprehend, but the sudden, messy orgasm of this indomitable man makes you cum as well. 

Everything’s hot and sticky and dreamlike, almost pornographic, your thighs drenched in cum as he ruts through the orgasm with you. You roll your hips in sync with his, arriving at the end of your own mellow, beautiful peak, wondering how on earth it can only get better every time you have sex… 

The afterwaves are magical; you basically came together, and it hasn’t even been in yet. If this is what sex is like, mind-blowing and relaxing, hot and sweet and fulfilling with the right person, then you feel both dumb and proud for saving yourself for König.

And you’re starting to realize that you might just have a boyfriend…

No – not a boyfriend.

You have a man.

…

König orders food – or goes downstairs in nothing but his shirt and boxers and makes the poor man order it – while you lie in bed, under covers, still high from all the lovemaking. The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now. 

You take a quick shower while waiting for the delivery, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless. Having a man cum all over your folds is not exactly a safe way to practice sex… You’re doing everything wrong, asking König if he has any diseases when he comes back. 

He just pulls you back into his arms with a gentle laugh and says: “What do you take me for, a jerk? Of course I’m clean, silly kitty.”

That calms your nerves a little. You’re feeling anything but virginal right now, and putting on the black, heavy robes of a nun doesn’t sit well with you. You leave them on the floor, making König a very happy man by deciding to sit on the bed completely naked. 

You reach for the comforter when there’s a knock on the door, and clutch it against your chest like a paid woman while König pays the courier – still in his black boxers and t-shirt, like he’s just a guy who happens to live here.

“What...? Eat?”

The smell of Nepalese food fills the room: the rich, mouthwatering scents in stark contrast to what you’re used to at the convent’s kitchen. Butter chickens, lamb koftas and flatbreads are laid out steaming on the bed between you, and König attacks the food like someone who hasn’t seen a meal in weeks.

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. He munches on the food with his mouth open because it’s so hot – the man’s secretly so greedy that you can’t help but wonder if he had enough love, food and shelter as a child.

“Do you do this often?” You ask when he rips another handful of flatbread to dip in the sauce. 

“Seduce women.”

“Seduce…?” He laughs. “Kätzchen, I couldn’t seduce a woman even if I tried.”

You’re unsure if he’s dodging the question or being humble – or worse yet, if it means you’ve been an easy conquest.

“You just did,” you point out, realizing you’re sulking when König tilts his head with curiosity. 

“Oh. I’m sorry… Did it hurt?”

You grab a pillow to throw at him, but he dodges it and laughs.

“Careful with the food…!”

And of course he isn’t. 

You decide it’s useless with him, and besides, jealousy is not a good look. But you just can’t help it... You’re so in love that it’s not even funny anymore.

To you, he’s a hero and a God in one man, he’s both Satan and the Saviour. But to König, you’re probably just a nice foreign friend... Some cute nun he met months ago, who he finally gets to grope and taste and, hopefully, soon fuck. He says he doesn’t have time for women, and yet he licks you like a professional – not like you know what a professional in this area feels like, but it’s pretty clear that König is not a virgin even if you are. 

It must be nice to live a dangerous life and bump into women on the street... Woo them off their feet and leave them yearning, then get shot and cared for by some fussy, naive nun who’s head over heels for him. Perhaps it’s his favourite pastime hobby to torture ladies with flowers and letters and some cock and then leave like a cowboy. You wonder if he has a girl in every city – girls who aren’t nuns, girls who know how to show him a good time.

“Kitten... I’m not like that,” he says, a curry-drenched piece of bread dripping sauce over his fingers. “I only hold hands with you. Now that you finally let me.”

And you don’t know what’s more decadent: eating naked on the bed after making love, or being a Catholic nun who’s about to beg a man to fuck you, with or without a condom.

He finally notices he’s about to make a mess on the sheets, and gobbles the food as quickly as he can before there’s sauce all over the bed. Licking his fingers with dark, glimmering eyes set on you, you quickly focus your attention on the food.

The bastard is flirting with you every chance he gets, even when you two are trying to eat... 

“Is this what you call holding hands?” You ask, reaching for a piece of bread he's offering you.

