#i was very found of christian god when i was little | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mv1simp · 3 months ago

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my constant thought about max is him and virgin reader where r is saving herself for marriage and for her husband but max convinces her that doing anal means she’ll stay a virgin <33

Anon YOU EVEN MADE ME BLUSHH 🤭🤭🤭 do u know how hard that is. got me kickin and gigglin an shit, here u go u filthy animal keep the requests coming 🫶

Low Life ♥️

Max Verstappen x Horner! Reader

I been on the molly and ‘em xans with your daughter, if she catch me cheatin’ I won’t ever tell her sorry

Mad Max is back in full force with the poor Redbull strategy this season - and his boss, Christian Horner, doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Guess Max will just have to find some other way to get his revenge and relieve his stress…starting with his boss’s precious, spoiled daughter.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin!reader, who’s also a spoiled brat lol, dark! Max, blackmail, coercion, filming, VERY dubcon, anal, size kink, dom/sub, bimbofication, religious themes, EVERYTIME I WRITE A DARK MAX FIC IT KEEPS GETTING MORE NASTY GODDAMN, 5.2k WC

To say Max was pent up with rage would be an understatement. After dedicating himself tirelessly and dominating the track since his debut, the Redbull team had disappointed him this season with their pisspoor car and even poorer strategy. And to top it off, his boss was now making comments to the media about how he needed to spend less time on the sim rig the night before a race, making Max scoff. As if Horner knew more about winning a race than a 3 time world champion, Max thought angrily, yanking off his helmet as he stormed straight to his boss's office to give him a piece of his mind after another disappointing P3 finish.

Horner was having none of it, though, telling Max some bullshit about how the team needed to have a united front blah blah blah. Max has already tuned him out, cause what the fuck does he mean the team - he was the one bringing home the results every weekend, and anyone who tried to say otherwise just needed to look at the track record of Max completely dominating his teammates in equal machinery. God, he hadn’t gotten this mad in a long time, so he excuses himself rudely as he can tell he’s about to wreck something if he has to hear another one of Horner’s excuses. He wrenches open the office door just to have you stumble straight into his firm chest as you try to enter it.

You, Christian’s Horner’s daughter from his first wedding, freshly graduated from some private all girls college. He’d met you 3 months ago while you were trotting about like the spoiled little brat you undoubtedly were. No job, just using your degree as decor while you used your daddy’s fame to find yourself a rich man to spread your legs for, he had speculated, knowing just your type.

And it irritated him to no end that you looked the picture of innocence, an angelic figure in your white minidress and kitten heels and wide doe eyes, with a matching purity ring and all - even though your pretty tits and fat ass were openly ogled by many a male staff member. Max himself had to readjust his pants a few times when he’d seen you bend over.

He’d assumed you’d try to sink your gold digging claws into him soon enough, wanting some of his multimillionaire status for yourself, but you’d surprised him by skittishly avoiding him, almost looking a little scared, which he found amusing. He supposed he did dwarf your 5 foot frame though, and you had all the aura of a sweet little lamb compared to the Dutch lion. You’d surprised him again last month, when you’d introduced your dad to your pick of a first boyfriend - Tim, a docile looking, short guy who was a lowly new hire in the F4 reserve category. Too far down in the rankings to do any real benefit to your status. Conveniently, though, Tim’s father happened to own a software development app that was currently in the process of a $3 million acquisition deal. Chump change to someone like Max, but like he said, he knew your type, didn’t he?

But he’d been most surprised when he’d overheard moaning one night when he’d stayed late in the garage - and had pervily gone to investigate down the abandoned hallway and into one of the empty rooms - only to get an instant hard on at the sight of you on your knees, dress pulled down to your waist and those delicious tits out on display. So entranced by the angelic vision, Max hadn’t even noticed your loser boyfriend - till a scowl appeared on your pretty face as Tim furiously jerked his tiny dick off in front of you. He was panting and whining, sweat running down his face as he pathetically begged please, please can i touch your boobs-

You were no scared little lamb now as you snapped at him viciously. No! I told you, only looking and no touching! I promised daddy I would stay pure for my husband- Eww! Oh my god, what is that?

You’d been cut off as your boyfriend came, his small, clear load weakly spurting past his fist so that only a couple of drops landed on your caramel skin. Max had thought you’d been lying about the purity bullshit, just wanting an excuse to avoid Tim’s touch - but his eyes narrowed at your look of disgust at your boyfriend’s dick, and the genuinely puzzled expression on your face as you tried to figure out what the clear fluid that landed on you was - making the impressive semi he still rocked twitch, despite your pathetic boyfriend ruining his show. Interesting, you were still a virgin, huh?

Sure, you’d piqued his interest then, but he ignored you now as you stumble back from his hard chest, wide brown doe eyes blinking up at him. He’s still furious with Horner and starts to move past you but your aggravating father perks up, asking if you could show Max where his new drivers' room was in the refurbished wing, so that he could cool down and destress in peace after today’s race. Of course, daddy, you responded sweetly, making Max’s cock stir. He eyed you doubtfully as you lead the way. You had to know what you were doing, a grown woman using that word, right? But then again, he’d seen you call Horner by that title in a team wide press conference, making GP choke on his water next to him - so maybe not.

His anger hadn’t dissipated one bit as you approached his room, in a much more secluded area of the new wing for him to “cool down” as Horner had passively aggressively suggested. Still clearly nervous in his presence, you accidentally dropped the key you’d fished out. As you bent over to collect them, your miniskirt rose up, revealing your juicy ass peeking past your white cotton panties. Oh, he’d found the perfect way to get back at his boss, Max thought devilishly.

As you unlocked the door, he stepped in behind you, giving you no choice but to stumble inside - and then he’d casually stopped in front of the door to block your exit. You nervously twirled your keycard in your fingers, shuffling side to side.

Why don’t you sit down, he offered, we should get to know each other, yeah? You still looked like you wanted to bolt any second, but at Max’s authoritative tone you gingerly sat down on the plush couch.

He started with some generic bullshit about how he’d seen you around, you were his boss’s daughter after all, and as Horner’s best driver he should be on good terms with you too, no?

You relaxed, now looking up to meet his eyes and smiling brightly, pleased that the great Max Verstappen had come to seek your favour. You start saying that it was nice to meet him too, you’d heard lots about him, he was such an incredible driver-

You hadn’t noticed Max discreetly locking the door behind him. Stepping forward, he responded neutrally to your excited questions as he casually strips off his top layer, leaving him shirtless.

You abruptly stop talking, going pink in the face, and he asks what’s wrong, I’m just getting changed, are you a virgin or something? His mocking tone makes it clear that he still didn’t quite believe you were one. When you don’t reply, he gently lifts your face up with his large hand. And as your eyes shyly rise up to meet his, desperately avoiding looking at his broad, toned abs, there’s no faking the genuine innocence in them. I am, you stutter out. A virgin, I mean. I made a promise to daddy to wait till marriage.

You twirl your promise ring around anxiously as you say it. Max didn’t know what kind of sick brainwashing Horner had been subjecting his daughter too, but he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Really? He says slyly. Does your daddy know you let your little boyfriend jerk off on your tits?

You gasp, then glare as you demanded to know how he knew that, had he been watching, that was soo creepy and gross -

There’s the bratty angel he knew had been hiding. He cuts you off, confirming that yes, he’d been watching - but you’d been the dirty girl who seduced her innocent boyfriend in the garage for just anyone to see, hadn’t you?

You’d look outraged at his statements, but he reminded you of the power he had when he nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t planned on telling your father, but now that he knew about the promise you had made - well, it was his duty to let Horner know what kind of naughty things you’d been doing behind his back, right?

That had wiped the bratty glare right off your face, instead making you wide eyed and tremble with fear at the thought of your daddy finding out. You begged Max to keep your secret. Please don’t tell him, he would die, you'd do anything to stop him knowing!

Jackpot. Smirking darkly, Max pretended to consider your option before saying that he supposed he could keep it to himself if you helped him destress and relax like your father had sent you here to do, okay?

You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes as he stepped right in front of you, watching you predatorily. His thick fingers brush along your pink lips, and his eyes darken as you instinctively take them into your mouth, sucking sweetly. Oh, you were going to be such a sweet little angel for him, he just knew it.

Within seconds he had you dropping your dress down to your waist, exposing those lush, pretty tits of yours. You blushed when he stared hungrily and ordered you to play with them, and at first you obliged and gently squeezed them, but then stopped to brattily ask just how this was supposed to help destress him, was he just being pervy again?

Great point, he said, and sat down next to you to easily lift you into his lap, taking over and roughly palming your tits. N-no touching! You had squealed, desperately trying to escape his strong arms. Rolling his eyes, he forced you back against him, explaining that it was okay, you knew that it didn’t count if it was to help him destress, right? And besides, nothing would affect your promise to your daddy except a man’s cock actually entering your precious virgin hole-

Okay! You had said frantically to put a stop to his explicit words, face flushed. Okay, if you promise it doesn’t count, I’ll still be a virgin, right?

God, it was so cute how naive you were. You hadn’t even realised that if what Max was saying was true then there was nothing illicit with what you and Tim had done - and Max had nothing to hold over you. Right, Angel, Max promised, enjoying the dazed look you gave him at the nickname as he squeezed your tits, bending down to take a pretty nipple into his mouth. It doesn’t count.

And that was how Max had his boss’s innocent little daughter wrapped around his fingers, ready to do whatever he asked of her, as long as he kept your secret. It was such a rush, having his way with you right under your father’s nose, being able to punish you for his crimes and ruining you more and more each time Horner pissed him off - and oh, did he piss Max off constantly.

So the next race, he’d had you fully strip for him, and yes, even those cute panties, Angel, when you’d whined, embarrassed from his intense gaze. You’d bit your lip and slid them off, obediently spreading your legs and gently playing with yourself like he’d asked, using unfamiliar movements. Soon enough you’d become accustomed to Max’s hungry stares at your innocent parts and began thrusting your tiny fingers inside your virgin cunny, because it had started to feel sooo good and soo tingly down there, and you’d never felt like that before.

You’d become distracted, closing your eyes from the sensation and when you opened them you shrieked, because Max was now standing right above you, greedily looking down at your petite form as he stroked his own private parts - called a cock, he’d made you repeat. He’d also warned you never to scream again in his room, or he’d gag you next time and tell your dad about Tim. You pouted, nodding obediently, but whining that you got scared Maxie, why was it so big, so angry, was it going to hurt you?

Of course not, Angel he’d reassured at the next race again, this time making you sit next to him, naked except for your kitten heels and a lacy blue thong he’d had delivered to your house - your father as clueless as ever when he handed the package over to you. It won’t hurt you, he promised, but it's very hard from stress and needs you to help drain it, okay?

He’d guided you to his large cock, smirking evilly as you struggled to grip him even with two hands. He moved one large hand over both of yours, showing you how to jerk him off the way he liked. You’d picked it up very quickly, innocently asking him why Tim's cock was so much tinier that his. Cause, Angel, I'm just a better man than he is, he had said with a chuckle. Oh, you had said, then - I hope my husband is a good man then, and has a big cock like you.

Oh, Jesus. Max was definitely going to hell after this. Feeling his peak approaching, he ordered you onto your knees, making you hold your tits up - and then proceeded to cover them with his thick, creamy release, so much of it that it dripped down onto your stomach - and much more than the time you had seen Tim’s cock explode. You’d almost screamed again but bit your tongue at the last minute, remembering Max’s threat last time. But it didn’t stop you from glaring up at him, brattily asking what this gross stuff was, eww, you didn’t want it on you-

That’s fine, Max had said cooly. That’s fine, because next time he'd make you drink it all instead. Your eyes went wide at that, tears forming and you adamantly denied Max, saying you’d never do something like that, it sounded pervy and dirty.

But your reluctance meant nothing to Max, as he smirked at you from your fathers side the next day, whispering something in his ear that had your daddy looking over at you and an icy chill running down your back. You were petrified as you got a text from your father to come see him in his office now, walking in on the verge of tears only to have him smile delightedly at you because Max mentioned you’d been very supportive of his races lately, it’s been a big reason why he’s so much more of a team player these days, so proud of you for helping the team, sweetie!

You’d accepted his praise, blushing from the attention, and later had dutifully wandered back to Max’s room to greet him after the race. He smirked at finding you there, already naked except for a pink lacey thong and heels, on your knees for him, shyly thanking him for keeping your secret and saying such nice things to your daddy. Of course, Angel, he murmured, unzipping himself. You know just how to say thank you then, hmm? And you obediently nodded, jerking him off like he’d taught you, then licking and sucking on his cock when he asked, and then taking all of his length inside your eager throat at his command, gagging the whole way as he tutted disapprovingly at you, taking over and controlling the pace with his large hands. It had really hurt your tiny mouth, and you couldn’t speak properly afterwards, but seeing Maxie swear and tell you how good you were doing, how he never wanted to let you go, made that tingly feeling come back in between your legs again. Instead of ignoring it like you normally did, this time you couldn't resist fingering yourself, thong pushed the side as you shoved your fingers inside your wet cunny.

Maxie had gone breathless seeing that, and then he tensed before you felt his warm, sticky thick cum fill your mouth. You swallowed every drop, opening your mouth afterwords for him to inspect. Good girl, he said, patting your head. My sweet angel, you drained my stress so well. Oh, so that’s what it was, you say innocently. I’m glad I made you feel better, Maxie.

After that, there were no races for a whole month as the paddock went into summer break. You had thought you’d be glad for the relief from Maxie and his mean demands, but you found yourself texting him often, missing his loving kisses and touches after you helped relieve his stress, missing the tingly feeling you got when he looked predatorily at you spread open for him.

You’d been shocked when you opened your eyes as a shadow had blocked out the sun while you were sunbathing at your family’s St Tropez holiday home, only to find Max grinning down at you, saying your dad had invited him to come for the week. Had you been doing your homework? You nodded diligently, looking at the banana you’d been practising swallowing whole without gagging to copy the dirty video Max had texted you of a petite woman eagerly sucking a very big cock - he must be a good man, you’d thought, just like your Maxie.

Secretly, you were so glad he was here, shooting him looks over the dinner table as he sung praises about what a good friend you’d been to him, helping him get back to P1, making your daddy proudly pat your head. And after dinner when everyone had gone to bed, he joined you in the hot tub to unwind. You’d excitedly begun to tell him about what you had been upto on the break when you felt his thick fingers creeping up the inside of your thighs. You’d frozen instantly, because Maxie had never touched you there himself, but before you could say anything your father stepped out onto the veranda, asking you something about your plans for the next day.

Answer him, Max mouthed, smirking as you had no choice but to let him keep gliding up your legs and undoing your tiny bikini. And when your daddy had gone back inside, oblivious that the flush on your face wasn’t from the heat of the pool, you’d tried to shove Max’s hand away, brattily saying you didn’t want his hand near your private parts, that was just for your husband-

Doesn’t count, Angel, Max had cooed, easily overpowering you and sliding a finger in, much thicker and longer than yours and making you squeal as he started pumping it in and out of you. And he hadn’t stopped despite your half hearted protests, because you’d started to feel really good, really tingly, and Maxie, I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee-

After you had your first orgasm, he carried your tired figure back into the house, setting you down and licking your cum off his fingers. And then, through your half asleep state, you felt his tongue swirling around your nipples, leaving hickeys and then trailing down, and down before his warm breath gently blew over your puffy cunny. And then you felt his wide tongue licking your folds, making you gasp awake and squeal cause why was he kissing you down there, that’s so pervy-

But he’d easily bullied you back into quiet muffled moans again, your skimpy bikini bottoms shoved inside your mouth as he warned you that your father was going to wake up right next door and come investigate if you didn’t shut up. So you reluctantly let him continue his filthy kissing, spitting and licking on your most innocent parts until you felt you had to pee again. He grinned wickedly as you squirted a second time, completely ruining the sheets, before redressing your passed out figure in a comfy hoodie. You felt the ghost of a sweet kiss on your forehead before he walked away.

You avoided him the next few days, glaring when he would approach you, angry he’d kissed you somewhere only your husband should. He’d promised you were still a virgin, sure, but still! It was just too much, wasn’t it?

But you’d been unable to resist his advances any longer when he’d cornered you in the family study one day when everyone else had gone out to the markets. He’d sweetly apologised, presenting you with a new Dior bag he’d had speed delivered that morning, and you happily snatched it up, gasping with delight as you look inside to find a Cartier bracelet. You’ll forgive me, right, Angel? Max had said, slowly wrapping his arms around you from behind and rubbing his practically blue balls against your plush ass as you distractedly admire your new gifts. I just wanted to make you feel good, hmm?

You nodded breathlessly, agreeing that you supposed it had felt really good, you liked that tingly feeling in between your legs. Yeah? Max had grinned, kissing you and slipping his tongue inside and saying that he knew a way to make you feel even better, Angel, and you’d still be a virgin after it, he pinky promises, okay?

With the new Dior bag and diamond bracelet you’d become a lot more agreeable, and didn’t protest as he laid you back on your father’s study table, lifting your miniskirt over your hips and grinning wickedly when he found no panties - just your glistening pussy. Y-you always just rip them anyways, Maxie you pouted.

Oh, you secretly wanted this, didn’t you? Acting all bratty just cause you wanted to make him work for it, he was certain. Your sweet body was such a good plaything for him that he didn’t really mind, deciding not to punish you for avoiding him.

You curiously watch as he unzips himself, taking his thick cock out, then you squeal adamantly in protest when he brings it close to your innocent hole. Shh, Angel, it’s just on the outside, he’d promised, I won’t put it in, it’ll feel so good, trust me.

And it had felt sooo good, making you bite your lip and toss your head back as he dragged his warm length along your folds, slapping your clit a few times with his cockhead, making you spread your soft legs invitingly as you felt the addictive tingly feeling come back again.

He’d been unable to resist the temptation, sliding just the tip into your virgin cunny- but you’d immediately screamed in protest, twisting away and he had generously released you from his hold, tongue in cheek as you sashayed away with a backwards glare, Dior bag in hand. He’d had to leave the next day, and you didn’t see him the rest of the break.

After the break, you had seemed different to Max. You carried the brattiness openly in your eyes, confident now in your ability to seduce him as he has brought such expensive apology gifts just for a little taste of your virginity.

You had infuriatingly said no when he tried to rub himself against your cunny at the next race, and at the one after that, so here he was, stuck fingering you and sliding his tongue in and out of your folds for the 3rd time this week while his cock ached to be buried inside you - when the wicked idea came to him.

He’d made sure to have all the preparations ready for the next race, knowing you would be a brat and try to weasel your way out of it. Like he’d predicted, you make your way to his plush sofa, spreading your legs to show off your naked pussy and demanding he come kiss it how you liked.

Oh, his Angel had become quite the spoilt little bitch, hasn’t she? He’d have to make sure you learned your lesson about who was in charge around here. You smirk as he drags his tongue up and down your puffy folds, thinking you had the millionaire driver all wrapped around your fingers. His thick third and ring fingers join his tongue, making you moan and close your eyes as he pumps them into your pussy. And then, his thumb drops down, lower, to circle your other winking hole before sliding inside.

You’d jumped in shock, naively asking why he was touching your dirty hole, that’s so embarrassing, you don’t want him to touch that place!

Max cooes that he couldn’t care less, besides, he can clean it out for you, yeah? If he just slides his cock in, just a little bit, he can make sure it’s all clean for you.

Your eyes go impossibly wide at the thought of his big cock anywhere near your ass. You furiously close your legs, brattily telling him that you’d had enough, wasn’t he just being a pervert now, and you’d already broken up with Tim ages ago and since Max seemed to be very relaxed now given his P1s has resumed you didn’t think you needed to help him out anymore!

Time to pull out the big guns. Sitting back on the sofa now, Max palms his growing erection as he calls out to you, making you pause from where your hand rested on the doorknob.

You know, Angel, I’ve had a lot of creepy fans sneak onto the garage lately. Some even got into my room. I guess they just really wanted to see me shirtless, huh?

You turn around to look at him, confused, until your eyes slowly widen in horror as he points to the camera tucked in the corner. There’s no trace of sympathy on his handsome face as he starts lazily jerking himself off, telling you that it had been your fathers idea to set it up, for his safety, and he’d even kindly offered to go through all the footage later - he took any threats against his prized driver very seriously.

