#i'm looking in the most sinful and disrespectful ways

[thetrolltolls]

dee in the gang gets new wheels

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[midnightblues444]

Lustful afflictions |

Priest nanami x brat! fem reader

Warnings: age gap (readers in her 20s and hes like 30 something), perversion of Christian faith, corruption, m receiving, sacrilege ,

Notes: fell off the face of the earth for 2 months now I'm back so enjoyy <3

Imagine driving priest nanami to temptation and making him lose his mind remembering it all during a prayer for forgiveness

"I confess to my sins of lust" he recounts, knelt in prayer

From the moment you walked into his cathedral he could sense trouble

"the source of my sinful affliction, that of a girl who wondered into my very own church"

You'd giggle in his sermons, and look at him with a sparkle that he couldn't quite place. Your words dripping off your tongue like melted candy, he can only recall how the sound of his name from your lips sent jolts of an unfamiliar feeling through him.

"A walking temptation she was.."

the way you're dresses were always so short and tight, there was disrespect that radiated from your very being yet it wasnt the biggest issue

He could see it when you listen to his sermons, not with intent but with amusement more so seductively studying him, often catching himself losing his focus if he made eye contact with you.

It was most apparent when you came up for communion, staring up at him with doe eyes as you ate the bread slowly, smirking when he couldnt keep the eye contact . Turning back ever so slightly with a giggle as you made way to your seat.

"I repent, I repent"

Hed prided himself on always being a man of honor and more importantly a man of god, hed thus expected the unholy thoughts to go away on their own.

Though he took a concious effort not fall into the temptation you dangled before him and keep composed.

"It was in this very confessional where the affair began"

To his suprise you came to confessional one afternoon. Skipping down toward the box, the apparent click of your heels hitting the tiles of the church floor made his heart pound in his chest.

"She spoke things I'd never heard before, she promised to help me in ways the lord couldnt"

"Lust is natural for all of us isnt it nanami"

He cleared his throat, at the sugary way you said his name

"Lustful thought" you'd sighed, "though I think we all struggle with lust, do we not?"

"I suppose so, but we thus practice abstinence" he replied

"I should've abstained..."

"But do we really need to abstain from what we truly desire" you said , trying to push your luck "I mean I see how you look at me father nanami"

"I am a holy man though how I acted was not a reflection of that"

He slid your side of the confessional door open staring down at you with a faint blush. The priest was undeniably a beautiful man, his defined face and toned body that peaked under his black attire but was noticeably when he fidgeted with his white collar.

"So what do I do about it?"

"Take a seat" you purred

"I wish to repent and continue a life in your light"

He was clutching a rosary while you were on your knees, the priests cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

He barely held it together, muttering forgive me lord under his stuttering breaths. He whined under your every touch, finding himself pleading for release, as the feeling of your throat was warm and unlike anything hed ever felt

begging for more, with his deep grunts as he thrusted unconsciously harder

"Forgive me I have sinned"

"Nggh" he breathed out, while you hummed and massage his balls, cumming down your throat with a deep whine

You wiped your mouth and stand, kissing his cheek sweetly. Straddling him with affection.

"You're not wearing panties" he said bewildered

"Didnt think I'd need em" you giggled as you slowly slid onto him. Both moaning out at the sensation. You began to move slowly adjusting to his girth, his head laid back as he breathlessly panted

"No no, look at me, look how good you make me feel" you said as you gently cupped his cheek

There is something so powerful about unraveling such a large man.

"So tight," he heaved tinted of blush across his face. You grind into your spot, moans filling up the small confessional space.

"Mmm so good, you're doing so good" you purred into his neck

"Forgive me because I find myself addicted to the feeling of her around me"

His thrusts grew sloppy, his grip on your hips stutter

"Forgive me because this addiction has costed me certainty in my faith"

He released into you for the second time, slumping into your plush chest, as you stroked his hair comfortingly.

"Amen"

[pomefioredove]

since my little dorm post has been getting a lot of notes(?!) I wanna explain why I feel I'd get sentenced I mean sorted into diasomnia ^^

the thing about twst dorms is that while there are superficial traits (ignihyde students being introverted, savanaclaw students being athletic, etc), those are more like stereotypes, and are not why you would be sorted into one of those dorms

the dark mirror reads your soul, not your hobbies. it's not a quotev quiz that'll ask you what your favorite color is. it's about you as a person: your values, beliefs, dreams, wants and needs, etc

like, epel felmier is a rough 'n tumble rural boy who swears and picks fights. but he belongs in pomefiore, because pomefiore isn't actually about looking pretty and doing fancy things, it's based on the fairest queen's tenacity. no, epel isn't proper or polite, but that's not what the dorm is about. he's a goal-oriented, determined, hard-working young man who embodies the spirit of persistence. that is why he's in pomefiore, and not savanaclaw or what have you

so when talking about diasomnia, I am never saying "oh, I think I'd be a really powerful mage" because that's not what the dorm is. that's just a stereotype. etc etc

(I feel like what we actually know about diasomnia itself is quite limited. at least compared to the other dorms. the thoughts I have of it could be completely non-canonical, but I have thoughts, nonetheless. so)

I said somewhere on this blog that I put a lot of value on things like politeness and civility and respect, and that I consider myself a polite person. I was raised to mind my manners and put aside my personal feelings for the sake of formality. I have never started a fight in my life, but I do get very upset when I feel as if I'm being disrespected. my family observes a lot of old traditions that are rather outdated

ex:

if you are invited to something but don't attend, you still send a gift

if you are invited to something, you invite the host to your future events

you always say thank you after receiving a gift

if you don't have anything nice to say, then you can complain about it at home. but you never, ever insult a host to their face. it's so uncouth and terrible it's like a deadly sin to me

things like that. lots of rules about hierarchy and respect. doing something disrespectful or impolite (especially without an apology) is enough to create schisms in my family. we hold grudges here

when I think of the thorn fairy's "nobility", this is the sort of thing that comes to mind. the high emphasis on the hierarchy of respect, on civility and graciousness. the value of tradition, and doing things the old-fashioned way (and the dislike, or fear, of change seems to be a common theme in diasomnia)

you could surely look at the things I just said and say, "well, you would also fit in at pomefiore" because, sure, I would! I can do the rules, I can respect the housewardens, but I lack the tenacity and the want to be something that makes the dorm what it is. diasomnia may have some similarities, but its reluctance to embrace change is what makes it so different

I, as a person, do not have dreams. most of my life has been spent just trying to get by whilst at the level of this hierarchy I was born into. I couldn't be in pomefiore because, unlike epel, I don't have big goals to work towards. I feel more comfortable being a follower than a leader, and I have a tendency of structuring my life around the lives of others rather than my hopes and dreams. I do not live boldly

and it doesn't bother me. I've found that there are benefits to staying in the shadows, and I'm comfortable with my socially nocturnal life

that is why I'm diasomnia, and not pomefiore

my favorite fairytale, which is not sleeping beauty, is very much about social structure. it's about a heroine's malicious compliance to that structure and how she manages to turn it in her favor

ironically, it also is about a spinning wheel

[thatflatenedfrogontheroad]

I made a tier list...

please make your own!! I need to see boomer nations opinions on our man!!!! I know the tiers are actually so vile so change them if you desire :)))

OK so my quick blurb on why they are their!! (working worst to best)

28. Identity Crisis #5 - HE WOULD KILL ME FOR THE FUN OF IT. It did bring about the most random rivalry between Tim drake’s fandom and boomer's which is very funny

27. Black Lantern - Oh no… he's back… like a boomerang. Ate his own son... RIP…. L skill issue

26. Sliver Age - Would actually call me a slur and say that I don't deserve rights. He would hate crime me and then solicit me for sex. He looks like he's wearing a dress… what a pretty lady.

25. Flash TV Show - EWWWWWWWW, he though he ate...

24. DC Online - He looks like he would punch me in face at a NYC bus stop

23. White Lantern - Don't look at me like that… stop. He's back from the dead like a boomerang?? Something about most of the New 52 boomerangs don't hit the same. the bride all in white :’)

22. Young Justice - Gave me the ick. You might be thinking... he looks identical to SS hell to pay, why is he down here?? Great question… HE WAS SO CREEPY TO ONE OF THE GIRLS IN YOUNG JUSTICE….. WHO IS A MINOR!

21. Injustice Movie - Just because your in the background… doesn't save you from this list!!!

20. New 52 - Ok he's kinda hot if you look through your peripherals…Why are you wearing skinny jeans… you millennial

19. Harley Quinn TV Show - He's fine… just fine. “We’ll stack out bingo… Boomer loves an older woman” NO HE MUST LOVE ME! I AM VERY VERY MATURE FOR MY AGE

18. Flash: Sins of the Father - Can you please stop talking in the 3rd person… you are starting to sound crazy.

17. Most Wanted - I know jack shit about him. That's probably because he is barely in a comic issues THATS NAMED AFTER HIM!

16. Flash Point Paradox - His fight scene actually ate. I'm a sucker for Boomer being with the Rogues. If cyborg can take his belt off… so can I

15. Suicide Squad 2021 - Wow they somehow gave him even less lines than his first movie. 1. He doesnt look like boomer. 2. His accent is so bad… and hes AUSTRALIAN 3. His acting low key kinda mid 4. They killed off two of the only OG suicide squad members they had on the cast 5. He dies in the first 20min and in the most disrespectful way

14. Suicide Squad 2016 - The only good thing to come from this man is the fanfiction he brought. THIS FUCKING MOVIE MADE HIM A CANON BRONY WHICH I CAN NOT FORGIVE. GET THIS OUT OF MY SMUT BEFORE FREAK THE FUCK OUT >:( Fuck him and pinky too, you son of a bitch!!!! (its not that serious lol... i just want him to stop fucking a toy horse... please guys)

13. This Goober Alien Guy - I know nothing. He just kinda showed up… and I'm not mad just a little confused. He looks like he needs a hot chocolate and a hug :)))) 

12. Lego Batman Movie - Low key an icon. What I would do to get my hands on one of these sets… I would come close to killing someone for it

11. DC Lego Super Villains - If he wasn't Lego I would propose (Shane Dawson style) Once again what I would do for the very discontinued Lego set tie in…

10. Batman: Brave and The Bold - Those cheekbones could cut someone. Why are you wear a mini skirt… take it off ;)

9. Suicide Squad (comic) - Yes I know he was drinking and driving but he's not real so it doesn't count!!! The beginning of the Boomer Mobile! THE GAP TOOTH DUDE!

8. Justice League Unlimited S1 - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Ok the hairline is… bad…. But so is mine twin!! I LOVE THAT THEY GAVE HIM PROPER CLOTHES AND NOT RAGS DUDE

7. Agent of Oz - is this picture is my school profile pic...yes… and??HE'S COVERED IN BLOOD AND IM GIGGLING!!!!!!!!!!!

6. Stjepan Sejic's Boomer - Choke hold and choke me...  I want to hear his voice but he can't break his mewing streak…The ungodly things I would let him do to me

5. Dark: Apocalypse War - Constantine! Boomer! GIRLS! GIRLS!! ILL SLEEP WITH BOTH OF YOU!!! I was not expecting him in this movie so I started to freak out when he showed up DUDE. PLEASE LET ME SIT ON IT

4. Suicide Squad: Hell to Pay - I'm a ride he wouldn't survive… I DONT HAVE WORDS TO DECRIBE HOW I FEEL DUDE… I WOULD DO ANYTHING HE ASKED FOR NO JOKE. Dead on the floor

3. Justice League Unlimited S2 - The glow up in REAL... had me on my hands and knees as a 3rd grader… and still on my knees today. I have never wanted someone to fuck me in the back alleyway of a shit bar so bad in my life

2. Batman: Assault on Arkham - The one that started it all… he is the reason I am this way. no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom BUT GREG ELLIS IS PUBLIC ENIME NUMDER ONE. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!!!!

