#most devout woman of all time

[muutos]

ANDERS CRINGES WHEN HE HEARS THE SOFT VOICE BEHIND HIM. he's not sure if it's because he's a mage, or because of what is impending . . . or perhaps neither. but it feels like the voice is existing both within his own mind, and beyond it. "oh. cole." he cringes, even when his back is turned he feels he needs to watch what he does with his face. his brows drawn in, with a pit trapped between his rib cage. eyes wavering with something distant he'd rather just forget, but doesn't let himself. (but isn't that much of his life? his past?) he can't. not if he ever wishes to atone in the eyes of . . . well, anyone really. never to reconcile with the part of himself who believes to this day that it was the right thing to do. "i wish you would stop doing that."

HE HATES TO SOUND LIKE EVERYONE ELSE PROBABLY DOES. feathered shoulders drooping along with eyes as he peers low in guilt. "if it is you doing that, and not just corypheus messing around in there." IT'S DANGEROUS TO EVEN BE HERE. the taint, and justice . . . his risk of corruption is just too strong. and yet, here he is. "i can't imagine why anyone thought this was a good idea." finally he turns around, ATTEMPTING A SMILE. voice holding a more jovial, characteristic tone. "i don't know what varric told them, but everyone around skyhold keeps looking at me funny." he's leaning against the balcony outside near where leliana resides. A RAVEN MESSENGER PERCHED ON HIS SHOULDER. "i probably should avoid your seeker, if i can. and your spymaster. something tells me she wouldn't take too kindly to what i've done." he caps his speech with a shrug. as if it were nothing new. frankly surprised he wasn't arrested on the spot.

@eirigh. asked for anders 'whoever wants cole'.

[acid-ixx]

I hope you don’t mind but I need to ramble this to someone, neglected Wayne reader right? The fam would forget to bring them to social events and whatnot right? So there would be very few pictures, articles and interviews or even facts about them, meaning that reader Wayne is a rarity. Still following me? Reader Wayne with a small but devout fanbase.

I’m talking they are trading the latest pictures and sharing links to the rare interview with reader in it, following any social media they have that isn’t private, they are just fascinated by this micro celebrity that seems to always be forgotten. Okay but also imagine one of the heroes developing a para-social attachment to reader. My money is on Conner Kent, mainly bc he can project his own issues with his dads onto reader and he can Dolores ~Encanto~ reader with his super hearing and develop a even bigger parasocial obsession with them

I hope you enjoyed this ramble, I will leave you be now, see ya later alligator! 🐊

omg another one of my asks that actually predicted a major plot point... this ask ties well with the last part written here. i'm thinking about having the reader get a love interest/s but i have already written an outline but one thing is for sure—

you have more than just your family interested in taking you.

major spoilers below the cut. — an excerpt from chapter xx

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

maybe this is out of the picture, but id' like to imagine you and connor having a therapy session where one comes out absolutely obsessed with the other, and it's not you.

connor's character for me is so, so good for an angst potential. it's like his personal struggles is a way for him to show you how absolutely you two are meant to be. and he may have met you through bumping into you (false) or maybe... he has seen you stalking through the shadows back when he visits the manor. using his superhearing, he can hear your voice from the kitchen begging alfred to relay a message to bruce, sounding so absolutely desperate. it's the way you tell alfred how you wished your father actually spends time with you, or how nobody seems to notice you— that he kind of just makes a silent promise that he will talk to you soon, he needs to know why this family seems so keen on ignoring and how hypocritical tim is for literally doing the same thing to you when he's aware of kon's past.

if he (or anyone else) should be a love interest (though he is a minor character in the series unless you guys want him to be a major one), i can already imagine the absolute hell you have to suffer not only from your family but from your own lover. just imagine the stockholm syndrome or the delusions you convince yourself with because you're finally loved by someone but that love restricts you from the very freedom you tried to build.

the batfamily would be so conflicted because why are you choosing some stranger over them...? then you slap them in the face with, "well, this "stranger" wants to kidnap me and lock me up, sure! but at least they actually looked at me for more than five seconds!" and you can watch how the color drains off their face, their conflict giving you the perfect opportunity to run away from both your ex-family and your soon-to-be-kidnapper-lover who thinks your comeback is a funny way for you to propose.

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

[sleepy-fiction]

Got a crush- got a crush- Crush you all beneath me. ⚗️

Jinx x F!Reader SMUT

3k WORDS

tgs: intense violence, erotic asphyxiation, water sports, bdsm, knife play, powerplay, masochist reader, oral, cunnilingus, sexual repression, religious terms/oppressive religious language, reader is shit and pathetic its lovely

syn: Jinx spares you before your death, the adrenaline, the ecstasy, its euphoric. You re-emerge bright-eyed like the first oracle of a God. Only this time, you want to eat God's cunny, and she'll let you.

an: hii err questioning myself with this one wow. mildly proofread

Smeech's gang had been your home since you were little. You were born into it, your parents' loyal followers, devout, and strict as they came. The rules were engraved into your brain, defined like the Old Testament. You were linear, closed-minded, and point. Your parents died in the battled post silco. Your neighbors, the other kids. The gang's numbers were dwindling, if not by death, then by them abandoning the cree for others. And the years went by. Your silent, dormant hatred for Jinx muddled up.

