#it's set in a time and place when people really did believe in the devil and witchcraft as a real threat to their lives

[finalgirlminamurray]

the funniest example i have of an intended plot twist sailing completely over my head is when i watched the blackcoat's daughter for the first time and did not register that kiernan shipka and emma roberts were different people, nor did i consider for a second that we were supposed to think they were playing different characters. my faceblindness prevented me from telling two similar-looking blonde white women with the exact same hair color and style apart and so for me there was no big reveal that they were the same person. that was just...the movie i was already watching

when it first cut to "joan" at the bus station i just assumed that kat had snuck out and was going somewhere under a fake name, but of course when it cut back to the school and she was still there i figured out that these were two different time periods we were following at once. closest thing to a "twist" for me was confirming that "joan"'s story was in the future relative to rose and kat's. i did not realize how it was supposed to play until my usual routine of checking the wikipedia article for a full cast list after finishing the film. don't know how many other people had the same experience but that was mine

[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I was raised without any religion which I liked very well. Throughout my life people have tried to inform me about their religion and I end up deeply resenting it. I’m good. I’m vibing. I’m staying in my lane. I’ve also had more than enough microaggressions for being queer that I get skittish around people who are especially devout.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety as much as possible.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[patchiko]

what do u think ak!jays love language (i think that’s what it’s called 😭) is? also, what type of love language do you think he’d like?? like acts of service, words of affirmation, etc.

also random headcanon but i feel like both ak and comic jay r both good cooks it’s just the vibe i get

-🪽anon

Ahkendidhso Ive written about this before but my brainrot my lovely 🪽 anon…

tw; religious themes but their very very very super metaphorical i pinky swear chat. #i love religious themes as a way to metaphorically talk about devotion

Jason Todd is as devoted to his lover as a martyr to their grace. His faith to his loved one is almost insufferable at its core.

Like in a,’ My lungs only breathe because I have faith in your purity. ’ way, so anyways yeah Quality Time and Acts Of Service.

Quality Time- Jaaon can barely pry himself from your presence at times, and yet he does. Though every moment he’s away from you feels sardonic, like that viscous black ooze that he’s named ‘hate’ is getting bigger. Once he even gets a moment of your time his mind melts. He slowly allows himself to indulge in your presence, but in the most unhealthy way possible. Jason tried to keep himself away, he really did, but he always found his feet dragging to you.

Maybe its the little sacrificial lamb in him, the yearn for a greater good in his destruction. Thats what he believe he was conditioned to be, ’The Greater Good.’ Batman cleaned him from the dirt-stricken filth of Gotham alleyways; Batman would make his coat pure and holy, he learned to achieve that ‘Greater-Good’ when Batman wrapper that rope around his neck and lead him to that devil, or saint, he couldn’t tell the two apart sometimes. They both look the same as his depraved reflection.

When his red branded rebirth came he couldn’t help himself trotting to you like the holy little lamb he was conditioned to be. You, the only compass he had, a sense of direction he couldn’t bear to lose. He sits in your presence waiting for his rapture. When not, he’s stuck in a state where can’t tell if he’s more scared of being lost or alone. Jason finds he’s neither when with you, with you he’s stained red but his neck is no longer painfully warm, his body can be mangled, his mind can be mortal. He always trots back to you, because it is the first place he is welcomed to with open arms, yes, you are the warm light of the heavens he was conditioned to bask in. The personification where the death of his self is meant to be.

Acts Of Service - I believe this side of him comes more when its towards the part of the relationship where he’s most comfortable! He’ll run errands, do your dishes, maybe if the guilt of getting your floor a little bloodied gets to him he’ll pay your rent. It takes him awhile to loosen up and stop acting like a house maid. He still does everything he can for you but in an mundane way, like a little routine. (like a little wife omg chat i love him)

Whenever he slips through that window he takes armor off and sets them down on your floor. He’ll walk over to where you sit and kiss you on the cheek, whispering in your ear on how he ordered take out. He’ll come back to you with clean clothes and washed hair, sitting close to you, yet not closer if not allowed.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, for he always finds his way back to your side. A gentle giant, neither of you can keep yourselves away from each other; tenderly caring for each others needs. With you, he gave up on his divided sense of pride, his fundamentals and foundations that gave his name meaning were reckoned meaningless, he gave it up and swallowed the bitter pill of which he found the unsatisfactory taste of forgiveness; and with that pill he allowed himself to grieve.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, he can guide people to the place they believe to be heavens for their sake of peace. He holds someone in his arms the way they need to be held, he says those things that make someone think, leading them back to the path they left. But most of all he always comes running back to you.

sorry chat this is so bitter sweet i love his self destructive mentality that would take him decades to weed out.

[seventhcallisto]

PROLOGUE

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; scenting. omega in heat. talk of s3x. featuring alpha g-idle. Language. Mature Content! Talk of gender, sex, and the weird system that a/b/o roles have, including the terrible hierarchy system. It's my series so I make my own rules, period!

Never, absolutely never, does a person get their second sex when they're born. It's no surprise they get it towards puberty, yet the majority of times, heats or ruts do not start happening until they're in their late teens- early twenties. Betas never went through that issue. They hardly ever were considered more than peace makers. For a while, they were the least chosen. While not as valuable as an alpha or as wonderful at comforting like an omega. There was still some dull middle ground. They weren't that special.

That was only for a bit, anyway. Eventually, omegas took that spot, lower on the hierarchy, whilst betas gained the middle place. You didn't agree with the system, though. It doesn't matter your second sex. It matters how you hold yourself, how you go about through life with a second sex.

And you stood by that for decades.

You took hold of a company and shaped yourself to fit their mold. Although a foreigner in this strange city, following a dream you didn't know you could grasp, you still went for it. You molded yourself to fit whatever they wanted. A calm, level-headed, peace-maker, beta. With a heart of fire and determination that'll set a field ablaze. You worked your ass off. Getting up as early as possible. Practicing. Making something of yourself. Training yourself. Learning the language.

Someone who could make even the quietest of omegas open up, and the loudest of alphas silent. You were a patient and composed person.

And when you came out on top, the very top, unreachable and untouchable, you knew you maxed out your potential. It was only then that you let it slip from your hands and into the grasp of another. You let them see what you could do, and now it was their turn.

They took it with stride. Quickly, you found yourself linked to a group you'd be a part of for life. You were surprised, to say the least.

"It smells like testosterone in here," you grimaced.

Eventually, you did get used to the stench of 8 alphas. Soon enough, you could actually smell their undertones. A mix of everything drowns every corner of the apartment you live in with them.

You were fairly the least popular in the group by a good amount. Sometimes, you chalked it up to people being oblivious. It never hurt you, why would it? You're a rare gem. Sometimes, it needs a light shined on it to really sparkle.

It's years later of cleaning up after messy alphas and teaching yourself tricks to get used to their behaviors, that you suddenly notice a difference in yourself.

"Hey, you smell different," seonghwa scruches his nose, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. You slip your shoes off in the doorway, closing it behind you. "New perfume," you reply, half hazerdly, sliding your keys into the key bowl. "I thought you liked your own scent?" He comes over and helps you with the handbag in your arm.

You hand it over to the taller guy, slipping your mask down your face. "I'm starting to stink, so i changed my perfume scent. Maybe your guys' stench is making me allergic, or I'm getting sick." You sigh tiredly when he hangs your jacket up in the closet. "No, not sick. I know what you smell like when you're sick," seonghwas eyebrows scrunch.

"You smell.. sweeter.. have you been hanging out with any omegas lately?" He questions, folding his arms over his chest. His white sweater is rolled up his arms, and his black pants hang loosely. Surely, if seonghwa is to lounge around, he's gonna do it with style. You laugh, avoiding his eyes when he catches you looking him up and down. "Ha, yeah, actually. I'm helping Kimmie prep for her heat. She plans to have a couple of mini devils running around this summer. Can you believe it?" You scoff, mentioning your long time once-trainee close friend who you grew attached too.

"Kimmie with kids, I would have never thought," you mumble under your breath, years ago you would of scoffed at the idea of young- impressionable kimmie, mature enough to consider having kids with her beta husband whom you also knew to be a trainee from before. Are you really getting that old? Seonghwa stares for a couple of seconds. His piercing eyes guide you up and down. You're staring back now. Seonghwa doesn't flinch. "Right, let's hope kim is ready for that," he laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks.

You both shuffle into the living room. Calling it a night.

Not even two days later, you're on the couch scrolling mindlessly on your phone whilst you wait for the guys to get dressed. The practice video for one of your group songs is soon. You've only been able to practice by yourself up until that point.

Yeosang takes a seat next to you, pushing you into his side. The alpha gently taps your leg to gain your attention. "What's up?" You put your phone down, giving him your full attention. "My scent is wearing off on you," he almost pouts. You smile, turning towards him and opening your arms. "Okay, c'mere." You beckon his face into your neck. Afterward, you let him take the lead.

It takes two seconds for you to realize he's not scenting you anymore. He didn't even start. "Yeosang?" You call out, threading your fingers on the back of his neck hairs. He hums, and it sounds so far away. His scent grows heavier. "You okay?" You attempt to pull back. he chases your neck. You can hear him breathing heavily, struggling to catch his breath after every strong inhale. His soft hand snakes around your neck, gently leaning your head the opposite way so he can get more room.

You follow, cause you trust your pack member. You can feel his mouth part, his lips drawing closer to your pulse. Your eyebrows furrowed. What are you doing? Obviously, something is up. You pull away from yeosangs grasp. Backing up just a bit. You put a hand to his chest to distance yourself. It's a few seconds before yeosang seems to come back, his foggy eyes focusing. "Sorry, I.. you smell really different lately," he admits, twisting his fingers in his lap.

"How so?" You question him. "Like.. sweeter. I can smell it linger, deep down under our scents I can smell.. an omega," he admits, his eyebrows twitch down. You haven't been to Kimmies house since seonghwa asked, yet you've completely washed and cleaned yourself of her scent entirely. You don't know what to say.

"Well," you fold your legs into your lap. "I think I might be coming down with something, I changed my perfume. It could be that, too?" You can't tell if you're reassuring yourself or yeosang. He hums. His eyes search your front, glancing up at you and then down to your neck where your scent glands are. "Could you wear one of my shirts for practice? I didn't get to properly scent you, and it'd make me feel better. " his tone is more of a demand yet hes still a little shy with it. Behind his eyes, you can see the strange look he casts aside.

You smile wearily. "Sure."

Yeosang had picked a black shirt he wore very often. It took him a hot minute, but by the time you watched him go through everything in his closet, the guys were done and slipping on their shoes. Once he was satisfied with his choice, he handed it to you. A shirt that would be tight fit for yeosang hanged off you. The deepest scents you can pick out are cocoa butter and honeyed citrus, like lemonade. There's the distant scent of strong tea. The cocoa butter blends well into his scent, perfectly layered. Perfectly yeosang.

You took a deep enhale, liking the freshness of his smell. Not noticing the satisfactory smile on yeosangs face, you slipped off into his bathroom and exchanged your shirt for his. Leaving yours behind. Once you came out, you were surprised to still see him there. His scent is everywhere in this room, heavier than normal.

His eyes look your form up and down. You give a tiny spin, smiling awkwardly. Finally, his eyes meet yours, clouded with an unknown emotion. It's a few seconds of silence. You never break off eye contact.

"We're gonna be late!" Hongjoong shouts out from the front door. His voice echoes in the hallway, leading to yeosangs' room. Yeosang smiles, looking away. He makes haste to the door and leaves you. You let the breath out you were holding. What was that?

Practice takes a hard minute to start, the coolness of the room makes it easier to warm up. You're not sweating when you begin repeating steps, adjusting what you deem unfinished or sloppy. Not long does the heat kick into the room. You find yourself removing your hoodie.