You panicked, already teary eyed at the thought of your father seeing you spreading your legs sluttily and demanding Max pleasure you. You immediately dropped to your knees, begging Max to keep the tape himself-

Now why would I do that, Angel? Max cooes, getting harder at the sight of you kneeling in front of him and crying for his help. After all, you’re the one who’s forcing him to kiss her pussy on that video, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants you as you beg him, offering up your precious pussy to slide against again if he wanted, just don’t go inside, okay?

That’s not the hole he wants, Angel, he told you darkly. No - he wanted your other hole, the dirty embarrassing one, and he wants to sink his entire cock inside it.

He watches you stutter and gasp, before you take a deep breath and naively ask My husband won’t be able to tell, right Maxie? I’ll still be a virgin?

Max smirks. Of course, Angel. You know he’d never break your precious promise. And with that, you’re ready to become his obedient pet again, blankly turning around and sticking your ass up in the air like he asks, spreading your cheeks for him to look at.

And oh, Max takes his sweet time looking, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of having completely broken you down like this. He generously douses you in lube, making you squeal at the chill, before he’s furiously pumping his thumb inside your impossibly tight back hole. You tremble as he lines his cock up, ordered you to relax or it’ll hurt, Angel. Slowly sinking inside, he moans as he finally finds his way into your heat, feeling like he’s reached heaven. Tears stream down your face as you wail once he begins meanly thrusting, wickedly taking your anal virginity all for himself and giving you his fingers to suckle on and keep quiet.

He doesn’t stop until he’s finished inside you, panting heavily and pushing his matted hair out of his eyes, pressing kisses down your spine to let you know you did so well for him.

He pulls out with a wet squelch, enjoying the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor, abused little hole. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, legs spread, he gives you a cocky smirk as you turn around, still seated on the ground in front of him.

Now clean it up, he demands meanly. He can’t have your hole make his cock dirty now, can he? And you obediently responded, crawling forward with glazed eyes, licking him clean from balls to tip like he’s trained you to do.

After that night, Max had held you completely in the palm of his hand. You’d be the perfect angel for him, doing whatever he wanted wherever he wanted - except for entering your innocent pussy, of course. He’d let you keep it yours for now, finding the fantasy hot. He’d buy you a diamond ring one of these days, he mused, so that you’d beg him to finally claim your virginity.

But for now, he had a couple other tricks to try out. And if you’d try to refuse, he’ll pull up the video he has on his phone of your eyes rolling back as Max ate you out on your father’s work desk from summer break.

He’d taken you back to his hotel room to teach you those tricks, making you wail and scream his name without restriction, headboard banging against the wall. It was hilarious when Horner had come upto him at breakfast the next morning, patting his back and saying it sounded like he’d been celebrating his win very well last night, congratulations, he deserves it and sounded like the girl couldn’t get enough!

Max had to hold back his laughter, as your clueless father had no idea he was carrying an extra croissant up for the very same girl who couldn’t get enough - his precious little daughter, who still lay sleeping in his hotel bed, exhausted from his dirty activities all night.

You’d ended up missing your flight back, making some weak excuse to your daddy and had followed Max into his private jet, obediently spreading yourself open for him as he pulled you behind the privacy screen. The flight attendants had blushed as they heard your eager moans and the lewd sounds of Max greedily fucking your ass again.

And when you landed, greeting your waiting family, Max had to discreetly wipe the line of cum that trickled down your skirt. You didn’t have to worry, though, he’d already thoughtfully ordered another delivery of sexy underwear straight to your home 🖤

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A/N: I actually gave myself post nut clarity writing this (post writing smut clarity?? Post smut conscience??) time to go outside and reconnect with nature. As always,,,lmk what u think 🤔

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #christian horner #horner’s daughter #smut #18+ mdni

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balkanradfem · 4 months ago

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So I've found Alyssa Grenfell on youtube. She shares her experience of leaving mormonism, and the inner workings of the religion. I had very little ideas about what mormonism is, only that it's a high-control religion, very difficult to leave, and has people knocking on doors trying to get converts. I've been interested to find out more, and I ended up watching almost all of her content, and some of the information I've got from it opened my eyes on other feminist topics, and I believe is relevant to the current discourse!

So if you, like me, don't know how mormonism works, it started when a guy decided that he too could be a part of the bible; he wrote a bible part two: mormon, and proclaimed himself a prophet. Then he started a religion based on his writings, decided it was more important than the bible itself because he 'translated it from gold tablets god gave him', and started gaining followers by convincing people he's the prophet. Once he had managed to get a following, he soon started to sexually exploit the wives and daughters of these followers, to the point where he had 20-40 wives and had married 14yo children. Families allowed it to happen because he would promise them to be royalty in the afterlife. He eventually got into a lot of trouble for stealing and raping children so he was killed by an angry mob, but the religion continued.

The religion is same as christianity except more rules (no coffee, no alcohol, no smoking), eternal worship of the predator who wrote it, followers are pressured to follow the rules exactly, and, the vital part, the followers have to give 10% of their income to the church. They developed a culture where once every young mormon kid comes of age, they have to go on a 'mission', which means they're removed from their home, and have to spend 2 years (1,5 for women) living in a foreign area, knocking on doors, sharing the gospel, trying to convert people. The conversion rate is extremely low, but at that point kids have invested so much time, effort, energy and passion for the religion, they become devoted to it and start to feel alienated in the world that rejects their religion. And even with the low conversion rate, every new convert means another continuous source of income for the church. So it's very profitable to send out young adults to make these sales. The kids are told that if they don't complete their missions, they will not be able to marry, and marriage is presented as their only life purpose.

So how rich is the church at this point? 230 billion dollars. I've been shocked to hear this because I had no idea. Alyssa explained that the mormon church is as rich as Pepsi, they have more money than Disney and McDonalds. So you might be wondering, like I did, well what are they doing with all that money? I've been left to wonder this for a while, until I watched the video called 'Why are so many influencers mormon?', which explained it. I didn't even realize a lot of influencers were mormon. But, this video showed me something both disturbing, and eye opening.

Before I go into that, I have to point out how patriarchal and misogynistic this religion is. Women are not given any options except marriage, and it's presented as the only righteous way to live. They're groomed for marriage from a very young age, encouraged to start writing letters to their future husbands at the age of 9. They're taught cooking, sewing and childcare, and to coddle any males in the family. It's taken for granted that m*n won't respect women, to the point where male children are allowed to harass grown women and their families will not intervene or consider it a problem. Chastity and purity are promoted to the level where members of the religion are expected to wear special underwear at all times, which hides their entire torso, shoulders, and legs down to their knees, and their clothing is expected to cover this up completely. They're rejected by the religion if they dare to have sex before marriage, or drink alcohol or coffee, or in some cases, tea. The church has a history of allowing and promoting polygamy, in the sense that a male was allowed to have as many wives as he wanted; they've since stopped this, but refused to break up the existing marriages. They're also promoting anti gay and racist propaganda, which Alyssa observed in school where she'd been teaching; a gay kid almost ended his life due to extreme homophobia.

I know all of this is somewhat common in all areas of society, all religions, and all cultures, but in mormonism it seems to be written into the core of it.

So now, why are so many influencers mormon? I didn't even know they were. The influencers themselves are not promoting the fact that they're mormon, nor does it come up in viral discussions. Ballerina farm is mormon. Tradwives are mormon. Whataboutaub, Rachel Parcel, brooklynandbailey, tanner_mann, thebucketlistfamily, Taylor Frankie Paul, Sarah Beeston, Ruby Franke, these are all mormon. Most of the Utah-based influencers are mormon, and there's a bigger amount of successful and popular influencers from Utah, than from LA or NY.

For me it immediately explained why this viral content is like that. Why we're having such influx of highly patriarchal, anti-feminist, very dangerous and sexist content, put in front of the eyes of young women. Why it's being promoted as an ideal way of life. How are these women able to share this life as if they truly believed it was good and ideal. How could they think it's harmless? If they're using the internet to the extent that they're creating content, how would they not be exposed to any feminism at all? And they wouldn't because it's against their religion to engage with content like that, or with people talking about it. Because being raised in a high-control religion, they would truly believe their lives are the ideal. They would be presented with it as their only option, the only way of life possible for a woman.

It's heartbreaking because I can now understand why it was so easy to push Ballerina Farm to give up her entire life ambition to get married and carry children for a male she didn't even want to go out with, the pressure from the religion to do so would be immense, she would have been raised to see this as the only option, everything else in her life would be considered pointless. She wouldn't have an actual choice, she'd be groomed for this from the moment she was born. Mormons don't advertise 'looking for your soulmate', they only instruct women to marry a mormon male who completed his mission and make it work.

So how does the immensely rich mormon church play into this? I couldn't see it until Alyssa explained in a very detailed way how youtube content advertising works. I didn't know about this either, but here's the overview:

How much you get paid on youtube, instagram, tik-tok, or other online content platform, depends on what type of content it is, based on how much advertisers are willing to pay to put adverts on it. For instance, you get paid much more for finance content, because banks will pay premium prices to be advertised in a finance-related video. If you're making content on cooking, you get paid way less, because it's not such a lucrative field. If you're making content on christianity, you get similarly low price as for cooking, christian church is not that rich. But, if you're making content as a mormon, that's showcasing some aspect of a mormon life, even if you don't specifically say you're mormon, the price goes way up, to the point where it's as lucrative as finance. The mormon church is making sure that the mormon influencers are being paid premium prices for their content, because people who get massively interested in the influencers, eventually find out that it's the mormon life being advertised, and some of them consider taking on mormonism. Which gives church more converts, which means the church will earn more money. The content we're watching is one huge advert sponspored by mormon church, and we don't even know it.

Alyssa figured this out because her content falls under the keyword 'mormon', and her comments warned her that the church is advertising on her videos, even when she's making mormon-critical content. She then realized that she too was being paid a premium price for her views, just because they're mormon themed. She went on to discover that even just being an influencer in Utah will fetch a premium price, because most of mormons are based in Utah. For more detailed and comprehensive explanation on this, watch her video!

Advertising is not the only way the mormon church is spending their money, they've also built a shopping mall, and are basically spending their money by investing and gambling and everything any corporation does with their profits. It's making me mad, and also makes the members of the church mad when they discover where 10% of their income goes, because they're told it's being used for charity and community service, and not advertisments and building malls.

For me this solves a mystery of how is it possible, in this day and age to have such influx of tradwives and influencers of 'traditional life', they're being sponsored by an organization making a profit off of it, making sure that anyone making this content is so well paid, they're able to live off of it, and keep creating more of it, and in the process of doing that, groom young women into their lifestyle.

Learning more about religions, specifically high-control religions, makes me realize just how much of it is happening all around us, but invisible, not naming what it is. It's similar to MLM's, the people inside are constantly trying to lure more people in, to make profit for those on the top, while the organization keeps changing names and hides their business structure in order to save their reputation. People can get influenced by it, and sucked in, without even knowing about it. Somehow most MLM's are also in Utah.

Mormon church also asked to no longer be called that, in order to stop being associated with the words like 'cult', which people have identified it as. Now they're working under more secretive names, and hidden business practices, so we wouldn't even know what we're being influenced by, and why is the content in front of us what it is.

#mormonism #religion critical #patriarchal religion #cults #tradwives #feminism #radical feminism #mormon church #insane how i had no idea all this was going on

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summercomfort · 11 months ago

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in my pursuit of ever-increasingly niche comics, I drew a 13 page comic about Tape v Hurley, a court case about Chinese-American school segregation in 1885. The rest of the pages are after the readmore, as well as on AO3 here. More obsure Chinese American court case comics are there, as well.

Historical Notes

Mary and Joseph Tape were not born in America, but their names and identities were very much formed in America. Joseph Tape was born Jeu Dip in Guangdong, China, immigrated the America when he was twelve, and spent his teenage years working as a house servant in an Irish household. Mary arrived in America at the age of eleven, and was found and raised as Mary McGladery in a Protestant orphanage as the only Chinese child amongst ~80 children. Both Mary and Jeu spent their formative years amongst White Christian families, so when Jeu Dip and Mary married in 1875, little wonder that Jeu picked the English name of Joseph Tape -- Joseph to match with Mary, and the German last name Tape as a nod to his former name of Dip.

The Tape family lived about 14 blocks outside of Chinatown, in a primarily white neighborhood. They dressed in Western clothing, spoke English at home, and Mamie grew up playing with non-Chinese kids. Naturally, they wanted their children to attend the local elementary school, a mere 3 blocks from their home. The principal, Ms. Hurley, denied her entrance, claiming that she was “filthy and diseased.” At the time, there was no public school option for Chinese children -- the 1870 state law stipulated separate schools for “African and Indian children” only, not Chinese. The Tape family, with the help of the Chinese Six Companies, their church, and the Chinese consulate, decided to sue, claiming that the 1880 California school code guaranteed everyone a right to public education and that this was a violation of the 14th Amendment.

They won.

But this was 1885, three years after the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act and six years before Plessy v Ferguson. Regardless of what the California Supreme Court might decide, public sentiment was on the side of the San Francisco school district. Determined to keep out this “invasion of Mongol barbarism”, the California State Legislature passed a law permitting separate schools for Chinese children, which then allowed Principal Hurley to reject Mamie Tape once more.

While Mamie was rejected from the Spring Valley Elementary School for being Chinese, she also had a hard time fitting in to the Chinese public school. The Chinese merchants saw Western education as something primarily for boys. (Their girl children learned from their mothers at home.) Mamie, a girl dressed in Western clothes, would have stood out like a sore thumb. The final panel of the comic was based on a photo from three years later, and even then, Mamie was the only girl.

Places where I fudged the history: Frank, Mamie’s younger brother, was actually six years old and should have been more present in the comic, but I wante to keep the focus on Mamie and Mary. Also, Mamie had actually shown up to her first day of school in Western clothes. An earlier draft of the comic had a separate arc involving Mamie feeling rejected at school and Mary buying her some Chinese clothes, but that got too long and complicated.

Much of this was drawn from Mae Ngai’s book about the Tape family and their experiences as 2nd and 3rd generation Chinese Americans, titled “The Lucky Ones.”

----------

Here is Mary Tape's letter to the San Francisco School Board, 1885:

1769 Green Street. San Francisco, April 8, 1885. To the Board of Education - Dear Sirs: I see that you are going to make all sorts of excuses to keep my child out off the Public schools. Dear sirs, Will you please to tell me! Is it a disgrace to be Born a Chinese? Didn’t God make us all!!! What right have you to bar my children out of the school because she is a chinese Decend. They is no other worldly reason that you could keep her out, except that. I suppose, you all goes to churches on Sundays! Do you call that a Christian act to compell my little children to go so far to a school that is made in purpose for them. My children don’t dress like the other Chinese. They look just as phunny amongst them as the Chinese dress in Chinese look amongst you Caucasians. Besides, if I had any wish to send them to a chinese school I could have sent them two years ago without going to all this trouble. You have expended a lot of the Public money foolishly, all because ofa one poor little Child. Her playmates is all Caucasians ever since she could toddle around. If she is good enough to play with them! Then is she not good enough to be in the same room and studie with them? You had better come and see for yourselves. See if the Tape’s is not same as other Caucasians, except in features. It seems no matter how a Chinese may live and dress so long as you know they Chinese. Then they are hated as one. There is not any right or justice for them. You have seen my husband and child. You told him it wasn’t Mamie Tape you object to. If it were not Mamie Tape you object to, then why didn’t you let her attend the school nearest her home! Instead of first making one pre tense Then another pretense of some kind to keep her out? It seems to me Mr. Moulder has a grudge against this Eight-year-old Mamie Tape. I know they is no other child I mean Chinese child! care to go to your public Chinese school. May you Mr. Moulder, never be persecuted like the way you have persecuted little Mamie Tape. Mamie Tape will never attend any of the Chinese schools of your making! Never!!! I will let the world see sir What justice there is When it is govern by the Race prejudice men! Just because she is of the Chinese decend, not because she don’t dress like you because she does. Just because she is descended of Chinese parents I guess she is more of a American then a good many of you that is going to prewent her being Educated. Mrs. M. Tape

#original comic #chinese american history #legal history #turns out there's a lot of chinese american court cases #that i have a lot of feelings about #my comic #mine

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ariestrxsh · 4 months ago

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𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, praise, light punishment, spanking, public teasing, religious kink, sexualization of religious imagery, blasphemy, masturbation, fingering, dom!matt, possessive!matt

📝 author's note: 📝 this is part two, and you can access part one here. if you are religious, first of all, why are you reading this? secondly, please don't interact with this post! it will offend you. for those of you who couldn't get enough and asked for a part two, thanks for giving me a reason to write another part, you little freaks, bc i'm honestly in love with this version of matt. 💖

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Matt has convinced you that the only way for you to stay a good, pure Christian girl is to come to him for your sexual urges rather than anyone else. When you approach him for help again, he teaches you a little trick to keep you satisfied until the next time he sees you.

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

coming down part two

"Matt, I'm getting that urge again," I told him, biting my lip and looking down at my feet as we stood underneath the same oak tree as last week. It was Wednesday, and we agreed that would be our meeting spot every week before service. "Meet me at my car after the sermon," Matt responded, tilting my chin up towards him with a long, slender finger. "You're such a good girl for coming to me. I know just how to satisfy your urges."

The whole time the preacher had the stage, I couldn't focus on what he was saying. My head buzzed with thoughts of Matt, the feeling of my hands in his hair while he ate me out, the sounds he made when he filled me, the way his voice got really low and raspy when he called me princess.

I held my Bible over my crossed legs and pressed my thighs together over and over as discreetly as I could to feel something, anything. And I prayed to God that no one would notice. Every once in a while, my eye would catch Matt's from across the room, and we'd share a quick but lustful look. I could tell we were both struggling to pay attention to the lesson.

Once service ended, I skipped off towards Matt's car. The air outside was warm, but there was a light breeze, and the sunset looked like cotton candy.

Matt beat me to the parking lot, and when we saw each other, he was leaning up against the hood of his car, biting his lip and smiling at me. He held the door open for me and extended his hand out for me to grab it, and when I did, he kissed the back of my hand. "You look so pretty in that polka dot dress," he said to me, making me blush. What a gentleman.

Matt got into the driver's seat, and before turning on the car, he glanced over at me. "Were you squeezing your thighs together in church on purpose?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and a smile forming on his lips. "I couldn't help it. I feel all wet and tingly down there," I said, embarrassed. "I didn't think anyone would notice."

"That was very naughty of you, princess, but don't worry. I don't think anyone did. I only noticed because I couldn't keep my eyes off you," Matt responded, tracing circles on my thigh with his fingertips. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"You know, you can't be having naughty thoughts about me in church, pretty girl. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson," Matt told me. "A lesson? What kind?" I asked, a mixture of fear and excitement in my voice. "You're gonna have to sit tight and find out," Matt said, turning the key in the ignition.

I'd never been to Matt's house, but I assumed that's where we were going. He looked over at me every few minutes as he drove, and at stop lights, he'd lean over and kiss me.

Once we pulled up to his house, he parked in the driveway and told me, "Nick and Chris are stopping for food on their way home, so we have some time, but not much.

I found myself in Matt's bedroom. He was clean and neat, and the lighting in his room was soft and not too bright. "Come here, angel. I have to give you a little punishment for getting all hot and bothered during the service," he smirked at me. My heart started to pound, and I swallowed hard. I didn't want to be punished. But I knew it was in my best interest to listen to him. "This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you," he said sternly.

"Bend over," he ordered me, and he bent me over his knee and lifted up my dress, exposing my bottom. "Were you trying to tease me, princess? In the middle of church?" Matt cooed, rubbing gentle circles on my bottom. "No, I wasn't. I didn't mean for anyone to see," I whined.

"Do you have any idea how hard you made my cock?" Matt asked, talking through his teeth and I felt a loud slap! on my ass. I cried out in shock. "Take your punishment, princess," he smacked it again.

I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, but I liked it. Why did I like being punished if it was supposed to be a bad thing?