König looks at you a while longer, with an expression he sometimes wears when conversing about serious, deep subject, the issues of God and Heart.

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.”

…

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week. 

You, on the other hand, learn that he’s ticklish on the sides of his stomach and behind the ears. You discover that he gets hard if you caress his abs or whisper in his ear that you like him... You learn everything about what kind of handjobs he likes; you find out that he almost rips the sheets apart when you take him in your mouth.

You lie on top of him, you lie under him, you let him hold you any way he likes. He moves you around like a doll, kisses you until you’re soaked, laughs into your neck when you tell him he’s being impossible again. He loves your breasts religiously, bites and nibs and licks them until you grab his head and tell him you can’t take it anymore. He has an oral fixation for your body and has to kiss every part of you: your inner thighs, your hip bones, the quivering place just below the navel; your neck and fingers and arms, even the arch of your foot. 

You receive attention only reserved for saints, and fear that someone will notice the smell of cum on you, or the musk of a man, lingering in your hair. Your sisters could easily notice your flushed lips if they wanted to. They could see the dreamy smiles, eyes that have just seen God, but everyone is looking inward, and no one sees how you rebel against the Lord right under their nose.

You stay strong in your no condoms policy, but practice with König every day; you practice so much that his wound opens and starts to bleed.

“Oh my God…”

“Heh… It’s okay,” he says as your stare drifts down to the side of his stomach. The bandage is slowly blooming with red, and your crazy soldier would simply go on if you didn’t order him to lie down. 

You’re both naked as you start to patch him up, convinced that this is some sort of a punishment for being so reckless. König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked.

“I like it when you take care of me,” he explains while you clean up the wound. You raise your stare, and in place of a horny, able-bodied man, there’s briefly a boy, a kid who used to make himself sick as a child to get at least some attention.

“Has no one ever taken care of you…?” 

“Not really.”

He grunts when the antiseptic seeps inside the wound – you wince, sympathetic to his pain.

“Is that why you like me?” You try to chitchat and take his attention away from it, secretly nervous when fishing for details on why he would want to be with someone like you.

“There are many reasons why I like you.” 

“Such as…?”

“Your smile, for starters... I like that. And then… I really like your ass.”

“König...”

“What, I’m not allowed to?”

You purse your lips to scold him, but really, your heart hurts so much it burns. There are a million doors to this man, but he only keeps one or two open at a time, to prevent an attack of some sort. 

“I like your devotion,” he says, finally with some serious air about him. “Your kindness. You don’t hurt people.”

“...But you do,” you whisper. It’s not an accusation, only a comment. 

“I would never hurt you.”

The playfulness is gone, and while you miss it, you also like it when König gets fragile like this, stripping himself of all the shields that make him a strong, confident merc.

“Sometimes we have to fight for the things we love,” he continues, probably explaining why he endorses violence.

“Killing is a sin,” you say, more to yourself than to him. 

“Kätzchen... You can’t tell me it’s a sin to kill the ones who would try to hurt you. You can’t tell me it’s not love to hurt them back.”

You look at him, calm and adoring on the bed. He’s so sure of his choices, like an archangel set on the borders of Eden with a flaming sword in his hand... 

And the rose is starting to unfurl, the enigma finally unravelling itself. You’re the sacred Other, the opposite of him, you’re the great Mystery he’s infatuated with. You have peace and faith and hope and love: everything he lacks. 

And he’s the opposite of you. Fierce, vengeful, violent… Hopeless, suffering, without peace. Ready to dive into the world and bathe in it, be it a pool filled with love or blood.

He’s searching for the answers, too, only in different ways.

“And no one ever will.”

“No one’s trying to kill or hurt me,” you whisper, trying to stand brave under that flaming stare. But he’s stronger than you, even when recovering. He pulls you back to the bed and in his arms because that’s where you simply belong now, and caresses your cheek, as gently as you caressed his withered flower in your cell.

…

You know your days at the convent are coming to an end, but when the abbess gives you a warning after the fifth day of you skipping half of your chores, appointments and prayers, you go to see her. 