It continued until her little revolution, where she gained her little blue headed cult following. You'd be lying if you say a part of you wasn't swooned. But your revenge called for more.

What they called "Safety". No, it was nothing but plain blameless sin.

And you were put on this earth to eradicate it.

So it only came natural after Smeech's disassembly, for the gang to disemble themselves as well. Like a ghost town, you found yourself being the only righteous one holding up the banner. And if A^2 + B^2 = C^2, you were going after the women responsible for it.

No.

THE woman responsible for it all.

Jinx.

Blue eyed, blue braided, soon to be blue bellied, Jinx.

Jinx was a flithy mongrel, poisoning Zaun from the inside out. Her almost physiological poison bubbled out of its bloodied cauldron and frothed onto the deep floors of Zaun. Like a thick and heavy smoke blinding the ground, sucking the souls out of sinners, and blinding even the most powerful. Tempting, and as small as an ewe lamb, yet brewing and seizing like an unruly urchin. Baring pretty pale hips, milky white skin smothered in tattoos. And those eyes. Those round doe eyes.

They kept you awake at night.

Tempting.

They made you shudder.

With the bloodlust you had been building for weeks, weeks until the day your holy vengeance struck from the skies. With the last remaining loyal souls with nothing to live for, other than the fragments of Smeech's impressive legacy.

Yet why.

How.

How did things end this way.

Your body seized the moment your very own blades, the one you fantasized about taking the life of Jinx, was twisted deep into your belly. Your eyes flashed white, your gasp deep and profound, your balance suddenly no longer mattering to you anymore. The surprise attack was going well, well, until Jinx drew her devilish strength from hell and slaughtered your gang like animals. And you, being brave enough to stop her, freed her of all her guns. You fought like chickens, scratching and scraping at each other, throwing rocks, tossing dust, kicking crotches, pulling hair (you mainly), all until you had her.

She was pined beneath, whimpering and blabbering useless mantra. You revved your blade. But you stopped. You had to tell her why she deserved this. Your speech you had prepared before vanquishing this world of evil. Your glorious speech of Smeech and your gang. And unbeknownst to you, that was more than enough time for her to flash bright magenta eyes. And whimper a sound so attainable, your breath locked, and suddenly, for no reason at all, you had an urge to piss.

That one second of weakness.

No.

She turned your speech against you, she built up her bewitching tactics, disarming you and filling you with mercy, all for her to drive your beloved knife, your knife that your parents made you, deep, deep into your belly.

Then those doe eyes sharpened and she laughed.

She pushes you off her like you were nothing, your body hitting the wet dirty floor. It was raining, and glory's pellets dribbled woefully onto your cheek. Your breath was broken up into sharp, unattainable gasps as you meekly tried to crawl away. Your vision shook white in a painful mix of adrenaline, pain, and panick. Panick thick enough to make you spit and froth out the corners of your mouth.

Your body was ringing, brazen silver alarm bells loud and sparky in your ears. The flashing of tree roots and veins in your vision, and how sharp your sense of smell suddenly became. You could smell the muddy streets clearer than day, and even the smell of cotton candy and battery acid death pouring out from her body. A smell that, even now, still made your lower parts clench.

"Ha-! Ahaha-ha," she laughs. Her voice echoes. In your shaken vision, you see her rise before you, blurry bright cyan blue blinding. Pitifully, you crawl backward, desperate to flee death. Once Jinx has you, she never spares any mercy. You knew that going in, but never, never did you believe it'd become a reality.

You were going to become another number on an ever growing list of people who thought they could kill Jinx and failed.

Once that settled in your brain, pitifully thick tears sprang out from your eyes. You cried loudly, a wail strong enough to shake the most powerful souls. A wail so primal, so childish, a wail that stemmed from early development yet also the evolution of humans itself- the last cry of a dying homosapien at the hands of a bloodlust driven Neanderthal.

A cry that was stopped by the quaking footsteps of Jinx. The booming, sloppy, wet footsteps filled with the vibrations of her getting closer. She fell on top you with a cadence, a gust of quick wind as she straddled you. You gasped and reached forward blindly, raindrops falling in your eyes and mixing with the tears as you clawed at her jaw and neck.

She didn't care. She grabbed your left wrist in a vice, hard enough for you to cry out like an injured lamb. And with her other hand, she gripped your face and trusted hers into your view.

She spoke, "You feel that?"

You gasped, your breathing erratic.

"You're going to die," she laughed at you. "You're going to die, and you almost had me! Not even my sister got that close!" Her voice is like a wicked hyena. Gravely and strained from the battle, creaking to show her physical pain.

But it was enough. It enough for your body to grow limp in her hands like a frightened goat.

Your eyes bare into her face, your head uplifted by her tight hands. As you stare at her skin, as pale as powder, eyes as tired and jaded as a wilted flower, and smile as deranged as a wheel on its last hinge.

She smiles, growing ever close, closed enough for your noses to touch, and for her breath, the mingle with yours, "You know. At this stage. You're suddenly aware of everything around you. Your vision goes to shit. But you can still hear the little birds go 'cheep-cheep-cheep', and the rain-- 'pitter-patter-pitter-patter'. And you can't quite feel the pain, but it's the fear of knowing it's coming that gets you." She grabs the knife, twisting it slightly.