"What were you thinking about anyway, huh? Was it my cock? Or my tongue?" Matt whispered as his hand came down one more time, leaving another red hand mark. "Both," I admitted. "Next time you misbehave like that, it's five spankings," he warned me.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to," I looked down in shame once he was done. "I forgive you, princess. We all make mistakes, but our actions have consequences. Next, let's get you out of those pretty panties, and why don't you come sit on my lap," Matt replied. I did as he said, slid out of my lacey undergarments, and I sat on his lap with his right knee between my legs.

"Oh, sweetheart. Look at how wet you are. Is that from me punishing you? You liked it, didn't you? He cooed, spreading it open and peering down at my glistening pussy. Matt started teasing my slit with his fingers. I bit my lip, our eyes met, and I nodded at him. "Good girl. You took your punishment so well," he slipped a finger into my pussy and started pumping in and out gently.

I inhaled sharply, and I looked at him wide-eyed. I thought I had already experienced everything with Matt, but no one had ever put their fingers there, and it felt incredible.

"How's that feel?" He asked. "Like heaven," I answered, leaning back into him and rolling my eyes towards the back of my head. As I laid back into him, I could feel something poking me in his pants, and it just kept getting bigger and harder. He put in a second finger. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered, smiling at him. He watched my facial expressions intently while he played around with the pace at which he was moving his fingers in and out of me. I felt myself getting wetter by the second.

"Do you ever play with yourself, princess?" Matt inquired while a pool of wetness formed on Matt's leg from what he was doing to me. "I mean, I've tried, but I've never successfully finished," I nervously bit my lip while I stifled a whimper. "Show me how you do it, baby," he whispered.

With his fingers still inside of me, I started running the pads of my fingers over my folds, and it felt alright, but not as mind-blowing as when Matt played with me. "Do you remember that little spot right here?" Matt said, brushing over my clit with his thumb. "That's the sweet spot, princess. Start rubbing yourself there," Matt told me. He was such a good teacher.

It immediately started feeling even better when I took his advice and started touching that special spot. "Now play around with the technique. I think you like slow circles, but with a lot of pressure," he whispered. I did as he said, and boy, was he right. "Oh my goodness. That's amazing," I gasped. "Mmm. Good girl. You learn so fast," Matt whispered into my ear.

"That's how you masturbate, princess. But just because I showed you doesn't mean you can go doing it at church," Matt teased me. "You should only do this when you're by yourself or with me, and you should only ever think about me when you do it, okay?" He looked into my eyes to make sure I understood. "Yes, Matt," I nodded. "And just because I showed you this, doesn't mean you shouldn't still come to me when you need to be taken care of," he smiled at me, "just a little trick for when you're desparate."

He started finger fucking me a little faster, and I felt myself on the brink of another explosion happening. I continued to rub my clit in a circular motion like Matt had showed me. "Just relax into it, princess. Take slow, deep breaths," Matt whispered into my neck as I came undone around his digits.

I did as he told me, and I swear, purposely slowing down my breath added a whole new dimension to the rhythmic current of pleasure that overtook me. Time seemed to stop for just a moment, and I got lost in the sensual gratification I'd been mentally chasing since the last time Matt had me unraveling under his touch.

I came down from my orgasm like a feather floating to the ground, and a warm buzz lingered over my body for several minutes after I came. "Do you wanna know what you taste like?" Matt asked me, and I made an unsure face at him, but he held his fingers up to my lips, and I gently sucked on them. "Hmm. Tastes kinda weird," I told him. Matt licked his fingers clean while he looked at me, "I think you taste so sweet, princess."

Once we were finished, Matt helped me back into my panties. Then he changed his pants and gently teased me about the wet spot I made on his knee. "You were such a good girl for me today," he smirked. "Don't you want me to take care of you?" I asked, batting my eyelashes at him. "Of course I do, sweetheart, but I've gotta get you home and go pick up my brothers. What really matters is that we get you off. We can take care of me next week," he sweetly responded. "Matt, I can't wait until next Wednesday. I need you sooner than that," I whined desperately.

"Meet me under the oak tree on Sunday after church, princess," he brushed his thumb against my cheek while he looked at me with his blue eyes full of lust and hunger. "Let's get you home safe and sound, angel."

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sturnzluv @sturniolo-girl @strnlxlqve @sofieeeeex

(I kept the taglist short because I'm not sure if everyone who asked to be on my taglist wants to read this blasphemy, lol)

part three posted here 💖

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fic #sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #ariestrxsh #coming down

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bamgyw · 6 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ c.bg; six nights ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

summary: six nights of emo boy gyu sneaking into your room without your daddy knowing. aberrational catholic guilt ridden catcher in the rye wannabe porn document. afab reader x softdom!beomgyu. warnings: everything, unfortunately. minors dni. heavy smut ahead. lots of pretentious writing, too. catholic guilt and imagery. abusive behaviour, parental neglect. drug use. violence. everyone is sad. i’ll keep on updating part-specific tags. index: prologue: the house of god, first night, second night, third night, fourth night, fifth night, sixth night, dawn of the seventh.

prologue: the house of god

when daddy wanted to hide something from you, he would turn to his beloved bible. and ever since you turned fourteen, he had been holding on to a passage that he would repeat to you every night before going to sleep:

"let no one say when tempted, "i am being tempted by god," for god tempts no one. but each person is tempted when lured by his own desire. then desire gives birth to sin, and sin brings forth death."

that is the only sex talk your daddy ever gave you. it was more of a sex mantra than a talk, or a warning, or even a prohibition. just a rule of nature that he wanted you to have engraved in your mind: desire is sin, and sin is death.

when daddy didn't want you to do something, he'd blame the rule on god. and there's little you could say against that.

as you grew up, you realised that god might not be real, but daddy most certainly was. a punitive, disciplinary god. and one feels much more compelled to obey divine rule when god lives under your roof. when you can touch him, and he can touch you.

when god lives in your house and his wrath can tear your flesh apart not in hell, not in heaven, but in this life; you become more cautious than the most devoted of christians. so even when everyone in your grade started drinking, dating, having sex; you had it very clear that the priority was to protect yourself. not from the dangers of drinking, dating, or sex; but from daddy, that is to say, from god.

none of your friends from school understood it, that the fear of god was not irrational. you had scars and bruises that god had given you which you could perfectly show them. but then daddy would get in trouble. besides, he wouldn't like you showing your body around.

none of them could ever understand what living with god was like, so they were the kind of people who would ask that stupid question; if god loves us, why does he hurt us?

the first person to understand god was a boy called choi soobin.

daddy had remarried choi soobin’s mom the year before you started college. she was a beautiful woman, lively and hopeful to start a second life after becoming a widow. it must be thrilling to get a chance at a second life when your first one has gone wrong. soobin’s mom could have been very happy in another universe. you felt sorry that she had stepped into daddy‘s trap.

you had always wondered how daddy had managed to get a woman like her. bright, cultured and affectionate. but then you figured that maybe, as he was god, he didn't necessarily need to be yahweh, or elohim. he could also be zeus and disguise himself as a swan to kidnap and rape leda.

you found out later that soobin‘s mom had never fully recovered from the passing of her first husband, and she often suffered from major depressive episodes. daddy saw that void in her, and her urgency to fill it. he forced himself into the hollowness of the void, and obstructed her veins, bones, and heart with the word of god.

soon enough, soobin’s mom had no limb or internal organ she controlled herself. she had once had colours, you remembered; rosy cheeks, a hazel head of hair, lips tinted with vibrant red. but daddy had turned her grey.

soobin’s mom had been kind enough to see the good sides of daddy, you had liked her for that. but you regretted that she hadn't learned to hide her colors so that daddy couldn't steal them away, like you did.

she became a shadow of herself, an almost non-verbal phantom trapped between the real world –that is, the confines of daddy's house– and the world of hopeful prayers and the salvation of soul.

the boy called choi soobin would never forgive daddy for that. but it was alright. you understood. in a sense, he had killed his mom. you had to love daddy because he had created you, but you didn't think choi soobin was obliged to.

people said choi soobin had changed, too. that he used to be a gentle kid, polite and sweet, but he had turned hostile. that, like most teens, he had become self-absorbed and belligerent without a cause or that he had gotten those adolescent mood changes so late in his life because he was an attention seeker. people say things like that when they don't understand what living with god is like.

you were the only one who didn't believe daddy when he said that soobin had a demon inside. you knew better than that, you knew that daddy saw demons everywhere. but soobin’s own mom believed it. when daddy tried to exorcise the demon away from soobin with fist and blood, she looked away.

all that soobin had wanted by acting up against daddy was to save his mom. to bring her back from the dead. but after that betrayal, he stopped trying.

soobin had never been violent towards you, though. not once. not even mean. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who told him he wasn't evil. you knew that god's tyrannical rule could break a person, fill them with hate. and so soobin and you became close, often talking against god. every whispered defamation, every blasphemy, the danger of it felt so exciting. not because of the mischievous sin, or because of the disobedience, but because you felt like you could speak your mind at last.

your first kiss was soobin. you felt loved when it happened, something you realised you weren't used to. the feeling bloomed throughout the following week as you hid from god's watchful eye to be together.

soobin told you a hundred times that you were the most beautiful girl in the world, kissing all over your face, clasping you as close to him as he humanly could. he would sneak his hand under your skirt and whisper, "don't think about him right now. it's just you and me." and though his touch never went very far in the magnitude scale of sin and punishment, it was enough to breathe a new life into you.

you sensed that a big part of why soobin wanted you so bad was because he got turned on at the idea of defying daddy, and groping his holy daughter was the greatest offence he could commit. but that was alright. you felt the same way. and you hoped that that hate-induced lust would turn into love, in time. you could then be happier, even in the house of god.

or you could have been happier. because god is omnipresent. and he would soon act to see you separated. the blossoming flower was brutally ripped from the soil.

when daddy found out, he locked himself into the master bedroom with soobin one morning and didn't let him go until the sun began to hide. soobin left that room broken and dead in life, just like his mom, but he didn't have one single bruise. maybe daddy really was god, after all.

soobin never talked to you again. spoken, yes, but it was hollow. you never felt loved again. you learned a lesson that day: your pleasure brings pain to everyone around. the mantra became true. desire is sin, and sin is death.

so if there was any need left in your body to touch, to kiss, to lick, to possess or be possessed; you confined it to the darkest pit of your ribcage, way past your heart, never to be accessed again.

until choi beomgyu came around.

he was the second person to understand god. but he had brought his lesson learned from home. he knew god’s ways even before he met daddy. he had a god of his own. you called yours daddy, he called his ‘that narcissistic sadist’. but strangely enough, you felt like they meant the same thing.

choi beomgyu was sort of soobin's friend, if you could even call it that. they never labeled each other as such, never sought out each other's company for the sake of friendship. they just wanted to live through their loneliness while sitting in the same room.

beomgyu’s dad was a dealer. he made a living out of ruining people's lives, as beomgyu saw it. growing up, he had promised himself that he would never be like that, the kind of person who doesn't care about poisoning someone's body if that meant keeping the cash flowing. but as he grew up, he learned that it wasn't all black or white. that all of those fools kept showing at his father’s doorstep, like they had no other choice. like they enjoyed hurting themselves.

beomgyu, like soobin, had become hateful. one of the things that bothered him the most was the "why me?" question. how unlucky he could have been to be born of such a father. but then again, he could run away. he could sort his shit out, get a job, never see his father again. but he kept going back. like he had no choice. like he, too, enjoyed hurting himself.

his dad barely knew he existed, and if beomgyu ever tried to make himself heard, he would silence him in cold blood. so any semblance of love or validation beomgyu could aspire to, he sought out with mathematically strategised plans. he craved the drug of attention and knew exactly where to get it.

he'd linger around fancy schools and church events, scoping out a certain type of girl. there was always a few of them going through a rebellious phase, desperate to go out with a bad boy and piss off their high-official dad.

it didn't take much effort for him to get what he wanted. he was handsome enough to make it easy, and even though he was a spiteful nihilist, he could be charming on command. just a smirk, a tousle of the hair, and some cheesy lines like, "i'm messed up, but with you, i feel like maybe i could be better," or "you're too beautiful for a screw-up like me." and he would have them wrapped around his finger.

he would bring them over to his place and fuck them rough on his drug-money-bought mattress. if there was shouting, or a gunshot coming from another part of the house, he'd fuck into them harder, muffling their fear with a rough kiss, using their panic to fuel his own twisted thrill. you fucking scared? i've gone through this crap every day since i was a kid.

if he could crack the shell of a privileged princess, dragging someone along with him down to his mud, his pain would slightly numb out.

for just a little, but never enough.

that pattern of behavior didn't lead to happiness. not even to satisfaction. it was a vindictive way of muffling his pain with the aching moans of someone who had it easier. but in reality, it only pierced what was left of his soul, making him even more hollow. it was soobin who made him realize that.

until that day, beomgyu saw soobin as almost a kid—pitifully weak and too sheltered. but when he told him about his exploits of going after posh girls, soobin didn't applaud in shared bitterness as he often did.

beomgyu explained to him how hard he got seeing the fear in their eyes as they realised that the life he led, that freedom of the rebel, wasn't as cute and bohemian as they had romanticised.

soobin responded curtly. "and then what? you cum, the spell wears off and you stare at the ceiling in silence, thinking of how miserable you are." he said. "and then you feel guilty for being a piece of shit and using that girl as a blow-up doll. and because of that you feel even worse about yourself, which means becoming more hateful and ruining more people. its not a you thing, you're not that special. that loop has been said and done. probably how your dad feels after beating on you."

beomgyu was taken aback. he didn’t even find it in himself to get offended. he remained pensive for a while before saying, "hyung. do you think i'm a bad person?"

soobin replied; "i think you can choose not to be."

and beomgyu took the advice. he put an end to the hunter-gathering of rich girls. he respected soobin from then on, too. soobin had therefore been a good influence, one could say. or at least an influence beomgyu was willing to accept. he started hanging around your house more, to the point of almost never leaving.

you learned about him as if he were a mythological figure—someone everyone talked about but whose existence you couldn't confirm. as a friend of soobin, beomgyu was bound from the start by an unspoken rule to maintain the least possible contact with you.

beomgyu was made aware of that rule very early on. what he didn't know, because he had been misled, was your age. that's why he didn't think much of it at first; he thought you were a kid. so, whatever—he couldn't talk to soobin’s annoying little stepsister. big deal. he didn't care about kids anyway.

this, combined with the prison-like structure of daily life in that house—minimal time in common areas and endless hours rotting in your own cell—fulfilled daddy's command to keep your life and soobin's, and therefore boemgyu’s, completely separate.

but even though you hadn't seen choi beomgyu in person, you had been able to construct a fairly accurate forensic portrait of him, pieced together from your father's warnings about people like him.

about the piercings, daddy believed that the body is holy, and anyone capable of mutilating within sin. about the music they played when locked up for whole afternoons in soobin’s room, he believed that god is serene, and disturbing that peace is a sign of the devil. he considered long hair on a man an abomination, and much like the eccentric clothes, a mark of a sodomite.

daddy didn't approve of him, and saw him as no more than a threat to the sanctity of his home. but beomgyu was quick to remedy the situation.

beomgyu was most acquainted to the ways of gods. he knew they were capricious, proud and pathologically narcissistic. so he made sure daddy could see he was a troubled young man and played the role of the lamb seeking guidance. he convinced daddy that he could abduct him, like he had done with soobin and his mother.

when soobin recounted the scene to you, his voice had sounded more hopeful, more full of admiration than you had ever heard. "he went to your dad and talked to him as if he was the buddha. said that he was lost and needed someone to guide him on the right path." soobin said. "he had some quotes from the prodigal son parabole learned, and he just delivered so naturally. not a trace of shame because when he lied to his face like that. it was like watching a play. your dad bought everything."

from then on, beomgyu became an unsung hero in your eyes. the boy who had outmanipulated daddy into having it his way. the boy who had defeated god.

around halloween that year, beomgyu and his dad had a terminal fight. it ended on a threat so destructive that beomgyu thought it was for the better if he stayed away from his father's place for a couple days. maybe a week. soobin, knower of the impotence and humiliation of having to sleep under the roof of the one who lacerated you and torn you to pieces, offered him shelter.

daddy's eyes lit up with greed. he saw the definitive chance to welcome a prodigal son into the fold. for beomgyu it was almost a joke. he was amused at how fast daddy allowed him in. so clueless and hasty, like one of the girls he used to charm into his bed.

in truth, beomgyu wasn't even to blame when he inevitably bumped into you. it had been daddy's mistake, he had let him in himself. you thought maybe that made daddy more human, somehow. that he forgot to close the back door to the prison and the devil strolled in.

but it wasn't really a matter of having let his guard down. daddy was still as stern, still as disciplinary, still as paranoid as he had always been. choi beomgyu was just much smarter than daddy.

he was a demigod, he was a promise. he was soon to make you his.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ please let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross (i'm doing market research)

#i know nothing happened #consider this a teaser #incoming depression sex yay !!#beomgyu #beomgyu angst #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fic

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citruswriter · 2 months ago

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A Sign From God?

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Religious themes, noncon, fem reader, fem terms, Reader is Christian/Catholic, oral (f! receiving), dirty talk (???), church sex, desecration of religious site (???), overstimulation, size kink (???), kidnapping (???).

Monstertober/Yantober Prompts: Local Folklore/Fate

Pairings: Male Rougarou Monster x Fem Reader

You were a devoted thing. Always going to church, always studying your Bible, always paying tithes. As a child you always when to church camp and as an adult you became baptized. The older you were however, the more the church seemed to call you in more and more, demanding to give more of yourself to God Almighty.

You found yourself wondering if you should become a nun. And that's how you ended up in your local church in the dead of night, on your knees and praying to God.

"Please God. I feel torn. I want love. I want a husband. But I also feel called to the nunnery. Please Father, I don't know what to do. Please. Give me a sign." You prayed, bowed over the stairs that led up to the podium. It wasn't long before you heard a growl.

Your breath caught in your throat at the noise as the animalistic growl ripped through the cathedral. Your body stiffened and you felt your blood run cold as the predatory noise made you very much aware that you were not alone in the church.

"You wish a sign from God?" A voice came, the sound of it low and gravelly, his Cajun accent thick. "I'll be your sign." You felt a figure loom over your body as you trembled in fear. You felt a large clawed hand grasp your skull with ease and force it down to the ground as he licked his jaws.

"Such a pretty little thing." His voice came, wolf jaws sniffing over your body, tongue sneaking under your tongue to lap at the skin of your thighs. You shudder and tremble in fear, but despite what you wanted, your body responded differently. You felt heat pool in your core, tears welling in your eyes as you body called to the sin despite your heart trying so hard to cast your cares on God.

"I can smell your fear, little girl. You afraid of the big bad wolf, cher?" He taunts and he presses his snout up your skirt and To your inner thigh, hot breath fanning over you and adding to the heat of your core before he lets out a raspy laugh. "Maybe it's less fear than it is... arousal. Maybe you're afraid I'll devour you whole... but maybe that's also what you want."

You let out a whine of protest, tears starting to spill from your eyes as he lapped closer to your cunt before his spare hand tore your panties away, claws shredding the fabric and flipping your modest skirt up to expose your cunt to the cold air of the cathedral.

You yelped and tried to close your legs but his hand kept you firmly spread out for him, a low predatory growl leaving his maw and making you freeze in fear once more again before his long canine long lapped at your slick cunt, making you whine out. Whether it was in protest or pleasure, you weren't completely sure.

He continues to lap at your cunt, licking at your clit and lipping it inside you, trying to drink more of your sweet nectar as you whine and keen on the stairs. He seems almost feral, not being able to get enough of your sweet cunt as he eats you out like a man starved. You gasp as you start to feel a knot form in your gut, your orgasm cresting within you. The beast seems to notice you too, giving an almost puppy like whine as he presses his tongue onto you harder, working harder to get you to orgasm on his tongue.

You try hard not to, to stave off your orgasm, to not give this sinful beast what he wants but its all in vain as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You cry out as you cum, you nerves kind of feeling as if you bit into a star as the beast laps greedily at the sweet honey you released.