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. You say you’ve studied your soul for months now, coming to a conclusion that the life of a nun doesn’t suit you after all. 

These things happen, and people have left before; it’s nothing new under the sun that a nun or a monk wishes to return to the world. This is not a prison, you remind yourself, knowing that your departure will send some waves through the place but that eventually, people will go on with their lives.

You will probably be forgotten in a year: someone else will take your place, and you will continue your adventures someplace far away from here… Or that’s what you hope. 

But even if things didn’t work out with König, and you somehow ended up alone, it has become clear that you can’t stay here and continue this double life.

König’s offer doesn’t sound too bad: the Austrian Alps sound very enticing, actually. A simple life away from the buzz of the city is a golden opportunity for you; peace and faith can remain in your life without preventing you from participating in it. If only you knew whether he was kidding when he said that…

“Are you sure, sister? This seems like a rash decision.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I… I think I have found something,” you try to awkwardly explain. 

“Something… Or someone?”

“I just know that I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

“On that, I agree.”

You go through the procedures, ritualistic, almost. The abbess asks whether you understand that this cannot be undone: you can’t just leave and then come back if you change your mind. The doors of the Church will always remain open to you, but your vows cannot be renewed, not in this convent. If this acquaintance of yours turns out to be a disappointment, you cannot simply come back here, don your robes, and start over.

She’s only doing her duty, and you try to listen respectfully, nodding as she lists the things that will be out of your grasp after you walk out those doors. Thinking that everything’s settled, you inform her you’ll leave today, to which she puckers her brows.

“My dear. Don’t you owe it to this convent to meditate on this for one more day? Don’t you owe it to yourself, to the Lord...? I’m sure the world can wait a few more hours.”

You sigh, bow your head, and bend to her will. 

She’s right; you can’t just leave as if all the years of joy and peace here meant nothing. You have people to say goodbye to, and you owe it to God to say your prayers, not your last, but last behind these walls. You haven’t even attended the evening mass these days; it’s like you stopped being a nun when a certain Austrian soldier asked if you wanted to take a nap with him.

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too. 

You catch very little envy in your sisters, but there are some who look at you with jealous disdain when you tell them that no, you don’t even have an apartment yet, nor a job, but that you’ll take your new life as a gift and face it like an exciting adventure. 

Thinking about König all day long, you can’t wait for tomorrow so you can tell him the good news. You hope he understands that you can’t visit him every day, even if it has been your silent agreement that you knock on his door before noon. It’s a good thing that the poor man gets some rest: you can tickle and giggle and practice with him tomorrow to your heart’s content, it’s not like he’ll disappear in the next 24 hours.

He’s in König now; all that bliss resides with him and the moments when you two break bread together, or wash each other, tell each other silly secrets on the bed, fall asleep after a round of good sex.

Except that that’s exactly what you fear while you go about your day. 

Sorrow and excitement mix in your heart with bittersweet torment, but what haunts you most is that you no longer find God in the great hall where your sisters sing. You don’t feel His presence during the Mass. 

Sun sets behind the window, and you sigh while peeking out of your nunnery turned prison. Silence weighs upon you like a blanket, but you can’t get any sleep. 

There’s a sudden “clack” on the window, followed by rap, small pebbles or something clattering against the glass. You rise to sit on the bed, instantly thinking of König and his stupid, silly threats.

The longing is awful, it’s even worse when König was away for half a year because now you actually have something to miss. You wonder if he’s watching the same sweet skies as you, if he’s worried or hurt when you didn’t visit him today.

You wonder if the man has only shrugged his shoulders and left…

It can’t be…

There’s another clack, then another, until you jump from under the covers and go to the window, opening it without even remembering to be quiet. 

As soon as the windowpane glides open and you peek out, you meet König and his stare.

“What are you– You can’t be here...!”

“I was just about to sing,” he grins without even bothering to tone down his voice, letting the remaining gravel in his hand fall to the ground.

Bending his knees, he swiftly jumps up, pulling himself to the window sill like it’s easy parkour, probably opening that goshdarn wound again in the process. No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put...

Throwing a pair of long legs over the sill, he makes himself at home, forcing you to take a good few steps back as he simply waltzes inside your room.