You jolt, crying out in agony. "Your heart rate spikes, you begin to hyperventilate. And there's this ringing in your ears... And... My favorite part, the buzzing behind the eyes," she says as she reaches and stretches your eyelids back. Your pupils shrink, and just as she says, your body systematically begins to follow. Snot pools down your nose, a tell tale sign of your inability to get oxygen. "It's totally useless how we have a nose and mouth. But yet they get so scared and they start working against eachother! Just like families... Just like gangs... like rats," she hisses, and you can feel the etchings of her lips near your cheek as she loopily giggles towards your ear.

"You know, if you breathe through your nose, your hyperventilating will stop," she smiles. Eagerly and foolishly, you obey, shutting your mouth instantly and sucking in gifts of air. But just as instant as you gain it, you lose it within seconds. Jinx pinches your nose shut, her thumb and index vicious like the jerking bite of a shark.

You panick, you eyeballs ringing. And as you try to open your mouth again, she drops your head, ot crashes to the ground, and she slams her free hand to clamp your mouth shut.

"Nhahaha," She laughs. Oh, she laughs. It's manical in nature, enough for you to wet yourself in pure fear. Your hands shoot up to claw at her hands, albeit weakly, and it feels nothing more than a massage to her. By now, you're aware of the warm wet clinging your shirt has to your belly, your pants to your crotch, and the flavorful blend of urine and iron in the wet muddy air.

Your vision spots.

She releases you, but it was already much too late.

"You know what," she says. Her voice trails in and out in your ears. Her blurry figure rises, "I think I'll spare you... That is, if you don't bleed to death out here."

Your head sags, catching the final glimpses of her limping away before it all fades to--

You jolt awake with a hard start. You shoot up, blinded by white lights that eventually shimmer down to a familsr room, your hideout. Your heart bursting a hundred miles an hour out of your chest. It was the feeling of shimmer running down your veins like a cold shower.

Instantly, you recognize your old partner, Kilo, rushing up to you from their seat in the back. Their hands grab yours, but you're even quicker to smack them away. "What t'hell! I was supposed ta-ugh die," you blabber out, spit flying in your jittery rage. Your hands grip your head of hair, your heart racing painfully.

"I heard about your dumb plan, and I came to save you, (y/n)! You had been laying there for God knows how long--" They say but you cut them off with a deadly glare, "Why are you mad? I saved you! Listen, God, you just need to calm down," they pleaded, burning their doe shaped brown eyes into your skull. Eyes you used to find allu ng, before they abandoned Smeech.

Smeech.

Dammit.

Did it really even matter anymore.

Dammit you can't fucking think straight.

How much shimmer did they use on you?

They reached again for you, and you smacked them harder, as hard as your jittery body could manage. They were as thick as a barn, burly and bearded, so your shove did nothing to them. But still, you powered up, barely making out of your bed before you knocked into your bedside table and cracking into your lamp.

As soon as you stood, your heart rate spiked, causing a brilliant gasp to leave your body. The kind of gasp they've only ever heard you release in bed. The kind of gasp that was filled in nostalgic ecstasy, the pain was so reminiscent of when Jinx--

Fuck.

No. Please God no.

"Are you okay," they asked. And with one look from them, you knew that they knew.

They knew.

And they were judging you with those pitiful eyes.

"Jinx did a number on you," they tried to whisper, but you seethed like a jackal.

"Jinx did nothing to me! I am normal! I am fine! I haven't changed," you screeched. Your face was warming, your heartbeat was painful, but memories of your last encounter flooded your brain.

You were going to die in the marvelously sinful hands of Jinx. But she spared you. It made every part of you tingle. You didn't notice when your partner sprang up to catch you, and you as hell didn't notice you falling forward. No, but what you did notice was the worry in their eyes. The worry in their deep masculine voice. And the devil horns springing out of their head.

They knew.

They knew and they were going to tell everyone.

"Get the fuck out of here, bastard!"

You yelled it with all your heart and soul.

And within seconds, you notice their heart crumble. Bleary brown eyes only complimented the flicker of guilt that panged you.

You just.

Needed them gone for good.

You collapsed moments after they left you, moments after the door quietly shut.

You were never going to see them again. They weren't just a partner they were your best friend.

And Jinx.

Jinx was brewing in your heart.

And you knew it then.

You were becoming something you never knew before.

⚗️

You'd imagine Jinx's surpise when the little runt she spared weeks ago came crawling deep onto Silco's old zone (now turned her streets), fully armed. What she thought was a foolish revenge battle turned into something else.

Sevika dropped you dead onto your knees before the desk in Silco's office. Your hands were bound behind your back, and Sevika had already stripped you of all the weapons you had. She walked up to the desk, where the back of Silco's chair faced you, and dropped all the weapons onto it. The daggers and guns flattered and shined in the light.

A dry, crackling laughter sparked into the air. A laughter you knew was hers. It made you tingle again. It made the bruises Sevika left you in all the more worth it.

You were shivering from withdrawals. Jinx withdrawals, adrenaline withdrawals, shimmer withdrawals. You needed her to make you experience that death spark again.

Please Jinx.

"Are you dumb or something," she asks. The chair finally spins to face you, her feet clashing against the table. Her face ridden with withheld rage. She blinks in disbelief with an agape mouth. She jolts forward, grabbing ome of your daggers and launches it towards your face. It narrowly dodges your eye and slices a thin scratch into your cheek.