"So fucking good." He rumbled and you give a small strangled noise as he continues to lap again. "Again." He growls out, lapping at your cunt once more, trying to get you to cum once more on his tongue once more, loving the way your pussy juices tasted.

You moan out with overstimulation, tears streaming down your face as he works your sensitive cunt with with lycan tongue. You sob and moan as he laps at you greedily, working you to another orgasm.

It doesn't take long for that familiar knot to return. You let out a strangled noise as he presses harder to drive you over the edge once more, desperate to taste your sweet cum once more.

You cry out, sobbing as you're forced to cum once more. Your vision blurs and your ears are ringing from the intensity of your orgasm. Your whole body trembles as you're kept in the position, the man lapping happily at your cunt like he was a puppy who just got his favorite treat.

Eventually you feel his tongue retreat and you give sigh of relief as your poor cunt is given a moment of rest. But large clawed hands splay themselves over your hips and sides and you feel him shift. Your blood runs cold.

You feel his cock nudge at your entrance but before you can protest he thrusts forward, spearing you on his cock and stuffing you full as he shoves his large throbbing cock into your sopping wet cunt. You cry out, giving a strangled moan as he stuffs you full and stretches you out. It feels so good and you feel so guilty. Like you've sinned.

He growls and snarls as he starts to piston in and out of you, wasting no time with setting a brutal pace in you. It took you a bit to shove through the pleasure and hear his muttering. "You asked for a sign from God. I am your sign from God. You are mine now, little gir. My mate. My everything. We are bound together. Bound by fate. My beautiful fated mate. God has chosen you to be my wife."

You can't believe what your hearing. You would have retorted, told him he was wrong, crazy even. But the way his cock was fucking you on the floor of the cathedral kept you from speaking anything legible. Only slutty moans and keening whines left your throat as he drills into that wonderful spongy spot deep within your velvet walls.

You start to panic when you feel his hips stuttering but shows no sign of pulling out. You weakly squirm but he keeps you firmly in place, one of his hands dropping to rub you already abused pearl once more. You cry out once more, loud noises being ripped from your throat as he tries to drive you over the edge once more, this time with him.

You scream as you cum once more, shuddering as the man lets out a vicious snarl and shoves his cock as deep as he can, pumping a large load of cum into you. You both pant heavily as the two of you attempt to climb down of your orgasms. Eventually he pulls out, cum spilling from your pussy and onto the cathedral's floor.

You collapse onto the floor, whining softly as everything hurts. Moments later, the large beast scoops you up but your vision is too blurry to really make out much. But you do hear him. He's returned to his rambling. His deranged muttering about how you're his fated mate. Fate brought you together. God led him to you to take you.

Finally he's no longer alone.

Ik, ik. It's late. Shoot me.

This one was actually kind of special to me bc I'm Cajun and I don't see a lot of representation when it comes to my culture so it was nice to share a piece of my culture with all of you guys!

Taglist: @ozzgin

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willows-escape · 10 months ago

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Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 2 (m)

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the last hurdle in your relationship had finally been crossed and erik no longer felt the need to hide such a pivotal aspect of himself away from you anymore. but now all the barriers had fallen and the mask was removed, there was one last thing you craved. and erik, for some reason, was very against participating.

Warnings - erik having major moodswings, apologies and forgiveness, poor self esteem, possessiveness, accidental mask slip, erik panicking, sexual and innocent teasing, teeth rotting fluff, victorian purity culture and potentially misinformed discussions of christianity (oops), y/n knows what she wants and she wants it now, reader isn’t particularly chubby or skinny just average size, virginity loss, breast play, hand jobs (m receiving), unintentional edging, continuous position changing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex because the victorians did not vibe with condoms

Word Count - 9,668

Notes - this is the final part of this little 'twoshot.' i think this is a nice place to wrap it up and end it and move on to make even more erik content because god knows we are all starved. god bless.

feedback is appreciated :) good or bad

01 / 02 (you're here!)

You were not exaggerating when you mentioned that the statues required cleaning. Specks of dust covered every surface of the different fabrics and metals of the stolen display pieces. You couldn't remember the last time you saw Erik dusting them.

You spent a good two hours meticulously cleaning those statues, keeping yourself occupied. A wave of guilt settled deep within your chest as you reminisced about the events that had transpired before your hasty departure. It had been overwhelming for you - the emotional outpouring and the astonishment of finally seeing Erik's face had struck you hard. Not to mention when you recklessly flung yourself onto him, as if devoid of any semblance of control over your own limbs. You were overcome by a sense of foolishness. In that moment, you believed it was the only choice available to you: to fabricate an excuse and flee from his presence.

Your heart constricted as if it were tightly bound by an unforgiving rope, mercilessly pulling and yanking as you sat consumed by your ruminations. The weight of guilt intensified as you contemplated the depth of Erik's sentiments, the vulnerability he had bared before you. Desperately, you tried your best to suppress these thoughts, reminding yourself that you needed time for introspection, or you’d risk an emotional outburst. Yet deep within, you recognized that you ought to have known better, should have conducted yourself with greater propriety. If only you had summoned the courage to articulate your overwhelming emotions and request a moment of solitude, all of this could have been averted. Regret washed over you as you comprehended that you had needlessly transformed a simple circumstance into a tangled web of emotions and uncertainty.

It was quick approaching five o'clock, the time Erik would usually call out to you and say that he was off to gather things for your afternoon meal as you didn't have anywhere to hygienically store food in the little lagoon. You'd not seen him since the time you'd spent in your bedroom, so you mustered all your hope and prayed that he'd show himself to you so that you could vehemently apologise and beg for his forgiveness.

It took a little while longer than five o'clock, but your lover finally emerged from hiding. Your ears perked up, and your hair stood on end as the sound of footsteps approached from behind. They came to a halt not far from where you crouched, and you held your breath, your hands trembling as you continued to wipe down the statue. You found yourself fixated on a minuscule crevice in the metal, desperately endeavouring not to startle him away. The apprehension within you grew stronger with each passing second.

"It seems you're more infatuated with the statues than you are with me," Erik finally said from behind you.

You huffed in amusement, a smile finally reappearing on your lips. You compelled yourself to stand upright and forsake the act of tidying for the present moment, instead pivoting to confront the man standing in your wake. He stood towering and seemingly unfazed, a faint smile playing upon his lips akin to your own.

"You have my whole heart, don't play dumb," you laughed, dropping the duster to the floor.

Erik approached you, gradually closing the distance between you until his presence was palpable against your cold skin. His hands delicately clasped yours, his thumbs tenderly caressing you. You raised your gaze to meet his intense stare, entranced in the depths of his eyes.

"You have mine too," he said, "Which is why I'll forgive you for that little disappearing act. I wanted to give you some space, but as you know the evening is approaching and we need nourishment, so I'll be-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't consider your feelings before I left, and that was cruel of me. You'd bared yourself to me and I walked away because of my own feelings, and that was selfish," you whispered, your eyes slowly trailing down in shame as your head dropped.

Erik shook his head, a hand leaving yours to cup your chin and lift you back up to his eye level. "You can walk away from me a thousand times over, and as long as you return, I'll never bat an eye."

"Erik, that's not right," you replied, removing his hand from your chin to hold it instead, "You aren't expendable, you don't deserve to be left and returned to as it suits somebody else. If I hurt you, please say so."

"Relax, we were both tense and overwhelmed. It's alri-"

"I'm not just talking about that! How dare you say it's okay for me to leave you and waltz back as I please! You matter more than-"

Unlike before, this time it was Erik who sent his lips crashing down on yours. The intensity and urgency in his actions conveyed his feelings and spoke volumes without a single word being spoke. His lips pressed against yours with such intensity and fervour that you couldn't help but gasp. His hands wandered from yours, up the contours of your arms until they were tightly holding your face in his fiery grip. Your nerves set ablaze and your eyes watered as you quickly flung your hands up to entangle your fingers in his blonde hair, unaware that you were interfering with the knot keeping his mask attached to his head.

Erik was completely captivated, his senses consumed by the intensity of the moment. Unbeknownst to him, the ties securing his mask slowly slipped, gradually unravelling until they hung precariously. The only thing preventing the inevitable was the proximity of your faces, maintaining the fragile balance. Just as you pulled back slightly to catch your breath before resuming the kiss, the mask finally succumbed to gravity and fell, shattering the veil.

It happened in an instant. His cry of horror echoed through the room as he violently tore himself away from you, his hands that were once ardently wrapped around you now shielding himself once more. Panic surged through your veins as the realization of what had just occurred hit you like a dagger to the heart, shattering your world into a million jagged pieces. Without a second thought, you instinctively reached down to retrieve his fallen mask, your trembling fingers fumbling to grasp it as he seemed lost in a whirlwind of confusion and despair, unable to distinguish up from down.

You felt awful.

"Erik, it's okay. I didn't see anything, I have your mask. Take it," you instructed, holding it out while also trying to maintain some distance, trying to avoid frightening him further.

He struggled to regain his composure, his hands trembling uncontrollably and his body wracked with violent shudders. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding situation. It was an absolute nightmare. Twice in a single day, he had been exposed, his mask stripped away and his face studied by a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate his very soul. There was no hint of malice, no trace of fear in those eyes, and that's what terrified him the most. It was an unfathomable sensation, one that sent waves of sheer terror crashing through his being.

"Erik," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Uncertainty gripped your every word as you grappled with the weight of the situation. A deep sense of guilt washed over you, threatening to consume your thoughts. It was your fault, you knew it. The mask had come loose, revealing a side of Erik that he fiercely guarded. You feared he would believe that you had purposely revealed him, betraying his trust in the most vulnerable of moments. The room fell into a tense silence as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what would happen next.

You observed that he wasn't crying like he was earlier that day, which gave you some relief. However, it was evident that he was visibly distressed. Your heart ached as you observed him and his turmoil. After the intense series of events, you believed that he had experienced enough excitement for one day.

"Erik, I have your mask. Put it back on if you wish and go lay down, I'll deal with dinner arrangements tonight. You've been through so much today."

He frantically shook his head, his face still concealed behind his trembling hands. The urgency in his actions was palpable, as if his very soul depended on it. With bated breath, he inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of courage within him. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he began to peel back his hands, one finger at a time. Your heart raced as the suspense hung heavy in the air.

As the seconds ticked by, the anticipation grew, enveloping the room like a thick fog. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his quickened breaths. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on edge, as if a single wrong move could shatter his entire world. The tension mounted, building up to a high that seemed almost unbearable. You could practically taste the anticipation in the air, a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was as if time itself had slowed down, stretching out the suspense to its breaking point.

The first glimpse of his face emerged from behind his hands as they subsequently dropped to his sides. Your jaw hung heavy, falling open as you drunk in every little bit of his uncovered self. He stood there, unwavering and self assured, a resolute expression pointed at you. Your ears rang and your palms grew sweaty as you came to the realisation that this was the first time you'd seen his face show any emotion that wasn't gut-wrenchingly disconsolate. You were at a loss for words.

"Erik..."

"I know, a handsome gentleman, aren't I?"

You spluttered in shock, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as you stood there observing him. Simply seconds ago he had been exuberating monumental signs of upset, and now he was... cracking jokes? Not that you weren't attracted to him, but he clearly thought he wasn't handsome. Otherwise you two wouldn't be here right now.

"Well, I'll be taking that off your hands," Erik continued, politely taking his most beloved mask back from you. He quickly resecured it to his head. "I must really go and get food now, otherwise we will go hungry tonight. The kitchen closes around 6 o'clock, as you are aware."

You stood there, utterly astonished, as he placed a quick peck on the back of your hand before walking away. You remained rooted to the spot, completely taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Oh, how the tables turn.

You remained in this state of stupor for an embarrassing amount of time. You were off in your own world throughout his disappearance- when he returned, once your evening meal had been prepared and consumed, and even now while you were tending to washing your cutlery and plates. Erik did not directly reference the elephant in the room throughout that entire sequence, and you knew you'd have to be the person to bring it up.

Now, you weren't usually the person to address things that required addressing. As you'd demonstrated countless times, you were a run away and ignore your feelings kind of person, not a stay and confront them head on kind of person. Admittedly, though, it was unfair to expect Erik to do the emotional heavy lifting the majority of the time, so you yielded. Just this once.

"Erik," you called out, busying yourself with scrubbing down the little nooks and cranny's of the fork you were holding. His footsteps didn't take long to hear.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'd like to discuss... what happened, with you?"

"Hm? What did happen?"

"Erik," you whined, squeezing the washcloth you were using extra hard as you rung out the dirty water.

"Sorry, I just couldn't believe what I heard. I thought my ears were deceiving me. You want to be the one to discuss things first? The horror."

"Erik, be serious!" you cried out, throwing the washcloth to the hard stone floor with a resounding 'splat!', "I wanted to just make sure you were okay, you switched so fast earlier I thought I'd gone crazy."

"Perhaps you did."

"Erik!"

"I'm just teasing," he smiled, coming to sit next to you. He rubbed your knee soothingly. "I'm perfect. I'm sorry for my little outburst, was just a shock is all. Nothing serious."

"Are you sure?" you asked, holding the hand that was rubbing your knee.

"More than I've ever been in my life."

Erik caught your eye, sustaining relentless eye contact upon saying those words.

"Well, I'll trust you then," you replied.

"How much do you trust me?" Erik asked.

"Way too much,” you giggled. Your smile soon fell upon seeing Erik’s serious expression.

A silence swept over. Your heart was hammering as if it's goal was to send you into a fatal cardiac arrest. Your throat felt as though it was closing up, the incessant twiddling of your fingers your only relief from the heavy air of suspense that wafted over you both like a weighted blanket. You could practically feel your heart in your throat.

"That's all I needed to know."

The hand that was resting on your knee slowly began to crawl up the length of your leg, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as it travelled up and up. You were practically hyperventilating. The sinful intentions behind his touch were palpable, and yet he seemed unashamed, as if he were waiting for you to make the next move.

Soon he reached the curvature of where your thigh met your hips, giving your leg a firm squeeze before continuing even higher up your body. The air was so thick you felt as though you could slice it with a knife and it'd split in two. His hands were so gentle and careful, as if he were afraid one wrong move would make you bolt.

"How about we get some sleep for the night, my dear? I'm quite tired after today, I feel like an early retreat to bed is in order," Erik stated, giving you a coy smile. Your head felt as though it could explode at any second.

"Oh. Alright, then. I bid you goodnight," you quickly mounted your feet, "I hope you sleep well and I shall see you in the-"

Erik quickly scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight and secure as he made his way in the opposite direction of where your bedroom resided. Your eyes widened.

"Erik? Why are we heading to your room? You said it was a bad idea for us to share," you squeaked.

"That was before you'd seen my face. Now we've gotten over that small hurdle, the matter of bedroom sharing is no longer an issue," he replied. "Now, shall we?"

Without saying a word, Erik carried you closer and closer to his resting place. His steps were steady yet quick, and he maintained a firm grip on you. During the journey, you noticed a subtle change in Erik's demeanour. The fire and intensity that once burned in his eyes had started to fade, as if he were changing his mind about something.

As you stepped into his bedroom, your eyes wandered with fascination. It was your first time setting foot inside Erik's chambers, and you were captivated by the opportunity to glimpse into his life as you observed your surroundings. His bed, adorned with little coffins on the posts and covered with neatly arranged black covers, boasted a dark brown wooden frame. It was nestled in the corner of the room, exuding an air of intimacy and comfort. Adjacent to the bed stood a wardrobe, while a meticulously organized desk, adorned with stacked papers and a fountain pen, occupied the space in front. A small bookcase resided beside the desk, completing the ensemble. Though entirely ordinary, the room exuded an atmosphere of tidiness and orderliness, prompting a smile to spread across your lips.

"If you don't have any objections, I'd like for us to share this room together from now on. Your old room can be altered to be a place for your hobbies, interests, whatever you wish it to be. Whatever makes you happy," he said.

"That would be wonderful," you replied. He gently lowered you until your feet could comfortably touch the floor below. However, he made sure to keep an arm firmly sinched around your waist, even as you stood upright.

He nodded, radiating a clear sense of joy and relief. After a final glance around, you turned to face him and met his gaze immediately.

"Forgive me if this comes across as strange, but I've kept some nightclothes for you in here since we started our relationship. Just in case," Erik gently squeezed your waist before stepping away and opening the drawers at the bottom of his wardrobe. Delicate lace and pristine white fabric peeked out from the open drawers as he continued, "Everything will be brought over from your room tomorrow, tonight just wear these."

He reached into the drawers and carefully retrieved the aforementioned night clothes, placing them on the bed beside him. With deliberate movements, he pulled open the doors of the storage unit and extracted a long night shirt. Excusing himself, he quietly stepped away to find a private space to change. As he left, you seized the opportunity that presented itself. Swiftly and silently, you exchanged your blouse and long skirt for the nightgown he had prepared for you.

He returned not long after you'd finished closing your top button, door squeaking as he slowly shut it behind him. He took a deep breath before raising his hands to untie the knot behind his head, allowing the mask to slip off. Seeing you have no reaction, he reached out, waiting for you to place your hand in his before guiding you to the side of the bed. He wrapped you in his arms before lifting you once more, pressing a quick kiss against your forehead before lowering you onto the mattress below. You sunk into the bed as if you were laying on clouds.

He busied himself with removing the blankets from beneath you, bringing them up and over to envelope your frame. He ensured that every inch of your skin was covered and unexposed to the chilly lagoon air. Reaching up, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly trailing his fingers down until he stopped at your neck. He gave you another quick kiss before retreating.

He blew out out the candle on his desk before he carefully crawled up onto the bed. He tucked himself away into the corner while you laid on the outside. His arm slithered underneath your neck, pulling you into him with his other. You rested your head on his chest as you turned, nuzzling into him as if he were a giant teddy bear. You thought his heart were about to leap from his chest from the rate you could hear it hammering.

"Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight."

Many evenings were spent in such a manner. Before long, your former room was emptied and filled with new, exciting things. It had transformed into a new sanctuary, replacing your secluded spot in the verdant woods outside. Now, you possessed a haven to house your cherished items; somewhere to store your books, a cozy nook where you could recline and immerse yourself in literature for hours, and a table for you to engage in the art of crochet, a repository for yarn, and a showcase for your completed projects. It has everything you wanted, precisely as he promised.

Your sentiments for Erik were blossoming with each passing day. His comforting caress, his unwavering commitment to your happiness, his tender manner of adoration - they propelled your emotions beyond what you had deemed imaginable. As a child, you could not have fathomed that dwelling in a modest subterranean abode would be where you dreamed to be in life. Yet, now that you were settled in this lagoon, the thought of never encountering him seemed unfathomable. He personified a sense of belonging, amalgamating all that was exquisite and comforting. He was your haven, the epitome of beauty and security.

But as Erik's love and devotion enshrouded you, there existed an alluring charm concealed beneath the surface. It beckoned you irresistibly, drawing you closer, its presence palpable. You could discern its essence in his tantalizing touch, his possessive grasp, as he ensnared you with an insatiable hunger. It was as if he held you under a bewitching spell, your body a mere marionette swaying to his carnal desires. The longing in his eyes spoke of an urge that transcended innocence, a primal yearning that flouted the conventions of morality. And you, consumed by the same passionate flame, yearned for him with equal fervour, unbound by societal expectations or righteous inhibitions.

So why was he resisting?

He was your everything, your entire world consumed by his presence. You did believe yourself to be the keeper of his heart, and he, in turn, was the keeper of yours. No other soul could ever compare to the ardour you held for him. He was the very essence of your existence, the driving force that propelled you through each passing day. It was not about what he did for you or what he provided; it was simply him—the embodiment of all that you craved. You were willing to endure the depths of hell itself just to remain at his side. There were no limits to what you were willing to bestow upon him, not even your own purity.

It was truly mortifying how excessively you fixated on this minuscule detail. From the moment you had first shared a bed, weeks or even months had elapsed. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable sexual tension and an insatiable yearning that permeated every interaction, overwhelming you to the point of metaphorical asphyxiation. If only he did not desire it, then you would accept it and never mention the subject again or indulge in surreptitious tantalizing touches. But it was evident that he did indeed want it. His body language screamed what his own lips dared not speak.