“You didn’t come to see me today,” he says like it’s some kind of an explanation for this silliness.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. “Something came up, and I had to stay here.” 

If you tell him that you’ve just renounced your vows, there’s no way you’ll get him out. He’d just say you must celebrate the good news by making love all night. 

“That’s alright,” he says amiably. “I’ll just visit you.”

Trying to argue with whispers doesn’t really help your cause. König only smiles down on you like a cheerful, jovial sun.

“But... It’s... You can’t be here…!” 

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“You and your promises… We both know how well you keep those. Go back before you get me into trouble, silly. We can see each other tomorrow.”

“But I want to see you today.” 

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.”

“I don’t think so.” 

He takes another step, forcing you to back away until you bump into your bed. Crossing the final breath between you, he pulls you into a kiss.

So much for contemplating your choices and dedicating your last night as a nun to God…

And it’s laughable how fast he rids you of your clothes these days. It’s stupid how fast you’re able to help him get undressed…  You all but tear the clothes off each other; actually, you can hear a seam rip when you both yank the shirt over his head, the new black t-shirt you just bought him a few days ago. 

Does he even know what he’s doing to you…?

Muscles rippling in the fading sunlight, he’s a god mortalized. Body built as a weapon to rip or ram his way through enemies, to you, he’s only ever been the source of joy and pleasure.

You could pray on the altar of his pecs, sing songs and chants to his lips, worship the bunching muscles of his thighs, kneel before the thing that rests thick between them. The sheer width of him is enough to make you drunk: desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. 

You lay yourself on the bed, and he follows, like a big panther or a prowling titan. The bed sags as he sets his knee on it, it wails when crawls on top of you. Heavy cock swinging between his thighs, it seems like a cruel joke that you chose this man to be your first. 

And you didn’t expect that you’d lose your virginity this way: in your old room at the holy convent you swore yourself to a few years ago. You didn’t expect you’d lose it to a giant soldier who starts to frantically search for a condom after you whisper to him you’re done with practising.

While theoretically a sin, you’re more sullen with the prospect that you won’t be able to feel the silken hardness of him now that he rolls the plastic on. A little too enthusiastically – as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, let alone cummed all over one two times yesterday. 

Still, you find heat pooling down your stomach as he approaches you, keen and eager and as hard as a man can get when he sees something that he likes.

He doesn’t need to part your legs: you do it for him, and when he sees your pussy all puffed up, leaking a thin stream down on the bed, his brows knit together, the expression reminding you of approaching thunder in summer.

His gaze is heavy like midnight when he guides it back to you – always back to you and your eyes, even if there’s a whole feast down there, prepared just for him. The backs of your thighs meet his as he slowly crawls forward, spreading your legs further apart before the battering ram. 

“Kitten...” he rumbles. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The springs continue to wail beneath you: it’s like the whole world is against you today, even the stupid bed making it far too likely to get caught. And if you get caught, it won’t be just by some shocked sisters screaming when they find a man inside your room… It will be by them screaming when they find him inside you.

And he doesn’t seem to even care.

“Ach so my little nun… I hope we don’t break the bed,” he smirks.

“I hope you don’t break the bed…”

“You want me to take you down there instead?” 

He nods in the direction of the floor, and you can only blink – your soldier boyfriend is offering to fuck you on the cold cement as if it’s some kind of an option.

“I’m not having my first time on a floor,” you grump.

“Heh. Thought so, princess.”

The possibility of getting caught makes him visibly excited. Hell, it makes you excited... You wonder if he’s an adrenaline junkie, leading a dangerous life and having a life-threatening job, now choosing to try his luck at fucking a nun at a cloister.

You don’t want to be a challenging conquest or a kinky story told to some fellow soldiers at a bar… You want to be a commitment; you want to mean something to him. But you can’t escape the fact that this setting is turning you on. You’re even worse than him, spreading your legs and hoping he’d touch you with that cock; just drag it down your lips and glide it in already.

His gaze is heavy, blue steel, blazing in the darkness as he looks at you so wanton on the bed, a simple crucifix on the wall as the only witness to your deeds. This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life…

Replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he finally lets you have what you need. The tip of him is hot, even when covered in thin plastic, and the sight of him, large and powerful and dark, looming godlike above you, makes you think of pagan heroes and kings. To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want.