AND THE BEST ONE!!!!!!!! WE ALL SAW IT COMING

1. Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League - I AM GNAWING ON THE IRON BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!!! He has it all, the face, the VOICE, the look, the character!!!!! It is hands down the most consistently good representation of captain boomerang out their… and its canon that's he has a big dick :D I would sell my first born to get one night…

Thank you all for reading this word vom, I am sick in the head <3

if any of the comic issues are off or something please let me know :)

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make your our and tag me!! i need to see them <3<3<3

[deservedgrace]

People coming at ex christians' criticisms of harmful doctrine with "that's not what it really means it actually means [xyz]" is offensive and disrespectful, and the big reasons are of course that it's dismissive and off topic at best, sometimes it's the same exact toxic and abusive belief repackaged to sound better, there's often elements of victim blaming thrown in along with diminishing harm, people tend to skip over any kind of empathy about the harm caused to jump into Them Being Correct, and yes of course all of that (and probably more I'm blanking on rn) is gross. But on the less severe end of things, it's honestly just kind of insulting to me that people think I have no possible idea of other interpretations lmao.

I do believe people are well within their right to look at something that's harmful and completely drop it and leave it behind without any further consideration. But that is not accurate to my experience and the majority of stories I've heard about people leaving christianity. Most stories I know involve several months to years of investigating texts, looking into different sects and interpretations, extensively studying history and context, begging knowledgeable people in your church to answer your questions and trying so hard to will yourself into allowing their non-answers to satisfy them in a frantic attempt to dig your nails into a faith that's slipping away but means more to you than anything. Some people just let go, and truly good for those people, but so many of us tried anything we could to compromise so we wouldn't have to.

There is this belief in a lot of churches that leaving is a casual decision, a flippant choice, something you pick because you want to sin or you were undisciplined or are falling into your human nature or are otherwise deficienct. That narrative doesn't fit nicely into the reality of many that leave: latching onto your faith long beyond the point of pain, but ignoring it because you're so desperate to salvage any semblance of the faith you once had.

I know the other interpretations. I know the history behind it. I know the context. And I know that if there was a way for me to maintain my faith without destroying myself, I would have found it.

[scekrex]

Hi! I just wanted to say I've been obsessed with your work as of late, especially all of your Adam works. And since your taking requests I was wondering if you'll be interested in doing this?

Bottom!Sinner!Adam x Top!Overlord!Male Reader

okay, so Reader is one the oldest residents of Hell maybe even older than Zestial. He has a reputation that precedes him. A myth/warning that parents tell their children to watch out for. But not many actually know him, just of him. He can be cruel/ruthless, but also merciful. Basically he's Hell's equivalent to Hades, lol.

BUT! What's a Hades without his Persephone?

Adam came back as a Sinner and instead of going to the Hotel(that would most definitely destroy his pride) he went to navigate becoming a Sinner himself, since this is kinda a opportunity for him, he can be himself without worrying about Heavens judgmental eyes on him all the time.

My headcanon about him is that he loves gardening, so he made his own Flower Shop in Hell with all the random/different flowers all around. Because I'll be damned if he doesn't at least have any powers that connects himself to the Earth/Nature, he's literally made from it, with some fucking dirt and pixie dust, lol

So Reader is hosting a small ball/banquet in a few weeks for the everybodies whose an anybody(rich and wealthy/the Sins/the Overlords) and he order some servants to make flower orders for the upcoming event, and who did they pick? None other than Adam's Flower Shop(that is not it's official name).

Readers hears his servants talk about the owner with soft and warm voices, which he admitted made him curious. So he made an excuse, and made his way to the shop himself. Once he met the owner he was already taken with his beauty(already whipped, lol). As well as Adam, he never met anyone that was taller than him. He never met anyone that so Domineering and he liked it, liked it a lot. He had Adam arranged a bouquet that would be ready in time for the ball/banquet.

On a wim, the Reader asked Adam out on a date for the next day, which he agreed to. After a few dates transpired, until it was the day before the ball/banquet. And Adam made the first move😳, until Reader took control of the situation, which had Adam a begging, moaning mess, asking for His Hades to go faster, while the Reader is praising His Persephone for being so good.

Sorry if this is so long😅

Never. I repeat never apologize for giving me such a beautiful, detailed prompt ever again. I ate it up and turned into whatever the fuck this is. I'm sorry this took me so long but I wanted to do justice to the long prompt you wrote. I hope ya like it

Part 2

Tell me lover, tell me where have you been

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, low-key slow burn

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The time had come sooner than you had expected it to, the ball that was traditionally hosted every two hundred years was your responsibility this year and you were quite grateful for that - you could only imagine the chaos a host such as the VEEs would have brought. It was not that you disliked them, they just had their own ways of doing things and those said ways felt disrespectful in many ways. So it was your pleasure to show them how a traditional ball such as this would be hosted so that they could take notes and inspiration - not that they were actually going to acknowledge the work you were putting into organizing this. They would probably even complain about the lack of something. But that was not your problem right now.

Your problem right now were the eager little imps running through your mansion in order to prepare it for the upcoming ball, that was unnecessary in your eyes, given that there was still so much time between today and the ball, but whatever that helped your little servants to sleep at night. If they were thinking of it as necessary, you were okay with it.

“Cree,” you called out for your personal assistant as you walked through the halls of your mansion, looking for your favorite Imp. Cree was taller than the other Imps that worked for you, if only by a little, for a male Imp his horns were surprisingly small and instead of black, they were white. Cree however, was an absolute sweetheart, despite his grumpy face. The Imp came running the moment he had heard you calling out for him, eager to fulfill whatever task you were about to give him, “How can I help you, Sir?” You smiled softly at the small creature - his head was just reaching the lower part of your hip bone - that was due to Cree being small and you being taller than the average resident of Hell. You kneeled next to the helpful Imp to decrease the height difference and talk to him in a more respectful way. “Thank you, my little friend,” you greeted the creature, “I need you to task Vere and Kian with organizing the most hellish looking flowers they can find.” The little Imp was about to run off to do as he was told, before he was able to do so you gently held him back to add, “Please do not only consider the ones we already know, I do not care whom the flowers are sold by, all that is important is for them to fit the theme.” Cree nodded firmly and once you let go of his arm, he was gone, informing Vere and Kian - two other Imps that were working for you.

-

“Oh and the way the aura changes when you enter his little store - he’s a normal sinner but the way he managed to do that feels magical,” you heard Vere speaking as the little Imp walked down the hallway, you had never heard him speaking with such a dreamy voice - that might have been because Vere was one to complain about everything, not always was it supposed to be taken serious, but the little Imp sure liked to complain about everything and everyone. So him talking so warm heartedly about the store made you peek up in curiosity. “Oh and the owner himself? Let me tell you, Cree, you will never meet a person quite like him,” Kian added to Vere’s dreamy sounding description of the place and its owner. That caused you to be even more interested in the topic. “Is that supposed to be a good-” Cree started to question but was quickly interrupted by an eagerly explaining Kian, “It fucking is - he is…” The Imp had trouble finding the correct word to describe the person he had met, because how were you supposed to describe the brunette without playing it down? “Divine,” Vere hummed, sounding like he had just met God himself and he had told the little Imp all about the beauties of life.

You were not able to hold back any longer, not when your usually judgmental staff was talking so positively about the person they had just met.

So you got up from your seat in your office, took a quick look at the receipt Cree had given to you before he had gone back to doing the tasks he had yet to fulfill. A mental note was all it took before you rushed out of your office, grabbed your coat on the way out and yelled a loud, “I’m out doing business, don’t expect me home any time soon,” through the hallways. The Imps turned around in confusion - especially Cree, who knew that you had nothing scheduled for today. But before your personal assistant was able to hold you back the door fell shut loudly, informing the entire manor that you had just left. The Imp sighed in frustration as he turned back around to face the other two Imps, “Looks like we have to reschedule some things with Sir gone.”

Hell’s streets were surprisingly empty, a thing you rarely got to experience due to the pride ring’s overpopulation, but it was nice to not walk through thousands of sinners. The flower shop Vere and Kian had picked was close - closer than most shops in general were. Probably the reason why they had chosen it, they hated walking through hell’s crowded streets just as much as you did so you could not blame them, especially because the pride ring suffered from extreme overpopulation.

The building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, it looked like every other average building in hell - maybe they had been talking about something else? Had they grabbed food on their way home? You didn’t know, yet you decided to give it a chance and so you opened the door to the little flower shop and the moment you set foot in it, you felt something shift. The aura felt lighter, easier to carry, the air smelled beautiful - not too overwhelmingly sweet and not like too much, it smelled almost divine. The colors the walls were painted in were so different from Hell’s usual colors, they were bright. A beautiful lilac caused the room to appear bigger than it was. The floor was made out of solid wood - or it was made to look that way, you were unable to tell. The shelves were painted in a shade of blue you would describe as skyblue - yes the sky down in Hell was red and nothing but red - but through the portals to Heaven which you had seen once or twice during the early exterminations, you knew the sky up above was blue - this exact shade of blue.

“You gonna stare at that shit all day? If you do I'll fucking charge your ass for it. You look like you can fucking afford it,” a annoyed voice mumbled from behind you. In a swift yet elegant motion you turned around to look at the person that was speaking to you only to spot the most holy creature you had ever seen with your very own eyes. The man behind the counter was resting his head on his hand, watching you with eyes that seemed more curious than annoyed, his entire body language told you that the tall man seemed to hold a lot of curiosity for you in general. You chuckled softly, before you shook your head, “As much as I would adore to spend longer in this divine feeling place with a person as good-looking as you - I am afraid I have plans that I am sadly unable to cancel.”

The tall brunette straightened his back and raised an eyebrow at your words - had you just complimented him for his looks? That had not happened since- since he had been reborn as a sinner. But his cocky tongue never failed him and so he responded, “Mr. Busy got shit to do that’s more important than talking to the fucking Adam? Yeah, I fucking doubt it bitch.” That caused you to frown, the first man was not supposed to be a sinner so if this man was speaking the truth - which you highly doubted - then he must have been a terrible person. Not that you were any better, you were just as much a sinner as he was. Yes, you were more experienced and more powerful, but in the end you and him were both rotten to the core. “Charming, quite charming, Adam,” you hummed in amusement. And while the brunette must have thought his reaction to your words wasn’t noticed by you, you had seen how his eyes had left yours for a split second. “But as much as I would love to tell you that I came for you, I did not,” you explained, trying to lead the conversation to a more business speaking one, though you had to admit the brunette in front of you was quite adorable.

Adam however made it quite hard to talk business, not that you truly minded. Yes, your schedule would get messed up, but you had already thrown that out of the window the second you had spontaneously left to see the flower store you were currently in. “Ay, you migh’ve not come for me yet but I sure can change that if your sexyness wants to accompany me in the fucking back,” a confident grin was on his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the soft, fluffy mess out of his face. You saw something twitch and flicker behind the broad man - a tail. Truly interesting. “As tempting as your sweet invitation is, I have to decline. Business sadly can’t wait - at least not today,” for a moment you thought this through, then you decided to simply see where this would lead you. “How about tomorrow though? I could pick you up and we could have lunch together - how does that sound handsome?”

Adam turned his head to face the ground, he seemed to be genuinely thinking about it, something you appreciated dearly. Then his eyes met yours again and he nodded before he responded, “Sure, can’t see why the fuck not.” He shrugged lazily before he pointed at you with his index finger and quickly added, “But food’s on you.” To that you nodded - it only made sense to you that lunch would be on you considering that you had been the one inviting him, not the other way around.

“Now talk business hotstuff, even though I’d rather have ya talking dirty to me.”