So tonight, you had a plan. Either he would relinquish his defences and claim you, as you could discern the fervent desire in his eyes, or he would quash all notions and prospects of intimacy for the indeterminate future. A straightforward affirmation or denial was all you sought, to then bring an end to your torturous overthinking.

To start your plan, you deliberately selected sleepwear that exuded desire, surpassing the usual modesty of your night clothes. It was exquisitely crafted from elegant and feather-light fabric, delicately caressing your skin in a manner that mirrored your desires for your beloved's touch. Its slender straps gracefully extended from the bodice, adorned with sheer breast cups embellished with intricate floral lace. Just below your bosom, a dainty bow served as a liaison between the upper portion of the gown and the gracefully flowing, undecorated skirt. While not lingerie per se, you believed it would at least catch his eye. Hopefully.

As per his usual routine, he entered the room once he had finished dressing for the evening. Lately, he had taken to leaving his mask aside unless he had to venture into the opera house or he was planning to receive a visit from Gerard. Hence, you had the opportunity to behold his expression in its entirety when his gaze fell upon you. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape, unabashedly scanning your figure as you discreetly feigned obliviousness to his direct scrutiny. In that moment, you felt acutely aware of your own immodesty, your cheeks aflame with a profound sense of embarrassment.

"I haven't seen that nightdress before," he commented, finally picking up his slack jaw. He moved closer to you, hands coming to rest on your hips as he lips edged near to your ear.

"It was at the back of my closet, I hadn't noticed it until today," you lied, knowing that you'd been very aware of it, and just had no reason to wear it. Until now.

"You look heavenly," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. His presence was dizzying.

You hadn't thoroughly pondered the plan it seemed. You had hoped that the execution would require minimal effort on your part, yet you had neglected to determine your response for this inevitable situation. Shaking your head, you realized the need to gather your wits. Retreat was not an option now that you had made a commitment.

"Do I?" you asked, hesitantly placing your hands upon his. You needed to act like you knew what you were doing. "You should feel the fabric, it's heavenly to touch as well."

You sensually and enticingly glided both of your hands up your torso, relishing every moment as they caressed the curve of your waist, skilfully manoeuvring them to rest seductively beneath the swell of your bosom. A startled gasp escaped his lips, his breath catching as he realized the audaciousness of your gesture. Your confidence surged with every passing second.

"Y-yes, it's quite nice. I see what you mean," he tried to remove his hands, but you clutched him tighter in response. He clearly didn't really want to remove his hands either, because he didn't put up more resistance than that.

"You touching me is quite nice, too. Although I'd prefer your hands higher."

Each breath that escaped his lips resonated loudly in your ear, his yearning becoming increasingly apparent as it ardently pressed against your backside. Instinctively, you drew your body nearer to his, eliciting a deep groan from behind.

"Or lower. I'm not fussy."

Erik felt as if he were on the verge of bursting. Every ounce of blood in his body was frenziedly surging downward, his throat parched as sweat dripped down his skin. His fingers yearned to comply with your request, but his mind vehemently protested, urging him to resist and refrain from succumbing to such feeble-mindedness. He couldn’t treat you like an object, only something he used to fulfil his devilish wants.

"My dear, I know you may not intend to have this affect on me, but I am a man and... your words stir things in me. Please allow me to remove my hands so we can retire for the night."

"What if that is my intention?" you teased.

Erik hesitated. Did you truly wish for him to treat you in such a manner? Perhaps you did not fully grasp the implications of your actions. For an unwed woman to partake in the act of intimacy was deemed the utmost disgrace, an indelible blemish that would tarnish her reputation indefinitely. Although Erik knew that their secret would remain hidden, he did not wish to lead you astray into the depths of sin. While he may not believe in a higher power, he understood that most individuals clung to faith, and you were no exception.

"I couldn't do that to you," he replied, "You are my lover, not something for me to vent my unholy desires upon. I hold too much respect for you to allow that to happen."

You sighed. "Is that why you kept running away? Because you do not wish me to be a damned woman?"

"Yes. It is already too late for me, I have done too much wrong and I have hurt too many. But you can be saved."

Carefully considering his words, you shrugged, "I can always repent."

Erik gawked at your words, eyebrows furrowing as he processed what you'd uttered. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Were you not thinking straight at the moment? Why were-

"I may believe in God, but I also believe you aren't going to heaven. So why would I want to go there either?" you explained, tightening your grip on his hands. "If I end up changing my mind, and I regret my decisions, I shall repent and hopefully God will forgive me. But if I marry the man I had premarital sex with, is it really so bad?"

Erik found himself descending into a state of turmoil. He grew exasperated, unable to comprehend why you could not understand that he was doing this for you. He yearned for you to grasp his intentions, to comprehend that his actions were driven by a desire to shield you from sorrow and remorse. Simultaneously, a sense of bewilderment overcame him. As you expanded upon your reasoning, the fortress around his emotions began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that he had long concealed. With each passing word, he felt his defences wane, his carnal desires surging forth, beckoning him to abandon propriety and surrender to the depths of his impure thoughts. The allure of gratification grew stronger, compelling him to yearn for the freedom to explore the depths of his desires, to caress you with an intensity that bordered on ravishment, and to claim you as his own.

"So, Erik," you spoke, "Will you take me right here and right now, or will we forget this ever happened and go to bed, as if nothing ever happened?"

Erik let out a strained sigh, feeling his composure shatter like delicate porcelain. He offered no words in return, only a meek inclination of his head, which you could discern from the proximity between you. Your heart soared with a mixture of elation and trepidation.

You spun around and launched yourself at him with an enthusiasm you never knew you possessed. Every fantasy, desire, urge, and longing surged to the surface, your lips conveying everything you had kept locked away until this moment. Oxygen ceased to matter, the world dissolving into nothingness as you clung to him with every ounce of desperation. The bed seemed impossibly distant.

With a sense of urgency, you propelled yourself forward, gently but firmly directing Erik until his knees collided with the plush mattress. Wasting no time, you pressed your delicate hands against his chest and gracefully pushed him back, momentarily breaking the connection of your lips as he tumbled onto the bed beneath. He hastily settled into a proper position, while you, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, gracefully climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his form.

Too much time had been squandered to concern yourself with trivial matters like being gentle and slow, you needed him now and you had no intention of lingering. You centre settled upon his pelvis, sensing the warmth of his length beneath his night shirt. Your hips circled around the bulge poking through the fabric, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as you took everything he was willing to give you. He definitely did not object.

Your kisses grew increasingly fervent and frenzied as time wore on, losing yourself in the sensation of his proximity and knowing that by the morning, your connection would have deepened and exceeded all of your expectations. Reflecting upon yourself a month prior, when Erik finally granted you the privilege of seeing him whole- witnessing the profound transformation that had taken place between the two of you since then was nothing short of dizzying.

The straps of your nightgown were slowly beginning to falter off of your shoulders, loosely hanging as if begging him to finish the job and strip you entirely. You’d imagined countless nights of lying beneath him, skin bare and free for him to explore and observe as you basked in the glory of his gaze. So with that thought, you took the hands that were currently clinging onto your hips for dear life and placed them on your shoulders, saying exactly what you wanted without uttering a word.

Erik appeared to understand your desires, for with trembling hands and lips that faltered, he withdrew himself to assess the situation. He gazed up at you, seeking your approval with a nervous and hesitant air, fearful of making a wrong move that would propel you away from him and back to square one. However, your reassuring nod and an intensified grinding of your hips against his spurred him into action more swiftly than a racehorse urged on by the whip. He wasted no time in discarding the delicate straps that confined your form, liberating your body from his prying gaze.

As your nightgown fell to bunch at your legs, Erik felt as though his lungs almost gave out. Your body was unlike anything he’d ever seen in the paintings he collected, every mark and curve of your skin displaying a radiance he didn’t realise was possible. With a thrust of his hips, he gestured for you to move back so he could continue diligently removing the last of your clothing.

The moment your last inch of skin emerged from the confines of the fabric, Erik gently nudged you to recline. You should have felt more shy or apprehensive about being bare and vulnerable beneath him, yet the only sensation that coursed through you was the fire that blazed within your core. You let out a soft whine about no longer being able to remain on top of him, but your grievances were swiftly silenced as his hands swept you up, swiftly manoeuvring you beneath him.

“Wait, can I see you too?” You asked, hurriedly sitting up before he had the chance to properly position himself above you. He seemed taken aback by your eagerness.

“Are you sure? I’m nothing special to look at, don’t feel-“

“Take your shirt off!” You demanded.

Erik seemed even more speechless than you thought possible. His eyes were blown wide in astonishment as if you had begun conversing in a long-forgotten, extinct tongue. While somewhat entertained by his disoriented state, you delicately extended your hand and commenced the task of unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with the utmost precision and unwavering determination, as if you’d done this many times before. Even if that couldn’t be less inaccurate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded you, “It’s okay to go slow.”

Slow was a word that had no place in your dictionary at this present moment. However, you eased your grasp and lessened the ferocity of your actions, aiming to appear slightly less forceful in your demeanour.

After the last button popped free, you hurriedly removed the garment from him. Discarding it to the side, you reclined slowly, unable to tear your gaze away. His figure exuberated a powerful presence, every inch meticulously sculpted as if by the hand of a master artisan. Though littered with small scars and scratches, the striking juxtaposition between his celestial physique and his disfigured visage was utterly captivating, leaving you utterly intrigued.

He could feel your eyes penetrating him, and he resisted every urge screaming at him to shrink away. He was done hiding from you, he wanted to feel the warmth of you enveloping him, holding him, loving him until the day it was no longer possible. He wanted to give you all of him and never let go. He was done with thinking he didn’t deserve to be loved wholly, because you were right here offering everything he never believed he could possess. You had defied all of his meagre expectations and made him a new man.

You were so pliant and pure beneath him, the rise and fall of your chest and the slight nibble on your bottom lip betraying the hidden worry within. He wasted no time in leaning forward above you, his lips desperate as they sought to kiss away every fear and trace of hesitation you harboured. He bestowed a trail of delicate kisses down your forehead, across your cheeks, and along the graceful curve of your neck. His fervent kisses then graced your shoulders, tracing a path around your collarbones, each touch so delicate and reverent, until finally reaching the soft expanse of your chest.

His lips hovered, waiting for the right moment to strike and send you into a frenzy of pleasure and bliss. He bestowed tender kisses upon the delicate curvature of your breasts, attending closely to the sounds that escaped your parted lips. He observed the signals your body conveyed, observing the hastened rhythm of your breath and the involuntary movement of your legs, the way you were drawing them closer to create friction where you craved it. His own longing became unmistakable, his cock standing tall and achingly rigid, tantalizingly grazing against your abdomen.

His mouth was progressively nearing your nipples, delicately encircling your areola and occasionally darting out his tongue to deliver a teasing lick. Despite his inexperience, he performed with an air of seasoned confidence, as though he had engaged in such intimate encounters countless times before. He knew exactly where to lick, kiss and touch to elicit the most erotic responses from you. His lips slowly closed around your nipple, testing the waters with light sucking and flicks of his tongue before experimentally grazing it with his teeth, his cock turning red and angry from how much blood was coursing through his veins.

You cried out at the peculiar sensation, quickly calling out for him to not be too rough with his teeth. He nodded against you, his tussled hair tickling your skin as he consumed himself with teasing and playing with your breasts. It felt so scandalous and immoral the way he played with you, the way his hands caressed and pressed against you as he familiarized himself with the curves of your body.

As his fervor increased, your sensitive buds responded with heightened sensitivity. The intense and eager caresses caused your nipples to swell, becoming puffy and tender. The sensation was so overwhelming that tears threatened to well up in your eyes, the stimulation evoking a sharp, piercing ache. Eventually, you found yourself asking him to stop, and he promptly complied upon hearing you.

"Are you alright?" He was panting, saliva coating the surroundings of his mouth.

You nearly laughed, but could only manage a whimsical giggle. The sight of him so concerned yet utterly spent at the same time stirred emotions within you that you dared not confess. Your essence overflowed, moistening your inner thighs as it trickled out like a stream. The influence your lover had on you was profound, surpassing anything you had ever imagined. Even the most daring of literature that you’d read did not evoke such a powerful surge of arousal and longing within you.

"I'm perfect," you smiled, "but my breasts were beginning to hurt, and the feeling was becoming much too overwhelming. Besides, I'd like to return the favour."

You sprung up, lifting your back off the bed before he even had time to brainstorm his response. You jumped at him, twisting both of you until he was back beneath you. You gave him a sloppy kiss before pulling away, venturing down until you reached his shaft. It was longer than you expected. Your old, more outspoken friends who boasted of their premarital escapades always mentioned men's genitalia to be around four or five inches, but Erik's seemed more like six or seven. His girth seemed to align well with their descriptions, so you decided he must just be a bit more gifted in the length department. You gulped.

"What are you doing? Please, just focus on yourself. I need nothing in return."

You shook your head teasingly, rolling your eyes with a small smirk on your face. The vivid images that had danced in your mind about how on earth that was supposed to fit inside you were quickly dismissed. You gathered all the saliva you could muster in your mouth, spitting it onto your hand. You’d read about that in a book once.

Erik looked utterly astounded, captivated by the strings of saliva that cascaded from your lips. He was about to inquire about your intentions and where the destination of that saliva globule was going to be, but his curiosity was quickly satisfied when your delicate fingers enfolded around his manhood and you tentatively began stroking him up and down. Your movements lacked the refined cadence of experienced hands, occasionally faltering in rhythm and fluctuating in pressure. Yet through perseverance, you eventually established a steady and pleasurable pace, accompanied by a grip that elicited delightful sensations and heightened pleasure.

Sighs of ecstasy escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he became enveloped in the sensation of your caress. He felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, a tension coiling tighter and tighter until it would inevitably release. His skin glowed with perspiration as he tilted his head back, his moans growing louder and louder, harmonizing with the sound of your saliva squelching as your hand traversed his shaft.

He was no stranger to desire and impure thoughts, long before he had met you he still yearned and had fantasies of what it would feel like to touch and be touched by another. However, he refrained from indulging in such pleasures, deeming it a frivolous waste of his time. Little did he know that the allure and intensity of self-pleasure had eluded him. Oh, how he wished he had been more enlightened back then.

Something was building inside him. Unaware, you continued your steady pace, looking into his eyes with a sweet smile. He felt something akin to a rubber band stretching in his abdomen, reaching its snapping point, pulling further apart. Instinctively, his hand reached up to grab your free hand, squeezing with a force that you knew would cause pain the next day.

Your arm was beginning to seize up, your muscles cramping worse than you’d ever experienced before. His hand practically crushing yours didn’t help, and eventually, you had to relent and withdraw. A frustrated grunt escaped his throat, his eyes clenching shut as his hips bucked. The snapping sensation in his abdomen gradually subsided, the build-up disappearing as if it were never there to begin with.

"That was... different," he heaved.

"Good different?" You tentatively asked.

"Good different," he confirmed.

A profound stillness enveloped both of you as Erik struggled to regain his composure, his erection throbbing with a vengeance. He clenched his jaw, the distressing ache seeping into his bones, sending tingles down his limbs and leaving his mind in a dizzying haze. The rush of blood roared in his ears as he lay there, gradually returning to the realm of consciousness.

You were filled with trepidation. Had you committed a grievous error? Why did he seem so discomposed? His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell with alarming rapidity. He appeared to be in a state of distress. The books you read had failed to prepare you for such a sight!

"Are you alright, love?" You fussed, cupping his cheeks in your hands in concern, "Do you need anything? Water? To stop?"

"No, no, no," he instantly denied, waving his hand. His arm came to drop over his eyes. "I'm just... a little overwhelmed, I suppose."

Hearing that he wasn't about to enter sudden cardiac arrest, you threw your leg over his stomach. Your warmth pressed deliciously against his well-toned abdominal muscles, sending electrifying sensations up your bones. He appeared more at ease now, his hand that wasn't thrown across his face reaching up to caress the skin of your thigh with his fingertips. Quivers reverberated through your body, as if a gentle breeze had swept through the room, carrying with it a delightful shiver of pleasure.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his with utmost delicacy. His other hand joined in, but instead of gently caressing your thighs, he grasped your flesh firmly, guiding your hips in a swaying motion. Your mind turned to mush, the undulating movement causing your senses to ignite. Sparks flickered between your bodies, every touch sending pleasurable jolts through your form as he manipulated you to his desires.

Every pitiful moan and whimper was swallowed by his intoxicating mouth, every breath shared intermingling into one. He kept you restrained at a steady pace, even as you attempted to push against it and yearned for a more vigorous rhythm. One amused glance sent a rush of crimson to your cheeks, a blush of embarrassment that betrayed you.

"Can I put it in?" You whispered. You wanted to get your upper hand back and fast.

He paused for a moment, his pupils dilating and a gasp escaping his lips as he absorbed your words. His eyes turned upwards towards yours, staring deep into your soul as if attempting to decipher your thoughts. His unyielding gaze was slightly intimidating, and you found yourself questioning if you had spoken inappropriately.

"If you wish," he replied.

Sucking in your lower lip, you cautiously descended. The sensation of his tip brushing against you made you unconsciously bite down, feeling the connection of your most intimate parts. He elevated himself to a seated position, pressing his arousal even closer to your entrance. The wetness that coated his tip, combined with your own slickness, allowed for ample lubrication as it trickled down.

He gave you one final questioning look, to which you responded with a confident nod. He returned the gesture in understanding. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly lowered yourself until the tip naturally found its way to your opening, gently teasing and exploring. You bit down on your lip so hard that you could taste blood, but you pressed on. His hand reached down to assist in guiding himself inside you, and both of you gasped as his bulbous tip slipped past your entrance.

The sensation was indescribable, pleasure and discomfort waging a battle as your body came to a halt. Erik pressed tender kisses along your shoulder, his hand resting on your back to ease your tension. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the feeling of your purity being tested by his manhood was intense and sent a fiery heat rushing through your core. Your face twisted as you summoned the strength to sink further, enduring the initial sting as best you could.

"We can stop at any time, just say the word," Erik gently reminded you, nestling his head against you as he patiently waited for you to adjust. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for indulging in such pleasure while you were clearly in pain. He made a concentrated effort to conceal his contorted expressions and stifle his moans and grunts.

Finally, you managed to lower yourself fully into his lap. His cock was nestled deep within your intimate depths. You took deep breaths, determined to overcome the discomfort and replace it with the exhilaration you knew could await. It felt as if you were being impaled, your arms clinging to him with increasing intensity as you willed yourself to relax and surrender to the sensations that enveloped you.

You were practically restraining him, keeping him trapped inside of you to the extent that he felt unable to move even if he desired to. The tightness was approaching discomfort, his soothing and calming touches attempting to coax you into relaxing your muscles and embracing the sensation.

After a few moments of acclimation and striving to ease your muscles, you soon sensed the inferno below gradually transform into a thrilling excitement. A surge of adrenaline coursed through you as you comprehended your current location and the nature of your actions.

Testing out the waters, you gingerly lifted your hips, wincing at the sensation of your walls contracting as you raised yourself further off of him. His swollen tip caught on your entrance, prompting you to cease ascending. Erik released his grip around you, reclining back on his hands to observe the spectacle.

The eye contact was overwhelming. He dared not divert his gaze from you for a single moment, your partially closed eyes battling to remain open as you lowered yourself back down. A strangled cry threatened to escape your lips as the exquisite stretch overwhelmed your senses, your mind empty and your vision wavering. His tip was nearly grazing your cervix. Every fibre of your being was consumed by the sensation, your mind black and vision wavering.

You pushed yourself up and down a few more times, willing yourself to adjust and adapt. Gradually, you found your rhythm, moving with grace as your walls glided along his cock. The sound of your flesh meeting echoed softly in the air as you fervently rode him. He was buried deep within you, overwhelming your senses and leaving you dizzy with desire. Erik wasn’t any better off.

"Oh my god," you whined, fucking yourself on him as if you had never been more desperate for anything in your life. "I've been dreaming of this for so long."

"Me too," Erik grunted.