"Let's get started" the manager hits the button on the camera, beginning the recording. Your eyes follow your own movement. All of ateez has said you're the ace of the group, in everything you do it seems well-executed. You doubt that sometimes.

Every move and every breath is conditioned from years of practice everyday 'til you couldn't feel your legs. Sometimes you'd go as far as to even run, dance, and jump in terrible stilletos. Which worked out in the end since the majority of the time you'd have to wear heels or platforms to match the height of the guys during every event and performance.

Sweat pools on your collar, your neck, and your forehead as you work across the room. You can smell every one of the guys as they pass around you, a flurry of scents clog your senses. You try to focus on the choreography.

You tried until your shoulder slams into someone, throwing you off balance and onto the hard wood floor. Your elbow bounces off the wood. You slide to a stop quickly. "Fuck!" you curse at the sting in your leg, hip, and ankle. The room grows extremely quiet, the music stops as quickly. Mingi bends down to your level, shock still evident on his face. "Sorry! shit, my bad, are you okay?" He reaches for your head.

"Ow" you whine, like actually whine, instead of brushing it off like you normally would. Touching your elbow. You both simultaneously notice the blood dripping off your elbow. "Why aren't you watching where you're going!?" Yunho walks up to mingi. Mingi stands up from next to you. "I didn't do it on purpose!" Mingi defends, his jaw clenches. The two stare daggers, a tense standoff so sudden you don’t know truly if you falling is the cause of it or if something else is at play. Hongjoong steps forward to stop them. A heated discussion begins.

Wooyoung and San stand back, Jaws clenched, at any moment they look ready to pounce. Yeosang stands with Seonghwa and Jongho, who look just as concerned about the growing argument, yet their faces murge into something completely different at the smell in the air.

It's something no one can put their finger on.

Your ever growing weirdly sweet scent is surprising to even you, your gut twists in an unsettled way. You don't look at their faces, trying to understand the smell and your sudden shift. What the hell is going on with you?

"Boys, out in the hallway now, please" Jongsik. The manager you've had for years steps forward. As the oldest in the room take charge, the guys looked challenged. "What about her!?" Yunho shouts out, fustrated. In the distance another aurgument begins. Mingi squats back down to your level, gently pulling your attention back to him with his hands on either side of your face. "it's not that bad, yeah? It's alright?" He wants to reassure you. "Mingi" you practically whine, pulling at his wrist. The smell of harsh and swirling emotions makes your nose scrunch, it's intense and somewhat intoxicating.

You're dizzy.

Jongsik stands firm. "Out!" He repeats himself pointing to the practice room door. He reaches for mingi's shoulder. He who pushes the older man off, standing abruptly.

Hongjoong, the pack leader, is the one that rounds up the boys and pushes them out, even mingi. Before he shuts the door. He looks at you. He's so tempted to just run back in, coddle you and wrap your elbow in bandages. Yet he closes the door anyways.

There's no defiance or whining from you. because jongsik is a beta, and already mated. He's taken on a fatherly role to you when he pulls you to your feet. "I don't feel good.." You slur. Placing a hand on your head.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"

You lay on an examination bed, squirming by yourself. Anxiously you wait twirling your hand around the bandage on your elbow.

"This is something we've never seen before." With your heightened hearing, you can feel they're talking about you.

"She showed signs of being a beta for years. How could something like this happen so suddenly? It's impossible." Whispers echo in your mind.

What the hell is going on?

"Hello," a doctor, also a lady, steps in. her face is covered with a mask. "I'm Dr Liana." You try to focus, but the ache in your stomach is distracting. "It seems to have been there for a while, most likely due to continuous, omega activities, from what my colleagues and I have assumed."

"Have you been noticing anything different from your usual routine?"

You recount what you can, anything you find weird yourself. And there's so many clues, like when you stole each hoodie and wore it from everyone for a week straight just because 'you wanted too'. Or how touchy you've been recently especially with hongjoong, your pack leader. The scent change, the continuous need to please your members and let them have their way lately.

How you, oh God, how you've started collecting everyone's clothing in your closet, you called it a clothing pile. It's a nest. You've been nesting.

You've been not so subtlety feeding this hunger within you.

Realization has dawned on you for the first time in a month. And after a few more tests, you've spent a total of two days in the hospital.

Once you're out, you're immediately escorted to a heat sanctuary. A common locked and secure place for omegas going into heat.

"What I'm hearing is you're about to go into heat. It'll be a difficult process for you considering you're a beta turned omega, and it's fairly late for you to be getting your first heat, but I'm sure there's plenty of options for you."

There were plenty of other options, yet you opted for the least embarrassing and least dreadful one. It was too late to take heat suppressants. Now, you're stuck in a somewhat luxurious hotel room with glorified room service and plenty of meds to sedate you for a week or less. They're actually so you can't feel the actual pain that comes with a heat without having a knot to sedate the feeling. If you really hoped you could sleep it off, you'd be dead wrong.

The specific question of; "do you have anyone in mind that could take care of you during your heat?" Really lingered. You thought about it. Maybe more than once, but you turned it down. No way. Nooo wayyyy. You wouldn't dare go past the first pack of alphas your mind landed on. Wouldn't even touch that book or open it in your minds eye.

Everything is very sensitive for the first day. You sweat a ton. You feel like you've lost weight, although you eat when you're not... 'foggy'. You feel the sweat pool at every corner of your temporary bed.

Anything you can get your hands on you pull, hard, and rip and tear. A pile of blankets and pillows are strewn on the floor in one giant large pile. Every once in a while you'll come back to your senses and childishly get upset at what you're doing.

No you've got nothing against omegas. You just didn't ask to be one, so therefore you're mad about being one.

Once satisfied, you spraw out and get to working on yourself with whatever you can, clothes and all. Toys. Plugs. Lube. You would have never guessed you'd end up this way. You name it, and they have it. They say there's nothing more satisfying than a knot, yet you don't enjoy the idea of what comes after. Pups? Ew. Is there even anything to counteract that? How do people just sleep with a stranger during a heat and not feel scared about what will happen in the moment? There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not your particular cup of tea.

As a beta, or.. when you were one, it wasn't very hard to find someone to hook up with. Betas have the abilities to hook up with anyone, alphas, omegas, and other betas. Although pregnancies and knotting aren't as easy for betas(you're not a big fan of wrapping it) it'll work eventually if tried enough. There's this middle ground for betas who can have it all. Relationships get difficult when you aren't as drawn to each other as an alpha and omega are, but with patience, it'll work.

There's this gross scent lingering under your skin, you can still smell the scent of your old skin, the beta you once were is suddenly being washed away by a sweet, tropical smell, an omega in full bloom. It's your second day. Yet you couldn't get more miserable. Two or three more days of this? Seriously.

You've never been a girly girl, begging for your way or kissing up to get it. You were commonly told you were a tomboy growing up. Maybe that played its role on your first designated sex. Your company pushed that role, too. Tough girl act. Rapper, Dancer. Never the face of the group. But you weren't complaining. You were the top of top trainees. Nothing could beat you down.

Yet, dressing up in baggy clothes and never looking sexually appealing was your role in the group. Tomboy rapper. Compared to the beginning of fourth gen, you were considered a girl crush but nothing else. least lines, least screen time, least roles. I mean. You trained for this, right?

Now you're stuck with a new second gender you didn't ask for. Pushing you farther behind the scenes. Just your luck.

As soon as your first heat ends. You realize you weren't as bad. Apparently, the first heat ever is the easiest. You're supposed to get worse. Seriously. Worse? God. You can't take this. You go to the only people you know won't make a big deal out of your new.. thing.

Soyeon places a hot cup of tea right in front of you. And you can smell the scent suppressant coming from the steam. "this is supposed to help?" You sniff at it warily, grimacing at the factory like smell.

"You came to us, at our dorm, smelling like the biggest ball of 'fuck me please', take it or leave it." She clicks her tongue at you, propped up on her bed. Minnie takes a seat opposite of you, as does shuhua. "You cant even smell me, you're on scent suppressants" you groan, swirling the tea. "How do yall cope." You sigh and chug the content of the large tea cup. Soyeon laughs, minnie grimaces, and despite having a shocked look, shuhua pumps her fist in encouragement.

You've come to the group of alpha women cause, well, they're your best friends. And they're the most encouraging about any and all supplements and suppressants. They've single handedly encouraged everyone you know to take suppressants. From the front door, you hear it open and close, stepping down the hallway comes yuqi and miyeon, who do a double take.

Yuqi takes a giant whiff, and her eyes bulge. "What happened to you!?" She coughs at the stench of omega. Something she doesn't find common in their room when you're around. Miyeon scoots to the side when Soojin pushes through with a cake of some sort and a tiny charcuterie board. She places it down in front of you. You can tell the alpha in her is desperately trying to please you.

"Somehow, our poor, once beta, girl friend has changed sex." Soyeon speaks through a bite of twizzlers. You don't comment at her choice of words. Yuqi and Miyeon scoot into the room, staring at their doting member.

"There you go." Soojin pats your head and takes a seat on the bean bag in front of you. "Thanks," you sigh, digging in. The cake, which soojin explains, is a long-lasting scent changer. Magic is baked into every bite.

As for the charcuterie board. It's just something to get you some protein with the lack of good supplements in your system. In her eyes, you've lost at least half of your body weight. You haven't. Yet she's still encouraging you to take care of yourself from such a rushed heat.

"Poor girl," miyeon sighs, "I've never heard of that happening to anyone before. How's that even possible?" She takes to removing her hoodie and placing it down properly. Yuqi shuffles off her bag. Plopping onto the bed next to you. "How'd the guys react?" She steals a piece of meat from your board.

"I haven't told them" you sigh, the room goes silent.

"That's fucked up" yuqi laughs. Miyeon slaps her ankle. "So we're the first to know?" Shuhua confirms, you nod. "Wow, I'm sure they'll be happy about that," soyeon laughs lightly. You tear your eyes off shuhua. "What do you mean by that?" You clearly speak, eyebrows pulled down. Minnie places a hand on your ankle to get your attention. "Well, we're your girl pack. We'll always be your girl pack." she looks nervous.

"But the last time I hung out with you, your boys stared at me like I was an intruder in their territory." she pats your ankle. Your eyebrows pull taunt. You want to defend them. "What? No way.." You truly think about it. "Whatever you say, your boys aren't as good as we are at keeping up with our contribution to not being alpha whores" soyeon sighs pushing to sit up. "Especially mingi, he's the whoriest of them all, he goes into rut every week it seems. He needs a heavy dose of rut suppressants." she takes another chunk off her twizzler.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to tell them first. Butt.. you shouldn't be surprised when they get upset about you telling us first." The girls all nod. You fall back onto soyeons pillows. A puff of sandal wood and cinnamon surrounds you. Slowly dying down as the tea takes its hold on your heightened senses. "Maybe I should have thought this through," you rub at your eyes.

"You're always welcomed here." soojin clears your mind, patting her hand against your hip in a friendly gesture. "This won't change anything. You're still my- our best friend," soojin speaks on behalf of the girls. Everyone hums to confirm.

"Thanks," you say genuinely. "It's a bit late for you to get a drive all the way home, What'd the company say to the guys?" Miyeon perks up from the edge of the bed. "Something about me needing medical evaluation. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still in the hospital." Yuqi scoots up next to you. "Did you check your phone?"

You didn't even think about it, pulling it from your pocket. You try to power it on. "No, everything was rushed. I didn't have a chance to check anything before I had to give it up so I wouldn't expose the place I was at." The screen doesn't light up. It's completely dead.

"It's dead," you pass it to soojin, who already had her hand out to take it. She plugs it into soyeons charger. "Well, I guess you're stuck here." Shuhua and yuqi topple on top of you, squishing you into the mattress.