-

The first date had gone so well that the both of you started to see each other regularly - that meant almost every other day. Something your Imps did not like all that much. Seeing someone in a romantic way took up a lot of time - time you technically did not have given the upcoming ball. But you, Adam and the Imps had managed to get everything done in time.

And that was why you and Adam were at his place. The first man had taken the day off to enjoy it with you - something you had asked of him and that had seemed quite important to you when you had requested him to do so. And given that the brunette liked it better when you two spent time together, there had been no second thought, no hesitation.

“You’re quiet,” Adam addressed the most obvious thing as you mindlessly played with his hair. The both of you were sitting on the first man’s bed, your back against the headboard and his back against your chest, his ass was seated between your legs and he seemed to really enjoy having you that close to him.

A quiet hum fell from your lips in response before you exhaled loudly, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Adam leaned forwards a little so he was able to turn his head in order to look at you. Where this conversation would lead he did not know and at that moment he wasn’t sure if he wanted to figure out where it would lead him to. Would you quit seeing him? Had you finally decided that you had enough of his bitchy attitude and would leave him too?

“I know we have only been seeing each other for a few weeks, I know we have yet so much to talk about and to confess, but I’d love to have you at my place tomorrow. I want you to accompany me at the ball,” you began, as you looked down at the other male with hope in your eyes. Though if he were to decline, you would live, you’d like it better if he were to agree. “Sure,” Adam said, visibly relaxing at the fact that you were neither quitting to see him nor leaving him in any form or way. “As my date, my partner even,” you finished, ignoring the brunette’s little interruption. Those words however caused the first man to turn around between your legs to properly face you. “Does that mean I get to fucking kiss you in front of all those fucking important and filthy rich people?” his eyes shone so pretty as he asked that question as if that would be the biggest achievement in all of his afterlife - and maybe it was.

You chuckled at the man, grinning lazily, “Even better. You get to kiss me whenever you desire.” And without another word the first man was onto you. His hands pressed against your shoulders and therefore kept you pinned against the headboard as his lips finally met yours - oh how long you had to wait for that to happen. His lips felt smooth and soft against yours and Adam was quick to prove that he was a magnificent kisser.

The kiss did not stay soft for very long though, you both made it obvious that you craved the other, that you two were longing for skin on skin contact. You wanted and desired each other and it was not only lust speaking, it was also love. The purest form of love you had ever felt. AdamÄs hands roamed from your shoulders over your chest and all the way down to your hips. Once his hands reached their destination he gave your hips a light squeeze before pulling them up a little to press his pelvis against yours.

A groan fell from your lips and met the lustful hiss of Adam - that was when you decided it was time for a switch. You liked seeing Adam so confident, so dominant, you truly did. But a thing you had learned over the past couple of weeks was that you liked the first man even better when he was all flustered - submissive even. So you skillfully caught his wrists in one of your hands, raised them above his head and leaned forwards. That action of you resulted in Adam falling backwards, landing onto the soft mattress with a surprised gasp. You found yourself on top of him, sitting on his hips to keep him from twisting the positions again as you pinned his hands firmly against the mattress above his head. A whine escaped Adam as he tried to thrust his hips upwards and was met with friction he had not been expecting.

“Oh fuck,” the first man mumbled when his lust clouded eyes met your burning ones. “Already on it, handsome,” you growled eagerly.

[dxmedstudent]

Forgive me if this is rough and messy, im down with a viral illness and this is something I've been thinking about after reading some stories on reddit but...

Can we just... not frame illness or disability (or infertility, which for many is a kind of disability) as some kind of karmic punishment?

Like, if you don't like someone because they were nasty or even evil to you, that's fine. We can agree they were a Grade A Butthole with added haemorrhoids.

If something bad happened to that person, you're not evil for not being sad about it, or even feeling schadenfreude. Feelings are complicated, and wanting someone who hurt you to feel hurt is something many of us can understand. That's not what I mean here and I'm not going to dissect that further. This is also not to defend the person for being a butthole - they deserve to be criticised for poor behaviour.

But I always feel deeply uncomfortable when people in comments roll out the "Yeah! your nasty cheating ex is now infertile / in a wheelchair/ a depressed alcoholic, that's karma! The universe has a way!"

...Because you're inadvertently framing physical or mental disability or infertility as a whole...as a punishment. And by extension implying that people who experience these things did something to deserve it.

I know it can feel good in that moment to imagine that this is some evil person's reckoning and that everyone gets their comeuppance. But it's such a dangerous way to look at things.

We need to get away from this frankly outdated and damaging belief that a healthy body is a reward for spiritual purity and that illness is a punishment for sin. That a body which doesn't work quite the same as most people's... must be due to moral failings. These beliefs have very real and damaging effects in terms if how we as a society treat the vulnerable - the mentally ill, the homeless, those with addiction issues, those with sexually acquired illness, for example.

It's disturbing how often even people who declare themselves to be ostensibly atheist will turn around and basically say something surprisingly religious, in the worst way. And not realise that they've not yet examined where these beliefs are coming from.

Hate the evil cheating ex, by all means. Be glad that they are unhappy, if you want. I won't tell you how to feel. You don't need to wish someone who was a horrible person well. You don't have to like them, forgive them or dismiss what they did (we should hold them accountable). We can absolutely unite and agree that someone is/was a nasty person.

But don't ridicule them FOR being unwell. Don't link illness with a perceived moral failing. No matter how evil you think they are.

Because most people who are suffering the exact same thing are not evil and didn't do anything to deserve it. And by framing it as such, how do you think it affects the many other disabled people reading your comment? Do you think they deserve everything that happened to them? What exactly do you think someone has to do to deserve good health? How perfect do they have to be?

Most of us are going to experience disability some degree, in our lives. We need to stop treating it as a rare or freakish event and see it as part of the spectrum of human experience. Struggles with adddiction are very common and are a cry for help and not a moral failing. 1 in 10 couples experience infertility. It's so fucking disrespectful to the many people with disabilities. To my patients. To my friends.

And to me.

As someone with infertility issues, it's pretty bloody triggering to read a whole bunch of strangers gleefully declare that "infertility is just nature's happy way of making sure awful people don't reproduce". That maybe people who have recurrent miscarriages "should just give up" because "nature's trying to tell them something".

Like...how very *eugenics* of you.

As if...plenty of awful people don't have children and aren't awful parents? All the bloody time. Are you advocating for all children to be appropriately supported and looked after, do you support children in care? Trans and intersex children? Children with complicated physical or mental needs? Or is this just a way for you to pat yourself on the back that your presumed or proven fertility is a sign of your own moral superiority?

Do those commenters eschew all medical care when they are ill? Obviously not. Nor should they - because misguided and petty though they are, they are also entitled to seek care if they need medical help. But they seem to think that when anyone they disapprove of experiences health problems they should, what? Just give up and suffer in silence?

Modern medicine exist to treat a myriad of illness and help people manage a plethora of disabilities. It exists FOR people. You don't have to earn adequate healthcare, it should belong to everyone. People are imperfect. Messy. They make mistakes. They don't always the the best care of themselves. That doesn't mean that they don't deserve healthcare or dignity. Or that they deserve judgement and scorn.

Illness. Doesn't. Discriminate.

By which I mean, it doesn't CARE if you're a nice person or a horrible one. I know that society likes to tell us that if we work out, eat healthily and are positive, that nothing bad will ever happen and we can "organic food" our way out of being ill. But that's just patently not true. And I say that as a doctor.

In medicine we have a saying, that the worst things happen to some of the best people. Because we see people who are lovely go through things nobody should experience.

All the time. It's heartbreaking, because we don't like seeing bad things happen to perfectly decent people. It makes all of us feel uncomfortable and vulnerable and sad. But it happens all the time.

We need to be very careful about how we think of, and frame, illness in all it's forms.

[cripple-culture-is]

Sorry, but if you do not use a mobility aid, then you aren't physically disabled 🤷‍♀️ Only those with mobility aids can call themselves a cripple. I saw your main blog and that you are "physically disabled without mobility aids". That's not even possible. You can't be physically disabled and not require mobility aids.

And the fact that you believe you have the right to use the word cripple rubs me the wrong way. You have to look disabled in order to use that slur. Otherwise it's incredibly disrespectful.

If you can walk, you are not crippled. Crippled means to "cause (someone) to become unable to walk or move normally." If you can walk, you can move normally.

My first full on hate comment lol 🤣 I'm really moving up in the world.

But on a serious note, yes, you can be physically disabled and not require mobility aids. Physical disability isn't always stagnant. It isn't always as simple as someone who is paralyzed being a full time wheelchair user.

Since you used definitions, I'll use definitions. Physical disability is defined as "a limitation on a person's physical functioning, mobility, dexterity or stamina." Also, "any physical limitations or disabilities that inhibit the physical function of one or more limbs of a certain person."

I am physically disabled. I pretty much always have been. I have a mobility disability. I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis at 9 months old, an autoimmune disease. I did show symptoms at 4 months old at the latest though. Arthritis is actually the leading cause of disability and the most common disabling condition for U.S. adults.

I do not currently use mobility aids, no, but I am looking into getting a rollator for college. So I suppose that when I do get that aid, I will finally, in your eyes at least, be considered physically disabled.

However, I have reached a point in my life where I don't really care what people say about my disability. Whether you believe I'm physically disabled or not doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled under U.S. law 🤣🤣

I got my permanent disability plates and placard when I was about 5 years old, though I probably could've gotten it before then.

I have always said that I have never used mobility aids. And while that's technically true, it's also not. I've never used traditional mobility aids regularly. I used a wheelchair in public once as a child, and I hated the pity looks adults would give me as I used to be more self-conscious.

However, I HAVE used untraditional mobility aids. While most people wouldn't consider them as such, I have used aids that have helped my mobility, mostly as a child, they just aren't stereotypical disability aids.

I was offered a wheelchair as a child, but due to the pity looks I got from adults, I turned it down. My parents worked around that hangup of mine by using things that I was confident enough to use for mobility as well as more acceptable to me.

My parents had bought this long stroller. When I got older, the typical strollers caused problems, in that I couldn't rest my legs on anything. So I had this stroller that had a leg rest that I could use to stretch my legs as keeping them bent for long periods of time physically hurts me.

I also sat in the baskets of shopping carts until I was in my mid-teens. My mother or father would put the cart with me in it and I'd sit in it as if I was merchandise just like everything else in the basket. This was all because I couldn't walk.

Though, what would happen when a stroller or shopping cart wasn't available? I would get a piggyback ride, mostly from my sister, though from my father as well. My mom did it only occasionally as she has joint issues just like I do.

Then, when I was a bit older, my parents bought me a red wagon. We would take it to amusement parks and carry some things in it. We'd use it for food and other stuff. But it's real purpose was to be there in case I got to a point where I couldn't walk anymore.

I have arthritis in every single joint in my body. From my jaw and neck, all the way to my toes. Hips, ribs, spine, you name it, I got it.

As for the use of the word 'cripple' it DOES apply to me. Cripple refers to anyone with a physical disability. And due to my disability, I do have lower body involvement. Hips, knees, ankles, toes, etc. All of it.

As for being able to "move normally", I actually don't completely. I appear like I do, but if you look at the structure of my legs and the way I walk, I do move differently than a lot of people. I find that I tend to limp often, even when I'm not in pain. And I am curious as to if that's because I got so used to limping as a child due to pain that my walking pattern just adopted that, leading me to limp when I'm not in pain. I also sometimes walk as if I'm waddling.

Plus, if you notice, my right knee is actually slightly turned in, which means that somehow, it's out of alignment. Knees are supposed to point forward. My dad's point forward, my sister's point forward, my mom's mostly point forward. Both of mine do not, even though both of my ankles are straight. My left one is pretty straight, straight enough for me to not really notice it. But my right is a separate story.

Because my right knee is pointed slightly inward, I tend to walk with my right foot slightly turned out.