You hiss and laugh.

It irrates her instantly. Her eye twitched. For the first time in forever, Jinx experienced the stress felt Silco once before. The stress of dealing with idiotic subordinates.

And for once. She didn't find it fucking funny.

"I spared you! But you come back with an even dumber plan. What? Did you think you could just waltz in here and slice me up," she asks. You laugh. She clenches her jaw. With an aggravated start, she jumps out of the chair, stomping on the desk as she slides off it in one quick athletic gesture. In seconds, she's on her feet crouching before you, squeezing chunks of your cheeks between her fingers. "What are you thinking," she spits.

Her grip is vice. It makes your eyes water. But you tingle and shiver all over.

"Mmh. Look at those pupils. You're on shimmer. Or- well, off it. What? Did the jitters make you think you could take me? Reclaim your honor," she says.

"M'hehe..mh," you giggle.

She bares her teeth. She drops your face and stands at break neck speed. Your head crashes to the floor, and you hear the familiar sound of a click.

"Everything about this is stupid and makes no sense. Your plan before was beautifully executed and thought out. So why... Why are you," she winces before she can finish her sentence and pinces her temples. You can hear Sevika cackle in the background. You peek up, staring up the barrel of a pistol. "Geez toots... I might get withdrawls next if you don't- I'dunno, say something," she says.

"Mmh... Jinx... Jus' just kill me... Jinx," you gasp out. Your nose aches, a perfect compliment to the ringing from your ribs from taking a robotic punch earlier. "Kill me... And it'll all be... like it was supposed to... Another number on the "anti" tally," you murmur. Not even you know what you're getting at. Why you're here.

Her heel touches your head. She's purposefully digging it into you. "Aah- haa," you shake.

Sevika gasps sharply, "Oh?" Her eyebrows quirk knowingly. Jinx turns to her, but Sevika merely smirks. "I'll leave you to it," Sevika hums, her shoulders slumping as she steps out. Jinxs eyes flicker with wilderment. Sevika lowered her guard. Totally.

They both knew you weren't a threat. But here, that small gesture confirmed a lot to Jinx. You were harmless, you didn't want to die, but you wanted to be around her. No. You wanted her to hurt you. She tests the waters. Jinx's muddy shoe pets down your head, its light not to hurt you. You buck and shiver again, blabbering out heedless.

No.

You didn't want her to hurt you.

When the realization dawned on her, a breathy cackle split the air. "Ooh! Oh god this is too good! What's that little runt," she squats right down next to you, flipping you onto your belly, "you want me to play with ya? Oh, daddy'll play with you toots."

"Wait- that's not what I what I w-want you to kill me! My honor! I lost it in battle, and i-it can only be claimed in--"

"Nn'haha! You really believe that? Oh god you're a riot! Say it. You want Jinxsy to touch you... And err... Ya'know! Take you to p-town. Play with your cunny?"

You felt an electric jolt sink to your clit. One strong enough to shut you up. Your eyes flicker to her crotch, where her legs were spread as she crouched.

"Ooh," she caught it immediately, "you want my cookie instead, eh?"

You gasped in horror.

"Or box? Is that what the kids call it nowadays? Box... Box... I always wonders why, but," she says as she pushes Silco's desk out the way and sits down in the chair, spreading her legs wide, "apparently! It's called a box cause you can stuff it! Myahaha! Ain't that something?"

You stare blissfully at her spread legs, painfully aware of your slick oozing.

She pats her thigh. "Well? What's the verdict? I'm not pulling my pants down till ya tell me ya' want it. Say it cute-like! Oh Jinx-jinx-jinx-jinx! I want your cookie wookie! Pleaase'z," she drags it out, saying it sing-songly to fuel your embarrassment.

You blabber in disbelief, "Buh," and gulp, "B-But why. Why are you letting me?" You sound like a shy child.

"Why dya' think I spared you? You're pretty hot. And... I liked being handsy with you. It felt good... Gooder than usual... Hah! Prolly cause your whorish, sensual aura stunk up the place. All that temp'TIT'ous-humbo-jumbo! N'ahaha... God you-"

"Please, Jinx," you whimper.

She returns, "Hey. I already told you. We're not unt--"

You squeak, "Let me... Eat it..."

"Huh? Is that how you ask -"

"Let me eat your cookie," you say. She gives you a bland look. "Uh," you gulp, "Please Jinxsy... Let me eat your- c-cookie. Wuh... Wookie."

She laughs, "Tehe, you got it dollface!"

this wasn't ever about smeech, was it?

⚗️

"Ooh... ff-fuck dollface," she mewls breathlessly. Your hands are still tied tight behind your back, balancing wobbly on your knees as you bury your face deep beneath Jinx's bare, pale, milky legs. Your nose is buried deep into her cunt, your tongue and lips viciously lapping at her clit. Twitching between sucking and tapping it. She was swollen already, a clear sign of her sexual negligence.

No, part of you is convinced she is a virgin. Jinx bucks into your mouth, gripping chunks of your hair. Her leg twitching, barely missing kicking your shoulder as it flies off the seat it was propped up on. She let's it slump over your shoulder. And you almost cried at how far her hole was now from your greedy lips.