"Sleepover!"

The next morning, you wake up sore. Not because of anything the girls did but because of such a long trial of whatever you did to yourself in the haze of heat. You groan when you shift your hip, burying yourself closer to the center of the makeshift bed you made in the living room.

The night was full of movies and being doted on by every one of the girls. Things aren't supposed to change because of your new sex, and that's remained true. They just baby you a little bit more than usual. "Shuhua, 'mega! Come eat! Now!" Minnie yells from the kitchen. The nickname startles you, something you've never heard before is somewhat pleasent to your ears. There's stomping towards the living room. Your head slams back down onto the pillow, pretending to sleep.

"I know you're awake." yuqis smile can be heard through her words. You can't help the prying of your lip. "Nu-uh," you grin, eyes still closed. "Get up!" She jumps on you, pulling you into a suffocating hug that she wiggles around in. You laugh and pull her equally as close. After the struggle of a couple of seconds, your exhaustion returns. Your arms fall limply around her waist.

"You doing alright?" She asks, picking herself up and off of you so you can breathe. "Yeah, I just tired myself out this week." you laugh, embarrassed. "Don't worry," shuhua perks her head up from the couch next to you. "You should have heard when yuqi had her first rut," shuhua laughs menacingly, yuqi springs up. "Shut up!" She yells. "She wouldn't stop! All night and day! We had to quarantine the whole top floor!" Shuhuas words stop on occasion when yuqi is wrestling to cover her mouth. You laugh at them.

"Hey," soojin stands over, ignoring her members. "Hi," you smile back. "Hungry?" She lends you her hand, pulling you up off the floor. "Starved," you take it, embracing her rose filled scent.

A platter of delicious food is placed right in front of you. Breakfast in their apartment is somewhat new to you. You've never really been able to stay long when you visit. Maybe you're starting to realize the guys have a stronger hold on you than you thought. Speaking of the guys. As soon as you finish your plate, Soojin places your phone down in front of you. The screen is still black, signaling she hasn't turned it on.

"You're gonna want to answer your boy toys before they stalk you down themselves," soyeon gestures. She's not wrong.

You power your phone on and let it reboot for a second. Yuqi is still eating with shuhua, talking to miyeon and minnie about something you don't pay attention to. Your phone makes a continuous notification sound when all of your messages pop up.

104 missed messages. 32 missed calls.

You're in deep shit.

Taglist: @0325tiny @bratty-tingz @lelaleleb

(Thank you for reading ♡)

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!vampire x GN!Reader (HC’s)

Growing tired of a lonesome life he sets eyes on you but you can’t ever imagine yourself growing to love such a monster, he isn’t to worried believes you will come around at some point, he’s fine with waiting for a couple of centuries. For now he will just hang around and admire his first and only love; Possible Stockholm syndrome?

No one, not even you, will ever know why you were taken from your house in a beautiful but sleepy European town during dusk; but people came up with theory’s. Most agreed upon was you had been taken by the monster who’d been terrorising the village people for years now, and there was nothing they could do about it. So the case was closed, your loss mourned, then life went on thinking you were dead amongst the other random victims of the beast.

But to him you were anything but random or a victim for him to slaughter, only he knows ‘why you’. No one made it to the manor house, he resided in, alive not even him being dead himself; no one until you.

He’d kidnapped you fairly fuss-free, the only consequence was the nasty bump on the back of your head rendering you unconscious but manageable. He laid you in silks and vintage furs on a capacious bed with gold a painted frame and placed ice on your head in an attempt to soothe the ache in your skull.

You were scared into submission by the creature for the first few days - you could have mistaken it for the devil himself with red eyes that bored into your soul and sharp threatening teeth. He responded in short sentences, usually stern and held a disinterested expression that made his eyes look more menacing than he truly was. It was confusing to decipher what he wanted from you, he didn’t seem to want blood but neither to happy about your unwilling company.

“I wanted you, so I took you. Lets not complicate it”

You’d come to learn that he wasn’t unhappy with you at all that was just the sort of face he has, being isolated for uncountable years meant his emotional awareness and expressions had grown rusty to say the least. You’d learn he just liked to be in the same room as you, he didn’t toy with you or worse, he came to sit in the corner of your bed room one in a while and read or write while you busied yourself with one of the many things he gifted you (found laying around in a draw unused for many years) or slept.

In fact he let you get away with a lot like how you’d try everything from retaliating verbally or physically but he’d only respond with a scowl of disapproval or a strong grip around your wrist briefly to remind you just who he was. He knows all about the grieving process having been through it and seen people go through it over and over, so he’d let you grieve over your lost life but doesn’t appreciate when you get really rowdy; bringing you back to earth with tough-love.

...

At some point during the first year of being kidnapped you’d given into harsh-reality, noticing there was no chance of escape as he hears your every foot step, and that even if you did there would be nowhere to go. Seeing you become more obedient encouraged him to soften a bit more, to meet you in the middle, and you let him grow closer after noticing his intentions couldn’t be that bad since he had yet to hurt you or bite you.

There are still arguments, nights where it would all become to much for you and you’d blow up in a emotional rage, demanding you go home or ‘what his intentions are’ and why did it have to be you specifically. So he’d let you hit and shout until you grow tired and your throat sore, wordlessly he’d pull you into his chest where you’d be forced to stay for the next hour. Doesn’t really take anything to heart during these arguments, he knows -at most- a centuries time you will be happy and love him maybe as half as much as he loves you.

Other nights his frustrations get the best of him and he shouts back, demanding ‘you get used to it’ that your friends and family stopped looking for you long ago and he’s all you have now etc. You’d storm away to your bed and he’d sit frustrated in his chair for a while before quietly entering your room and joining you in your bed to hold you and whisper apology’s, making sure you fall into a peaceful sleep before he leaves.

Forced bonding through board and card games!

Of course he sleeps in a coffin, a luxurious one in the room next door to yours, and he wants nothing more than for you to sleep in there with him but wouldn’t bring it up until your inevitable turning where he make you a vampire just like him. You didn’t think he would let you die and leave him to wallow in heart break for the rest of eternity did you?

This man has had so much time on his hands that he’s messed around with most every hobby, most recently (almost a century) he’s taking a liking to the violin. Sometimes he plays while you sleep and no longer around to entertain him (downstairs, as far from your room to not bother you) and sometimes the muted melody wakes you up for a moment or weasels it’s way into the dream you are in. It comforts you a bit, chasing away the eerie silence followed by creaks and scratching of the old manor house that would make sleep harder to come by and even harder to keep.

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 49: In Which Devil's Come Out To Play Pt. 2

You can read this here also: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/159231340

You'd lost track of the cigarettes Alcina had burned through since the meeting began.

To be fair you'd not even glanced at the clock on the wall since the meeting began.

It had been a whirlwind. Constant interruptions and detours. Flinging, grabbing and shuffling of papers, documents, and items - and with so many people talking over one another trying to keep up with one conversation to the next rendered you to simply sit in your seat, listen to what you could, and speak when you were spoken to. The heated exchanges would come and go; accusations, insinuations, insult exchange, jabs and plenty of unanswered questions that just continue to feed the flame of bickering.

You weren't entirely sure any of these vampires really wanted answers at all. They seemed so occupied in stirring the proverbial pot and tossing hypothesis after hypothesis that they weren't even looking at the evidence in front of their faces.

Mother Miranda had clearly done all the things Alcina and everyone else in the Shadowed Dominion's realm had said - why the fuck was there all this finger pointing and back and forth nonsense?

"I still blame whatever this perverted scheme of Mother Miranda's need to create the 'perfect vampire' on you, Alcina," Marguerite added into the cacophony of noise, "all this fall-apart started with that little human lover of yours; so many more regulations to be a vampire got thrown into place - then you were made a matriarch - Mother's long disappearances following afterwards - there hadn't been such an upset in the underworld until you - "

"Miranda's psychotic little episode that created this had nothing to do with Alcina," you butted it immediately, feeling Alcina's fire light once again at your side, "yes, she believed Alcina was her first real stepping stone to her perfect line of vampire, but that didn't go according to her plans - why do you think she became progressively obsessed with those vampire initiation tests? But this was all set into motion a long time ago, even before she murdered her own child for it."

For the first time in five hours there was a loud resounding silence that filled the room.

Every pair of eyes set on you.

No pressure.

"Excuse me?" Marguerite asked sharply, "and what exactly would you know abo -"

"Would you kindly shut your mouth for five minutes," Verona huffed as she leaned into the table, her fierce eyes shooting the woman's ego in the foot, "let her speak!" The gilded woman softened her face as she looked at you, nodding encouragingly, "please, you know something about Eva?"

You nodded in return and took a deep steadying breath looking around at everyone, "yes... Miranda told me she and Eva had great plans to become the strongest breed of vampire alive so that they could live amongst humans again. They wanted to overrun the human world, take control over it, and to be loved and worshipped like gods. But Eva fell in love with a human boy. Miranda was livid her daughter was more occupied with her feelings for him and no longer their plans, so she killed her."

More silence.

"When did she tell you this?" Verona inquired, heavily intrigued.

"While I was tied to a chair during her attempted takeover."

Another pause, until Verona took a very noticeable breath.

"You must understand, Eva's death has been at the silent speculation of most of our eldest kind for centuries... No one has ever known the truth. This reveal is shocking."

"Exceptionally," Belinda added, "Mother Miranda's greatest obsession was the love she held for her daughter. For her to kill her, it does not seem right."

Verona nodded, "no, perhaps not, but if this is what she told you - "

"Mon dieu," Marguerite cut in, "s'il vous plait, do you really expect us to believe she would reveal such a thing to you in this circumstance?"

"With whatever respect is due," you retorted without missing a beat, "yes, because she did."

Alcina, who was taking another very long drag off her cabriole, had leaned back in her chair to beckon Donna's attention at the back of the room, something was exchanged, and she then threw something into the middle of the table with a loud slapping thud.

"There." She stated with a large puff of smoke, pointing at a thick and very worn book in the center of the table, "in Miranda's own handwriting. A journal, one of many, stating everything you were just told and much more about her plans. Don't ever question the integrity of my companions word."

"Yeah, don't go getting your butthole all hurt because Miranda told her and not you." Karl interjected with a puff of his cigar that was hanging from his teeth.

Alcina almost choked on her own cigarette smoke. 

Karl snickered, "remember, she underestimated our fae-bae here and ended up dead and shit." His grin was aglow with pride. 

Pablo, not hiding his amusement was also smiling from ear to ear. And then with manicured eyebrows raised high to his hairline, reached for the article and plucked it from its spot, "and why wasn't this lovely bit of reading on the table to begin with?" He asked with a glittering smile.

Alcina's visage turned sharp, "because I knew the runaround of this circus would last several hours before anything productive would come of it. Now. Are we all finally ready to put the display of shit slinging aside and get to it, or will this fuckery continue for another five and a half hours?"

You supposed that once Alcina had pointed it out, the vampires decided they were indeed ready to put their feral egos in cages and move forward.

The next several hours were impressively and surprisingly productive. Retellings of what had taken place were told uninterrupted, evidence was looked over, conversation was coherent and almost wholly respectful. Though you did notice after the initial dust had settled, the only person who was more quiet than you was Auguste Winter. You don't think he said one thing through the entire gathering, nor did anyone seem to notice. Whether this was in character for him or not, it was odd. And no matter what, you still did not like how he looked at Alcina at any given moment.