I'm not sure if the alignment is a knee issue, a hip issue, or potentially an ankle issue. This wasn't an issue that was ever pointed out by my doctors as a child, cause my knees have been like this for a while. I did have a lot of knee inflammation as a kid.

But back fully on topic, cripple punk isn't contingent on the use of mobility aids. Plus the assumption that I have to "look disabled" in order to be physically disabled is very ableist and leads to those like me getting harassed when we use our handicapped parking permits. I'm invisibly physically disabled, I have always recognized that. But me having an invisible disability doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled. And come this time next year, I will probably "look disabled". Not that I believe disability has a look. It doesn't. Believing disability has a look is ableist and perpetuates harmful stereotypes. I AM physically disabled. I AM crippled, mobility aid or no mobility aid.

You don't know my history, you don't know me. You don't know my day to day life.

In order for you to believe me, you'd likely have to see my diagnosis papers and the proof of my disability. But you are not entitled to that information. I don't have to show it to you, and I'm not going to.

[piqtescue]

If your watching "Under The Bridge" or planning to, here's a PSA from someone born & raised in that city. Oh, and Kelly's personal info and location bc she deserves absolutely no peace✨😊

((if you dont know this series, or who im talking about, I swear to god I do not do reveal personal information lightly and take revealing someone else's very seriously- but Kelly is a cold blooded psychopath and I urge you to google what she did))

I couldn't believe it when I heard the worst crime that has ever happened in my city was going to be made into a fucking hulu drama... I used to be so intrigued by true crime renditions, but this has made me rethink it all. The murder of Reena is something that makes us as locals sick to our stomachs, is still a very open wound to our city and her family and every day so many of us are forced to drive over the Craigflower Bridge, the place where she was brutally murdered. She was 14.

I never plan to watch "Under The Bridge" on Hulu as I really don't need it replayed back to me in a miniseries, but just need to give some PSA's here + gonna give you some recent photos of Kelly/Kerry and her location because she doesn't deserve the luxury of people forgetting what she fucking did:

To start, I'm not throwing shade to anyone watching the show- I know this doesn't affect everyone the same. Just want to make sure this bitch's face & the real story is plastered in your mind so you can publicly shame her if you wish, and realize this isn't just a miniseries- this actually happened.

Though the author who wrote the book this was based on was in search for their "humanity"- there is zilch in that sector for Kelly Ellard. None. See, Kelly was a teen when she lead the brutal murder of Reena and you might be pointing "upbringing and trauma/mental health" to blame- but don't even go there for a second. Warren is 100% holding the same sin for what they did but displayed actual guilt and talked to her parents. He knows what he did wrong and will live for it the rest of his life.

Kelly, a privileged psychopath from birth, is a disgusting, soulless slime who deserves nothing but to suffer for the rest of her days. Go read up on her parole hearings and realize in no way is she remorseful and in no way does she deserve to walk free or be a mother. She doesn't deserve to fucking breathe. Though if you read her most recent parole hearing, you will hear her speak of this series being "disrespectful to Reena's family": I want you to know she has finally learned to say what they want her to say after all these years; she doesn't give any fucks about Reena's family, all she cares about is leaving the past behind her but jokes on her- she will never get that luxury because we as residents won't let her.

✨Here's her new name/photos/insta account/location, ect✨

-She goes by Kerry Marie Sim now

✨Photos of what she looks like presently: here, and here and here.

✨Instagram: kehrisima007

Fun fact! In the second link I provided, she uses the hashtag "legally kidnapping our children" in relation to the Ministry of Child and Family Development's (canadian version of DCFS) involvement in her life. That was posted in 2021. Her day parole was then continued in 2022 & 2024, and it's unknown if she still lives with her children, but lets hope to god not.

✨Location:

Going by this article, she might be serving her sentence in the Fraser Valley Institution for Women, or might just have had her parole hearings there. But apart from the prison she's in, she is most definitely doing her day parole in the lower mainland of BC, from the looks of her instagram she hangs around Surrey and Langley.

----------

To end this PSA, if you ever do visit our city and are intrigued by this case as a true crime story enthusiast, I urge you to not come to the Gorge where Reena lost her life at in interest/excitement, but come with the intention of paying your respects and give a thought on just how far teen bullying can go, and how you yourself can advocate for it not to get to that point. Whether it be awareness, talking to your kids about speaking up or advocating for public discussion.

And if Kerry ever sees this: we will never let you have peace. You get no peace for your acts, and we will never. fucking. forget.

[missmoondrops]

Thinking about a scene where a fallen angel is ensnared by a dark enchantress. She finds him, wounded and sobbing, at the foot of the grand staircase which pours down into the entrance of her castle. He is bathed in moonlight, his olive skin kissed by its silver, his once-striking wings now fragile and broken. As the cries flee his throat and echo throughout the many, many halls, her bare feet slither closer, until he finally senses her coming down those plush steps. His reddened face whips her way.

"What troubles you?" she would ask, her face cold and irresistible.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."

"You've been cast down, haven't you? Denied grace?"

His features contorted at her words, conveying something bitter, yet powerless–something between anger and agony.

"For so long, He was my north. And now..."

"Now you're godless," the enchantress concluded, as she drew a leg out from between the folds of her dress and calmly sat at his side. "Whatever your sin, He must've thought it unforgivable," she then mused.

"To Him, I was unforgivable."

"Yes. You were. Always," she asserted, drawing close. "If He wanted you to know what it would take for you to be forgiven, you would. But you don't, do you?"

The angel painfully shook his head in response. For a passing moment, it was as though he now sought such forgiveness in her eyes. The enchantress carefully put a hand on his chest, and began to rub at his heart. A tiny smile touched her lips. It lulled, and lulled, and lulled the angel until she caught him unawares, gripping his jaw.

"Make no mistake. This is by design. He liked you when you came close. So close," she drawled, as she cinched her brow. "But He loved you most when you came up short. What you need is a new god. One you know exactly how to please."

She let out a little laugh at the sight of him then. His chest as it nervously rose and fell, his lips quivering between her fingers, his robe tenting as his eyes begged her not to look...

"You don't want me. I'm lesser now. I've lost my strength, my insight, my way. I can't even fly," he managed, in his broken voice.

"Say 'please'," was all the enchantress said, as she let go of his jaw, finally allowing him the room to cover his immodesty.

"W-what?"

"You want me to feel sorry for you? Pity you?" She rose to tower over him. "Beg for it."

The angel was disturbed to find a deep, uncontrollable passion take root in his chest. He struggled against it briefly before he let the word slip past his lips. "Please," he entreated, under his breath, and the enchantress saw many things in his face when he looked up at her: shame, willingness, humility.

Most of all, however, she saw pain–the kind that can only be excised when it is deepened.

Months later, his cries can be heard in the castle's halls again. There is no corner they do not reach. Whether in chambers, in corridors, or in courtyards, his obscenity fuels the enchantress. It is the best way, he has learned, to provoke her disrespect. As she fills and fucks and berates her angel into ecstasy, he will thank her for her mercilessness. And as he lies exhausted with his head draped over her chest, he will thank her for the two scars on his back, where his wings used to be.

[purgemarchlockdown]

I've mentioned before that I'm pretty sure Amane's family has a very...loose definition of what counts as an indulgence and what counts a vulgarity, and that the rule on vulgarity is probably the one she broke the most judging by the disrespect she shows it in Purge March comapred to all the other flags.

The iconography in both Magic and Purge March however move much closer to what seems to be perceived as vulgar though? Which, one, makes me wonder where Amane saw these things in the first place. I assume she was allowed television for a while before the TV got thrown out (if the tv in the background of Purge March is hers.)

I'd also assume her parents would monitor what she watches and cable isn't exactly Cheap. Maybe she watched dvds/recordings? Vaguely remember how some of my dvds looked when I scratched them....but aside from that that TV is Old, I've seen one similar to hers and while it's still kicking it's Barely working.

Second: Back at the iconography thing- if her cult considers amusement parks sinful then whatever is going on in Magic is probably on that level. Purge March isn't as "noticeably" sinful but it's also a colorful parade of confetti and costumes, and also some of the clouds are noticeably turned into cute little shapes like triangles and stars at the end.

(I Don't think this has much relevance, I'm pretty sure this is just an extension of the existing cloud symbolism. I'm pretty sure these shapes only appear after Amane goes to kill her mother so maybe it's Amane's magic touch on the punishment :D)

It's aggressively cutesy in a way. I think it's interesting that even this deep into Amane's Self-Hating Righteous Religious Journey where she's denying anything that could possibly be constructed as sin, to the point Purge March reskins her mindscape as this pure clean white. That this want stays anyway. It's interesting I think. Even at her most "pure" she can't really do it.

[dross-the-fish]

I was gunna argue with you on your take about Charlotta and the musical but then you said this "ALW turns Carlotta from a threatening rival for Christine to defeat into a paper-thin bully for Erik to humiliate." and now I get it and I will never listen to the musical the same way again.

I'm not trying to talk anyone out of enjoying the musical for what it is. I still do enjoy it myself, even if I want to discuss its flaws. Fundamentally I think that's a problem that runs through ALW's work in general we get very one-dimensional side characters who sometimes exist as a means to make the protagonist look better by comparison and in some cases that's actually detrimental.

Christine in the musical doesn't really have a rivalry with Carlotta. Carlotta mostly just swings her weight around and gets the managers to bend to her demands at Christine's expense. She's not even particularly mean to Christine except in one instance where she says "your part is silent little toad" but I don't actually get the vibe that she cares that much and is more angry that the managers seem to be disrespecting her in favor of the new girl. It's Andre and Firman who get most of her ire, the managers ultimately have to BEG her to stay (Prima Donna) because she would gladly have fucked off. Tbh it's giving Beef from Phantom of the Paradise more than book Carlotta.

Beef my beloved

Carlotta in the musical commits the sin of being annoying to the audience so when Erik humiliates her we feel she gets her comeuppance but ultimately aside from being full of herself and threatening to leave when management doesn't meet her demands, which are inclusive of, *checks notes* Not being sabotaged during her performances by a maniac and not handing her career to a chorus girl who can't even name her teacher. On paper she's not actually being that unreasonable, she's just kind of a spoiled bitch. Book Carlotta pulls out all the stops to keep her position and plays dirty to actively target Christine and Christine has to prove she deserves this woman's career and when she finally does it's a huge payoff moment. It's a personal triumph for Christine herself and a character moment that shows that Christine actively WANTS to be on stage and has it in her to fight back.

[stardustbarbarians]

Saints of Los Angeles

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader fic

Summary: You never thought that meeting a Saint would cause you to sin.

Tags: kiss feminism goodbye (Policarpa I'm so sorry queen), smut (MDNI!!), objectification, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex, drug use, light bloodplay, dom!Danny

Trigger Warnings: Drug use, objectification, insulting language towards women

A/N: All the feminism left my body with this one, y'all. Please don't let the warnings scare you away too easily. Basically, its what you'd find in a Motley Crue song, which this fic is heavily inspired by. That being said, this is the hottest thing I've ever written. I really tried to challenge myself with this one. Title taken from Saints of Los Angeles by Motley Crue. As always, I hope you guys enjoy <3.

Words: 8.7 k

+++

This can’t be the place.

Checking your texts with Donna again, you confirmed that, yes, this was the place your friend said to meet her. Feeling completely out of your element in the seedy neighborhood, stood in front of the sketchy dive bar with neon signage, you clutched your purse a little tighter as you took a deep breath and stepped inside. 

It was just as you expected it to be, full of rowdy patrons pounding hard liquor like it was water. Most people didn’t notice your entry, the majority of those who did simply glanced your way with a hard look in their eye before returning to whatever they were doing before. Fighting back a shiver, you straighten your posture and head for the bar. 

“Tequila on the rocks, please,” you ordered, feeling eyes on the back of your head. The bartender busied herself with pouring the drink as you settled into an empty seat. 