You growl, "Jinx put your other leg on me... C-cant suck all of you like this."

"Uhh... Hmm," You're sure she was only half listening, but still, she lazily hunches down and stops her other leg on your shoulder. She adjusts herself and leans slouches downward more, sitting on her upper ass and pushing her cunt straight onto your face in the process.

You snuck in deep sniffs, the smell balanced, tart, and salty. You slurp up her folds into your lips, pulling and letting them slip out between your lips. She hisses and mewls delightfully, an airy cackle leaving her lips. She taps your head with two fingers and bobs her head rhythmically, a delighted hum squeaking from her lips. You giggle humored, licking a stripe up her, slowing down to enjoy the moment.

She's staring deep into your eyes, grinding against your flat tongue, slowly matching your rhythm. Your rhythm was closely following the one she hummed and drummed on you.

It was odd, how calm it all suddenly became. How you couldn't seem to look away. You wanted to please her so bad.

A ferocious shiver sparked down you again. You locked in, cupping her clit in your lips, suckling and tapping against it. You buried yourself into her, erratic and fanatic, slurping all of her like it was your last dinner. She squeaks and bucks into your mouth at the sharp change, bowling out her moans. "Aah- ff... Oohh, dollface-ugh," she whines. Her arms fall out, one landing on her forehead, her index and thumb propped up on it, rolling her head back into the chairs cushions.

Her bucking became erratic, her moans spiking, her grip on herself becoming undone. As she reaches with her free hand again to grab chunks of your hair at the root. Her cunt is pink and pale, littered with pretty hair. But your bullying turned it a vulgar shade of red. A red you'd wear on your lips any day.

"Aah! Ah! Aaa-mmgh," she barks out. Her thighs clench vice around your neck, her leg spasming before finally, "Oouh," she janks your head away from her pussy, gasping and waning in the chair.

Her eyes rolled back, while senseless blabbering drooled out her lips. "Mmht... D-Dollface," she sighs blissfully.

"It's (y/n)," you murmur and lean back in to peck at her swollen, ruined pussy.

"(Y-Y/n)?" She gulps, her eyes never returning from their blissful heaven beneath her eyelids. "Mmh yeah... (y/n)," she mumbles, half listening. She sighs after a few seconds, finally looking down at you and- smiling? It was a soft one, geninue and pure.

She asks, "What else can you do?"

"Mmh... I want... to feel good too," you murmur still pecking her pussy and inner thighs.

"Hmmmrr.... Alright. Let's get you fingered up."

"N-No... At the same time as you... Let's grind on our thighs... er like how they do in those... Brothels."

"Ooh what? You mean scissoring? Ha, is this your first time with a woman," she barks a laugh.

"Is this your first time ever, Jinx?"

"Hey," she commands, her face twitches. She shoved your face back into her lips. "Don't get smart with me. You're still my doll," she hums.

"M'forgive me," you mumble out, with pussy between your lips. That was all the answer you need. You slowly begin to suckle her again, hearing her breathy moans pour in.

"Mmh yeah... Let's go to my room..."

⚗️

😁

[candycandy00]

HI❤️ for your 2k follower event can you write

Character: sukuna

Setting: church

Spice: NSFW

Mood: Dark

Kink: Praise kink+breeding

🙏🙏🙏

Dancing With the Devil - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a priest. Praise. Creampie. Voyeurism. Humiliation. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k followers event! Any and all feedback is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear!

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

The priest on the other side of the wooden grate-covered window greets you in his smooth voice. “Tell me your sins.”

You know who sits only inches away from you, separated only by the thinnest of walls in the confessional. Father Sukuna is a new priest at the church, having only arrived six weeks ago. 

His appearance was quite a shock to the congregation. Pink, slicked back hair, eyes that were as red as a demon’s, and a huge muscled frame all turned heads. But most of all, it was the intricate pattern of black tattoos lining his face that had everyone talking. 

What kind of person had he been before joining the priesthood? That was the question on everyone’s mind. But one of the other priests was quick to remind everyone that Father Sukuna had turned away from a life of sin, and the Bible taught you all to “judge not”. 

So while some people still wondered and whispered about him, most people in the church accepted him without asking questions about his past. 

However, you’ve solved the mystery, entirely by accident.

The first time you saw him, you thought his tattoos were somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen them before. Then one day you visited the church to drop off some fresh lemonade for the men working on some repairs on the outside of the building. 

It was a blazing hot summer day, and as you stood chatting with one of the men, Father Sukuna peeled off his T-shirt to get some relief from the heat. Your eyes were instantly drawn to his sweat slicked body, incredibly well sculpted muscles rippling in the haze of the sun. And those tattoos. 

You recognized them at that moment, and a deep red blush spread over your face. 

Almost a year ago, a friend who knew you had a thing for tattoos sent you a video to watch online. It was a porn video featuring a handsome, well built man with black tattoos lining his whole body. His face was blurred out for some reason, but the rest of him wasn’t. You had watched it, enraptured by the way his body moved, way too many times to count. 

There was also a woman in the video, and you had grown wet watching her struggle to take the man’s impossibly huge cock, enormous even by porn star standards. When she moaned and writhed beneath him, you imagined you were her. 