The conclusion to this night ended with the much anticipated tour through Mother Miranda's hide-out adjacent the city. The visiting vampires were unnerved meeting the famous white-eyed mutated vampires they'd heard so much about. The army still stood in their assigned spots without movement, thought, or real awareness to much of anything. It hurt your heart in a way to see them like this. They were once people. Now, thanks to Miranda, they were shells of what was once a person, and not even granted the option of being a functioning vampire. You couldn't help but to feel compassion about the situation they ultimately had no control over. Your choice to allow the use of your blood to see if the vampire and lycan scientists could bring these mutants back into some semblance of normalcy was now at the forefront of your mind. It was a lofty decision but the push to make that choice was heavier for you now.  

As you were being escorted through the maze of mutants, a pronounced and displeased "hrmph" sounded from Marguerite causing everyone to look in her direction.

"This... is what Miranda deems to be a perfect vampire?" She questioned.

Karl's face was blank for about two-point five seconds before responding, "yeah, they're fuckin' quiet."

She hissed in return, "I don't recall asking for your input."

"Well no one asked for your fucking take on it either sugar-tits, Christ!" He barked right back.

Marguerite scoffed again, "these vampires don't seem like much of any threat at all - look at them - not a thing happening in their skulls."

"Hoo boy, something you and them have in common!" Karl huffed, "and you certainly don't listen for shit as to what we've been saying. Just because you can't wrap your puny mind around what went on down here doesn't discredit the rest of us who actually fought them! I have footage galore of the battle we waged - you can't image the fight they put up - these fuckers kept moving AFTER we blew 'em up! I would have loved to see you take one on at full strength."

"Miranda wanted an army she could control, loyal to her command and her alone," Alcina stepped in, "and that's exactly what she made. Can we please keep going?"

Dmitri nodded when Alcina turned her unamused visage towards him and immediately moved on.

As the entourage of vampires finally made their way back to the city after the tour, Alcina and you brought up the rear; your arm was securely fastened in hers and the walk was quiet for the both of you, the others were engulfed in their conversations masking your presence entirely which made it a comfortable journey. Alcina held you snugly close to her side, stealing a quick kiss atop your head as the final approach to the hall came into view.

You made your way off to the sidelines at the entrance of City Hall and observed in silence as the long-winded exchanges before heading off for the day continued. Ishaan was speaking with Alcina, Dmitri was deeply engrossed with Belinda and Emiliano, Marguerite and Pablo were gossiping you were sure, and you were happy to have your back pressed to the large stone pillar out of the way while everyone mingled.

"When this is all put to rest and you're settled, you must come visit me in Italy."

Came a voice that startled you.

Verona had come up from your left, arms folded comfortably across her middle and a warm smiling face with eyes shimmering and beaming at you.

"O-oh," you stammered as you stood more properly to address the woman, "Ms. Giordano - "

"Please," she said holding up a hand, "stuff that formality - call me Verona."

Returning the much bigger smile you felt your cheeks blush a little, "Verona," you repeated, trying to figure how to respond to her request, "that's very kind of you, but - "

"I won't take no for an answer," she interrupted still smiling, "Donna informs me you're part of the Dimitrescu and Beneviento family now so that means you are also mine. I'm a gracious host and you'll be treated like a queen in my city, my nieces can attest to such treatment as can Alcina. It would be an honor to have you... It's been too many years since they've visited so this will give me the extra leverage I need to get you all there."

Her wink was sweet and genuine and you couldn't help but smile, "well, it would be an honor to be hosted by you. Thank you."     "I believe I heard my name over here," Donna's voice sounded from behind you as she stepped out from shadows, "Verona I do hope you're not telling stories."

"Nonsense. Merely extending a well deserved invitation to my house."

"Now that is a treat I could look forward to." She grinned, squeezing your arm as she joined the two of you.

Verona tilted her head playfully, "your presence is also long overdue in my home, miss Donna."

"Then I suppose it will be a family affair."

"A family affair? Oo, I like those, am I invited also?"

Pablo had slunk himself into the conversation somehow and you all looked over at his toothy grin, his eyes gleaming madly at the three of you.

"You're about the only one outside of my beloved sorellas that has an open invitation, tesoro." Verona sighed with slight exasperation.  

He lit up, wrapped his arms around Verona's waist from behind and kissed her temple, "ahhh mi corazón, gracias hermosa. I've missed running amok in the catacombs of Italy with you. It's been too long. You remember the fun and mischief we used to get up to, si? Puro placer!" (ahhh my heart, thank you beautiful.) (Pure pleasure!)

You watched Verona's eye roll but also the very comfortable display or affection between the two and couldn't help your budding curiosity.

"But ah!" Pablo exclaimed turning his attention to you, "the fun we could all have!"

Verona slapped his arms that were still securely fastened to her waist, "assolutamente no, Alcina ti taglierebbe la testa." (absolutely not, Alcina would have your head.)

Pablo grumbled playfully and pressed his face deep into Verona's throat and kissed it fervently, a giggle sounding from her as he rest his chin upon her shoulder and looked at you once more, "you will come to Espania after Italia, no? If you're in the neighborhood, it would be rude not to visit."

Alcina's attention had been already tampered from Ishaan when she first saw Pablo out of her peripheral approach your group, but it was abruptly broken as she watched him leave Verona's side, claim your hand and bring it to his lips to pepper it with charming kisses, "Ishaan, pardon, but excuse me for a moment."

She didn't bother to wait for a response and with five long strides she was upon the scene in a blink, clearing her throat roughly, "Mister De La Rosa." She uttered pointedly, her eyes squinting slightly as he turned his gaze towards her.

Stiffly straightening his back, he risked one more brisk kiss to the back of your hand, "aiii, corro antes de ser azotada!"  (I must run before I get lashed!)

Pablo sped through that sentence so quickly it was hardly intelligible and skittered off in a flash without ever losing his smile.

"The ever insufferable flirt," Verona chuckled, "relax Alcina, we'd never let him get further."

Alcina reached for your hand now and graciously pulled you to her side.

It took another half hour for everyone to disperse after agreeing to the agenda of tomorrows trial for Ethan and Mia. You could not deny you were starting to get a little tired and Alcina was worn herself, it was almost 10 in the morning by now. She kept her arm securely around you as you trekked back to the manor, and you couldn't help but ask about what you saw between Pablo and Verona. Alcina explained they had been lovers at one point many years ago; Verona had been turned in 1837 at a ripe age of 62, and took on the Italian Matriarchy about 50 years later. Pablo was turned at 33 years of age in 1912. He and Verona met a couple years after; he was smitten on sight and chased her for a while, which she finally submitted to being caught in 1922. He was young and rambunctious and it made Verona feel alive, but he was also kind, charming, wickedly smart and a fast learner. Verona saw his potential and enjoyed having him at her side. They had a fiery love affair for roughly 6 years where he learned under Verona's reign, which in turn got him his spot on the clan throne in Spain after earning his respect with Mother Miranda in a large takeover. Ruling their prospective clans got in the way of their affair but they parted ways on pleasant and comfortable terms. They'd remained deeply caring friends ever since, though Pablo was always hinting about them reuniting.

"I honestly thought he batted for the other team, even though he was flirty." You confessed sheepishly.

Alcina smirked, "he does. He bats for every team. Pablo is a lover of anyone he finds attractive... And I mean anyone."

You glanced up at her and smirked, "did he ever make a pass at you?"

She returned your glance with a twisted grin, "once, and it did not go well for him."

All you could do was laugh, "oh please tell me this story!"

As Alcina was beaming with a radiant smile at your amusement and brief recollection of the events, her eyes caught something off about the entrance to the manor as it was coming into view, "draga, is that one of your birds perched on the gate?"

Turning your attention ahead, you narrowed your eyes. Yes, surely there was a large black object sat atop the towering steel gate.

"That's odd, none of them followed me down that I was aware of."

Your mind began to turn. 

Its large black wings spread and flapped happily upon your arrival and you smiled, studying its features in the dim haze of the day setting of the city lights you deduced who it was.

"Ebony, what on earth are you doing down here?"

You both received a few mellow caws as it shifted its head towards the manor, wordlessly ushering you to proceed. Alcina looked at you, you at her, and quickly made your way inside.

There was a bunch of chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen as you entered, neither of you stopped or said a word as you approached the sounds and to your utter astonishment, and Alcina's well hidden dismay, Malka was at the countertop with the girls gathered around a large basket.

Daniella was the first to notice you both and she hopped off her stool, "oh! Hi! Mother meet Malka!"

There was so much happening in your brain the utter fumbling catastrophe of thoughts about made you black out; you were befuddled Malka was here, curious beyond belief why she was here, and half amused beyond all reason and terrified how Alcina was about to react to this.

Luckily Malka could sense the colliding thoughts and emotions and in her brilliant wisdom and necessity to break the wavering tension, she chuckled.

"I do not mean to intrude, Lady Dimitrescu, and I will not be staying!" She smiled brightly, "I was merely dropping off some food for my ketzeleh she was supposed to get today when she came down... she did not however tell me she decided to make the trip early."

Malka winked at you and you felt pretty sheepish.

Alcina swallowed and straightened her posture in the most collected way imaginable, you could tell she was trying to find words but you figured this shock was plenty after today and you, too, should do a little damage control.

"Oh, Malka I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were getting a food basket together for me, otherwise I would have said something."

"It's alright though!" Daniella added, "she solved our grocery problem for you - that's what Bela and I were trying to do this morning while you were getting ready to leave, but we weren't sure what kinds of foods you liked, so we were lost, but Malka came to the rescue!"

You were smiling now but trying to keep composed, "h-how exactly?"

"Oh, Dani answered your phone when she called." Cassandra stated flatly.

Daniella's face went blank and you could watch the panic unfold in real time.

"W-well it was more of an accident," she began, "you left your phone on the counter, it rang, it scared me, and when I grabbed for it it just kind of answered itself and Malka just started talking so it would have been rude to hang up or not respond so - "

"It was all an honest mistake, but it did pan out in our favor," Bela recovered with a smile of her own, "we're very appreciative of her help and her unintentionally running our errands for us."

You wanted to start laughing but knew this was definitely not the time, so you nodded and went to hug your dear friend, "and you didn't have any trouble getting down here?"

"Mm, no. Dani gave her directions." Cassandra added as nonchalantly as before.

"Yes, the girls were very helpful as was Ebony." Malka hummed, "but as I said, I had not intended to stay as long as I have and I must really be on my way. My grandson has to leave my shop around noon to get to some business. So, my dearest ketzeleh I love you, be safe, text or call me whenever your time permits, and..." she took her gaze off you and turned her attention to Alcina who was remaining professionally composed, "it was a pleasure to have met your darling daughters, and an honor to glance upon the beauty of the Lady of the Underground. I hope we can have some time to really meet and get to know each other soon."

You watched as Malka bowed her head very gently and outstretched her hand for Alcina to shake. 

Brimming with far too many complicated emotions and words to count, Alcina took the old woman's hand and shook it gracefully, swallowing and returning a nod, "yes, yes as do I. Please, allow my daughters to escort you back to the church - "

"Oh, no need for that, I can find my way - "

"Please, Malka, I insist," Alcina said more firmly, though soft in nature, "it would grieve me terribly if something were to happen to you." She waved her hand at her girls and all three of them came promptly to Malka's side, "thank you for making the trip. Your generosity is greatly appreciated."

"You're not the only one who loves this very special girl." She winked, then looked to the girls at her side and held out her elbows, "alright me beauties, lead the way."

Daniella was the first to hook her arm in Malka's and Bela was next, goodbye's were given and the four of them were off.

The door closed to the manor and you waited a whole hell of a lot longer than you expected the silence to last, but you finally peered over to Alcina and cleared your throat.

"Yes?" Alcina replied coolly.

"You handled that really well, I'm proud of you."

She scoffed and before you could make a break for it she grabbed you and held you captive in her arms, "that was both wholly embarrassing and an unneeded shock to my system draga - "

"I'm sorry, I had no - "

"Yes, yes I know, you didn't know and how could either of us ever fathomed... however... I'm embarrassed she might think I'm a poor host not having sustenance for you in my home... It was piss poor planning on my part, but still."