With a curious finger sliding down the wet, heavy seam of you, he swears when meeting you so pliant and wet. Thanks to your constant “practising”, you’re always slightly aroused, getting in the mood the instant you see him.

Contrary to your belief, having sex multiple times a day doesn’t, in fact, stifle sexual desire but adds to it… It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box together, only the box contained all the pleasure in the world instead.

“Are you ready, kitten…?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… We need to be quiet…”

His smile is a flash of a grin in the falling darkness. “I’ll try my best.”

The sound that leaves the back of his throat is a deprived, hoarse moan. He seems to be enjoying it more than anything while you’re trying to remember how to breathe, but when he settles fully in and stays there, you start to actually feel something… Something thick, and heady. 

Settling to your entrance, he tells you to relax, and you try your best with that; you truly do.

But nothing can prepare you for it, the fat head of him sliding in, smoothly and with a spread that leaves you gasping. The fulfilment is phenomenal – you try to remind yourself to relax your muscles as he pushes a few inches in, and then some more, and then some more. More, more, more, until you start to feel your inner walls wake up with alarm. 

Seated so deep that his balls arrive to touch your flesh, your body starts to accept him, squeeze him, hug him.

And it feels good. In a way, it’s the best feeling in the world.

He groans, slightly high-pitched and surprised; perhaps you’re tighter than he expected, or perhaps he can feel the hugging thing… 

Your cheeks are panging with heat – the whole building is silent except for the broken breaths of you two, and the lewd sounds of fucking on your chaste bed not made to take this sort of abuse. Growing only wetter and wetter, you try to keep your moans lodged inside your throat as he starts to fuck you with determination, seeing that you’re enjoying yourself. 

Pulling out the slightest bit, he chooses to head straight back, apparently not wanting to be deprived of your heat even for a second. Thrust by thrust, he pulls out more, allowing you to get used to what it feels like. The bed is absolutely horrid, creaking every time he buries himself back in. 

It’s a punishing of sorts, his cock knocking the air out of you every now and then. The slap of his balls against you is sinful – your room has seen nothing like this, nothing but some shy solo action every few months. Now you’re spread wide open for a good pounding, his hips reaching a pace that makes the rest of the world slowly dissolve. 

Realizing he might be a bit too enthusiastic with a woman who’s a first-timer, he swallows and slows down his pace, causing you to almost scream with frustration. 

“Am I being too rough…?” He asks, panting like he just ran ten miles. Plugged deep inside you, you can feel his cock throbbing and pulling near the point of cumming – perhaps another reason why he stopped.

“No… No.” 

You sound puny under him, fingers flexing over his skin, the great ribs flaring in reply under your touch.

“You want more?” 

“Mm. Needy little thing...” 

“...Yes.”

Huffing in the hollow of your neck, he breaks into a smile and licks his lips. 

You barely catch the hint of degrading tone in his voice, a mocking, something about the way you’re so wet and needy for him stroking his ego just the right way.

Knowing that he’s here for reasons other than just sex doesn’t change the fact that you enjoy getting sweaty with him, spiralling into a state of total surrender. Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours. 

Ecstatic that you just came, König no longer holds back; he doesn’t even let you gather the remaining pieces of your sanity before he starts to chase his own peak. Taking what he needs from you, the trusts turn into short, quick pumps, some foul German curse hissed between his teeth just before he cums. 

When the tide swells, it’s a bit different: not just external stimuli and shallow friction, but areas never explored now getting nudged as well. The delicious drag of his length in and out of you, the thickness making you feel overstuffed, does make the pleasure well like never before.

You’re not accustomed to this, being forced so dumb by a cock. Cheekily anticipating the swelling wave, it breaks upon you almost without warning. There’s nowhere to escape, and the climax is blinding, the euphoria leaving you without air for a moment. 

You can feel every thick pulse of his cock, and fear for the condom that looked far too tight to manage to take both him and his load. You whimper and cling to him as he ruts through his heavy bliss, entire body throbbing with heat from the joy of spilling inside you. 