Your breasts undulated in perfect harmony with your motions, practically demanding Erik to divert his gaze towards them. In any other circumstance, you would have teasingly chastised him for his audacity, yet a deeper blush coloured your cheeks as you beheld him intently studying your form. He reclined further upon the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his eyes filled with a fervent longing.

Your hands instantly found purchase on his chest, using him as leverage to move faster and rougher on top of him. He was engrossed in the way your body moved and responded to him, his hoarse moans only serving to make you even more hot and bothered. Your faltering stamina almost made you want to burst into tears, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop.

Erik soon caught on to your stuttering motions, noticing the way your hair stuck to your forehead from the copious amount of sweat.

"I love you, I love you so much," you cried, sniffling from the overload of emotions that were bubbling to the surface. The love, the infatuation, the relief, the pleasure, the euphoria- everything was rising inside of you abruptly and without warning.

"I love you too," he moaned, relinquishing his elbows to rest upon the bed. He grabbed your hips, bringing you to a pause. You sobbed. "Are you getting tired?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine," you protested, attempting to resist his hold in order to resume your agitated movements. He would've rolled his eyes at your stubbornness if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your hole swallowing his cock.

He forcefully pulled you down, pressing your body against his chest as he exerted his dominance. With a swift motion, he flipped you over, positioning himself on top. In the process, he momentarily withdrew from your cunt, but without hesitation, he re-entered your inviting warmth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and your arms enveloped him as you surrendered to him, reclining in submission.

Your mouth formed a perfect 'o' as you endured his pounding, setting a fervent and punishing cadence as he plunged inside of you with all the strength he could summon. Your world spun, your lungs yearning for air as you let out moans and cries with every motion he executed.

His whispered curses and sounds of pleasure were hot against your ear, every slide in and out enhanced by how close he was pressed against you. It was intoxicating, his embrace crushing you so tight that you couldn't distinguish where your body met the mattress and where his body met yours. Everything dissolved into one.

"Does this feel good?" Erik questioned, pace merciless as he pulled away to look at you directly.

"Yes! Yes it does!" You wailed.

"Who's making you feel good?" He growled.

"You! You!"

"What's my name?"

"Erik! Oh!"

"That's right," He let out a deep and guttural groan, diverting his gaze from you for a fleeting moment. With a firm grip on your thighs, he effortlessly folded you, positioning your knees so close to your ears that it bordered on the extreme. "Who do you belong to?" he gruffly inquired, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

"Ah! You, Erik! You!"

"You," thrust, "belong," thrust, "to," thrust, "me."

Ecstasy surged through your being, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelmed your senses. Your every nerve tingled and quivered, your body contorting and your eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. Your walls fluttered around him as you uttered his name in breathless gasps, your voice choked with desire. The tightening in your core reached a crescendo before finally giving way to an intense release.

Erik was going crazy. The feeling of you contracting and spasming around him made his body tremor as his desperate pace transitioned into aimless jerking. His resolve came undone as white ribbons shot out of him, painting your walls white. Your cunt was practically milking him.

"My god," Erik sighed, huffing as he recovered from the aftershocks of his climax.

You were in no better a state. Tears streaked down your face, and sweat had practically glued your bodies together. Erik withdrew himself from you, guiding your limp legs back onto the bed. He laid beside you, his form exhausted and his arousal gradually subsiding, as you both took a moment to regain composure.

You swallowed, surprised at how parched your throat was. "Was it good?... Was I good?"

"Better than I ever imagined," he affirmed.

It didn't take long for Erik to rise, hastily donning his nightshirt before exiting the chamber and venturing into the lagoon. In a swift manner, he reappeared, clutching a moist towel in his grasp. With delicate precision, he gently glided it over your sensitive areas, meticulously cleansing the semen that had spilled out of you, ensuring that no traces of your sin were left behind.

A damp patch had formed beneath you, causing the fabric to become stained and the bed linens quite uncomfortable to rest upon. Erik gently lifted you and settled you onto the chair positioned in front of his desk, attending to the task of replacing the soiled bedsheets so that you would not have to sleep upon the concoction of your arousal and his release.

"I'll prepare baths for us tomorrow. For now, I think it's best for you to get some sleep," Erik tapped your cheek, laughing as your droopy eyelids perked up at his touch.

You grumbled at him, your dishevelled hair and pouting lips evoking a sense of charm that made his heart soar. He scooped you up once more, cradling you in his arms with care as he escorted you back to your shared bed. With haste, you scurried beneath the fresh linen, seeking solace and warmth within the confines of the quilt that shielded your immodest frame from the chill that seemed to permeate the air. Erik casually discarded the used towel into a corner alongside the dirtied sheets, joining you on the bed and tucking himself away behind you with his back to the wall.

He drew you closer, his arm slipping beneath your neck as he nestled you against his side. You gazed up at him, a smile gracing your lips, but inside, a vexed frustration swelled as you silently cursed his attire. Why must he remain clothed while you, in this moment, were so undressed?

"If I'm naked, then you're naked," you playfully stated.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, strip right now."

He complied silently with your request, and your internal vexation turned to jubilation as his flesh made contact with yours. You resumed your former position, nestling yourself once again into his embrace as your wearied eyes finally succumbed to the burden of your fatigue.

Then it was ruined.

"Will you marry me?" Erik implored, his voice filled with anticipation and a touch of desperation. As your disapproving gaze met his, he hastily continued, "We've already consummated our love. What's the harm? We agreed on this months ago."

Snickering under your breath, you retorted, "Get me a ring first, then I'll consider."

The comforting hum of Erik's complaints and attempts at convincing you to please please marry him carried you softly and sweetly into a deep sleep.

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik poto #erik the phantom #erik destler #cherik #gerik #gaston leroux #phantom of the opera musical #musical #phantom of the opera x reader #poto x reader #fluff #smut #angst #erik x reader #erik destler x reader #1990 phantom of the opera #2004 phantom of the opera

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 3 months ago

Text

Weekend With You

Christian Yu / Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: FLUFF AF, menstruation, embarrassment, they are both such good boyfriends I cannot stress this enough, very sweet, I guess this could be slight hurt/comfort?

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Christian watched as you slept peacefully. The way your chest rose and fell softly was hypnotizing, he felt like he could watch you like this forever.Your eyes fluttered open and found his almost instantly. He leaned in, “Good morning lovely.” he said with a smile while pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled before your face scrunched up, “Oh for fucks sake!” you said with anger in your voice before you quickly got up from the bed and rushed into the bathroom.

Christian sat up, looking at the shut bathroom door with confusion. He pulled the covers back to follow after you then he saw it. A little puddle of blood staining the sheets on your side. Oh. On one hand, he understood why you felt the way you did. On the other, he knew you were going to feel bad and embarrassed as you two had just gotten comfortable staying at each other's apartments. Christian stood up quickly and stripped the bed, tossing the comforter into the dryer and the sheets into the wash. He remade the bed just in time for you to reemerge from the bathroom. As expected, your eyes never met him and your cheeks were burning red.

You tried to move past him, “I’m um… I’m gonna go home.” you said, picking up your sweatshirt quickly.

“No you’re not.” Christian said. He gently tugged you back to the bed where you noticed the different sheets.

“I’m really sorry about the sheets… I can buy new ones…” you mumbled.

Christian shook his head, “Absolutely not. What you can do is get back in bed and order everything you want and need while I go get my heating pad from the living room.” he said, pushing his phone into your hand.

You refused to sit down, “My underwear still has blood on it…” you whispered.

Christian thought for a second before running into his closet and bringing you back a pair of underwear. You looked at him with confusion as you took them from him, “When I modeled for Calvin Klein I got some for you but wasn’t really sure how to give underwear as a gift without looking weird or like I had ulterior motives…” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled softly, taking them from him, “Thank you.” you said sincerely. You moved to go back to the bathroom before Christian stopped you again, handing you clothes that were sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I thought you might want these? They're comfy and clean.” he said. You could see it on his face; he wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this situation but he was trying and it made your heart melt.

“Thank you… I’ll um, I’ll be right back.” you said, shuffling into the bathroom. You changed, setting his phone down on the countertop. You heard it buzz and looked over, it was a text from his mom.

Mom - 9:26 AM

Make sure she eats well and gets plenty of rest, water too! Whatever she wants, get it for her. A relaxing day is all she needs :)

You wanted to cry at how sweet Christian is. You had never met his mom but the fact that she knew of you, and the fact that he cared enough to text his mom and ask how to properly care for you made you absolutely sick with love. You emerged from the bathroom to Christian sitting on the bed, you made your way to him before engulfing him in a hug.

He hugged you back, “My clothes look good on you.” he mumbled into the crook of your neck with a smirk before giving your ass a light smack.

You chuckled before handing him his phone, “Your mom texted you… I um ordered some stuff, I’ll pay you back.” you said, holding onto one of his hands.

“If you pay me back I swear to god…” he joked. “I ordered us your favorite so we don’t have to cook.” he smiled at you.

“Can we stay in bed until it gets here?” you asked.

“Of course!” he said, pulling the comforter back before laying the heating pad on your abdomen and pulling the blanket back over you. He slid back into the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry for fucking up the weekend… I know you wanted to go to the beach… and I ruined your sheets and it's all so gross…” you sighed, feeling guilty and shameful.

“Hey,” he tilted your chin up to look at him, “One - It’s not gross. It’s healthy and normal. Two - I own a washing machine, the sheets will be fine. And three - The weekend isn’t fucked because all I wanted this weekend was to be around you, beach or not.” he said confidently.

You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment but all you saw was love. You kissed him gently before snuggling back into him.

-------------------------------------------------

“Baby?... Baby!” Christian said, shaking you slightly.

Your eyes fluttered open, you looked at him and noticed his softer eyes and more sullen look. “Mito!” you said as you stretched your arms, pulling him down into a hug.

You felt him smile against your neck, “The food and stuff is here, I set it all up in the living room. Your products are in the bathroom.” he said, pulling away slightly. He picked up a glass of water from the side table before handing you two pills “Ibuprofen… for the pain.” he said.

You took them both before walking to the bathroom and using a proper sanitary product because the emergency toilet paper pad was not gonna cut it long term. You walked into the living room where Mito sat on the couch, giving you a soft smile. He held the remote out to you, “Whatever you wanna watch.” he said, pulling you down so your legs rested across his lap and you could lean into his chest.

You ate and watched random movies for hours, Mito surprising you with chocolate and other sweets he knew you enjoyed. You felt yourself starting to drift off again as he held his large, warm hand over your lower stomach. “Thank you for today…” you mumbled, “I love you so much…” you whispered before slipping off into dreamland.

Mito froze before he looked down at you with big doe eyes, he kissed your forehead, “We love you too.” he replied for all of them. It was the first time either of you had said that to each other after just a few months of dating but he knew with his whole heart that he felt nothing but love for you.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello! This was based off a request and I love it! I'm such a sucker for these types of fics. Almost all of my requests right now are for Christian Yu/Mito/Mr. Insanity so I would expect an influx of them. I hope ya'll are doing well. My first day back at work since surgery went pretty well so here's to keeping the good vibes going! XOXOXO

#christian yu x reader #dpr christian #christian yu #dpr ian smut #dprian #writing #dpr ian #dpr live #dpr ian x reader #dpr ian fluff #dpr ian cute #christian yu x y/n #mito #mito x reader

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paintingwhiteceilings · 9 months ago

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❃First Dates with Seventeen❃

I am back from the grave and come bearing delulu gifts. I should have been working on my thesis, but today was rough, so I decided to fantasise about romance instead. It is to make up for my non-existent love life; here is to being perpetually single!

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ This man goes all out for the first date; nothing is too expensive for him as he wants you to feel like a queen at the end. Coups will rent out a theme park for the two of you within a heartbeat the moment you mention that you love roller coasters.

❀ That being said, he strikes me as someone who loves to combine luxury with pampering, doing something that is very relaxing and allows you two to focus on getting to know each other through deep conversations. Coups will probably take you to an expensive and exclusive restaurant, paying a little extra to sit in a more excluded area where no one can interrupt or overhear you.

❀ You two end up talking until the restaurant closes, barely paying attention to the Michelin-star meal that gets served. After you get kicked out, he will not want to let you go just yet, asking you to go on a walk to "digest the food."

❀ He definitely would be the type of member to invite you over to spend the night together, either to continue the conversation or to explore the relationship more physically. However, he would only take the next step if you make the first move or clearly verbalize to him that you want to. Of course, it is because Coups is respectful of your boundaries and it is absolutely not due to him being way too nervous to initiate anything himself.

Jeonghan

❀ Jeonghan strikes me as someone who would take you on a cosy date. Similarly to Coups, he would focus more so on conversation, preferring it over getting to know each other by doing an activity together. Still, as he doesn't want to come over as someone who only invites you over to his place to Netflix and Chill, he does put a lot of effort into the date.

❀ Jeonghan would probably create an indoor picnic, setting up a bunch of pillows and blankets for you two to comfortably lay on. The dress code: pyjamas; it is all about being super comfortable. It would remind you of the many sleepovers you used to have as a child, but more romantic. You two would play silly games, talk about everything and nothing, do some facemasks together and eat so much good food. It would be such a blast.

❀ He would not make a move on the first date; he already was quite bold by inviting you over to his place for the first date, and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Unless you decide to kiss him, he will keep a respectful distance from you the entire time. The most he would do is hold your hand to do some pseudo-palm reading he found online.

Joshua

❀Welcome to the best date of your life. Joshua is the best dater in the world, and nobody can convince me otherwise. This man would walk straight out of a fairy tale book with him in the starring role of Prince Charming. It would not be above him to hire a horse and carriage, snuggling up together as you ride through some magical fairy tale forest, with both of you dressed to the nines.

❀ Still, Joshua strikes me as someone who would plan a crafting date; he would either take you to a pottery class or take you to make some bracelets. Joshua would suggest that you both make something for the other. It is quite a smart move on his part; you would have to continuously ask the other questions to figure out their design preferences. Plus, at the end of the date, you both will have a keepsake to commemorate the time you spent together.

❀The only thing this gentleman is kissing is your hand as a greeting. There will be no handholding either; he will only accidentally touch your hand when he hands something over to you. You would have to go on at least five dates before he even considers kissing you. He is a good Christian boy (who fears the wrath of God).

Jun

❀ Jun is too socially awkward to have a date that is conversation focussed. He needs something to distract you from his rambling and the painful silences. Instead, to avoid running out of conversation topics, he decides to do something fun together, where he can be in his element. He is taking you to a petting zoo.

❀ Although things are painfully awkward at the beginning of the date, his shyness immediately vanishes when he spots all the rabbits and goats running around the petting zoo. He might (accidentally) forget you are there for a moment as he pets a sheep that keeps sniffing at his shoes. However, he will enthusiastically start introducing you to all his favourite animals upon remembering you are there, too. Turns out, this particular petting zoo is his regular spot.

❀ He would 1000% compare you to his favourite chicken.

❀ Will this man touch you during or at the end of the date? Absolutely not. He will ramble on and on about all the cute animals once he is comfortable, but if you do as much as graze his arm with yours, he will go back to painfully shy Jun, and you would have to place a guinea pig in his arms to get him talking again.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Although Hoshi becomes the most chaotic person alive once he is comfortable around someone, he would be painfully shy during a first date. He has to do something with you because he can't stand the awkward silences that he will inevitably let fall. Thus, to no one's surprise, he will take you to do something incredibly active. Hoshi spent so much time trying to come up with something unique, but in the end, he settled for something that made him feel comfortable, namely a one-on-one dancing lesson.

❀ It genuinely would be so much fun. At first, Hoshi is incredibly shy, barely touching you to correct your posture, blushing whenever meets your eyes. As time goes on, he slowly becomes more comfortable and daring, interacting with you and touching you more boldly. The dancing grounds him, reminding him that he's got this and that he is in his element.

❀ Still, Hoshi reverts to being shy when the music ends, now panicking over every single time he has had to put his hand on your waist to steady you. He wouldn't be able to make it through a single sentence without tripping over his words as he gets haunted by flashbacks of the times his bold, performing self touched you. So yeah, he is mortified by his actions.

❀ Needless to say, he wouldn't be kissing you goodnight.

Wonwoo:

❀ He would be another member mortified at the thought of having to keep a conversation going during a date. Wonwoo took his sweet time with an actual plan for a date; he didn't actually expect to get this far. Thus, he has been bothering Mingyu to help him out with date ideas that would not highlight his introversion. On Mingyu's advice, he decides to do something that he is good at and would enjoy. He takes you to a gaming cafe.

❀ Whether you are good at gaming or not, he makes sure that he has a list of fun multiplayer games for you two to play that aren’t too complicated. You have fun running a restaurant together in 'PlateUp!' before he convinces you to play 'It Takes Two' together, using the story to create a wholesome and romantic atmosphere. The best part is that the game is too long to finish in one playthrough, making it easier for him to ask you out on a second and third date. It gives you plenty to talk about, too; how can you not discuss the Cutie the Elephant scene?

❀ It would all go so well, all until he has walked you to your door. He gets so nervous about potentially kissing you goodnight that, instead, he shakes your hand, all businesslike, telling you it was a good one. It takes him a solid five seconds to realize what he is doing and for him to turn bright red. Luckily, you find it funny, agreeing it was a good one. He was ready to drop all contact with you and change his entire identity if you hadn't laughed.

Woozi

❀ It isn't that Woozi is incredibly nervous about your date; he is actually very much looking forward to it. However, he genuinely does not know what you two can do together, as he literally never leaves his house. The members aren't much help either; they either make fun of him for finally deciding to go outside or tell him to do some wild activity that he really can't imagine doing. They keep reminding him that he can't bring you to the gym or bring you along to the studio as he works. Apparently, that isn't romantic.

❀ It is Jeonghan who surprisingly helps him out by recommending doing a movie marathon or binge-watching a series together. Jeonghan even helps him decorate the living room with candles, making it all nice and romantic. Not that the atmosphere would be very romantic, though; you decided to put on a Marvel show, and now you are having a lore-heavy discussion trying to connect all the stories. You two even brought out a notebook so you could draw a mind map of the different plot points and storylines.

❀ Despite all the romantic lyrics that he writes, Woozi wouldn't know what to do when you tell him you have to go. He is overthinking everything as you get up to grab your coat and get ready to leave. Should he walk you home? Should he kiss you? As you are about to close the door behind you, he would muster up the courage to ask you what he should do. Woozi is very embarrassed about it, but he would rather risk looking stupid as he asks you how a date is supposed to end than end up doing the wrong thing.

❀ Well, answer wisely.

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is way too excited to be going on a date with you. In fact, he has so many date ideas that he decided to do all of them at once, in one go. It might not be the best idea, but DK is not thinking clearly. He is too distracted by his enthusiasm, only thinking about how he gets to go on a date with you. You should be concerned when he asks you to bring multiple outfits; each outfit fits a different date activity.

❀ The date starts out fun as he brings you to the zoo. You spent some time laughing at the monkeys and taking pictures together at the animal cut-outs. However, after not even an hour has passed, DK is already dragging you to the next activity he has planned. In one date, you guys visit a waterpark, do a scavenger hunt, go bowling and go ice skating. It is honestly not surprising that when DK leans over to talk to you, he discovers that you have fallen asleep during the movie. He realises that maybe he asked a bit too much of you and guiltily lets you catch up on some sleep.

❀ DK is genuinely convinced that you never want to see him again, being incredibly quiet as he walks you home. When he voices as much, you surprise him by kissing his cheek and telling him you had fun, though you would prefer maybe not to do five activities during one date. He will not shut up about it during dance practice for weeks.

Mingyu

❀ A date with Mingyu really depends on who he is taking on a date and what he thinks would fit that person best. He is such a people person that he will come up with a date idea that is fun for the both of you. If he gets to decide, though, I can see him choosing between two widely different date ideas, depending on his mood.

❀ On the one hand, I can see Mingyu opting for something romantic. For instance, I can see him inviting someone over so that he can cook for them. He would have you seated across from where he is cooking, trying his hardest to impress you with his cooking skills. It would be such an intimate setting: just you two, sitting in the quiet kitchen as the evening grows darker, chatting as you sip your glass of wine. The food would be delicious, and the flirting unrivalled.