You tried to find out who the man was, only so you could look for more videos featuring him, but his name remained a mystery. But by searching for terms like “male porn star black tattoos huge dick”, you found two more videos he’d done. Both also blurred his face. 

Countless nights you spent watching them, one hand in your panties, between your quivering thighs, wishing you knew what name to moan. 

You would know those tattoos anywhere, would be able to recognize that chiseled chest and back lined with black ink if you were half blind. 

The next few days, he was all you could think about. When he gave a sermon, his delicious voice carrying through the speakers and filling the church, you pictured him naked, fucking you right there in front of the entire congregation. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve never been very devout in your religion, but you still grew up fairly sheltered by your religious parents, so you never really had a “wild phase”. The “wildest” you got was sneakily watching porn after your parents went to bed. Even now, living in your own apartment, you have a pretty boring life. 

But Father Sukuna brings out every naughty fantasy you’ve ever had, right in the middle of church, of all places! So now that you’re in the confessional, inches away from him, talking about sin, you can’t hold back. 

“I’ve been watching pornographic videos online,” you confess.

“Ah, I see,” he says. “It’s hard to resist that temptation. But with God’s help, you can turn away from your lust.”

“There’s three videos in particular that I watch all the time,” you add, growing bolder. “I’ve been watching them for nearly a year, and I can’t stop.”

This time he hesitates for a moment. Is he catching on? Then he asks, “What makes these three so attractive to you?”

You lick your lips and take a breath, then press on. “It’s the man who stars in all three. He’s mesmerized me. He’s very handsome, and his body is covered in tattoos…”

This time he has to know exactly what you’re saying. You wonder if he’s embarrassed, if he’ll ask you not to tell anyone.

Instead, he’s sleek voice carries through the grate, “Do you touch yourself while you watch them?”

Your face heats up. You were not expecting that question! But after only a moment of hesitation, you reply, “Yes, Father. All the time.”

“Describe it to me.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His voice is so close, so honeyed, as he says, “Describe how you touch yourself, what you’re thinking when you do it, how it feels. Your confession needs to be thorough.”

Oh god. Can you really say stuff like that to the very man you’ve been masturbating to? But your panties are growing damp as you shift nervously in your seat. 

“I… I watch the videos in bed, on my phone… and I reach one hand down to… touch myself.”

“How? Where? Leave no details out,” he says in an authoritative tone. 

You take a deep breath, fighting back your embarrassment. Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I rub… my clit, with one finger.”

“Describe it more. Paint a picture for me,” he tells you. 

Your own voice is getting shaky. “I spread my legs open on the bed… hold the phone with one hand so I can watch the videos, and move my other hand down between my legs. I dip my fingers between the folds… to smear my wetness around… then I use one finger to rub circles into my clit.”

“And what do you think about while doing this?” Father Sukuna asks. 

Your breaths are shallow and quick. “I imagine the man with tattoos… forcing his giant cock inside me while I whimper underneath him.”

There’s a pause, then he speaks again, not a hint of surprise or struggle in his silky voice. “And do you cum?”

“Y-yes. Everytime. It feels so good, Father. I can’t stop.”

He hums as if thinking deeply, then says, “This sounds like a serious problem for you. I think you need some further counseling. Can you come back tonight and see me for a private session?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You know what he means, what he’s asking, and you’re afraid there’s going to be a sticky puddle on the seat when you get up. 

“Yes, Father Sukuna! I can come. Back, I mean. Tonight.” It all came out sounding rather breathless. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, and your fate is sealed. 

When you return to the church later that night, both terrified and excited, you find it empty. You’re not sure where Father Sukuna’s office is, or if he’s even waiting for you there, so you walk down the aisle toward the altar. Should you offer up a prayer asking for forgiveness? 

Before you can decide, you hear a loud clicking sound behind you. Turning around, you see Father Sukuna standing at the door, locking it up tight. You swallow a lump in your throat. 

He turns to face you, giving you a smile as he steps toward you. “I’ve locked all the doors. I’m the only one here tonight. We’ll be discussing private, sensitive topics, after all.”

Nothing he’s saying is inappropriate, there’s nothing threatening about his movements, but you still somehow feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Th-thank you, Father,” you say, avoiding eye contact. This is the first time you’ve been face to face with him since your humiliating confession, and your face is already hot with shame. You can’t believe you told him how you touch yourself! You’ve kept that a secret from literally everyone, even your closest friends. 

He moves past you and sits down on a pew, his motions smooth and graceful. He’s a man who knows exactly how to move his body.  He pats the spot next to him and says, “Sit down.”

He has a way of saying things that makes you want to jump to obey every command. You walk over and sit down beside him, perhaps a little too close. You can smell his cologne. 

He turns in the seat to face you, one arm resting on the back of the pew, close enough for his fingers to touch your hair if he wants. “Now, tell me again about your sinful lust. You desire this man in the videos, the one with tattoos?”

Flustered, you look away from him, nodding your head shyly. It’s so much harder to talk about this when you can look him in the eyes! 

“And if he were here right now, what would you want him to do to you?”

You look at him sharply, eyes wide. “Huh? Uh… I don’t….”

He leans closer, red eyes boring into you. “Be honest. Confess your sinful thoughts.”

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. “I would want him to fuck me.”

A grin breaks across his face, a gleam in those red eyes. To you, he doesn’t look like a priest now at all, but a devil sent to destroy you. 