“Mandi, get me a whiskey while you’re at it, sweetheart,” a male voice from behind you commanded, dripping with charm and charisma. Immediately, your hackles raised at his attitude toward the woman, noting how condescending it was. 

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes as he took the seat next to you, carrying the smell of cigarette smoke and mint with him. He seemed to notice your reaction and was unafraid to point it out. 

“What’s your fucking problem, princess?” He rested his forearm on the bar, peering over his shoulder at you. That’s when you finally got a good look at this stranger. You were ashamed of the way your breath caught in your throat, but you couldn’t help it. He had to be the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on - which was saying something considering you lived in star-studded Los Angeles. 

He had long black hair that fell in tightly coiled ringlets around his face, a prominent nose with fierce eyes that burned with annoyance and malice. He wore a beat up leather jacket with a skin-tight black shirt underneath, dark denim jeans on his legs. Despite the fire in his eyes, they were a gorgeous hazel brown. And on top of all that, he had a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. But then you saw the cigarette tucked between his fingers and all that went completely out the window as you felt disgust curl within your gut. 

“You smoking next to me, greaser,” you spat at him, grabbing the glass that had been set in front of you and taking a swig. It burned as the liquor slid down your throat, but it was one you were used to. 

“Oh, I see. We’ve got a perfect little goodie-two-shoes over here,” the stranger mocked, turning his body fully towards you. Seeing the idea form in his head as it came to him, you watched as he took a drag before blowing the smoke directly into your face. 

Coughing after you mistakenly inhaled, you swatted the air around you to try and clear it. “Disrespectful asshole,” you muttered between hacking. 

“What was that?” His teeth were gritted as he spoke, no doubt catching your insult. 

Making the decision that you’d rather deal with an angry Donna than this dive any longer, you just shook your head and made to leave. 

You didn’t get very far before you felt a hand grab your arm, tugging you around so that you came face to face with the beautiful stranger. The first thing you noticed was the dangerous glint in his eye. 

“I said, ‘what was that’?” 

Swallowing hard, you found yourself confused by the way your body reacted. Heat began to pool between your thighs as you looked up into his face. He was expecting an answer and you knew he wasn’t going to let you go without it. 

“Let go of me, you filthy rat!” You tried to wrench your hand out of his grip, but it was no use. 

The imposing stranger pulled you in closer by your waist. That officially marked the death of any personal space between you two. Your heart was racing. With your chest pressed against his, you could feel how firm it was. Now eye level with his lips, you noticed how plump and full they were. Even in the dark lighting of the bar, you could see they were a beautiful deep pink color. He seemed to notice that you were looking at his lips, flashing you a crooked smile that showed off his pristine white teeth, his canine tooth particularly sharp. You couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like nipping into the flesh of your skin. 

"You keep talking like that to me and see where it gets you, angel," the stranger purred, the cigarette tucked between his teeth bobbing up and down as he spoke. His voice sounded like honey saturated with smoke. It was so smooth and sweet, yet there was a raspiness to it that made you clench around nothing. The smoke from his cigarette curled in tendrils around his face, partially covering his eyes. You never were a fan of the habit, but for some reason, this stranger was exempt from your disgust. 

This time, it was your turn to observe him taking in your appearance. His smirk finally reached his eyes, a pleased look painting itself across his dangerously handsome face. The ache of wanting thrummed harder between your legs as his eyes fixated on your breasts. You felt like you were losing your mind; everything he was doing was every one of your turn-offs. Apparently multiple negatives made a positive. 

"What are you waiting for, kitten?" He removed the cigarette from his teeth with his left hand, catching a glimpse of his hand tattoos and silver jewelry - rings and bracelets - glinting in the neon of the bar. He blew the smoke in your face as his right hand slid down from the small of your back to the meat of your ass, his fingers fanning out and digging harshly into your flesh. "I didn't tell you to stop."

Gulping nervously, you realized just how deep you had dug your grave. There was no turning back now, and frankly, you weren’t sure you wanted to. You had lived a very sheltered life up until this night - the night you happened to walk into the wrong bar. You had always wanted to let go of yourself and take a dip into the wild side, and now, the wild side was quite literally pressing you against him by a vice grip on your ass. It was a golden opportunity dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick; who the hell were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? 

“Get your filthy hands off me, you disgusting pig,” you spat, all the venom concentrated in your words and nowhere else in your body. You could feel your eyelids falling at half-mast, your hands smoothing themselves all over the stranger’s chest and landing on his large pecs. And maybe you even arched your back just a little bit to lean your ass into his grip, so what? This was absolutely the hottest thing to ever happen to you and you were going to milk it for all its worth, 

A low chuckle grumbled out of the stranger’s lips, feeling it in your hands. “You don’t mean that.” He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he ashed his cigarette onto the floor, the tip of it glowing from red to a yellow-orange as he took another drag. 

Feeling bold, you plucked the tobacco from his lips and placed it between yours. He couldn’t seem to hide the pleasant surprise in his eyes as he watched you take a drag of your own, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Pulling the cigarette away from your mouth, you let your hand hang to the side as you closed the distance between you two. The smooth velvet feel of his tongue against yours as you shotgunned the smoke to him made your head spin. You’d only ever seen it done in movies. They all failed to truly show the absolute rush you experienced from the act. You felt so dirty, so wrong. 

You’d never felt more alive. 

A whine passed between your mouth into the stranger’s just like the cigarette drag. You felt him pull away, opening your eyes in just enough time to see his roll into the back of his head, his eyelashes fluttering. There was an easy, toothy smile spreading across his lips. It was dripping with confidence and pleasure, but there was this quality to it that made you nearly flood your panties. As his eyes landed in yours - unfocused and blissed out - it seemed like he was looking directly into your soul and knew just how badly you desired him. With his free hand, he grabbed your chin. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, pulling it down and exposing your bottom teeth. All you could do was look up at him through your lashes. He leaned his face in impossibly close; so close you were nearly going cross-eyed looking at him. That’s when you noticed the sinister glint in his eyes. It was one that promised you so many dirty and wicked things that you couldn't help but shiver at the sight. You were hurtling down a dangerous path, and you were just starting to realize how dangerous it was. 

“You’ve sealed your fate now, princess,” the stranger muttered, his breath smelling of cigarette smoke and the whiskey he was drinking. 

With one final hard squeeze of your ass, he removed his grip off of it and instead wrapped his left arm around your waist. He pulled you tight against his side, feeling his leather belt press into the bone of your hip. Grabbing his nearly forgotten drink off the bar, you watched as he downed it in one gulp, tilting his head back to expose a razor sharp jawline. You watched his adam’s apple bob before he slammed the glass onto the counter. Without any warning, he ripped the cigarette out of your hand and took one long drag, stubbing it out on the ice still sitting in his empty glass. 

“Hope you’re ready, doll.” That was the only warning you received from him before he slapped you hard on the ass. You yelped in surprise, your cheeks heating up as a few people around you turned to look. Smirking at your reaction, the stranger chuckled before pulling you along with him towards the staircase you noticed upon first stepping inside.

“Where are we going?” you asked after reaching the top of the steps. The lighting was vastly different than it was down the steps. Instead of vibrant neons and warm glowing string lights, the dark corridors were lit with sultry, yet vaguely off-putting red lights. Your nerves had been active since you entered the bar, but now they were turned up to eleven. There were a few doors opposite the bannister, all of them closed. You ventured a guess that they were all locked, too. 

“Listen, doll. I didn’t bring you up here to chat,” the stranger sharply bit at you, annoyance injected into his tone and pinching his features. He stopped at the last door at the end of the hallway, turning the knob and throwing it open. Using his hold on your waist, he shoved you inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a loud click. “So you best find a better fucking use for that mouth before I throw you out on the street in nothing but your high heels. Is that clear?” 

You hated to admit it, but that threat really got your motor running. You had to bite your lip to stave off the moan threatening to leap from your throat. 

“I said,” the man advanced on you. Each step he took forward, you took backwards until you couldn’t any more. Your back pressed to the wall, the stranger caged you in with his arms, his hand back to gripping your chin. “‘Is that clear’?”

You didn’t even get to say anything before he used the grip he had on your chin to nod your head for you. This put a pleased grin on his face again. “Good girl.” 

Your knees were weakened by the praise purred into your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. His command in mind, you found a better use of your mouth by pressing your lips against his once more. The noise that slipped from your lips originated from deep within the caverns of your soul.

Fire. Searing, scalding fire. 

That was the only way he could describe it, all you could feel. Each moment brought forth a new intensity that didn’t seem feasible, but proved to do just that. The burning heat that washed you from head to toe was so addicting. It was so intense that you felt your head spin from the pleasure. You knew at that moment that this night would be one you would talk about in years to come, the “best night of my life” kind of night. 

The only thing that pulled you away from the moment was your back colliding with a mattress. You had been so focused on the stranger that you had failed to notice there was a bed in the room. But there wasn’t much time to dwell on that before your shirt was being tugged off your body. You felt out of breath as he unhooked your bra and threw it across the room. 

His hands were warm, becoming very intimate with the callouses on them as he slid his hands up your stomach at a teasing pace. They stationed on your breasts, cupping them in his hands and kneading them. That’s when you finally were able to get a good look at the ink on his hands. The word “saint” had been etched onto his left hand, each letter appearing on its own finger. On his right was the word “sinner”, following the same pattern as the left one with the exception of the Ns fitting on his middle finger. A skull was painted on the back of his left hand, a butterfly on the right. You couldn’t see his arms, but you’d bet real money that they were covered in sleeves of tattoos. He seemed to notice you taking in his tattoos, a smirk on his face as you watched his pointer finger swirl around your nipple with a feather light touch. 

“Oh, god,” you exclaimed, throwing your head back in pleasure. 

“He’s got nothing to do with this, sweetheart. If you’re gonna moan out any names, it’s gonna be mine.” 

“Y-Yours?” 

The stranger huffed out a laugh that had no humor in it. With a simple flick of his pointer finger against your erect nipple, you let out a pathetic moan that amused him greatly. It seemed he enjoyed toying with you and seeing which reactions he was able to pull from you. 

“It’s Daniel. And make sure you scream it nice and pretty for me, angel. None of that other talking bullshit you were trying to pull earlier,” he informed, staring you directly in the eyes with an intense gaze that left no room for argument. 

Not trusting your voice, you nod your head. Daniel, you thought in your head, finally a name for a face. 

“Mine’s-”

“Frankly, hon, I don’t give a damn. Now hush, angel. Your beauty depreciates in value with each word,” 

Feeling slightly dumbfounded, all you could do was clamp your mouth shut with a knit in your brow. While you knew that was probably the most disrespectful thing you’d heard all night, you couldn’t deny the instant warmth that shocked the flesh between your thighs. 

“Alright. Let’s get started.” 

With that, Danny maintained eye contact with you as he brought his mouth to your nipple not being played with by his fingers. You gasped at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue lapping at your sensitive skin. It only lasted a second before he retracted, a devilish look in his eye. You couldn’t help but look at him, maintaining eye contact as he dabbed his tongue on it again, this time leaving it there. Just like with his finger, he swirled his tongue around the darker patch of skin with a feather light touch. You couldn’t control the mewls that kept falling out of your mouth, your head throwing back at the sensation. 

Just when you were starting to get antsy for more from Daniel, he surprised you once more by clamping his lips around the tip of your breast all while squeezing them between his fingers in tandem. It ripped a huge gasp from your lungs, your back involuntarily arching off the mattress. It felt as if he was controlling your entire body with his mouth, pulling reactions from you that you weren’t consciously conjuring yourself. As Daniel continued, your panting turned to moan after pathetic moan, each one more intense than the last. You were starting to feel as if you were about to burst from pleasure, your entire body tensing as something was building up inside of you. Your knuckles were starting to turn white as you gripped at the sheets and Daniel’s hair, respectively. 