❀ On the other hand, Mingyu strikes me as someone who would also love to go on a lighthearted and fun date, focusing on having a good time together. There wouldn't be anything sensual about it; you two would be cracking up the entire time. For some reason, I can see him taking his date to play mini-golf. Not only would it be hilarious every time one of you launches the ball in the wrong direction, but it would also give him an excuse to touch you as he tries to 'help.'

❀ Mingyu would definitely end the date not so innocently if you give him the okay sign. And, let's be fair, chances are that you would; he is too fine not to and after all that flirting...

The8/Minghao

❀ Minghao would put a lot of thought into the date, even going as far as planning it before he asked you out. Minghao is painfully aware that you make him nervous and that he can't afford to slack on the date activity; at least when there is an awkward silence because he doesn't know what to say, you would have something pretty to look at. Thus, he makes sure to go over his plan at least five times, asking the other members for second opinions that he will ultimately disregard when he goes with his original idea.

❀ All in all, his first date ideas all have something creative and peaceful. He wants to create an atmosphere that is relaxing and fosters deep conversations. He, for instance, would opt to organize a painting date where he will show off his painting skills, taking you to a scenic nature look-out where you can spend your afternoon eating the food he prepared in a picnic basket, chatting as you try to capture the beautiful forest scene in front of you.

❀ Another first date that I can see him taking you on is stargazing. Minghao would prepare a ton of cosy blankets and pillows that soften the hard ground you otherwise would have had to lay on. Instead of pointing out existing constellations, you would try to come up with your own. It would be so serene with the silence only broken by your conversation, held in soft, quiet whispers. If the moment is right, he would lean in for a kiss, hiding the redness of his face in the dark of the night.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan initially felt so much pressure to organize the best date ever. He has his reputation as 'one of the funniest members of Seventeen' to uphold and wants you to have an amazing time. Similarly to some of the other members, Seungkwan has several different first date ideas that he would choose from depending on his date and mood. Mostly, I can see him doing something very active as it would help him focus less on his nerves and more on being in the moment.

❀ Seungkwan would, for instance, take you on a hike, using it as an excuse to have deep conversations as you enjoy the beautiful, warm summer day. He loves to walk and talk, using the hike to grow closer. You two would bring along some food, stopping at picturesque scenes to enjoy lunch as you share your life stories.

❀ I can also imagine Seungkwan taking you to see a volleyball match or to play volleyball. He adores the sport and would probably want to share his love for the game with you. Despite being incredible at ball games, he would be incredibly gentle with you, making sure that you don't accidentally injure yourself. Plus, he gets to show off his incredible skills.

❀ He would be another member who is too shy to initiate anything physical. It would be on his mind constantly, but he wouldn't get past his overthinking thoughts. He will keep a healthy, respectful distance unless you decide to initiate skinship.

Vernon

❀ I can't, for the love of me, imagine Vernon on a serious date. This man's entire vocabulary consists of memes, and I am sure he will get inspired by some wacky internet post to do something weird. Instead of doing something romantic or typical date-like, he would go for something outside the box. Sure, he loves movies and could do a cliche movie date, but where is the fun in that?

❀ After watching a popular ghost-hunting video, he decides it would be a good idea to go on a ghost-hunting date together. He even bought specialized ghost-hunting tools so that you could communicate with the spirits. It is a bit of a waste of money; he probably will never use them again (unless you are not utterly horrified by the end of it and would want to go on another ghost-hunting date). Most people wouldn't consider an abandoned prison romantic (and neither did you), but at least it is a fun, never-been-done-before first date.

❀ You now made a new friend, a ghost called Dave, who apparently likes pizza, that the spirit box picked up on the second floor's hallway. Another ghost, who kept repeating the words 'toilet' and 'cereal', decided to briefly join your date when you walked into one of the cellblocks. Overall, you don't have conclusive proof that ghosts exist by the end of it, but the date went well.

❀ This man is oblivious to date etiquette; when you ask whether he wants to spend the night, he thinks you are asking him whether he wants to spend the night at the abandoned prison. You might be regretting that you asked as you now are terrified, trying to sleep in a sleeping bag next to a knocked-out Vernon on the cold prison floor.

Dino/Chan

❀ Poor Dino does not know what to do with your first date, paralysed from fear at the thought that he will do something stupid. He has been staring at a wall these past few days, racking his brain as he tries to come up with something to impress you. Part of him wants to ask his members for help, but Dino knows that if he did, they would never let him live it down.

❀ Inspiration, however, strikes him over dinner the day before you are supposed to be going on a date. Dino is running around like a headless chicken, trying to plan whatever he can in time for the big day. Unfortunately, it takes him hours to arrange everything, forcing him to stay up well into the early hours of the next day. Hence, when Dino decides to close his eyes for just a second, he completely sleeps through his alarms. If it hadn't been for his members waking him up, he would have also slept through your entire date.

❀ The good news is that the members texted you to let you know in advance, and that you are gracious enough to still agree to the date. The bad news is that Dino's hard work has been for nought as the reservations have long passed. He feels incredibly guilty, but you reassure him that things like these happen.

❀ Instead of letting the mishap ruin the date further, you convince him to join you at the local playground. You spend the entire afternoon running around, playing games from your childhood and going down the slide. Your dinner consists of some snacks from a convenience store. It is wonderful.

masterlist

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broomsick · 1 year ago

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List of interesting ressources pertaining to norse paganism, scandinavian folklore and history, and nordic religions in general

These are sources I have personally used in the context of my research, and which I've enjoyed and found useful. Please don’t mind if I missed this or that ressource, as for this post, I focused solely on my own preferences when it comes to research. I may add on to this list via reblog if other interesting sources come to my mind after this has been posted. Good luck on your research! And as always, my question box is open if you have any questions pertaining to my experiences and thoughts on paganism.

Mythology

The Viking Spirit: An Introduction to Norse Mythology and Religion

Dictionnary of Northern Mythology

The Prose and Poetic Eddas (online)

Grottasöngr: The Song of Grotti (online)

The Poetic Edda: Stories of the Norse Gods and Heroes

The Wanderer's Hávamál

The Song of Beowulf

Rauðúlfs Þáttr

The Penguin Book of Norse Myths: Gods of the Vikings (Kevin Crossley-Holland's are my favorite retellings)

Myths of the Norsemen From the Eddas and the Sagas (online) A source that's as old as the world, but still very complete and an interesting read.

The Elder Eddas of Saemung Sigfusson

Pocket Hávamál

Myths of the Pagan North: Gods of the Norsemen

Lore of the Vanir: A Brief Overview of the Vanir Gods

Anglo-Saxon and Norse Poems

Gods of the Ancient Northmen

Gods of the Ancient Northmen (online)

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr (online)

Sagas

Two Sagas of Mythical Heroes: Hervor and Heidrek & Hrólf Kraki and His Champions (compiling the Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks and the Hrólfs saga kraka)

Icelandic Saga Database (website)

The Saga of the Jómsvíkings

The Heimskringla or the Chronicle of the Kings of Norway (online)

Stories and Ballads of the Far Past: Icelandic and Faroese

Heimskringla: History of the Kings of Norway

The Saga of the Volsungs: With the Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok

The Saga of the Volsungs (online) Interesting analysis, but this is another pretty old source.

The Story of the Volsungs (online) Morris and Magnusson translation

The Vinland Sagas

Hákon the Good's Saga (online)

History of religious practices

The Viking Way: Magic and Mind in Late Iron Age Scandinavia

Nordic Religions in the Viking Age

Agricola and Germania Tacitus' account of religion in nordic countries

Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe: Early Scandinavian and Celtic Religions

Tacitus on Germany (online)

Scandinavia and the Viking Age

Viking Age Iceland

Landnámabók: Book of the Settlement of Iceland (online)

The Age of the Vikings

Gesta Danorum: The Danish History (Books I-IX)

The Sea Wolves: a History of the Vikings

The Viking World

Guta Lag: The Law of the Gotlanders (online)

The Pre-Christian Religions of the North This is a four-volume series I haven't read yet, but that I wish to acquire soon! It's the next research read I have planned.

Old Norse Folklore: Tradition, Innovation, and Performance in Medieval Scandinavia

Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings

The Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings by John Haywood

Landnámabók: Viking Settlers and Their Customs in Iceland

Nordic Tales: Folktales from Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland and Denmark For a little literary break from all the serious research! The stories are told in a way that can sometimes get repetitive, but it makes it easier to notice recurring patterns and themes within Scandinavian oral tradition.

Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Short Introduction

Saga Form, Oral Prehistory, and the Icelandic Social Context

An Early Meal: A Viking Age Cookbook and Culinary Oddyssey

Runes & Old Norse language

Uppland region runestones and their translations

Viking Language 1: Learn Old Norse, Runes, and Icelandic Sagas and Viking Language 2: The Old Norse Reader

Catalogue of the Manks Crosses with Runic Inscriptions

Old Norse - Old Icelandic: Concise Introduction to the Language of the Sagas

A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture

Nordic Runes: Understanding, Casting, and Interpreting the Ancient Viking Oracle

YouTube channels

Ocean Keltoi

Arith Härger

Old Halfdan

Jackson Crawford

Wolf the Red

Sigurboði Grétarsson

Grimfrost

(Reminder! The channel "The Wisdom of Odin", aka Jacob Toddson, is a known supporter of pseudo scientific theories and of the AFA, a folkist and white-supremacist organization, and he's been known to hold cult-like, dangerous rituals, as well as to use his UPG as truth and to ask for his followers to provide money for his building some kind of "real life viking hall", as supposedly asked to him by Óðinn himself. A source to avoid. But more on that here.)

Websites

The Troth

Norse Mythology for Smart People

Voluspa.org

Icelandic Saga Database

Skaldic Project

Life in Norway This is more of a tourist's ressources, but I find they publish loads of fascinating articles pertaining to Norway's history and its traditions.

#ressources #masterpost #heathenry #research #sources #norse paganism #norse gods #spirituality #polytheism #deity work #pagan #paganism #deities #norse polytheism #mythology #eddas #sagas

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

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Wholesome moments

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - 5 wholesome moments

Warning - none tbh, happy crying?? Being drunk??

Reader drives for RedBull

One - Late to post race press

I was in my drivers room, relaxing after a race. Strolling through tiktok when my manager, Emma, rushs in looking annoyed. "Oh hi Emma" I offer her a small smile which seems to only annoy her more.

"What are you doing?!" Her tone angry, by now I was confused. Pointing down to my phone which had a random tiktok playing on repeat. "You have the post race press, it was meant to start ten minutes ago but their waiting on you!" It was only then when I finally looked at the time, she was right.

Jumping up from the leather sofa, rushing out of my room toward the conference room with Emma close behind. Walking in, I could see everyones eyes on me. "Hey...so sorry for my tardiness" Laughing at myself awkwardly whilst everyone soon joined in with laughter.

Sit down in my seat between Fernando and Carlos. "So tell us Y/n what was so important that time fell away from you?" Turning my head to Daniel who had a smug smile on his face.

"Well if you must know Danny, tiktok has become very addictive recently" I wore a sheepish smile on my face as the room once again erupted in laughter.

"See kids these days, hooked to their phone" Daniel replied, shaking his head knowingly. It wsm't long before the laughter died down and we started press with myself in attendance.

Two - Prankster

If there was one thing on the paddock that I was known for it would be my notorious prank on anyone and everyone. LIke one time, I posted a instagram announcing 'my retirement'. This meant that I had my phone blowing up, texts, comments, missed calls and etc. I remember about two minute after I posted the instagram, I could a call from Christian. "Hey Chris!"

"What the hell Y/n?! What is going on with your instagram post?" I had to surpress my laughter and acted somewhat sad. He sounded upset, this made me feel almost sad for him.

"Oh yeah I know that its the middle of the season but I found some thing better for myself.." It was going great, I loved it. After a few seconds of silence, he came back to his sense.

"What could you have possible found that is better than not only driving for Redbull but for formula one?!" His voice was soon becoming more and more annoyed, and what I was about to say would set him off.

It was really hard to surpress myself from laughing when I told him the 'better thing'. "Have you ever heard of dog food tasters?" One could only imagine what his head was going through.

Yet again there was a few seconds of an awakward silence, a silence to sit through and not laugh. "Y/n... you're kidding me, you're the fussiest person I have ever met! And you're going to from fucking formula one and redbull to a dog food taster... you won't even drink coffee, let alone dog food!"

I could no longer hold in my laughter, doubling over I could hear Chris questioning my laugh. "Oh my god! You actually believed me, Christian I'm not leave redbull or formula one. I just pranked you" Dead silence until I heard Christian chuckle.

“I should of known, you little prankster” Let’s just say for the rest of the day, my phone would not turn off. Nearly every other driver on the grid calling, anxiety coursing through their heads.

Three - the little weight

It was the yearly FIA prize giving ceremony, everyone swapped out of their uniforms for gowns and suits. Hair and makeup done.

Sat in the buzzing venue, the night of celebrations meant I had not kept track of the amount of alcohol I was downing. Until I was announced as rookie of the year.

Raising from my seat, I made my way to stage. The crowd were clapping and cheering, I could see the other drivers sporting proud smiles.

Arriving to the mic which sat in the middle of the stage, I was handed my trophy. “Oh wow, thank you! I would like to say that I love you all and I’m that I want to thank Alex Turner for this because he is hot!” All it was rambling, I continued to ramble until Lando stood up from his seat.

“Quick question! Y/n how many drinks have you had?” His voice contained both concerns and amusement.

Holding up my free hand with two fingers, almost proudly. This small gesture made everyone burst into a light laughter. “Oh god! You are so drunk..” Lando trailed off whilst climbing up the stairs before walking me off stage.

“Come on, I think it’s time we start getting some water down you and maybe getting you home” He continued to walk me over to the grand reception where we waited for a taxi and drank some water.

Waking up the next morning, I was in my bed. Looking over at my phone, I could see a text from Lando along with other notifications probably regarding last night.

‘Hey kiddo, I managed to get you back to your apartment last night. Maybe next time don’t drink as much

Lots of love your big brother’

Checking social media, I immediately got embarrassment as my drunken ramble went viral.

Four - First F1 podium

“Okay Leclerc and Hamilton have a hot 7 seconds gap between you and them, keep pushing” It was the Austrian race and I had somehow settled myself into p2.

My anxiety was on an all time high when I was racing but currently being in p2 made that anxiety worsen. “Copy..” I was focused on getting that podium.

It would be my first podium, and even if I didn’t stand in pole position I would be happy. “How many laps left?” I asked my race engineer through the radio, I wanted to finish the race as soon as possible.

“Only two laps left, you can do it!” Only two that was reassuring to say the least. I could hear crowd cheering but I didn’t let that next my focus from the p2 spot.

“One lap left! Keep pushing!” One lap. One more lap until could stand on that podium for the first time. I accelerated the car, there was no chance I would catch Max but I had to keep that distance from the Ferrari and Mercedes behind me.

“There’s the checkered flag! You can do!” I could see the line and flag waving in the distance, it was only when I crossed the line that I really let my focus go and come to the realisation that I was on the podium.

“I did it! I fucking did it! P2 baby! That’s what I like to hear!” I could my race engineer laugh at my antics of the radio, whilst also tell me that they were incredibly proud.

Standing on the podium, I looked over at the crowd. A large smile was planted on my face. “Kiddo you did it! You’re on the podium!” I heard Max who was of course in p1 exclaim beside me.

I was soon soaked in sweet champagne, I didn’t care if it ruined my hair. All I cared about was the position I finished today’s race with.

Five - P1…oh how I like this view

Once again I was sat in the redbull car, awaiting for my the race to begin. I was very lucky to be granted pole position in Monaco of all places. It was tense as we all waited for the five lights to flash out.

And when the did, I was off leaving the wait line in no time. Tackling every tight curve, accelerating when ever I saw someone even get close to me.

I could feel the blazing sun down on my race suit. I could smell the scent of burning rubber. I could hear crowds who had lined the tracks. I could taste the exhaust filled air. But I felt like I had gone blind, just focusing on the track and maintaining my car from any possible damage.

Whilst in pit stop, my anxiety ran through the heavens. Just wanting to get back on the track and end with my win.

I was up against some of the best of the best. And I had to hold onto the pole position, hold onto that winning position.

“Verstappen is just over 5 seconds behind you so not much of a gap, keep pushing when you can” My race engineer was aware of anxiety when it came to racing, but she was also aware of my hunger for that winning position.

“Copy, how many laps?” Once again I was twisting around the narrow corners.

“Three, if you push the gap bigger you’ll probably win!” That’s was all I needed to give me motivation to push as hard as I can.

Pressing down on the accelerator, I heard the rumbling of my car increase in sound.

After three agonising laps, I could see the checkered flag being waved. Tears were welling up on my waterline. It was only when I cross that finish line when I then let them fall down my cheeks.

“I did… I’m first” I whispered, so only myself and my face engineer could hear. It was barely audible over the loud crowds who were cheering me on for my first win.

Finally standing above the number felt great. I felt tall, empowered, unstoppable and proud. Everyone was cheering as I was handed the trophy. Off to the side were the rest of the drivers who hadn’t won podium stood smiling up at me.

I felt that familiar family love once again. I always did whether I didn’t place top ten or if I had gotten to that first place position. I would be lying if I didn’t feel that love to them in return.

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returnsandreturns · 10 months ago

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a silly thing

Foggy’s mom keeps the baby at their apartment for the first couple of weeks while Foggy tries to sort out how to manage this insane thing he’s attempting—raising a kid at the age of twenty while doing a full courseload at an Ivy League. They only drink once, a few days before Foggy’s set to move into new housing.

“Nobody’s going to judge you if you find him another home,” Matt says.

“I can’t do that,” Foggy says, immediately. “Not—I mean, you came out great, Matty, but the shit you had to go through. I can keep him safe from that.”

Matt smiles at him, feeling a little bit like crying but that’s probably the alcohol, and says, “I wish I could move with you. It would help to have two people, wouldn’t it?”

“You’d have to marry me, I think,” Foggy says, laughing then stopping abruptly when he sees the apparently very obvious look on Matt’s face. “Oh, no, Murdock. No. You’re not gonna propose out of pure Christian selflessness right now, buddy, that would be crazy.”

“It’s just paperwork,” Matt says, grinning.

“Life altering paperwork,” Foggy says, firmly, rambling, “and only one bed in the apartment and—do not get on one knee, Matt, I swear to—I can’t let you upend your life to raise a kid with me! We’re still kids, basically! Oh, Christ, you look earnest.”

“Marry me,” Matt says, very much on one knee, feeling a little bit giddy but not out of his head or anything. He’s wanted to offer this since the moment he found out Foggy would be moving out.

“You’re drunk,” Foggy says, accusingly.

“I’m tipsy at worst,” Matt says. “Marry me.”

“One bed,” Foggy says.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Matt says, dismissively.

“You can’t bring home hot girls,” Foggy says.

“I don’t do that now,” Matt says. “Marry me. We’ll figure all of it out.”

Foggy sighs loudly.

“Okay,” he says, throwing his hands up. “I’ll marry you.”

Matt grins and climbs back onto the bed to pull him into a hug.

“I promise I want this,” he says, softly, nervous when Foggy’s heart beats even faster than it has been.

“Thanks, buddy,” Foggy murmurs, holding him back tightly.

—

They get married at the courthouse and Matt kisses Foggy because it feels like the right thing to do for more reasons than one. Foggy just laughs and kisses him back, cupping Matt’s face in his hands, and neither of them say anything about it. They just go get lunch and break the news to Foggy’s mother who looks extremely tired but doesn’t object much and spend the day there with the baby.

Sam is, according to Foggy, the cutest baby to ever exist—blonde and giant brown eyes and chubby cheeks—and, also according to Foggy, fascinated by Matt.

“Seriously,” Foggy says, laughing. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here.”

“That’s a good sign, right?” Matt asks, grinning when Sam grabs for his glasses, sliding them up higher on his head. “I mean, I’m pretty fascinated with him, too.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, softer and a little shaky, “it’s a really good sign.”

“You okay?” Matt asks, adjusting Sam in his arms when he starts grasping at his shirt, holding him close.