"Piss poor," you repeated with a giggle, "you're starting to talk like me now."

Alcina grinned and kissed you feather light, "mmm, you're rubbing off on me in many ways."

"Even taking a liking to Malka, I see."

She narrowed her eyes, "well... she does seem sweet. She put herself in harms way to bring this to you so I can put my thorns aside for the time being."

"You can just put them away indefinitely, I promise."

"Fine. But please no more surprise visits, mm?"

You nodded.

"Good. Now, would you like to eat? I can prepare something for you."

Her offer was tempting, but you took your bottom lip between your teeth and let your gaze fall down to her figure, "well... honestly... what I would really like is to take you into your room and worship you in this dress. I can't tell you how it's haunted my dreams and fantasies since the moment we met."

Alcina's brows arched and her lips twisted into a coy smirk, "who am I to deny you your desires, draga mea?"

[yandereunsolved]

Hii Im not sure if youre taking requests rn but if you have the time I would love for a yandere Kit Walker hc set or a yandere post death Kyle Spencer fic where the reader tries to leave him at Misty’s :)

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of baby trapping, mention of murder of child(ren), descriptive gore

♡ It all started out like a cheesy romance movie. Your car broke down, and Kit just happened to be driving by. He fixed your car and invited you back to his shop. He ended up changing your oil and tires for free. It evolved into the two of you dating shortly after. You never saw the warning signs—none of them. You never saw through Kit's honeyed words and his charming smile. You would have been better off if you just listened to that tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to run while you still could.

♡ You were stuck at his shop all day. He had gone home to retrieve some tools and never came back. You got worried that something may have happened to him. You weren't prepared for the gory scene you found. A trail of blood led to your bedroom, where you found Kit passed out near the mutilated corpse of a woman. Your clothes were thrown all around him, and he was cuddling them in his sleep. You freaked out and shrieked, which woke him up. He desperately tried to explain it to you. He pleaded with you to just listen to him. You didn't. You ran and reported him to the police. A part of your mind did want to believe him. The more time that passed, the more you believed in his innocence. Only you were wrong. He did murder all those people that he was accused of killing—over fifteen. He did it all for you. That is the secret he will take to the grave with him.

♡ He was put in Briarcliff Asylum while awaiting his trial. You were allowed to visit him, although it terrified you. You had heard such bloodcurdling stories about that place from the few patients that had survived it. Your visits with him always had to be monitored. Sometimes, though, no one would. That confused you, but you never verbalized it. Kit just threatened to kill the nuns if they interrupted your time with him. All of the nuns thought he must have been possessed by some lust devil. He just could never seem to get enough of you. Day and night, the only thing that came out of his mouth was praise about you—how pretty you looked, how vulnerable you were, how he had to protect you from the vile world that threatened to taint your purity.

♡ It was irritating, really. Protecting your visage wasn't easy when so many people tried to interrupt him. He had to get rid of Grace. It was really her fault. She just shouldn't have been flirting with him. She shouldn't have tried to come onto him. She shouldn't have ignored his warnings. He said multiple times that he was a man who was happily dating such a beautiful thing as yourself. Grace just didn't seem to listen to that. She even had the gall to interrupt one of your meetings with each other. He was in the middle of showing you how much he missed you. That was the last straw.

He made it seem like it was Doctor Arden's fault with a botched sterilization. He can clean that up himself. He's a big boy, and Kit isn't helping. He can't make himself look guilty in any way, of course. He could never let you know how much of a monster he really was.

♡ He has kept a ring in his pocket since the day he met you. The ring belonged to his grandfather. It's practically a family heirloom. He so desperately wants to put it on your finger. He just wants everyone to know that you belong to him—his darlin', his one and only. The thing is extremely shiny, too. It'd look so good on your hand. 

♡ That's not the only jewelry he has for you. He has a lot more tucked away in his trusty, rusty old red tool box. He stole all of it from the people he killed for you. He plans on giving it all to you as wedding gifts. He'll fix all of the pieces, of course. He'll wipe the blood away and make sure none of it stains your beautiful figure. He also stole their money from their bank accounts. He has more than enough to keep you both financially stable until you die. He would never let his little house spouse work with some other man. The thought of it just makes his hand itch to reach for an axe. 

♡ He fantasizes about what your wedding would look like. You'd look like a god(dess) walking down the aisle toward him. You wouldn't need anyone but him and the priest. He would kill the priest after. You wouldn't know that. It's just that he can't let anybody see such a holy sight except for him. He wouldn't want to risk somebody making an off comment or lusting over your figure. 

Your body is yours and yours alone. It's also his, if you'll allow him to have it. 

He can't wait till the wedding night. He has it all planned out. After your dinner, you'll both bathe together. He'll set the mood. You both will have each other for the first time in marriage. It's something that makes his mouth water when he thinks about it.

♡ If you can get pregnant... He will immediately try for a baby with you. He just thinks your belly would look so adorable swollen up with a mixture of you and him. You'd be completely dependent on him. You wouldn't be able to leave, and he'd be the best father to your children. Not to mention, he can teach them how to be protective of you. It'll be absolutely perfect! You'll have no way to escape!

♡ If you are unable to get pregnant... Kit doesn't want you to worry. He'll just pick a random kid off the street if he needs to. He'll kidnap a baby from the hospital and say he adopted them. He could go the legal route for adoption as well, if that would better please you. Anything to keep you with him until you both die in each other's arms.

♡ He ideally wants anywhere from two to five kids. He's always wanted one girl and one boy. He'd ultimately want five because you'd never leave him all alone with five children. Sure, you could run off with two, three, and a slim chance of four, but five? No. You have absolutely no chance of escaping him, then. Unless you wanted to abandon them and him, that is. That's fine! He'll just threaten their lives. He'll kill one of them if it convinces you to stay. There are no lengths he wouldn't go to to prove his unending love for you.

♡ He already has your shared casket picked out. He picked it out within the first week of both of you dating. He's already written both of your wills with your future children in mind. He has the plot of land picked out and everything. He may not be a rich man, but he'd spend every penny he has to make sure your shared resting place is envious to the heavens.

♡ The day he is released is a day that will live in infamy within his mind. He finally knew that he had to tie you to him, both literally and figuratively. He understood how fickle humanity is. He needs to save you from the dangers and trauma he faced while in there. The same Kit that came into the asylum isn't the same one that came out. He's a lot more open about his obsessive and possessive tendencies. That crazed look in his hazel irises isn't clouded by his sweet and homey nature anymore. You could see it; you can see it now. You couldn't escape.

♡ He doesn't allow you to leave the house for the first few months. If you try to escape, then it'll be even longer before he allows you to roam free without many restraints. You are trapped within a prison of his own desire. He gaslights you into believing it's for the best. You know how dangerous the world is out there. He's been through the asylum. He knows. He just wants to protect you. Can't you see that? He's traumatized and wants to protect you from that trauma. So that means locking you away in your shared house and keeping you there. Don't worry about boredom. Kit will buy you anything that will make a smile appear on your features. He's addicted to it. You have no shortage of books and other trinkets to keep you entertained while he is out working. Just not anything that you could use to communicate with people. The last thing he needs is you getting that silly little idea in your head to call the police on him. 

♡ After about a year in captivity, assuming you haven't made numerous escape attempts, he'll propose to you and allow you to take short excursions with him. The wedding is just as he thought. It's just you, him, and the priest in the middle of the woods, only a few miles from your shared house. You may not have any guests or family, and he may have foraged the wedding certificate by signing fake people as witnesses, but your marriage is still real. A piece of paper doesn't define your love for each other. Of course, he murders the priest after. He chopped him up into tiny pieces with his axe, soaked his body in a mixture of chemicals, and then left those pieces of him at the bottom of lakes, rivers, and streams at least twenty miles away from the house. If you ask him what he's doing, he'll simply say that he's doing some spring cleaning. He's just taking out a bunch of old trash, that's all.

♡ Even when you gain more privileges, Kit still always has an eye on you. He's always close to you. He'll give you the illusion of space and privacy if he needs to. If you distance yourself too much from him, then he'll sweet talk you into letting him into your space once again. You don't feel good? It's because you haven't let him make you feel good in a while. You feel depressed because you aren't around him as much. You're isolating yourself from him. That's the problem. The problem is you. He'll be right here when you inevitably crawl back to him. He'll shush you and pepper kisses all along your body. You'll realize that you need him even more than he needs you. 

♡ Give it two to five years and a lot of begging, and he'll let you help him while he works. He doesn't let you do any hard labor or interact with the customers. No, honey, he keeps you safe and sound in the back of the shop. You can clean his tools, sort his things, and perhaps even handle the money if he trusts you enough. It may look mundane to most people, but you crave it. You've been starved of any autonomy for the past few years. Being able to control a small workplace is like being somewhere safe, somewhere without Kit. You can allow your mind to drift off and fool yourself into thinking that you are safe. You can just imagine that Kit is nowhere to be found. You can almost taste freedom on your tongue during those fleeting moments.

♡ If you ask for help from someone, he kills them and burns their bodies to ashes in the hearth in your home. He finds it extremely romantic. He'll cuddle into you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He'll nip at your skin and mark you up. He's just a bit jealous. He's just a little more possessive. He can't believe that you thought someone else was better than him. He can't believe you wanted to leave him. He'll show you how good you have it. He'll just have to show you again how good he makes you feel—inside and out. The vile dead bodies of the people who have tried to help you take you away from him will keep you both warm at night. He'll take you right in front of the fireplace. He'll claim you again near the sizzling embers of those who dared get near you.

♡ Kit Walker is still as in love with you as the day he laid eyes on you. He has fallen even further into the depths of his own obsession with you. He's ready to take the next step and start a family with you. He can't wait to see your little ones running around the home. He can't wait to see them graduate with you. He can't wait to grow old with you; his devotion to you never faltering. He just needs you to be with him forever, even into the afterlife. He loves you. He'd kill the devil and every god in existence if he had to, just to keep you in his arms forever more.

-‘๑’-

ׂׂૢ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @marchsfreakshow @violet1737

-‘๑’-

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN 14 Bonus SS (Animate)

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! Source: Light novel volume 14, Bonus paper Store: Animate Synopsis: Keith’s POV of some of his scenes with Katarina in Chapter 1 of LN14. Translation: maboroshi-no

Translation below ⮟

I, Keith Claes, was heading today to the castle by carriage with my older sister Katarina to attend the Sorcier Foundation Anniversary party.

Since Katarina had just been involved in a dangerous incident, I was uneasy about taking her to a place with many people. I wished the person herself would be careful… I took a look at Katarina sitting in front of me.

Looking out the window, she seemed to have been thinking of something for a while. She was probably thinking about what was coming next.

Katarina: What a shame…

Katarina suddenly said this.

Her thoughts most likely escaped her mouth. Katarina would sometimes do that but… What in the world had she been thinking about?

Keith: What is a shame?

When I asked this, the somewhat flustered Katarina said…

Katarina: Well… I was just thinking that it was such a waste that you didn't take advantage of that overflowing sexiness of yours. What a shame.

She said such a rude thing.

No one thought this more than me!

I was told by many women that I had incredible sexiness or something, some also got dazed when our eyes met, but it didn't affect at all the most crucial person: the one I loved.

Keith:  I don't take advantage of my sexiness? …...Well, you're completely right. Being told that right to my face somehow feels like a blow.

Even more so when it was my beloved herself who told me. It was way too sad.

Katarina: Sorry.

Katarina honestly apologized. It was just like her.

I awkwardly smiled, and…

Keith: It's too late to worry about it, so it's fine.

I readily forgave her. Then,

Keith: Since you were quiet, so I thought you were properly thinking about what's coming next. But it seems like I was completely wrong.