Right when it felt as if that pressure was about to reach its breaking point, Danny detached his hands and mouth from your breasts. All of the sudden, you could feel that beautiful pressure rapidly falling and turning cold. 

“Daniel!” you whined indignantly, the grips of your hands relaxing but staying in their spots. 

“Pout all you want, kitten. You haven’t earned the right to cum yet,” he explained - rather condescending - as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

Is that what I felt? It wasn’t like you were a virgin, you’d been with other men before. However, you’d never felt that sensation before. 

“Have you ever sucked dick before, princess?” 

At the question, you felt your face instantly get hot. It was so crass. And yes, he had just spent the past few minutes lapping at your tits, but that question somehow felt more crude. 

“I-I-” you stuttered, still gobsmacked at the bluntness of his question. Closing your eyes and gulping, you found the strength to answer. “I- yes. But only once-” 

“Perfect.” Righting himself to stand up straight, Danny shed his jacket and tight shirt and tossed them onto the floor. Next came his belt, the metal of the buckle clanging as he slid the leather from the loops of his dark jeans. You couldn’t help but watch as he undressed, not sure what else to do. And really, it wasn’t like you weren’t enjoying the show. 

Just like you had suspected, his skin was a tapestry of artwork from head to toe. His arms seemed to have a theme of biblical depictions chalk full of skulls and death. His chest had a depiction of icarus falling towards the sea (which also was engraved into the skin of his abdomen), feathers cascading down his torso with some of them even captured in the process of melting. There was a sun inked into the skin just below his right clavicle with a painting of clouds surrounding it. It was a breathtaking piece that must’ve taken hours upon hours of work and definitely more than what your car was worth. Your eyes traveled down away from the icarus piece to his waistband, where both his happy trail and the tops of what looked like snake’s head peaked out from. Removing his pants and underwear in one smooth movement, you got to confirm that they were, indeed, snake heads you saw. On the inside of each hip were coiled up snakes with their fangs bared at each other, venom dripping from their flared forked tongues. That was probably your favorite tattoo of his, if you were being honest. 

While you were too busy ogling his tattoos, he grabbed you by the thighs and hoisted you up into his arms. Yelping in surprise, you wrapped your arms around him and tried your best to bite down a moan at the feeling of your bare chests pressed up against one another. He laughed at your reaction, the sound right in your left ear as he looked over your shoulder. He only held you for a moment before you felt the mattress underneath your legs again, Daniel having sat down with his back against the headboard. Your hips were perfectly on top of his, feeling his hard on through the fabric of your jean shorts. An idea sprang to mind, one that you enacted before even thinking it through too much. 

On their own accord, your hips rolled against Daniel. This caught him by surprise, a breath hissing through his clenched teeth as his eyes clenched shut. You felt his calloused fingers dig into the meat of your ass again as his hands flew from their loose grip on your thighs. When he opened his eyes, there was a dangerous edge in them. He flashed you a smile, but that was a loose definition. Truly, he was more bearing his teeth at you with a crooked grin. 

“Careful, peaches,” he warned with a growl, one of his hands slithering away from your ass to grab you by the jaw in a vice grip, “I don’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.” 

That nearly made you rock your hips forward as warmth flooded your pussy again. However, you resisted by clenching your hands down on his shoulders. You felt like your teeth were going to shatter by how hard you were clenching your jaw. 

“Look at me,” Danny commanded as his grip tightened against your jaw. 

Doing as he commanded, you slid your gaze to your partner. 

“Pull another stunt like that and I’ll spank you so hard you’ll be able to find my fingerprints on your ass.” He accentuated his point by clenching his hand that was still on your ass. 

You whined at the extra pressure, the mental image of you bent over his knee while he smacked your ass so hard it left a perfect impression on your skin not helping. 

“In this room, I am your god. Whatever I say, you do it without any hesitation or sass. Understood?” 

Without realizing, you began nodding your head. Whatever he said. You just wanted to get that high back he gave you minutes ago that he dangled just out of your reach. You had gotten a taste, now you wanted the whole meal. 

“Such a good girl. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he praised, his hand finally releasing your jaw. There was a smirk on his lips that showed off his sharp canine tooth. While your attention was on that, he pushed your hips down his legs. Eventually when they got too far away, his grip shifted to your shoulders. You got the message, his question from earlier popping into your head. 

Lifting your dominant hand up from the sheets, you made sure to make eye contact with Danny as you inched your hand towards his dick to silently ask if it was ok to do so. Getting impatient, Daniel grabbed your hand with his own and put it on his cock himself. At the touch, he let out a sigh of relief. Still holding your hand, he set the pace of your hand gliding up and down his shaft. It was fast and rough, but you got the idea that that’s how Daniel liked most things. 

Letting go of your hand after you got the idea, he used that hand in order to grab you by the hair. A sharp pain shot through your scalp from his grip. However, that didn’t compare to the pain of Danny yanking your head down and towards his cock. That you yelped in pain at. 

“Oh, save it, princess,” he barked before using his grip on your hair to press the tip of his dick to your lips. “I’ve got a better use for that mouth. Open up.” 

Swallowing down your nerves, you did as you were told. Looking him in the eyes, you parted your lips. Danny wasted no time shoving his cock in your mouth. The only thing that stopped him from shoving it all the way down your throat was your hand. With a frustrated growl, he used his free hand to rip yours away. He then stuffed his cock as far down as it could go, tears prickling at your eyes as it hit the back of your throat. Saliva immediately began to flood your throat as you gagged around him. You grabbed at his thighs with a tight grip, attempting to find any purchase you could as your head began spinning. 

After what felt like hours, Danny finally pulled you up off of him. Drool fell from your lips as you gasped deeply for air, a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to his dick.  

“Catch your breath, kitten. I’m just getting started.” He hovered you just above his hips, using the hand not fisted in your hair to brush your rouge locks from your eyes. It was a strangely tender moment from him; one you never would’ve expected from him. 

You only were able to breathe for a moment before he was stuffing his cock between your lips again. This time, you were able to take more of him as you relaxed your throat. However, you still gagged as he hit the back of your throat; though, you doubted you would ever be able to suppress that reaction. Daniel held you there for a moment, only pulling you up partially to quickly cough and take a breath. 

“Better hold on, princess. I can only hold back for so long,” Daniel warned right before he set his own pace. His hips bucked up off the mattress, making you audibly gag as tears formed in your eyes once more. The noise caused an amused chuckle to fall from his mouth. He may have started out slow, but that only lasted for about thirty seconds before he cranked up the intensity to eleven. He set a pace that was sure to leave the soft palate of your mouth bruised as he brutally pounded into your throat. Tears began to steadily stream down your cheeks, your hands gripping the skin of Danny’s muscular thighs hard enough to leave marks. 

“That’s it, baby, take it,” Daniel moaned in a gravelly tone, his head throwing back in pleasure at the sensation. That’s when he utilized the hold he had on your hair to skull fuck you even more fiercely, bobbing your head up and down in a way that complimented his thrusting hips. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could handle. Your eyes couldn’t seem to stop watering and your throat was screaming in pain. At this rate, he wold fuck your throat so hard you’d lose your voice. 

As if fate could hear your thoughts, Danny’s phone rang. With a growl, he reached over to the nightstand on his left and snatched it off the table. His pace had finally stilled, granting you a much needed moment of respite. He looked at the screen, sighing at whoever’s name was on it and begrudgingly answered. 

“What, Jake,” he bit with so much venom, you would’ve believed he hated this person. With annoyance pinching at his features, he listened to the caller talk to him. You could make out a few words here and there, but the voice was too quiet. 

Once Daniel got bored of listening, he once again started bobbing your head up and down, thankfully slower than the last time. His attention was still on the call as he used you. 

“He did what?!” Daniel yelled, his fist tightening in your hair as his anger spiked. You hummed out a moan at the sensation, causing his eyes to dart down to you. 

You heard Jake talking again on the other end. Even though you couldn’t pick out words, you could tell he was trying to diffuse the situation with Danny based on his tone alone. 

“I don’t give a shit if it was the fucking governor, Jake! We don’t give discounts!” 

At this point you had started to set your own pace. But, it seemed that wasn’t enough. As his agitation grew, so did his need for pleasure. 

“No. I’m done listening, it’s your turn. I want you to tell him these exact words, alright? You tell little Sammy that he better get the rest of the amount owed for the coke, or I’ll make sure that pretty little girlfriend of his never sells another record and lives the rest of her life on the fucking streets. Is that clear?” 

It finally clicked to you what he was talking about. Daniel wasn’t some ordinary dirtbag, he was a drug dealer. And not just any drug dealer, but the head of the most dangerous gangs in the city: the Saints of Los Angeles. You’d heard about him on the news: Daniel Wagner, the saint of Los Angeles. You would be appalled by how turned on that made you later on. But in the heat of the moment, that simply made you want to work harder to earn his favor. 

“Look, put it this way to him because I know that his head is just there for decoration - who is he more afraid of: the governor, or me?” Even though he said it in a very neutral tone, the sentence sent a shiver down your spine. 

Wanting his attention back to you again, you started to use your tongue. You were able to push back against his grip and pull up off him a bit, giving you more space to swirl your tongue around the girth of Danny. Not only did you start using your tongue, but you slid one of your hands away from his thigh and went for his balls. As soon as they were in your hand, Daniel let out a gasp of surprise, his gaze finally making its way back onto you. You felt giddy at the eye contact despite your better judgment. Continuing with your new added contact, you swirled your tongue around and played with his balls in tandem. It was just what he liked, it seemed, as he threw his head back and moaned. Now knowing with certainty that he was enjoying your attention, you hummed around him, pleased with yourself. Casting your eyes downward in order to better concentrate, that’s when you noticed another one of his tattoos. Written in block letters were two words right above his cock with an arrow pointing down at it. Choking Hazard, they said.

For the first time, you were able to make out what Jake was saying on the other end of the phone. “Are you fucking someone right now??” 

With a short laugh, Daniel thrust up into you again. “Yeah, I found a real pretty one down at the club tonight. Poor thing was all lost. She’s more your type than mine, but you know me; I can’t resist a set of huge tits.” 

“My type, huh?” Jake asked, his interest piqued. 

“Yeah, I’ll send you a picture.” Readjusting his grip on your hair, he pulled you up off his dick. You made a loud pop as you were pulled away, panting for breath and spit dripping down your fucked out lips. You could feel your eyes at half mast, sure that your mascara was running down your cheeks from your earlier tears. 

“Smile, princess,” Danny commanded after pulling the phone away from his ear. Once finished, he lowered you back down onto his cock. He kept his attention on the screen as you assumed he sent your picture to Jake. 

“Goddamn,” you heard Jake exclaim clear as day, Daniel having put him on speaker phone. 

“Uhuh, I told you,” Danny responded, gathering your hair up in his hand before thrusting into you again, “got a mouth as good as any pussy.” 

“Fuck,” you heard through the phone, “shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been this jealous of you.” 

That made Danny chuckle in amusement. “I can save some for you for later.” 

“So I get sloppy seconds?” 

“If you want. I’m feeling generous,” Daniel stated. You couldn’t see his face - your eyes focused on the Choking Hazard tattoo - but you could hear the smile in his voice. He punctuated his words with a buck of his hips, making you gag audibly. 

“Sounds like you are,” Jake responded, “but I can’t. I’m already in hot water with Jenna. If she knew I slept with another girl, I’d get skinned.” 

“More for me. Now if you excuse me-” 

“Yeah, yeah. Have your fun.” 

“Make sure you tell Sam exactly what I told you,” Danny reminded, his finger already hovering over the button. 

Jake sighed before promising to follow the order. With that, Daniel hung up the phone and tossed it back onto his nightstand. “Don’t work with family.” 