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. The man on top of you is sweaty and catching his breath, but you’re only glad to swim in the messy, sweaty newness of you two. 

“You ok...?”

You want his weight on you… You want him to stay inside you until he grows soft, you need him to be as drowsy and complete as you.

Hugging him tight in the middle of your post-coital bliss, you feel König rumble into your neck.

“Better than ever,” you breathe a smile. “How about you…?”

“...In heaven,” he replies, and you have to stifle a giggle pushing up your throat. He has never sounded so spent. So tired, happy and fragile…

“I just want to be with you like this,” he continues to mutter on your skin. “Can I be with you like this…?”

“Yes.”

He slowly rises to lean on his elbows, propping himself on them one by one. Weary, pleased eyes slowly focus on you, and the back of his palm comes to caress you, knuckles gently brushing your temple, thumb swiping away an escapee hair. 

“Kitten… I’m serious. I don’t want to live without you.”

“We have a tradition in Austria where men sometimes steal the bride.”

“How convenient,” you smile.

“I know you belong to someone else, but I’m going to steal you.”

Your eyes are full of stars, you just know they are. If this is another one of his jokes, you can’t bring yourself to care, not as long as he looks at you like that, eyes so set and determined.

“I’m sure He won’t mind,” you mirror his gesture, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“I’ll fight Him if he does.” 

“...You can’t fight God,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You open your mouth, then close it, shaking your head on the pillow. In a way, you can imagine him taking up arms against God if it came to that. If there was someone foolish enough – or brave enough – to rise against God, that someone would be him.

“König… I renounced my vows today.”

“...You did?”

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too.

“I tried to leave in the morning but the abbess made me stay for one more day.”

“Ah... So you’re being held a prisoner here?”

“Kind of.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells you that he already has another plan coming right up. That grin means mischief; but with you, only the sweetest kind.

“Well. You’re in luck, then, because I’m here to save you.”

“You just said you’re going to steal me,” you laugh.

“Call it what you want, kitten,” he winks. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

…

The sun has set, but the evening is bright, the sky filled with stars visible even through city lights. It’s dark in the courtyard as you sneak out of the window with König, trying not to giggle as you escape. You call it a prison break; he calls it Einsatz Rapunzel. Whatever it is, it feels like freedom.

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König.

He whispers promises on your skin, saying that you won’t stay here for long; his contacts will get you to the heart of Europe, tomorrow if you want. You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new. 

Night covers you with beauty and grace, his pulse against your palm both a promise and a blessing. You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Gala, But It's Not Wayne, It's Masters

This just lives rent-free in my brain, so I'm here to share. And maybe get help.

Batfam probably don't only go to galas and events in Gotham, right. Bryce Wayne is a rich bitch and WE has contracts and ties around the world, so Wayne Wards have to attend events out of state (and out of country) from time to time. This time, they are invited by Vladimir Masters, the owner of DalvCo.

Coincidentally, Vladimir Masters is rumored to have some hidden Kryptonite stash. So Bruce decides to go, taking some of his kids with him, because it is also rumored that Masters has two wards of his own, and, first, Bruce has to bring his kids for disguise, second, he needs them for some team building, bonding and whatnot, and last, he really needs to check if Masters' children are living in a safe environment. Cue all his family making fun of him for wanting to adopt more kids.

What makes the jokes even worse is that both Master's kids have black hair and blue eyes.

When they arrive, they are greeted with a sight of a full-sized gothic castle. It looks really out of place in Illinois, but the vampire vibes are there, definitely. And said vibes only become stronger when they meet Vladimir and his kids - all three of them are giving the Batfam goosebumps, and not in a good way. Now, the things capable of giving Bats goosebumps are very, very limited. And never good.

Vladimir - he insists they call him Vlad - is a fairly tall, gray-haired man with piercing eyes. His smile is nice and polite, but it kind of reminds Tim of Ra's, which is, well, not a good thing. But overall, he is... Okay. They can definitely take him down if they need to (they really can't, but they don't know it).