I threw in what I had been wondering about.

Katarina: Aah~ Umm, sorry.

Katarina's apology sounded like she was just saying it.

Based on this, she clearly didn't understand, so I pressed on.

Keith: Big Sister, do you understand that this is an important party we're going to?

Katarina: Hmm…Yes, I know that, but… I'll psych myself up and do it properly once we get to the party, so just let me relax for now. I'll only chill out when it is just the two of us. If I keep myself psyched at all times, I'll probably get exhausted right away since it's me we're talking about. Please!

Katarina said this with an upturned gaze and little wet eyes.

If she had aimed for that effect, she would have been a perfect villainess leading men by the nose, but she did it unconsciously, which was terrifying.

Faced with that unconscious villainess, I raised the white flag immediately.

Then, that unconscious villainess did it again afterward.

During the party, when I got irritated because I didn't like seeing Katarina being strangely perceptive of Geordo, she stroked my head, and…

Katarina: Your pouting was so cute that I unconsciously stroked it like in the olden days.

She said this and stuck out her tongue, which tested my reason. She was so cute that if I hadn't been in the party venue, I might have unconsciously taken her into an embrace.

Then, for the final, when we were alone in the resting room,

Katarina: You're really amazing, Keith.

Katarina: You've been diligently studying foreign countries and diligently using this knowledge in a public setting. You're so amazing and splendid.

Katarina: Even though you were so cute when you were little, you've become so cool and splendid…

She said something that sounded just like sweet words, then started defenselessly sleeping right in front of me!

To that Katarina,

Keith: You little devil! Villainess!

I reflexively shouted this in my heart.

While we were alone in a room, she said something like that and defenselessly fell asleep. I couldn't believe her.

I love you, you know? Not as my family but as a woman.

I properly voiced my feelings to her before. But she most likely completely forgot about it.

Still, there were many difficulties at the moment and Katarina also seemed to have some circumstances that she was hiding. She told me that once she sorted those out, she would properly consider my feelings. I had no choice but to wait for that first.

I walked to the sofa where Katarina was defenselessly sleeping, leaned in, and peered into her calm sleeping face.

I softly extended my hand and lightly touched her soft smooth cheek but she didn't seem to wake up at all.

She was really sound asleep.

At a time like this, if it had been Geordo, he might have kissed this sleeping beauty.

I fixedly stared at the pink lips in front of me.

Just once before, I had touched them with my lips and I already knew they were soft. 

I gently touched those soft lips with my finger, then brought my finger to my lips. An indirect kiss. It was the best the current me could do.

I somehow felt like I did something incredibly wrong, so heat rose on my face.

After a little while, the girls led by Mary irrupted in the room and drove me out. But until then, I enjoyed Katarina's sleeping face to my heart's content.

[laineystein]

i personally don’t support war and find blindly serving any military awful. I don’t mean to be rude i just wonder why you think that defending israel is the only way to garuntee jewish safety? that feels like taking responsibility off of other countries and leaving diaspora jews vunerable. im really just anti military but this conflict has been awful and i hope for the safety of all jewish people israelis muslims and palestinians but no safety to a government of right wingers

I admire your bravery in reaching out when I don’t have anon turned on. Few would, so good on you.

First off, I’m not serving blindly. None of the soldiers I’m serving with are serving blindly. We all believe in what we’re doing and we’re going to keep doing it until the mission is done and all of our people are safe again. I could get into the nuances of conscription and reserves but I’m not going to. With confidence, succinctly, none of us are serving blindly. (I’m also employed by the IDF outside of reserves so I assure you that I, in particular, love my army and believe in what we stand for.)

I don’t *think* that defending Israel is the only way to guarantee Jewish safety. I know it is. We are a country surrounded by homicidal antisemites. Hamas has stated that they will continue doing what they did on October 7th until we cease to exist. There is no peace for the Israeli or Palestinian people with Hamas still in power. So we’re destroying their tunnels and we’re rooting them out and we’re here for our hostages. Let’s play devils advocate - if Israel didn’t exist do you all honestly think that Hamas and all other Iran proxies would just allow Jews and the Western world to live in peace? Because they wouldn’t. Y’all should be grateful that we’re here because if we weren’t, they’d be killing Jews elsewhere. Don’t let them fool you into believing this is about land. They. Hate. Jews. And Israel is the only place in the world where Jews can truly defend themselves. My grandfather survived the Holocaust BH and he always says that they didn’t have a way to defend themselves in the camps. They weren’t organized. They didn’t have weapons. They didn’t have the upper hand. Well now we’re organized and we’re armed and we’re trained. Never again will we be helpless - thanks to Israel.

“That feels like taking the responsibility off of other countries” - what responsibility? To protect Jews? To persecute Hamas? Feh! None of that will ever happen. Not once has any other country *saved* the Jewish people. And, actually, often times people are turning a blind eye to our persecution - like most of the world did on and after and ever since October 7th. Like they did during the Holocaust. Like they have every time Hamas and PIJ indiscriminately fire rockets at Israel. As I said, never again will our safety be in anyone else’s hands because the world has shown us time and time again that they do not care.

“Leaving diaspora Jews vulnerable” is an insane way to blame the victim. WE WERE ATTACKED. But do you think we needed to be attacked for people to hate Jews? No, this has just empowered them to do so out loud. There has always been a correlation between anti-Israel hate and violence against Jews in the diaspora. In May of 2021 when 4000+ rockets were fired into Israel, goyim in the diaspora took this as permission to act out their antisemitic fantasies. Again when WE WERE ATTACKED. Don’t forget - People were celebrating our massacre before Israel even set foot in Gaza. Don’t let the world fool you into thinking that Israel defending ourselves has created antisemitism in the diaspora, it’s only encouraged it.

I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume you are not Jewish. I don’t know how to explain this conflict to you - a conflict I have lived my entire life (like my parents and grandparents before me). I don’t know how to share my pain and grief and the pain and grief of my tribe in a way that will make sense. But I’m done needing to justify my existence as a Jew. Israel is done justifying its existence as the homeland of the Jewish people. History has shown us that our survival is our responsibility and I/we won’t apologize for it. The same people that are too cowardly to stand up for us when our people are killed and raped can keep their mouths shut when we defend ourselves.

And it seems like maybe you didn’t read this post that I shared today which really would have answered a lot of this without me needing to go on a sleep deprived rant.

[auteureobscure]

Enigma [Jungkook ff] Trailer

Life was fun you were living it to its fullest, finally a chance away from home, it was like heaven. You did had an attitude back then but little did you know that in midst of all this you provoked the wrong person. It was not intentional rather you even had a little crush on him when you first saw him at the starting of your high school. You still vaguely remember seeing him for the first time on the stage participating in a debate competition where his way of speaking, his voice and attitude was what attracted you.

You never understood how he even gets all these girls, he was a pretty average looking boy with cute bunny teeth, messy hair coming to school in disrupted uniform. The thing which made him stood out was his attitude, an attitude boys were jealous of, the confidence with which he carried himself like he owns the place, the way he speaks his thoughts and can almost read anyone’s face. Sometimes his way of speaking sends chills down peoples spine as to how can someone at such a young age understands the world, the human psychology so well. He just knows the right words for every situation. He was a mystery to everyone, where he lives, his family, his past everything was such a mystery and honestly you never wanted to unfold it. Rumours were that he belonged to some powerful family from underworld, he would sometimes skip weeks of classes and then suddenly show up one fine day, a few times often he would show up with new fresh wound, sometimes with a grievous scar. After sometimes you even started believing these rumours about him, like somethings were really off about him so why not to believe this theory.

———————————————————————————————————

“Looks like you have nothing to say. Well then if you’ve any self respect left Jungkook then stay away from me or you’ll regret it. Farewell” you said quietly, your voice stiff and stern holding your back. Jungkook opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. He was stunned, not because of you but because of himself. How the hell did he allowed this to happen, how come he failed, how come someone questioned his self respect. He was not angry, he was fumed, he was conflicted, someone made him question his authority and he was not able to do anything, except to stare at her as she confidently making her way out of the room. A part of him wants to end it here only, finish her, strangle her to death, but another part of him the part he keeps hidden from the world is aching to take away that confidence of her, her passion, her desire, her self esteem everything. Jungkook wants to rip everything off of her before making her feel what actually loosing self respect looks like.

That unfortunate day as you made your way out of the room, sealing your fate inside, one mistake was about to cost you your everything. You were oblivious of the demon who left the house that day. He was not Jungkook, he was the devil himself who has set his eyes on its prey.

———————————————————————————————————-

“He..helppp. Who, who are you” you tried to shout but came in like a mewl. You were looking so pathetic right now, so powerless, so out of control, the only thing you wished for is all of this turn out to be a another nightmare and that when you wake up, you’ll be in the safety of your bed. Your body started to loose its consciousness, slowly you could feel yourself slipping away from reality. A few times he jolted your lifeless body up to keep you dragging, you can see the car in vision now. He opens the door to slowly place you on the backseat, he bends to pick up something you can feel is a rope. Wait he is tying you up with this rope. This is not a dream, you can feel the sharp surface of rope cutting through your skin.

“Please I’m sorry. Leave me alone” you begged flinching in pain as the ropes kept cutting your skin.

“Leave you? Baby I did not go through all this to leave you” he laughed under his breath and continued to tie your legs, you were left with nothing but to plead till he was finished tying you up. All this while you could only hear his huffs of air skin. He was trying his best not to snap and break your neck, your voice was infuriating him, his tensed muscles always clenching here and there.

“Tell do you remember me?” he suddenly snapped removing his mask. With the little luminescence squinting your eyes you looked at his visible silhouette. Your eyes widened in shock and terror. Your eyes didn’t wanted to believe you, your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched the person in front of you.

——————————————————————————————————-

If anyone wants to be a part of this fics taglist do inbox me or comment down here. XOXO

[da-shrimping-station]

Childish Jealousy L card

[ edit: i've read the card prologue and added my thoughts under the cut + a bit of a rant ]

my initial thoughts:

Just a shot in the dark yk,,,,

Will the card's H scene be them being a pair of high schoolers getting frisky in an empty classroom after school?

Yk, fucky wucky magic and Levi's personality aside

That's,,,,

That's pretty tame? Imo at least

Huh,,,,,

I've done and seen worse when i was in high school

childish jealousy is really a fitting name for this L card cuz that's the whole motivation for it 😭

can't believe he put the entirety of Gehenna castle to sleep and strut around like they own the place (also Foras splashing tea on the sleeping Sitri lmaoooo u bitch)

also saying that Asmodeus is in charge of regulating that particular substance,,,,,interesting

bruh Levi just Thanos snapped Minhyeok into non-existence jgjdhfjsnsndngkdn poor baby

so MC is mildly aware of what's going on

the pair go about the school day w MC being an absolute total klutz (idk if it's because of how the dream is set up or if that's how the day actually went but holy shit bestie how are you that disorganised????)

Levi acting like a disgruntled mom friend is not what i expected

o yea he also strangled a student but eeeehh 🤷‍♀️

"your heart goes thump when you're being as honest as a devil" something something,,,okayyy maybe that's when MC became more honest about their desires 🤔

and the dreamspace yeeted all the other students away

heh people really went off the rails when they saw the words "childish" and "Children's Day" on the banner without knowing the context

Children's Day was only mentioned in passing when MC was reminiscing and from the bit of research I did on the holiday, when kids turn 13, that's their last time to celebrate it cuz they're no longer children

so yea children have NOTHING to do w the event AT ALL (obviously) (i still stand by what i said in one of my reblogs re: this event when it was first announced)

so it really is just a role playing scenario in a school setting w some mild uniform kink maybe (i saw a post of part 2 and MC was turned back into an adult)

and like, they didn't even do anything when MC was their high school self 😭

eeeeyyyyy glad to know that my hunch was correct 🦐 still won't be pulling for this card but I appreciate the art and the ass hehehehe

[fandomonetwo]

i beggest thou pardon — eddie munson

▸summary: you have an issue. eddie has a talent at acting. you have to get rid of a really sketchy guy. he has to get people to stop making up rumours about him and chrissy. a perfect problem. 