That was all he said before fisting his free hand into your hair and started setting a brutal pace for your throat again. More tears fell down your cheeks and so did more saliva. It was a big mess, but you didn’t find yourself being disgusted. Daniel was feeding into your deep, dark desire of wanting to be used like a toy. Finally, after it seemed like he was about to cum, he shoved you off his cock. 

“Alright, doll,” he breathed, struggling to remain composed, “enough playing around.” 

You felt your heart kick up a notch at the implications. If that was playing around - that rough face fucking you just endoured - what did getting serious entail?

Pulling you up, Daniel shoved his lips against yours. Almost immediately, he shoved his tongue down your throat. You whined at the feeling. Everything he was doing was making your head spin. You almost wanted him to stop, but the whirlwind you were caught up in was too much of a thrill to let go of. You had been the perfect little princess all your life and you wanted to take a ride on the wild side for once in your life. And god was Daniel wild. As if he could hear your thoughts, he grabbed you by the hips and settled them right in his lap. 

“Woah,” you muttered. You knew how big Danny was - he was just in your throat. But the realization just hit you that he was about to be inside of you. And if you had gotten a head rush before, you didn’t even know what to classify what just happened to you. Still gripping onto your hips, Daniel threw you down onto the mattress so that your chest was against it. 

“Get on all fours,” he demanded, smacking your ass so hard you were certain everyone downstairs could hear. You were also certain everyone downstairs could hear your yelp of pleasure. But, you followed his command, planting your palms and knees onto the sheets. 

Nothing happened. 

For a good twenty seconds, neither of you moved. You stayed in your place on the mattress, not moving. You didn’t want to get punished by Danny. However, your curiosity got the better of you when you heard the sound of a drawer opening. As you went to turn your head around, however, that’s when Daniel delivered another sharp smack to your ass. 

“No moving, princess,” he warned, his calloused hand smoothing over the smarting skin he just punished. His fingers inched towards the waistband of your underwear, slipping underneath the lacy material and pulling it up off your skin. Danny let go of the elastic snapping back into place with a quiet snap. At the feeling, you let out a shaky breath. Danny slipped his fingers into your waistband once again, but this time he tugged the material off your body using his free hand to pull your underwear off entirely, lifting up your knees one at a time. 

As soon as he was rid of your final piece of clothing, you felt both his hands come to rest on either one of your asscheeks. Soon to follow was his tongue; gasping sharply at the feeling. It was cold. But that wasn’t what made you gasp. It was his tongue piercing. For some reason, you either didn’t register he had one while you were kissing him, or you didn’t notice. But that wasn’t important. Daniel was clearly experienced, that’s what was important. He made sure to focus his attention on your clit, the ball of his piercing rubbing and swirling around it non-stop. You would’ve been embarrassed by the noises that came out of you if you weren’t so caught up in your pleasure. Your hands balled into fists in the sheets as you buried your head into the mattress, arching your back into him. His grip on your ass tightened, the pain adding just the right amount of intensity. 

“Daniel,” you cried after he sucked on your folds. It sent a shockwave throughout your body as you involuntarily rolled your eyes into the back of your head. At his name, Danny’s hands twitched. That was all you needed to know he was in the same boat you were: incredibly turned on. But he continued to relentlessly concentrate all his focus on that beautiful bundle of nerves. 

And there it was again: that glorious peak you saw moments ago. With each lap at your clit, you could feel yourself tumbling faster and faster towards the precipice - “Daniel, oh my god!” - and you were desperate to reach it. And it showed. Each breath you took resulted in a needy whine; chanting out Danny’s name like it was a prayer. And Danny showed no signs of stopping. Finally, you were going to know what it felt like. 

Until Danny cruelly ripped it away from you just like last time. You whined rather pathetically as you tumbled down from your high, turning your head slightly just in time to see the pleased smile on Daniel’s lips. However, you couldn’t deny how absolutely hot it was seeing him lick his lips while chuckling, his lips glinting in the light. You had never felt so wet before, a combination of your slick and his saliva dripping down your thigh. 

“You’re so mean,” you lamented, rubbing your thighs together for any friction you could manage. 

“Mmm, I love it when they talk dirty,” he moaned before righting himself on his knees. That’s when you felt the tip of his dick slide through your folds, a sigh releasing from deep within his chest. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tip resting at your entrance. You waited with baited breath for him to push all the way in, expecting him to shove it in all at once. You were surprised when he went slow, inching in and pausing at any sign of distress from you. 

“Alright, peaches, I’m all the way in,” he gasped, his left hand rubbing your back. You didn’t need him to tell you that to know. You could feel all of his cock inside of you, pulsating within your walls. 

Each tiny movement from him felt like too much, your vision whiting out as you panted heavily just to get used to the feeling of being filled to the brim. You could feel sweat already starting to accumulate on your skin. 

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight,” Daniel panted, seemingly out of breath just from your vice grip around his cock. You could feel his curls tickling your back as he bent over you, his hot breath ghosting across your skin. 

After you both caught your breath, Danny began to rock back and forth. Each thrust made you want to scream, his huge cock testing your limits with no mercy. His pace took a sharp increase after a minute or two. Soon, you were crying out in pleasure, screaming his name in the place of god’s. He was brutal, leaving no space for clemency as he drove into you with an organ pummeling velocity. 

When you reached a point where it was getting to be too much, Daniel stilled his hips. Sighing in relief, you were still left confused. Turning your head, that’s when you noticed a silver engraved tube in Daniel’s hand. You watched as he unscrewed the cap and dumped out whatever was inside on your back. It was hard to tell based on vision alone, but you felt him pour it out in a line before screwing the cap back on. It wasn’t until he bent over and you heard a snorting sound that you knew what just happened. 

Daniel had just done a line of coke off your back… while he was still inside you. A shiver traveled down your spine as the realization hit you. There was hardly any time for you to process that fully before Daniel went back to his brutal pace from earlier. You could feel your legs weakening and shaking, your mind slowly turning to mush. 

“Harder, daddy!” It was an accident. You hadn’t meant for it to slip out like that. However, Daniel seemed to like that. A lot. You felt his hips stutter at your use of the title, a growl slipping from his teeth. His hand gripped your ass so hard you knew you would find bruises there tomorrow. 

He didn’t say anything, however. Instead, he snaked his other hand up to your neck. With a vice grip, he yanked you upright by your throat so that your back was pressed fully against his front. He hadn’t slowed his hips at all. 

“Open,” he growled, the hand on your ass prying your mouth open. When you finally got the message, his fingers slipped out of your maw. They weren’t gone for long. Only a second later, you felt something else shoved between your teeth, recognising the material. It took you all of two seconds to understand that Daniel had stuffed your own panties into your mouth. As you tried to moan out at the realization, Daniel used the grip he had on your throat to shove your face back down into the mattress. This time, he came down there with you, keeping his lips next to your ear. 

“Such a fucking whore for me. You just met me and look where you are now, huh?” He thrusted particularly hard that time as if to punctuate his words. 

Even if you weren’t gagged, words wouldn’t have been able to leave your lips. Your brain had long since devolved into a singular thought: Daniel. So, naturally, that’s what you cried out. 

“God, you’re such a fucking good slut for me, kitten. I’ve never had pussy this good before,” he grunted. It was all getting to be too much once again. You could feel that rise in tension just below your stomach begin to build again. But unlike the other times, you didn’t let yourself show that you were getting close to that climax. You tried your best to remain quiet, biting down on your lip as you focused all you had on getting to that peak. 

Your silence gave you away. 

“Goddamn it! Let me cum, you fucking pig bastard!” you screamed in frustration. At least, you tried to. It actually came out in a bunch of muffled syllables that sounded nothing like any words in the English language. 

Daniel laughed boisterously at you. Laughing at you, not with you. “Awww, aren’t you precious?” 

With his right hand, he pressed onto your stomach. With more force than you deemed necessary, he forcefully flipped you onto your back. You grunted out petulantly, making it known you weren’t happy with what just happened. 

“You’re so cute when you’re mad, dollface.” 

You didn’t get to respond before he pushed back into you at the hilt. Whatever you wanted to say turned into a needy whine that you were not proud of. A wolfish grin made its way back onto Daniel’s lips. 

“What was that, darling?” 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, you just gave Daniel a look. 

“As much fun as it is seeing you all angry at me, I do miss you screaming my name.” With that, he fished your lacy panties out of your mouth, gagging as the material hit the back of your throat. 

“There. Isn’t that better?” he asked after balling the material up in his hand and setting it on the nightstand next to his phone. 

Instead of verbally responding, you simply nodded your head. 

“Someone learned their lesson finally,” he muttered under his breath. It was so quiet, you were positive that it wasn’t meant for your ears. 

Feeling bold - and more than a little frustrated with his treatment of you - you bucked your hips forward. You both groaned out at the feeling, Daniel sounding just a little surprised. Instantly, his hands flew to your hips, pinning them down on the sheets. 

“Don’t. Move.” 

There was a dangerous edge in his eyes that you hadn’t seen all night. It was one that struck true fear in your heart. Those eyes were ones that could take life away at any moment they wanted, ones that threatened the lives of his “family” with little to no remorse. You were once again reminded of the fact that you were letting the leader of the Saints of Los Angeles fuck you. 

Swallowing thickly, you nodded vigorously. 

Danny hardly dug his nails into your flesh briefly before he lifted his hands away from your hips. He soon busied himself with the silver tube from earlier, the cap unscrewing with a horrible squeal. He dumped the last of the powder onto the valley of skin between your tits, quickly screwing the cap back on before tossing the vial to the side. With his pinky finger, Danny arranged it into a line, tediously pushing it around and tickling your skin. When he was satisfied, Danny stuck his finger into his mouth in order to get rid of the excess powder on his appendage. The entire time he was making his line, you could feel his cock pulsating slowly inside your pussy. 

Popping his finger out of his mouth, Daniel leaned down and snorted once more. You arched your back against the feeling of his curls caressing your flesh, biting your lip at the sensation. You watched as Danny sighed out in ecstasy, a lazy, toothy grin slowly spreading across his lips as he tipped back, riding the high the cocaine gave him again. You noticed his eyes rolling back into his head as a bead of blood dribbled down from his nose.

Right as you were about to comment on the blood, Daniel began thrusting his hips again. Finally, that friction your pussy was craving was back, your head tipping back at the sensation. Just like before when he was riding the high from the cocaine, he set a brutal pace that you knew would make walking a chore the next day. But unlike before, there were so many guttural noises escaping Danny’s lips that he reminded you of a feral animal. 

At this point, your brain was starting to become so overwhelmed that you had to clamp your eyes shut to avoid sensory overload. Each snap of his lips produced a high-pitched whine from your throat, sounding pathetic to your own ears. Ashamed, you muffled the noises by taking your bottom lip between your teeth. You were biting down so hard that you were afraid of drawing blood.

Daniel didn’t take too kindly to this. 

With an especially deep growl, Daniel grabbed you by the throat, feeling all of his rings dig into your flesh. It wasn’t a gentle touch in any sense of the word. You knew that he had the strength to crush your windpipe in his grip and was just barely stopping himself from doing exactly that.

Your eyes flew open in surprise. His nose was inches away from yours, almost having to cross your eyes to focus on him. 

“Sing, darlin,” he growled. There was a predatory glint in his dark eyes, one that reminded you once more of exactly who you were dealing with. While you weren’t necessarily afraid for your life, you didn’t exactly want to press your luck. 

“Fuck yes, Daniel! Oh, fuck!” 

You didn’t think it was possible, but Daniel began pounding into you ever harder. You were beginning to fear your internal organs would liquify at this rate. However, that was merely a brief flash of a thought before your brain’s circuits were once again overloaded with sexual pleasure. 

While you were gasping out Danny’s name and seeing black spots start to make pockmarks in your vision, that’s when he spat directly onto your face. It was warm as it slowly dripped down your skin. It didn’t get the chance to cool before Daniel took his free hand and smeared it over your face before pushing his fingers back into your mouth. 