“Such a sinful girl,” he murmurs, scooting even closer. “Is your pussy wet right now?”

You jerk away from him in shock. You’ve never heard a priest speak this way before. “No! I’m… it’s not!”

He’s staring into your eyes. “Really? Show me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“Show me your pussy. I’ll see if you’re a liar as well as lustful.”

Oh fuck. Oh god. You know you’re soaking wet. The thought of this gorgeous priest looking at your dripping pussy has you heating up with both shame and arousal.

Slowly, you pull your modest skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. Then, breathing fast, heart racing, you slide your panties down, lifting your hips from the pew to pull the silky fabric all the way down your legs. They fall off your ankles, and for a moment you sit there, blushing, not looking at Father Sukuna. 

“Open your legs so I can see how sinful you are,” he commands, again with that tone of authority. 

You carefully spread your legs apart, and Father Sukuna moves from the pew to squat in front of you, giving himself a clear and perfect view of your bare, glistening pussy. He makes a soft ��tsk” sound. “You lied. Your pussy is drenched. Your sins keep growing, but I can help you.”

Finally gaining the courage to look at him despite your deep burning shame, your eyes teary, you ask, “How?”

His eyes shift to your face. “Have you heard that some parents, upon catching their child smoking a cigarette, will force them to smoke a whole pack to get them to stop?”

You nod. You have heard of that before. 

He grins. “That’s how I’m going to help you. To make you turn away from your lustful behavior, I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.”

You inhale sharply as he stands up and pulls his priestly robes off, revealing those beautiful tattoos covering his torso. He unbuttons his pants, and you watch with anxious, rapt attention as he pulls out the beast you’ve been waiting to finally see. 

It’s even bigger in person. 

Your mouth goes dry as you try to figure out how this is going to work. You’re inexperienced, having never had a serious boyfriend and being watched carefully by your parents until you moved out. The massive organ between Father Sukuna’s legs is intimidating, but god do you want this. You’ve thought about how he would feel inside you for almost a year now. 

While you sit there, practically frozen to the spot, he removes your shirt and bra, so that the only thing left is your wadded up skirt around your waist. Then he pushes you back in the pew so that you’re lying on your back, lifting one of your legs up and hooking it over the back of the pew while the other dangles off the front. This leaves you spread completely open for him, your shamefully wet pussy exposed to his gaze. 

Your chest is heaving with your rapid breaths as he climbs on top of you, his huge frame dwarfing yours. One of his hands squeezes your breast, his rough palm brushing over your sensitive nipple. Then he moves down, his thick, warm fingers opening your slippery folds. He circles your clit with one finger, making your hips buck slightly off the pew. 

“Is this how you touch yourself while watching my videos?” he asks. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that he’s the man in those videos, and even though you knew it already, the admission sends a thrill through your body. 

“Y-yes,” you say, your legs beginning to tremble as he teases your little nub. 

His hand slides down a bit, and then you feel one of his fingers pressing inside you. It’s big, and you feel like it’s stretching you already. 

“So tight… Are you a virgin?”

Too embarrassed to speak, you nod and look away. 

He laughs. “I can’t believe a virgin has been rubbing her little clit and cumming to my videos.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and you feel his finger curl slightly within you. “Don’t close your eyes. I’m trying to get this cute little pussy ready to take my cock.”

You open your eyes and look at him just as he pushes a second finger inside. You squeak out a strange little sound, surprised by the sudden fullness. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel a sense of pressure, and your pussy clenches his fingers. 

He lightly pumps them in and out, making an obscene squelching sound that echoes in the church. With his free hand, he rubs your clit, making you let out small gasping moans at the pleasure. You had no idea his fingers could feel so good! 

Just as you feel like you might cum any second, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You whine by reflex, looking up pleadingly as he licks his fingers clean. 

“You’re being so good for me, so I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he says, pulling your hips into his lap and getting into position. “This might hurt a little, but you can take it, right?”

You look at him with big, wet eyes. “Yeah… I can take it,” you say, your voice quivering. 

He grins like a demon about to devour your soul, then you feel the tip of that rock hard monster of a cock press into your entrance. You shudder, hissing at the stretch as he keeps pushing in. Oh fuck it’s still going in! 

He moves in slowly, inch by inch, going deeper than you thought possible. When you wince, he reaches down and rubs your clit again to ease your discomfort. Soon, he’s all the way in, his firm body pressing against yours. After a moment to allow you to catch your breath, he begins moving. 

With the grace and strength of a tiger, he moves over you, thrusting in with smooth, practiced motions. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, to hit the spots that have you moaning and gripping his tattooed shoulders. 

For months you watched him fuck other women in his videos, always imagining being them. You wanted to feel what they felt as they cried out in pleasure, to know what his powerful body felt like on top of you. Now you finally know, and you’ll never be able to give this up. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as he leans down closer, kissing your lips. He tastes like sin itself, and you wonder if he’s dragging you straight to hell. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. 

His thrusts go deeper, harder, until you’re crying out his name, tears in your eyes, desperate for release. Three more thrusts later, each one hitting hyper sensitive spots, and you’re cumming around his cock, clenching him as tightly as you can. 