▸characters: eddie munson, fem!reader, chrissy cunningham, male!oc

▸tw: creep guy, borderline sa, an adult word or two

▸a/n: this came to me in a dream. it was a great dream. i was sad it was over

MANY OF THE students at Hawkins would say that Percy Thorn was a pretty good choice of boyfriend. He was a very tall, slightly lanky yet strong art student with a charming personality, a dazzling smile, and a 1984 Harley Davidson FXRT. Yes, he was quite a choice.

He was also an incredible egomaniac.

For the past week and a half, Percy Thorn had not once left you alone if he could help it. Lunch times, he was there. Art class, he was there. Maths and English, he was there. He was like carbon dioxide: always there, yet never wanted. 

Well, this past couple of days, he’d gone above and beyond in trying his best to ‘get you’. He’d tried the flirting, leaning against inanimate objects (and animate objects, such as poor Joseph with the glasses), pick up lines, asking his friends to ask you out for him. Nothing seemed to work. So, he tried the next option.

Touching.

First, it was an arm around your shoulders. Then pats on the head. Then a hand grab. But today, he’d been rather bold, going as far as to place a hand on your thigh. When he did that, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Oh, boy. You had just told Percy Thorn that you had a boyfriend. That did not exist. That was nowhere to be found. That currently had his residential address set in Narnia. You had to find a boyfriend, stat.

When lunch rolled around, you burst into the cafeteria wide-eyed, panicked, and panting. Your eyes then landed on one set person that could quite possibly guarantee your safety from Mr.-let-me-lick-my-lips-and-hope-I-look-sexy.

You beelined for the table he was currently sitting at, taking the empty seat next to him, smoothing out your skirt. 

“I’m really sorry, but I need a boyfriend.”

The man blinked once, twice, gaping like a fish. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before blurting, “I beggest thou pardon?”

It was probably the stupidest thing Eddie Munson could have said. But he was discussing Hellfire, and he was speaking in old English, and then he remembered he had a Shakespeare assignment due tomorrow, and the dominoes just kept falling. 

Eddie had never thought that someone such as yourself, a rather ethereal being that was currently spending her angelic time at a school such as this, could ever taint her reputation by breathing the same air as him, never mind sitting next to him. He was a little taken aback, evidently. 

Gareth, who was sitting opposite him, merely dropped his head rather heavily on the table, banging it a couple of times before sighing. Jeff merely pat him a few times on the back, muttering “I know, dude, I know” to the poor boy. You and Eddie both watched this with rather similar facial expressions, allowing Eddie time to process what you’d just said.

“I’m so sorry,” he backtracked. “I meant to say... what?”

“Percy Thorn won’t leave me alone, and I told him I had a boyfriend, and he didn’t believe, me, and he won’t believe me until I show him, and I know that you’re a kind of freak, no offence, but if you pretended to date me, he’d probably get the message and leave me alone because he would never try to mess with you, what with you being the devil’s spawn or something, I don’t know, but I suppose the basic gist of this is, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend so he can stop touching me?”

How you managed to say that in one breath was rather impressive, Eddie had to admit. He also had to admit that he was, in fact, not listening until you mentioned touching. His eyes narrowed when he heard that and he pursed his lips. 

See, he had his own little problem. Someone had seen Chrissy and him talking at one point in time, and now they had spread the rumour that the two were know a thing, meaning that Chrissy’s anxiety had skyrocketed when people whispered, and Eddie was getting into a lot more fights than he was before the rumours began. He’d only just had a black eye fade, and already had a threat for another one. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to go blind.

“Pissing off Percy Thorn, huh?” he murmured thoughtfully. “Hmmmm...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, dude, take the deal,” Gareth hissed, not lifting his head from the table. 

“Sure, why not?” the metalhead smirked, and you nearly fell backwards from relief. 

“Okay,” you breathed, ready to cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, relax.” He raised a hand to your waist, halting and asking permission with his eyes. At your soft smile and small nod, he wrapped an arm around your lower back, peeking two fingers underneath your ABBA themed baby tee. You shivered at the cool temperature of his silver rings, and were quite flustered at the heat of his skin. It was a rather beautiful contrast. 

You were a rather physically affectionate person, and were rarely uncomfortable with touch unless someone else was. But this was an Eddie-initiated thing, so you leaned into his side, placing your head just below his collarbone. His hair smelt nice, and it was gorgeously soft. He had great curls. 

“Wow, your hair is like, ridiculously nice,” you muttered. He chuckled. 

“Thanks, doll. It’s my three-in-one shampoo,” he joked. You cracked a small smile at that, it dropping as soon as you heard footsteps and turned to see the douchebag himself strutting over. 

“Well, well, well.” Percy Thorn also had a very silky voice. He could’ve been a voice actor. “We find ourselves in a predicament at the moment.” 

Gareth lifted his head from the table, his eyes slits as he glared through his own brunette curls at the leather-clad artist. “And what would that be, o mighty one?”

Percy turned up his lips, looking Gareth up and down, turning back to Eddie. “The devil’s spawn has his hands on my girl.”

Eddie raised his lips in a sarcastic grin, cocking his head. “Last I checked, she was my girl.” Eddie tightened his arm to sell the point, and you raised your hand to his, lacing your fingers. You really wanted to vomit when Percy said ‘his girl’.

Percy scoffed. “Oh, please. No one would be caught dead sharing your seat on the bus, let alone allowing themselves to be called your girl.”

“Yeah, well, the reason she is my girl is because we shared a seat on the bus, so I guess luck was on my side.”

Damn, Eddie was good at lying. You smirked a little at the little made up story. You nuzzled into his neck a little, grabbing his attention. 

“I have to go. Mrs. Craig won’t handle tardiness from anyone, not for the sake of algebra.” You swung your legs over the seat, hand still interlaced. He did the same, only with one leg. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, delighting in Percy’s absolute look of fury.

“I shall see you soon, my heavenly rose,” he bade farewell, sounding like one of the characters from the play he was meant to be analysing, Twelfth Night. You giggled a little. Even though you were only pretending, Eddie was rather funny. 

“I await the chance, fair knight,” you returned, curtseying rather clumsily. He smiled back at you. You were quite pretty when you smiled. 

You began to walk away, avoiding Percy’s look of rage when you passed. You couldn’t walk very far however, when you gasped, stopping in your tracks. Tears appeared in your eyes. 

Percy smirked, the spot where he’d slapped your butt still tingling. You’d never wear this skirt in public again. Your hand flew to the spot, trying to stop something, anything, everything from happening all at once. You spun around, hunched over a little as you kept your legs together, as though you were a cowering puppy. 

Eddie’s smile faded, replaced with a rather scathing look. The look of fear, no, distress that was on your face had him reeling. He grabbed the nearest thing, which was his lunch tray, shot up, flung his arms back, and brought the tray right on Percy’s ear. 

The art student crumbled like a sack of potatoes, yelling as he clutched his ear. Eddie stood in front of you protectively, lunch tray still clutched rather tightly in his hand. 

“You bastard.”

“Mr. Munson!” The whole cafeteria swung from looking at Eddie to looking at the teacher that had just shouted. “Principal’s office! Now!”

The brunette sighed, dropping the tray. Gareth sputtered.

“Wha- but Percy literally just assaulted her!”

“You too!” She didn’t even know his last name. 

“That’s not fair.” You were trying to help, but it was hard when you were trying not to burst into tears. 

“You know what? Life’s not fair. All three of you, go!” She pointed in the direction of the principal’s office Percy’s friends rushed to help their fallen mate.

Eddie stuck close to you the whole walk to the principal’s office. “Welp, that was an eventful relationship.” He tried joking, but it didn’t crack a smile this time.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I got you both in trouble.”

“Nah,” Gareth waved his hand, dismissing you. “It was worth it. Seeing Thorn fold like that was funny. Plus,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Eddie’s got a girlfriend.”

“Pretend girlfriend.” Eddie cleared his throat turning a little red. Gareth shrugged and walked a bit in front of them. The metalhead turned to you, sheepishly running his hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry about him, and that whole tray smack thing.”

“It’s okay, for both things.” You said quietly. “But, uh, you wouldn’t mind being my pretend boyfriend for a little longer, would you? I’m a little paranoid now.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Eddie grinned like the cheshire cat. “How about I drop you home to solidify the story?”

You smiled at that. “I’d really love that.”

Besides, he could use your help on that assignment.

[one-idea]

I have the headcanon that Ace loves the ocean and water and just all of that.

Saying this, I think it leads to some great fic ideas.

- Maybe there was a river in the forest that was free of dangerous animals and he went swimming in it. Maybe once Sabo came along the two of them would swim together, and when Luffy came along he would try his best to join in. Maybe once Sabo died the river fell to the same fate as the treehouse, a place too painful to return to.

- Ace is a devil fruit user, and obviously this means he cannot swim. I think that once this realization set in there would be a lot of panic since he just lost basically a big part of his life. I think this could lead to some really good angst and (forgive me if I’m wrong I have not read Ace’s novel) especially since he is alone with a stranger on some random island.

- I know it’s canon that he’s jumped into the water after Luffy, but I also think that with this headcanon he would do that unprompted. “Omg it’s hot out I’m gonna go swim” “ACE YOU CANT SWIM STOP” “oh no!”

- This bit is a little more self indulgent but I think it would have been really cool and impactful if Ace had a Viking funeral.

Anyways, sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or if I got too rambly :D

This bursts but is also so comical.

Ace probably did grow up loving to swim. Him and Sabo having a secret swimming hole is very cute.

(I’ve never been clear. Devil fruit users can’t swim in salt water or all water. Because I just watched Chopper swim around in a swimming pool no problem, so my assumption is that fresh water is alright but salt water will kill them)

With that understanding in mind if the swimming hole was fresh water Luffy could have joined them.

Sabo and Ace got used to having to pull Luffy out of the Sea or Estuaries (where salt and fresh water mix) they both became excellent swimmers. You have to be when you’re constantly doing water rescues for you little brother.

On Sixis Ace probably tried to swim his way out at least once and almost drowned for his efforts (this was before he ate the fruit)

Afterwards he did have to mourn not being able to swim. It was a big part of him. And now who’s going to save Luffy? (Yes his little brother is on a different island but it’s always been his and Sabo’s job, and when Sabo died it fell to him. Taking care of Luffy is so engrained that it’s one of his first concerns)

He likes Deuce but the raft makes him a little nervous because while his new powers are going to power it and get them off this island (theoretically) if the raft brakes he’s relying completely on Deuce to get them both to shore. That’s a lot of trust to put in someone you just meet. Especially for Ace. It’s a big moment in their relationship for him (Deuce does not know this) because if the raft breaks Deuce would struggle to get himself back to shore, let alone Ace (the currents are awful) but he’s promised to do it and Ace believes him.

Once they get off the island Deuce gets put in Ace duty. Ace has always been an amazing swimmer and he often forgets he can’t swim anymore.

It’s a running joke in the Spades that Deuce doesn’t wear a shirt because he has to jump after their captain so often.

Deuce originally got pretty upset with Ace “are you trying to die?” Like he can understand forgetting the first few times but come on! But slowly Ace opens up and tells him about his little brother and their childhood and how much Ace loved swimming. Suddenly Deuce doesn’t mind fetching his captain as much. And if he check each island they visit for a fresh water swimming hole that’s his business.