Blood. 

That’s what you tasted as he shoved his fingers down your throat so far it made you gag, chuckling darkly at your noise. That sharp metallic taste on the back of your tongue sent a surprising jolt of arousal straight to your core. You flicked your eyes away from the ceiling to Daniel’s face. Your suspicions were confirmed; his nosebleed had dripped all the way to his lips and was showing no signs of stopping. 

Not fully understanding your own actions and going on instinct alone, you threaded your fingers into Daniel’s curls and pulled him into your lips. You needed more of that rush, quickly becoming addicted to the thrills he was giving you. The kiss immediately turned sloppy and heavy, his hand relieving the slightest bit of pressure off your throat. 

Even as your circulation was returning to your brain, you felt you heard start to spin at the taste of his blood. That tension in your pussy was building again, a rubber band ready to snap. 

“Please,” you breathed out after pulling away enough. 

“Please what?” he hissed, a sly smile pulling at his lips. He knew exactly what you were asking but wanted to hear you beg. 

“Please daddy, please let me cum. I can’t take it much longer-” 

“Do it, princess. Make it a spectacle for me, you whore.” 

It was all you needed. Like the breaking of glass, you felt something in you shatter as you finally were able to feel that peak Danny had been dangling in front of you all night. The noise of pleasure that pushed its way from your chest was whiny and desperate. You felt your entire body turn into static as your vision whited out. 

You were vaguely aware of Daniel reaching for his phone, his flashlight turning on as he recorded a video of him pounding mercilessly into you. You felt a slight twitch in your core, understanding that She was into it but unable to give much after what just happened. 

“Fuck yeah, such a perfect slut for me.” Daniel’s tone was raspy as his hips began to stutter. A deep growl ripped from his throat before he went completely ridgid, feeling his cum spilling deep within you. 

His curls curtained in front of his face, the light from his phone pointed down at your body as his head was hung. You watched him pant for breath through your lashes, beads of sweat rolling down his body. 

After a moment, he pulled out of you. Both of you groaned at the unpleasantness of the feeling. Daniel pointed his camera down at your fluttering hole, feeling his cum drip out slowly. He stopped recording shortly after, the room going dark again with the absence of the flash. 

“I’m not paying fucking child support if you get knocked up.” 

That was the last thing Daniel spoke to you that night. However, it was far from the last time you would ever speak to him. 

+++

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[beevean]

What pisses me off the most about NFCV is the way it disrespects the original medium of video gaming. The show sets up a potential action setpiece similar to a level from the game (the turning wheel, s1e3 I think) and then just *walks around it*. Everything about the way "Devil Forging" works in the show demonstrates that Ellis didn't even consult a cutscene compilation, much less the game. And sure enough, the fucker admits he never played them. Why adapt source material you've never experienced?

*Captain N* (a show I defend to the death) was better than this. It embraces the action montage, and even if things aren't 1-to-1, they do capture the appeal of the gameplay they adapt. It understands people love the original work. NFCV plows through the formalities of adapting a guy skimming the wikipedia summary of the game and then sits everyone in a basement for a full season.

The only times I felt I was watching an adaptation of Castlevania was in S1, with things like the fight against the Cyclop who petrified Sypha and Trevor falling into the deepest catacombs where Alucard hid himself, and in S4, where the last fight before the final showdown with Death happens in a clock tower, his iconic hideout.

As for the rest, I remember some snarky fans defending the show's wildly different direction with things like "what, did you expect to see Trevor jumping on platforms?" I don't know but it sure as shit would have been better than the trio wasting the entirety of S2 cooped up in a library! Yes, I would have preferred to see them travel through forests and caves and swamps, instead of wasting my time watching N!Alucard being a complete jerk to N!Trevor for no good reason! (and no, defending vampires is not a good reason)

bro. bro not even the vampire killer is treated with respect. it's replaced with the morning star which is a different weapon, and then n!trevor drops it in favor of a knife pulled out of the story's ass. the morning star pisses n!dracula off, but a fucking stick is capable of killing him. are you doing this on purpose.

And don't get me started on Devil Forging. I actually don't mind too much the idea of making it more similar to necromancy, because it would fit with the idea that it's a cursed, disgusting, blasphemous art. I also can concede that the knowledge that Dracula infused Hector and Isaac with his own power is very obscure, vaguely implied in one cutscene in CoD and one panel of PtR, and confirmed in a pre-release interview. But everything else is so less interesting. It's an art that apparently N!Hector was born with for no reason and N!Isaac could study on his own, removing the personal connection between Dracula and Forgemasters. There are other Forgemasters in the world: those two are not special (which also makes me wonder why N!Dracula bothered to hire N!Hector with a lie when he could have travelled some more: I'm sure Miranda would have helped him). N!Isaac eventually becomes so OP he can stibby stabby to create new Night Creatures without any effort. None of the interesting themes about dehumanization or forcing pure creatures to sin are hinted at*. Even N!Hector's unique cavalier relationship with death, a genuinely but interesting childish mentality of "oh no, death is sad! but I can fix it!", is never explored, because the story was too busy making him look stupid and breedable. And to top it all off, Nocturne literally introduces the concept of a Devil Forging machine which is so bad it sucks even in universe.

*the closest thing to this is in S4 with this line from N!Isaac: "You believe you are tools of destruction only because this is how your kind have always been used". Admittedly, it's a cool line I would have loved to apply to Hector and Isaac. But it doesn't quite work because by definition Night Creatures are not innocent, being demons from hell... and anyway he keeps using them to kill people in Styria because N!Isaac is a bastard and unlike Isaac he won't even admit it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ that line comes off as so self-aggrandizing and I hate how much the show shills him so I won't cut it any slack because I'm petty.

As for Captain N, I will say this: the inclusion of the Poltergeist King is, of course, totally wrong from a lore stand point, but to me it tells that the writers actually read the manual in search of information, and the American manual really was the only resource they had at their disposal at the time. Just like that, they put in more effort than Warren "somehow didn't realize on his own that Mathias Cronqvist was Dracula's human name while reading a wiki page" Ellis.

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: The Punishment of Kaname Tojo - 9

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: Tatsumi, Kaname

Proofreading: Remi (JP) & honeyspades (ENG)

Translation: Peace

Tatsumi: We are mirrors of one another, kindred souls.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: At the same time, on the stage of Reimei Academy's "Third Auditorium"

Tatsumi: "My beloved peers of Reimei Academy, thank you for coming."

"I, Tatsumi Kazehaya, have something of great importance to tell you all today."

Kaname: ......

Tatsumi: (Whispering) Hm... They don't seem particularly pleased, though I expected as much.

The Special Students don't seem to like how I’m speaking on my own at the moment. If it wasn't for your persuasion, HiMERU-san, I don't believe any of them would have shown up.

Kaname: I didn't really persuade them, I just gave them money.

Or rather, I gave them the job of gathering here as an audience, with a promise of receiving more concessions and such for their future work.

The time for compassion and persuasion has long passed, Tatsumi-senpai.

Tatsumi: Not so. I'm certain that anyone who isn't a Special Student must feel sympathetic — look at everyone who's come who won't be getting a cent out of it.

Kaname: That's because they're still expecting great things from you. They have hope you might be able to change this hellhole of a school.

Tatsumi: ......

Kaname: Anyway, let's stop chit-chatting and return to the topic at hand. The money I tossed around will be a waste otherwise.

Kaname: ... In the end, I wasn't as beloved as you were.

Reimei Academy's Top Idol. It feels like a position I just bought rather than earned. The academy's higher-ups would give me plenty of money...

And using that, I simply got to where I am today. But in the end… no one, not a single person, loved me the way they did you.

Do you hate me for learning such dirty tricks, Tatsumi-senpai?

Tatsumi: Of course not. In fact, I believe that knowledge must be your strength — I respect you for doing what I could not.

Kaname: You really do speak from the heart. Don't ever become like me, senpai.

Remain as pure as you are in this moment.

Better yet, I'll do all I can to ensure that you do.

I've made up my mind. Maybe I am an idiot, but in my own stupid way I've thought desperately of what I could do and chosen my own path.

I want to die for your ideology.

With you as a model for sainthood, I'll become a bit of a better person than I am now.

Tatsumi: I am not a saint, however...

If someone believes in me, if they expect something of me, then I shall act as they wish. Though it would be disrespectful to myself — though it is most certainly a sin to the body as a vessel of life...

If it would make others even a little bit happier, then I will gladly wear a crown of thorns.

Amen.

Tatsumi: "— Students of Reimei Academy."

"Are you happy right now?"

"I would like each of you to put your hand to your heart and truly give my question some thought. Are you satisfied with the life you've lived thus far? Are you lacking in something? Do you feel as if you've experienced misfortune?"

"No matter your answer, I ask that you listen to my announcement until the end."

"I have decided that HiMERU-san and I shall form a unit from today on, for the sake of bringing a little more happiness to the Academy.

"Fufu. Those of us in Reimei Academy might not be too familiar with such a concept, of course..."

"However, the concept is more normalized within another long standing idol training school, Yumenosaki Academy."

"In short, an idol unit is exactly as it implies: rather than doing things individually, he and I shall be performing them as a group."

"A 'unit' shares a common destiny. They are alike to a family, company, or even a nation."

Tatsumi: "We are mirrors of one another, kindred souls."

"As we move together from hereon, all that we earn will be distributed fairly among our members."

"Those who have previously joined me in the catacombs will understand what I mean when I say that."

"However, those who are Special Students may not be as aware of this arrangement. In Reimei Academy, our rewards are based on how well we do individually; it's a very result-focused system."

"I'd like to ask that all Special Students adhere to this arrangement from here on. Our unit shall not allow any one person to monopolize wealth nor to run wild on their own."

"In doing so, we shall seek a joyous future where one and all can live together fairly."

Tatsumi: "... I see there's some pushback. You may be asking yourself, ‘Why should I work for others when I can simply work for myself? Why should they reap the rewards I sow?’"

"However, this is the best way forward. Let us say, as an example, that you make a mistake or incur an injury and can no longer work."

"Or rather than earning money, you find yourself falling into debt."

"Our unit would never abandon anyone to such a fate."

"By taking responsibility on behalf of the individual affected, we will compensate for their losses and ensure that no one falls victim to circumstances outside of their control."

Tatsumi: "The present day idol industry is on a decline. As a result, there are numerous pitfalls that can cause one to fall to ruin; we'd like to support one another in such times of despair, to overcome them."

"No, we absolutely must support one another if we wish to survive. Unfortunate as it is, we have already been driven to such a point."

"I'm sure some of you have already realized that by now."

Tatsumi: "This is Hell. We aren't able to live as we once did, not when the end is nigh."

"It is already so difficult to breathe — and if you allow your attention to slip for even a moment, you face miserable repercussions immediately."

Kaname: " — We wish to change that."

"From this moment on, we are inviting you all to form a unit with us."

"Through a simple process, you will be welcomed immediately as one of ‘us’."

Tatsumi: "And finally, the most important point: all are welcome to join us, whether you are a Special Student or not."

"Unfortunately, as it stands... We, who are Special Students, and those who are not, dislike each other immensely."

"I'm certain that there will be a great many who won't wish to work together."

"However... If you can, please swallow your doubts and walk with us. I firmly believe this is the only path towards a happier future."

"Ideally speaking, we'd like to make every student in Reimei Academy part of our unit — and in doing so, have a truly fair and just school."

"All would work, and all would reap the rewards sown equally."

"At present, you gain only a little by stepping on the backs of others so arrogantly — it's a deplorable practice, so let's stop it."

"If it continues, then the disparity will never disappear. If we do not strive to create an impartial environment, then there will always be those who are fated to be trampled on."

Tatsumi: "I don't wish to witness such a sight any longer."

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