“God, yeah, I’m fine,” Foggy says, laughing. “You’re just. . .you’re a really good friend, Matt. That’s all.”

“Hey, I’m just in it for the tax write-offs,” Matt says, flatly, pressing a kiss to Sam’s extremely soft head and grinning happily when Foggy laughs. He knows this is weird but he can’t imagine a world where he just let Foggy go off and struggle on his own. Not when they could be together.

Foggy’s mom teaches him how to change a diaper that night. That part’s rough. But he can deal with it.

—

The first day in the apartment is a mess of Nelsons helping them move in and finally just the three of them, equally exhausted, collapsed on the uncomfortable school supplied couch. Foggy puts Sam down and then they go to bed together for the first time. There’s a confusing period of about one minute before Foggy says, “I know you’re a little spoon,” and Matt says, “. . .yeah, okay,” and then it’s the most comfortable sleep that Matt’s had. . .ever. Even with the baby waking up four times and them taking turns checking on him.

“I think this is going to work,” he says, over breakfast a few weeks in.

“Yeah?” Foggy asks.

“I mean, I think Sam might like me better, which could be awkward,” Matt says, lips twitching, “since you’re his dad and all.”

“You’re kinda going to be his dad, too,” Foggy says. “Depending on how long we do this. But that’s a conversation I don’t like to think about which we probably should have already had—the how long part, at least.”

“As long as you want me,” Matt says, immediately.

“Well, a kid is. . .forever,” Foggy says.

“I have forever,” Matt says, blushing suddenly and turning away to try to hide it. Because he means it—really, really means it. “If you—if you want forever.”

“Matt, you’ll probably want to meet someone and get married eventually,” Foggy says, cautiously. “Someone you actually want, I mean.”

They already got married, moved in together and are raising a child. It’s not a leap. Matt has to remind himself of this several times, before he says, “I already did that, Foggy.”

Foggy’s heartbeat is crazy and Sam decides to start screaming at the same time.

“I’ll get him,” Matt says, quickly.

Sam is happy and cooing in his arms when Foggy comes in and asks, softly, “You were being serious, right? You have feelings for me? . . .forever feelings?”

“I don’t think I knew it until we kissed at the courthouse,” Matt says, thinking back to the feeling he had after Foggy kissed him back. How everything made sense even though they were being insane. How it felt like they should have been doing it all along. “But I do, I want you. And I want to be. . .I want to be Sam’s dad.”

It smells a little bit like tears but Foggy just carefully leans up, with Sam between them, to kiss Matt softly.

“Let’s do this,” he says.

—

“We’re going to lose him in a snowdrift,” Matt says.

Several months have passed and they’ve been exhausting and difficult and perfect ones and now there’s snow on the ground and a puffy baby snowsuit purchased by Marci who refused to hold Sam because she finds babies to be haunting cautionary tales but does like buying him clothes. He feels like a pillow when Matt picks him up.

“It’s bright green!” Foggy says. “We’d spot him eventually. C’mon.”

When they tramp outside onto the lawn, Matt says, grumpily, “His cheeks are getting cold.”

“Just because you hate snow and joy doesn’t mean our son has to,” Foggy says, laughing then pausing at the look on Matt’s face. “What did I say?”

“Our son,” Matt says, smiling. “I don’t think you’ve ever said it like that before.”

“This is a good weird and misty face, then?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, nodding.

“Well, I bet our son will love snow,” Foggy says, warmly. “Let’s sit him down.”

As soon as Sam’s tiny hand brushes against the snow, he starts screaming and Matt looks smug.

“How does he take after you?” Foggy asks, huffing. “You’re not even blood related.”

“He’s just a very smart baby,” Matt says, hefting him back up onto his hip.

“And you’re really fucking cute together,” Foggy says. “I’m taking pictures.”

Matt’s smile is more real than its ever been.

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil #schmoopiest fluffiest 1k words

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lightningbreath · 20 days ago

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A little more information about the HH leaks + a rant about some things in these leaks.

SPOILER ALERT

WARNING: MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SA AND SUICIDAL ATTEMPTS

Rosie owns Alastor's soul and sings a song about how Alastor is her pet and how he is in her zoo.

Vox looks like they will try to perform a '''''correctional grape'''' on Alastor to prove that Alastor is not asexual. (PROVEN FAKE) .

Vox tries to use the media to damage the Hotel's reputation. At some point, he manages to place several sinners (including some members of the Hotel) under mental control.

Husk and Angel apparently kiss in episode 6.

Apparently Lucifer dies (AMEM) in episode 8. Lute probably kills him, but it's pure speculation, all I found was an image with Lucifer on the floor. If this is true, and Viv resurrects Lucifer, then the chances of Adam and the dead Exorcites returning become very likely. And this will further undermine the understanding of how death works in Hazbin Hotel.

ABOUT EP 2, SEASSON 2

Sir Pentious is simply insufferable. During Emily's song introducing him to Heaven, Pentious tries to create and link A SHITTING DEATH WEAPON WITH A SMILE ON HEAVEN'S FACE, but Emily, Abel and Peter stop him and destroy the weapon.

Sir Pentious's sin was not having reported Jack the Ripper. Although I would say that inaction in these cases does not constitute a valid reason to be sent to Hell for christianity, after seeing how some Mouthwashing fans treat Curly, then it's not crazy to think that there are people who believe that would be a reason to go. to Hell. But it's interesting to see how Viv didn't have the ability to take a real sinner and try to redeem him, it seems like she thinks the only way to empathize is by posing a '''sin''' that isn't a sin, without a challenge moral, without a conversation about what is good and evil, without something that makes people REALLY think about whether redemption should be for everyone or if it should be limited, etc.

Ah, but Hazbin Hotel is a bold series that criticizes religion and says that situations are nuanced, a series without ''good guys vs bad guys'', a series that is not moralistic..... Of course it is. 🙄

Lute nearly has a panic attack after the Tribunal, this is where she starts hallucinating Adam, he basically validates all her thoughts and encourages her to do what she has planned (similar to how she is talking to herself). Here it is interesting to see how Sera, Emily or the ''Voice of God'' don't even care about Lute's emotional instability. Emily and the Voice of God are described as ''good'' and ''compassionate'', but they only know how to look at Lute with disgust instead of, I don't know, TRYING TO LISTEN TO HER BEFORE SIMPLY DISCARDING HER. To have the slightest empathy because Lute's WHOLE world is crumbling and falling apart and the only person with whom she identified is DEAD. It's also funny how quickly Sera simply discards Adam, Lute and the Exorcisms now that she sees that she was ''''wrong'''', simply using them as scapegoats, without worrying about the consequences this left on the exorcisms. itself. Yes, the Exorcisms were Adam's idea, but it was SERA who allowed them for who knows how long, Sera doesn't seem to have tried to control the Exorcists' murderous impulses, she simply left everything in Adam's hands and only showed up to demand and complain when something went wrong.

Abel seems at least somewhat affected by Adam's death, despite appearing to be a pacifist type, he seems somewhat willing to go to Hell out of resentment for Adam's death. He admits that he is not the best person to say what to do about the situation in Hell, as he himself is kind of interested in getting revenge for Adam's death, so this bombshell is in Sera's hands.

Lute goes to Adam's office and Abel follows her, he tries to connect with her by talking about Adam and apologizing for the way he acted in Court, but Lute doesn't want to listen to him and throws him out.

Lute's song begins (BANGER SONG), where she swears revenge on Charlie.

St. Peter continues to be useless and from now on, I will consider that he is just a random person with that name and that he IS NOT the real St. Peter.

Emily is spoiling Sir Pentious, and when she sees him crying for his minions and his "friends", Emily creates new minions (basically the same as the ones he had in Hell, but these ones have wings). She continues to spoil Pentious, who continues to try to create weapons (but the environment in Heaven seems to not allow weapons like Sir Pentious's to work). Sir Pentious spends the entire episode crying saying that he wants to go back to Hell and see his "friends".

Sera decides to put all of Heaven under protection while she thinks about what to do. Emily opens a portal saying she will warn Charlie about recent events.

The Exorcists continue to be dehumanized to the extreme and treated as simple '''walking weapons'' and as scapegoats, with Lute being THE ONLY ONE who has, at least, a face.

Lilith is apparently in the Garden of Eden, she was sitting enjoying the breeze and eating fruit. Then she sees something on the phone, gets up and leaves.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel leaks #hazbin hotel season 2 #hazbin leaks

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sysmedsaresexist · 1 month ago

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The Big "Is RAMCOA Antisemitic?" Debunk Post

Because I have to stay relevant, here we go

Let's start with a little speech. A bit of positivity.

You know, there is something good to said about this RAMCOA antisemitism discourse. The majority don't seem to be falling for it at all, and many are becoming more educated about the panic, RAMCOA/OEA and its history (the good and the bad) than ever before

RAMCOA/OEA a very real issue that deserves awareness and advocacy, and so far, I've noticed a massive surge in members of the community researching the ISSTD and the OEA sig's work.

It has brought antisemitism into light in a way that hasn't really been talked about on a large scale in system communities, and most don't know ever existed. Many, genuinely, had no idea that the satanic panic was antisemitic in these ways, and it's putting a lot of pieces together and adding a lot of context that'll help us grow and be better people going forward.

It's been really nice seeing such a positive shift to open, educational conversations, with people genuinely wanting to know the truth and unlearn harmful associations.

SAS stands with RAMCOA and OEA survivors.

So let's get into it.

SRA and The Memory Wars, lasting results

SRA started with Michelle Remembers, a book, in 1980. It resulted in thousands of unsubstantiated claims of abuse, daycare hysteria, set CDD research and OEA abuse back decades, affected millions, and to this day conjures images of cloaked figures sacrificing children.

The ISSTD was formed in 1984, amid the panic, with the goal of quickly developing an effective treatment and documenting the disorder as thoroughly as possible. Many mistakes were made. Clinicians aren't immune to societal panics, and lessons were learned the hard way.

I think an important distinction that many have forgotten is that the ISSTD's principal controversy isn't SRA. SRA didn't start or end with the ISSTD.

While the “Satanic Panic” played out in courts and in mass media, the ISSTD entered “The Memory Wars”, and it's this that they're most controversial for. False, implanted, and fostered memories weren't solely related to SRA. It was used to discredit all types of abuse and violence and is still used to this day to silence victims.

By the 1990s, therapists were being sued, licenses were being revoked, and members were fleeing the ISSTD. The False Memory Syndrome Foundation wouldn't be created for another couple of years, but that doesn't mean its founding members weren't already wreaking havoc.

The FMSF would be created in 1992, and their bigger and better attacks on therapists were brutal and persistent. The legal battles would be especially effective at causing therapists to refuse to work with victims of abuse.

Research on ritual abuse, CDDs, and repressed memories came to a grinding halt.

The Satanic Panic eventually fell into relative silence by 1995, but false memories lived on, loud and cruel.

The FMSF would eventually begin to write college textbooks for the next generation of clinicians. It would survive until 2019.

The ISSTD is still trying to regain its membership. It's only recently that they reached 1500, the highest since 1993.

Antisemitism, blood libel, and the satanic panic

If you're confused about how everything is related, I'm going to make it very simple so you grasp the basic idea.

This is not a history lesson.

Blood Libel, or ritual murder, is the idea that Jewish people sacrificed Christian children in religious rituals. Cloaked figures performing rituals and killing children and animals. The same thing you picture when you think of Satanists and rituals.

For those who recognize the connection (racists), this fuels their sentiments and creates a language for them to speak to each other.

It is true, a basic fact, that for many people, Satanists are anyone who doesn't worship the Christian god. Including and especially Jewish people.

SRA and RAMCOA

Depending on who you ask, the connection is either that:

MYTH: the ISSTD originally called their RAMCOA sig (Special Interest Group) the SRA sig. FACT: The RAMCOA sig, one of twelve ISSTD sigs, was created in 2008. There was never any kind of satanic ritual abuse group or association within the ISSTD.

FACT: Ritual abuse, the RA in RAMCOA, still has ties to SRA and brings to mind everything from the panic. ALSO FACT: That's why the ISSTD has renamed it to the OEA sig.

Hopefully we're all on the same page now.

Who's Grey Faction?

Grey Faction is a group of the TST (The Satanic Temple) and is closely related to the FMSF. While the FMSF generally attacked all types of abuse, GF, being related to Satanism, is focused on recovered memories and the (still alive) satanic panic. They believe that all reports of false memories supports satanic panic conspiracy theories. They continue the FMSF's work.

How did we get here?

Well, TST and GF are on reddit. Syscringe is on reddit. And now syscringe is here.

This is what syscringe bot says every time RAMCOA is brought up.

That link goes to Grey Faction.

So is RAMCOA Antisemitic?

Kind of yeah. It was a really good move of the ISSTD to change the name to OEA sig. They talk about the association on their website and stated they wanted to get away from that. No one won the satanic panic. Ritual abuse is real, but its history is tainted.

The discourse around RAMCOA isn't about helping Jewish people. At least, not for the people pushing the false connection that the ISSTD started and continues to maintain the panic to this day.

It's about discrediting the ISSTD and the trauma theory. It's about silencing victims, even Jewish survivors.

It's about ignoring that the ISSTD is making moves in the right direction.

It's about continuing the idea that false memories exist and that trauma memories can't be trusted or taken at face value. It's about downplaying the depravity of abusers and the lengths they'll go to.

I want to finish this post with a letter from a very dear friend. It's not a mod on this blog, simply someone wishing to stay anonymous.

Uplift Jewish Voices

Hello, I’m Noam, an ethnic and religious Jew. I face antisemitism on the daily and deal with having DID. I am not a RAMCOA survivor, but I have a number of friends who are. Today I’m here to talk about the recent discourse going around regarding whether claiming to have RAMCOA experiences is inherently antisemitic. TLDR: no.

Let’s start with understanding why people think this. The term ritual abuse originated from the term satanic ritual abuse and is often associated with the satanic panic. The satanic panic in the 80s and 90s was extreme and yes, did involve a lot of antisemitic conspiracy theories. People would suggest certain symbols or music or groups of people (often vague, or calling it a nationwide conspiracy) were “brainwashing” these “good Christian children” into satanic practices or straying from rigid Christianity. Jews are often stereotyped as Satanic, controlling things, and murdering and cannibalizing children/babies.

Ritual abuse nowadays is often still associated with Satanic cults, but it has a much broader and less accusatory definition in medical/therapeutic spaces. Per Schröder et al. (2018), “ritual abuse occurs when a religious, political, or spiritual authority uses its position of power and the sovereignty to interpret the respective belief system to manipulate and dominate its followers.” Some examples include repeated forced creation of CSEM, religious and other types of cults (yes, including satanic, but also Christian and other religions), and being forced to abuse others (Schröder et al., 2018). Trafficking is also a type of organized abuse. We know these types of abuses happen. But given the history of RA as a term and the harm claims of SRA caused, how does one determine whether something is a conspiracy theory or actual trauma someone experienced?

This page by the European Commission does a good job of talking about identifying conspiracy theories and the harm they do. I won’t recount the whole thing, but here are some basic things they state conspiracy theories have in common: a secret plot, a group of conspirators, unfounded/unreliable evidence, suggesting everything is connected, dividing the world into good people and bad people, and scapegoating certain groups (“Identifying Conspiracy Theories,” 2020).

What makes (many) stories of RAMCOA different from antisemitic conspiracy theories? I’m glad you asked!

• The secret plot in conspiracy theories often involves a large group of people in on some secret changing something about the world or identifying a secret thing that must have happened to lead to unfortunate current events. RAMCOA tends to stem from people or organizations working on a much smaller scale, and the things they are doing mostly affect the person/people experiencing this abuse. Abusers may try to instill in victims a sense that they control a lot about the world and the events that happen within it, but they don’t.

• A big question I like to ask people who spout conspiracy theories is “who is they (the group of conspirators)?” If they is some generic big bad, the government, “elites” (see the AJC’s Translate Hate Glossary section titled “cosmopolitan elite”), or vague and unknown, it’s usually a dogwhistle for Jews. The person themselves may not realize this, but perhaps they never looked further into the evidence behind these accusations and who those being accused are. RAMCOA perpetrators are not vague to their victims. They often have familial ties or other close relationships with them that allow the abusers to gain their victims’ trust (Schröder et al. 2018). The things they do to abuse people and the methods they use are not vague or mysterious actions to achieve an end. There are specific actions and tactics that cults and authority figures use for RAMCOA.

• Whether evidence is unfounded is a harder thing to distinguish, since many survivors of RAMCOA cope using dissociation or have an amount of dissociative amnesia around traumatic events (Shröder 2018). The Europe Commission suggests three main things to check for in regards to evidence about a claim. Who is the author and why are they writing this? Is the source reliable/reputable? Is the tone and style “balanced and fair or sensationalist and one-dimensional?” (“Identifying Conspiracy Theories,” 2020). I also like to think about, especially with regards to abuse survivors, if this is a conspiracy theory, why are they telling me the things they’re telling me? Most RAMCOA survivors I’ve met avoid talking about their trauma and are more focused on figuring out if what they experienced is real and how to heal from it. They are not trying to convince me of something; they are just sharing their story and looking for support.

• RAMCOA victims I’ve talked to, particularly those with DID, also have a more complex view of their abusers or are trying to come to terms with all the bad things someone they admired, trusted, and/or loved did. Conspiracy theorists tend to separate people into conspirators or innocents. There is no middle ground. Healing for a lot of abuse victims involves realizing that good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things; the world is not black and white.

• Scapegoating often involves generalizing and demonizing certain people or groups of people. I find a lack of seeing these “others” as human or wanting anything other than a single, unified goal. It also tends to involve assumptions much more than any personal experience. Anyone with even the slightest connection to a certain ideology is evil. RAMCOA often involves many victims, many of whom understand that other people involved with the organization that hurt them are also victims or have been scared or brainwashed into further perpetuating abuse.

• Also, while satanic panic was largely about going against Christianity, many religious cults are associated with particular sects or communities within Christianity, and they use certain ideologies within the group to deter people from leaving or reporting abuse. Perpetrators claim some sort of punishment or betrayal will be involved in these actions.

Anyways, I want to put emphasis on healing in RAMCOA survivors, where many of the points and purposes of conspiracy theories are antithetical to such a process. People should be allowed to find support, community, and reliable resources about what they have gone through (if it is physically/mentally safe for them to do so). Please do not insist that these traumas aren’t real on the basis of antisemitism from the satanic panic. The survivors I’ve met who talk about parts of their trauma are working hard to come to terms with it themselves and how to cope, and while they may be angry and upset towards their abusers, they do not try to insist to me how evil a group is and that there is a need to take direct action against them. They are just trying to survive.

Now, ritual abuse as a term and the history of its use is something I think needs more discussion. I would love to see more research about how the term evolved within medical/therapeutic spaces and how much of a connection the current definition and use has to antisemitism. But regardless of what we end up calling these types of abuses, there are real examples of them and people who have empirical evidence that they have been through such experiences.

Furthermore, I have a problem with a lot of the claims of antisemitism in relation to RAMCOA coming from goyim (AKA non-Jews). You are not the authority on antisemitism. You do not get to claim to defend us while not speaking to us about the topic. There is so much antisemitism going around, but I find so few people willing to listen to Jews when we talk about the struggles we face. (The SAS mods are an example of exceptions to this. I appreciate the amount I’ve been able to talk to them and how open and supportive they are. I love y’all.) Encouraging hate and disbelief is not helpful to us. What’s helpful is doing your research and learning about how to recognize and combat antisemitism. Take your energy where it’s needed, thank you.

European Commission. (2020, August 12). Identifying conspiracy theories. European Commission. <https://commission.europa.eu/strategy-and-policy/coronavirus-response/fighting-disinformation/identifying-conspiracy-theories_en>

Gerke, J., Fegert, J., Rassenhofer, M., & Fegert, J. M. (2024). Organized sexualized and ritual violence: Results from two representative German samples. Child Abuse & Neglect, 152, 106792. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chiabu.2024.106792

#tw #ramcoa #cdd history #debunk #syscringe and Grey faction sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G #not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #sas stands with ramcoa and OEA survivors #I'm fucking exhausted goddamn

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