This continues on the Moby Dick. Ace will jump in after other Devil fruit user and get scolded “Ace you’ve had your fruit of over a year! How do you keep ‘forgetting?’”

Ace: “it’s a force of habit”

This is how people (Thatch, Marco, and the over commanders) find out about Luffy.

When Ace runs into Luffy in Alabasta it’s force of habit to jump in after his kid brother. The crew would be more exasperated if Luffy and Chopper didn’t jump after each other as well. Their devil fruit users often forget that the sea wants them dead.

The idea of a Viking funeral is sick. But I don’t think he’d get on just because it’s the Red Hair Pirates who bury them and they don’t know Ace that well. Deuce probably does a symbolic one when he visits the grave.

[quinloki]

Quin's Terrible Two's

Here we are at the back half of the Tumblrversary event \o/ The polls are closed, but drabbles will be going up the rest of the month =3

The votes have been counted, the results have been assessed! Now it's time for What Happens Because of All of That <3

So without further ado -- /Runs the fuck away!/

Resounding Single Victory

CW: dubious consent was the intent, but it does read very non-con so please tread carefully, forced orgasms, forced oral, fingering, string control, impact play, rough sex, double penetration, triple penetration, bondage, Trebol's devil fruit is utilized and it is disgusting. Disgusting and hot and I can't believe I wrote this.

DEAD DOVE - I'm SNOT kidding around here.

You could see the water from your vantage point. It wasn’t something you saw as often as people might think, living in Dressrosa. The rocky outcroppings around the island kept the ocean line out of view for most of the inhabitants. Unless you lived or worked near the bridge to the Green Bit, you just didn’t ever really see it.

Now, however, you could.

So close, and so dreadfully far away.

The string at the back of your neck walked your body to the edge of the rocky outcrop, and you were sure for a moment that you were going to be simply walked off the edge. A nearly merciful end considering the person controlling you was Donquixote Doflamingo, king and god of Dressrosa.

His laugh dances around you like cracks of a whip and you can feel the pain of it lick against your skin. A fear of pain to come, maybe.

“You did better than I expected,” he hums in amusement. It’s hard to say if he means the words genuinely or not, but the tension turns cold as Trebol’s laugh cuts through it.

The sound alone is enough to make your stomach sink, but the cold thick sensation of snot between your toes makes your skin crawl. You doubt there’s anything you could say, choosing to bite your lip inside of letting a desperate plea to pass your lips.

You could beg Doflamingo to take you for himself. Play to his ego and his vanity and it wouldn’t take much, but a single misstep could make whatever fate currently awaiting you far worse. You were already on thin ice for not having stroked Trebol’s ego earlier.

He was, after all, one of Doffy’s precious family members, and you couldn’t think of something nice to say about him when prompted. You tried to get the conversation to go in a different direction, but in the end you weren’t satisfied with how the night had gone.

One didn’t dawdle when it concerned Doflamingo, and you’d set out to leave the island as soon as you’d left the party.

Maybe you’d been too hasty in leaving the party. Maybe you hadn’t been quick enough in gathering your things. Maybe you never should’ve bothered to gather your things, or linger at the party in the first place.

Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Trebol’s mucus was sticky and slick at the same time, crawling up your legs underneath your pants. Once it was up to your thighs you had control of your body again, but you weren’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper the words while the two men leer at you silently. Trebol’s power is ripping your pants as it slips and wriggles beneath the band of your underwear.

“For what, my dear?” Doflamingo questions, his hand tilting your chin back so you’re forced backward to look up at him before he leans down to loom over you.

“For… For not finding Tre-Trebol attractive.” You whimper the words feeling your underwear ripping as the horrid slick crawls under your shirt. “I didn’t want to lie, my king.”

“Mmm,” gripping your shirt he tears it away as Trebol’s mucus pushes your bra up. The horrid slime kneads and fondles your breasts, pulling your arms behind your back and lifting you up into the air until you’re almost level with Doflamingo. “We do appreciate honesty, my dear.”

Doflamingo’s finger slips into your slit without warning, teasing your clit just before mucus snaps across your ass like a whip. You scream in surprise, pain, and pleasure. Fear grips you after, unable to close your mouth and realizing his strings are keeping it open. If you struggle against the strings they could cut you, so you close your eyes and keep your mouth open.

The cold goo snaps across your ass, Trebol’s horrid laugh filling the silence between. One of Doflamingo’s long fingers pushes into your pussy as something presses against your tongue. You realize with revulsion that it’s Trebol’s snot, moving against your tongue like a finger.

The tension of the strings in your mouth leaves and Doflamingo eases a second finger inside of you, large hand against your face. He makes sure he has your attention, rolling his thumb against your clit.

“Suck on it,” he commands, not missing the revulsion that crosses your face. “Do so willingly and he won’t fuck your honest throat.”

If you throw up you’re going to be executed, so you try to ignore what it is you’re rolling your tongue against before forcing your lips against it. Tears delight your king, so you don’t worry about them as they slip down your cheeks, moaning against the thing in your mouth when there’s a sharp crack against your ass.

Your legs are spread as a third finger pushes inside, and the glob against your lips gets a little bigger. It’s not too large, but it feels like it’s prepping you the same way Doffy’s fingers are.

Snot parts your labia after Doflamingo pulls his hand away. It wouldn’t be the first time he was inside you, but it would be the first time with Trebol around. The stretch was unwelcome but not too intense. You were one of his favorites, and always took him well, but as he sunk in deeper the filth in your mouth expanded again, continuing to do so until your mouth was open wide.

You felt the cold prod of mucus against your ass and sobbed. You don’t try to wriggle away, it was useless and such an insult would only make things worse for you, but the sensation made your stomach knot as he pushed into your ass.

Like the thing in your mouth, the one pressing into your ass worked slowly, almost kindly, massaging your entrance and slowly opening you up. Slowly filling you up. Doflamingo alone was enough to have you feeling full, but now you were reaching the limits of what you could hold.

Trebol finds something in your guts that sends stars through your vision and you moan against the thick glob in your mouth. Doffy’s finger is against your clit and the two assail your body mercilessly once this weakness is found, forcing you to cum within seconds.

“See? You can at least appreciate his skills,” Doffy laughs while he and Trebol fuck you through your orgasm, unrelenting while your body shakes.

The stuff in your mouth hollows out in the center, keeping your mouth open as wide as it’ll go. You’re leaned back until you’re almost parallel with the ground, suspended in snot and ropes, the mucus in your ass expanding more until you feel impossibly full.

The second orgasm makes your eyes roll back and by the time you register the warmth against your lips it’s too late. Trebol’s pushing his cock into your mouth, and you’re surprised to find yourself grateful it’s flesh and blood and not just more disgusting snot.

Trebol forces himself into your mouth, your jaw aching from how wide it’s open. His snot massages between your toes, rubbing and pinching your nipples, and twisting in your ass as he and Doflamingo use you.

The sun had barely broke the horizon when you’d been caught. By the time you’re laying on the rocky ground, covered in snot, cum, drool, and tears it’s high in the sky. Everything aches, but as much as they used you, they made you orgasm over and over. Most of your aches are from that exertion, honestly.

“There’s only one thing left, my dear.” Doflamingo coos, holding out a hand to you now that he and Trebol have their clothes back on. “Walk back to the castle with me, and all will be forgiven.”

His grin widens as you accept his hand and get to your feet. “Trebol will ensure you’re clothed.”

Snot fills your cunt and ass suddenly, wrapping around your body until only your feet and nipples are covered. The horrid liquid pools just enough at your thighs to hide the bare minimum. It would be less humiliating to walk through town naked.

But at least you weren’t strung up against Doflamingo’s chest, being fucked as he strutted through town wearing you like accessory. This result was nearly humane by comparison.

A true offer of forgiveness for your transgression.

[roseworth]

thoughts on eddierose?

my eddierose thoughts are very similar to my jayrose thoughts tbh! i think theyre so much fun together and i love seeing them show up but i like them better as friends

their dynamic when they first show up in tt03 is soooo much fun bc <3 theyre both so insecure about their place on the team so they band together and become ride or die and its so sweet. rose thinks that she doesnt belong on the team but as soon as she perceives a threat against both of them she jumps to eddies defense <333 theyre so cute

its so much more interesting to me when theyre just friends because at this point neither of them really have any other friends. theyre both going through really rough periods in their life (eddie's aunt died, his mentor abandoned him, and he sold his soul to the devil. rose just left slade and is still struggling with who she is) and they latch onto each other because theyre the only ones they feel like they can trust :''') eddie never knew rose when she was with slade which she likes because she hates the version of herself that was being drugged but no one trusts her because they saw her. but eddie didnt and he knows that she was being drugged when it happened so he trusts her <3 they both just need someone to be there and actually care and thats what they are to each other!!!! to me it loses some of the impact when its romantic because its a very meaningful friendship to both of them

however. smoking scene my beloved. this is the most iconic thing anyone has ever done shoutout straight people

AND. GOD. my favorite of all time is when eddie gets hurt and rose loses her shit and tries to fight everyone

me when rose is worried and feels powerless so she immediately starts deflecting and covering up all her feelings with anger 😍😍🥰🥰🥰💞💓💞💕💖💘💕💓💘💖💗💓💞💘💕💞💖💓 thats my girl!!!

i cant really see them as romantic together just because their relationship is so much more fun when theyre just being friends instead of when they start pushing for more romantic stuff. at the beginning theyre kinda like a team of the two of them and its so sweet :') theyre constantly looking out for each other and hanging out together when no one else is and its so much fun to me ! even during this period that johns was setting up a future romance but in my head they were just friends and it was great

also omg. the issue where rose is accused of being a traitor and eddie immediately goes "ur wrong actually! thats my bff and she would never do that" <3333 i love this issue because no one actually believes rose would do that but i looooove eddie's reaction because he never doubts her and never stops believing her because! thats his buddy who talks shit about her dad 100 times a day! and he knows her well enough even after such a short time of being on the same team <33

anyways. as much as i stand by mckeever's rose later on i haaaate what he did with eddie & rose. first of all if youre not reading it as her being a lesbian, the shit with "rose is pretending to be friends with blue beetle to make eddie jealous" is so fucking stupid. she suddenly starts acting like she doesnt give a shit about eddie and constantly ignores him which is completely different than what she was doing like 5 issues prior. then eddie is also completely obsessed with her??? like its no longer a "thats my friend and i like spending time with her" its a huge (seemingly unrequited) crush and like?? bringing her flowers and passing out at the sight of her. i really hate it

then in fresh hell theyre suddenly so much more romantic than they ever were before and it just feels ?? weird and unearned??

maybe im just a hater but this feels like it comes out of nowhere. the last time they interacted before this she was brushing him off and lying to him to make him jealous then next thing you know theyre staring longingly into each others eyes and going "i would go anywhere with you babygirl 😍" what is going on!!! mckeever wanted a romance between them so bad that he forgot to put in any of the buildup. like this is sweet but it just feels so forced to me

BUT. oh my god. the ending of fresh hell where she starts hallucinating him is so fuckign hhghmghhm <3

BECAUSE. HES FUCKING DEAD AND SHE DOESNT KNOW. it makes me emotional every time i think about it. shes having a crisis and thinking about him and she has no idea hes already dead. im still so mad that they never showed rose's reaction to eddie being dead because hgjhghhmmh!!! thats her buddy!!!! thats her only friend!!!!!!! let me see her upset that hes dead!!!!!!! fuck. its very in character for her to lose someone then ignore that it ever happened and never bring them up ever but still.... :(

i just think that theyre so much fun together <3 they have such a good friendship and i love seeing them hanging out and looking out for each other <333 i dont mind them romantically when its done well (smoking scene) but unfortunately most of the time their romance is so boring to me. let them be friends!!! let them be close platonically without the halfassed will they wont they!!!!