The kids, though. They are twins, probably fifteen or sixteen, a boy and a girl, and they look like they came straight from a horror movie. Calm and even, mirroring each other's gestures and finishing each other's sentences, no facial expressions, and they don't seem to be blinking. Cass has a hard time getting anything from the way they hold themselves - they seem to only show any kind of emotion when they are addressed. Damian can't shake off a feeling of being watched, even though the twins barely look at him. Tim, raised in a family of socialites, notices how both of them have really nice manners, the kind you learn when someone teaches you etiquette specifically.

Bruce is unnerved by the sight. Are the kids mind controlled? Are they okay? This is definitely not how kids should act at fifteen at a gala, holy shit. Granted, he's seen not that many kids at galas, but the point still stands.

Now, at this point, I have a few ways this can go. First one, the suffering orphans way, Danny and Dani are actually controlled by Vlad, who wanted perfect heirs. Second, the little shits way, Danny made a deal with Vlad to attend a gala and Dani joined him, so now they are having fun with acting as eerie as possible since Vlad strictly forbidden them from shenanigans. This can be either redeemed Vlad or not. Third, the demonic twins' way, where Vlad is definitely redeemed and is taking care of the Fenton kids, raising them however he sees fit. Jazz is also under his care, but she is mostly an adult now, and they have more of a 'caretaker on paper and legally not old enough to live on her own' relationship than a 'parent and daughter' one.

Do the Waynes befriend them? Do Bats get caught while investigating? Do Danny and Dani cause trouble at the gala? Maybe they get to prove to Bruce that they are, indeed, perfectly happy about living with Vlad?

Inspired by this art

[feistyvirghoe]

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? ﾟ･*☆¸¸.•*¨*•

pick a pile u feel most called to, the one u cannot look away from, the one that is pulsing, go with your gut, always trust yourself, and if u feel called to more that’s cool baby boo! there more for u!

these are general and for a vast amount of ppl, don’t get ur undies all twisted up bc it’s not resonating, it’s normal and it’s fine, this just wasn’t for u! <3

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 1 - i see your future partner will see you as someone who has been through a hell of a lot, whatever u have overcome just makes them look at you as like this strong individual, someone who has suffered a lot probably at the hands of others too. they see you as an extremely fair individual, you don’t back down from a fight or challenge, whatever comes your way you still persevere and continue to move forward, it’s like u have been through so much strife but you’re still positive about life, the circumstances, like you try not to let that get to you, you’re an honest person, they see u as someone who’s fire is still there after all the weird conflicts you’ve gone through, you don’t let it break you down, still standing strong, but even though u may be very assertive and someone who seeks the truth, like a whistleblower, but u look so happy and vibrant on the outside like u kind of deceive people with that soft, warm, joyful exterior but if anyone tries you, they get like instant karma or just karma in general, like you’re not the one to fucking mess with, there is this passion within you that needs to be shown off, like letting yourself be seen.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 2 - your future person sees you as a bit naive but not in a bad way, there’s this innocence to you guys, you’re very okay like the lovebirds but then there’s sadness and a lot of fucking grief, maybe it’s coming from losing friends, family, lovers, pets, could be anything sentimental and close to your heart but they see u as so gifted and just as someone who doesn’t really break the rules, they see you as someone who may need some compassion in their life, like more support, i mean you’re extremely supported by the divine but u probably don’t feel that way in the 3D, like here physically IRL, do u not have many people that you can count on? like you have to do it all alone which you don’t and i’m sure your person will see this as well. there is so much good out there waiting for you, they’d want to see you and help u move on from whatever has happened that affected you so heavily, almost like u feel like you have no one on your side, but they’re there babe, it’s okay and completely harmless to obey and let yourself change for the better, for your highest good! they don’t want you holding onto this pain, i was very jokey about it earlier so maybe u guys can be the ones to brush it off but no, sitting with what happened and reflecting and not looking backwards at a past that you can’t change may help some. you’re worth so much more than whoever or whatever fucked u over, you deserve to be happy and feel happy and full of positive LOVING ENERGY! i feel like tapping back into spirit and becoming closer with the divine will help..easing the discomfort emotionally, you’re always loved and protected!

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 3- okay my p3s, it took me a minute to feel out your energy, idk i was just getting really frustrated and now im sweaty and i just took a shower, so im feeling like your future lover may see you as a “hothead” no, you just have a temper, it seems like you like things your way, like you’re not the one to let shit slide, you stand up for yourself, something about you is just very fast moving, like go go go go (cue the cringey ass carnival song 💀) okay so yeah you have a temper and can be quick to jump the gun and just fucking move people out of your way. i see they see you as someone who can’t stand when other people are just slow moving, like you need to be stimulated and engaged with whatever you’re doing, like you will keep doing something over and over until you reach your desired outcome. i like yall, u guys don’t play around, and that’s what it is, your fucking feisty ass, my pile that seems to embrace change whether you like it or not, it’s like it is what it is…i hope your person is strong as fuck and not just physically i mean mentally, you’re in your own fucking world, it’s like they may even have to ground you and bring u back down to earth to help u stabilize yourself, let yourself take a break from the fucking overachieving i don’t wanna say it like that but if you keep working yourself hard to the point of no return you’re gonna crash and i feel like u don’t mind bringing others in the mix, it’s like if i go down we all going down lmfao…just breathe, relax, take a minute to go outside and embrace your surroundings even if it’s shitty, there is always something around us that is so small but it puts a smile on your beautiful face. you don’t always have to keep your guards up and yes people may wanna try to come after you but just know you don’t have to do much to fend these weirdos off, they could never really reach ya level. your future lover sees all of this, you stand up for yourself and u show out too, like don’t fucking mess w me is y’all’s vibe, HAHAHAHA FUCK AROUND AND U GON DEF FIND OUT 💀

(this pile took such a turn lmao, it felt so chaotic ahhh, i hope u guys find some time to seriously just CHILL..no worrying about nothing just woosah baby, idk like whatever calms you down do it! rfn haha 😆ugh i wanted to write more but i promised myself to make the piles shorter, but pls lmk if u guys like longer more detailed ones or straight to the point, i mean either way it’s up to me but i wanna hear from you guys 🩵😚)

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 4- you guys are my leaders, even if you don’t see it this is all about ur future lover and how they see you, you seem to have a very strong head on your shoulders, you guys are so fucking courageous and extremely fast moving again similar to pile 3 but not quite, they’re like the energizer bunnies (i’m sorry to pile 3 that’s not a jab lmao) but you guys are more strategic, the other pile is more so spontaneous, okay if u feel called to it just go for it and head to that pile but you guys my lil babies hahaha, u may not like that, the lil cutesy names, but i mean underneath it all is just a sweet ball of sunshine, you guys like control and your future lover will automatically see it, it’s like you guys may not like to see things out of place, no matter what it is, like you need a schedule, you can’t just free ball it, you guys are like methodical and you’re not giving up without a fight, you’ve come so far and for some random ass weirdo to just come on in and try and undermine you is a very wrong chess move, you’re ten steps ahead bitch, i feel like you know more than you let on, like yes you may be cool calm and collected but oh do your words have people either checking themself or they’re in a corner crying from what you said, maybe u can be a little blunt with the way you interact with others, but i don’t think it’s coming from such a bad place, that’s just in your nature, you know how to tame your inner demons, the beast within, u can look at your own mess and take accountability, very honest straightforward, cut throat ass person, and your person is digging that shit, they like your dominance and how assertive you are, like the fucking boss, mommy/daddy/authoritative energy!

THANK U FOR FUCKING BEING HERE U AMAZING ASS QUEEN/KING/GOD/GODDESS !!!!

i appreciate you for stopping by and letting me read for you, i have been gone for some time but im back bitch and im here to fucking stay! idk if anyone else has been feeling this weird ass energy of people like not wanting you to succeed or see you doing well, i’ve been feeling that and a mix of my own pent up shit i need to deal with but i hope you liked this reading and if you don’t that’s literally fine babe, just don’t be an asshole about it, if it doesn’t resonate what??? LET IT GOOOOOO ! i have to say that!

these are extremely general readings and they’re meant for entertainment purposes, please don’t take things so seriously and also realize my readings are for people above 18!