You look up at him through the haze of pleasure, and he’s wearing that devilish grin. “Good girl,” he says. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t even form words, only nodding weakly while his cock is still buried inside you. When he begins thrusting again, it’s faster, rougher, until he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. Before you can say a word, he cums directly into your womb in thick spurts. 

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you’re reminded of similar shots from his videos. You drop your head back on the pew, exhausted. 

He’s hovering over you, looking down with a disappointed expression. “Don’t fall asleep now. We have all night. I intend to fuck all the sinful thoughts right out of you.”

You raise up in alarm. “Wait… I don’t think I can handle any more!”

He’s already pushing your legs apart again. “You can handle it. If you’ve watched my videos then you know how much stamina I have. Try and keep up.”

You groan, realizing this is going to be a very long night. 

[togrowoldinv]

Milf Wanda Masterlist

Best Friend’s Mom: You wake up next to your best friend’s mom and she begins to seduce you

Devout: You meet Wanda Maximoff at church and she later approaches you with a special request that you just can’t refuse *smut*

First Date: You pick Wanda up at her home for a date and learn a lot about the woman by the time she goes back inside that night *smut*

Five Minutes: You’re jealous, Wanda is jealous. The end result is one very intense break from the volleyball games *smut*

Fix: When you get a house call to fix a car, you have no idea that your payment will come in the form of sleeping with the customer

For The Hope Of It All: Wanda took comfort in you during times of trouble in her marriage. Endings are unavoidable *smut*

Forgetfulness: While dealing with a breakup, you go to the Maximoff house to babysit without remembering you didn’t have to go this week. Wanda comforts you and makes your visit worth your while. *smut*

Friends: You’ve been there for Wanda as a friend, but it’s always felt like something more

Invitation: You accept Wanda’s invitation to ladies night without knowing the deeper meaning of her gesture

It is Well: You’re the choir director at Wanda’s church. One afternoon after church, your relationship with her changes

Love and Baseball: You help coach a little league baseball team and meet the most perfect woman

Mother’s Day Brunch: Wanda invites you over for brunch and things turn intense *smut*

One-On-One: You’re Wanda’s pastor, so when her husband leaves her you reach out to offer her comfort. She tries to push you away on the account that she doesn’t like you, but that changes when she realizes what you could do for her.

Pour Me: You meet an intriguing woman while you’re bartending

Reconnecting: It’s been ten years since you’ve seen Wanda. A lot has changed for her

Settlement: You serve as Wanda’s attorney in her divorce proceedings, which leads to you helping Wanda see she can start again with someone new

Sexiest Woman Alive: Wanda is a renowned actress that you’ve been seeing for a while. She gets named the Sexiest Woman Alive and you show her just how much she deserves it

Sinking Sand: Wanda finds her way back into your life and you can’t resist her

Stress Relief: When Wanda calls, you always meet up with her. Sometimes in her very roomy minivan

Talk: You’re sleeping with your best friend’s mom who has been keeping quite the secret from you

Timeless: After you meet Wanda’s boys for the first time, she finally takes that next relationship step with you *smut*

Swaying As The Room Burned Down: Love in secret and without reason *smut*

The Meeting: When you meet a fellow mom at the PTO meeting, you soon realize just how much love she needs *smut*

The Retreat: When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda *smut*

The Sweetest Con: When you are put in charge of the volleyball team, you have a very interesting set of interactions with a mother at the church *smut*

To Show Thanks: Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Worth the Wait: When Wanda calls you after five years of no contact, you go to her house to talk to her. Some old (and some new) feelings come to light

Find more Wanda here: Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for fic updates!

[violetdawn001]

What is with the Dreamer's Houses? Herrah's Den

Okay, we can all agree that Team Cherry put a LOT of thought into crafting the backgrounds and environments of Hollow Knight. But why is nobody talking about the designs for the Dreamers' houses?! Especially compared with their base forms?  Well, let's start talking about it!

Herrah

This is Herrah's design:

Herrah is massive compared to several creatures we have come across in Hallownest. While her mask and horns give off sharp and spooky vibes, take a look at her bottom half. It is round and supported by many limbs.

In comparison, Hornet is far slimmer than her mother, which can either come from her father's genes, her age, or lack of nutrition. Herrah, however, is matured in both mind and body. Herrah's body is like a woman's body which has gone through a pregnancy: stretched and curvy. I do not mean it in a demeaning way. No, these are Herrah's battle scars that she wears proudly as Hornet's mother.

Do people think about that when they see Herrah? No.

At first, they are put off by Herrah's sharp horns and six eyes. It is a mental aspect of our brains to associate sharpness with threats. But the roundness in character design is often associated with warmth and approachability.  This Beast is the same person who Hornet called "Mama"; the deadly hunter queen who cuddled her baby.

By the time we meet Herrah within the Dream Realm to strike her, we should already know that she is Hornet's mother and be conflicted about killing her. Herrah's design only adds to the drama as we listen to Herrah's last words "For her…for her…"

Herrah is a Seal but also a Mom and a Queen. And most likely the main reason why anyone writes AUs sparing the Dreamers.

But I have written too much about Herrah. Let us check out her den!

The entrance is carefully spun while the door is framed by metal design not seen in Hallownest, implying that the Weavers know both the arts of metalwork and weaving.

After entering the Beast's Den, you are treated to a large hall. It seemed to have served as a dining hall, meeting hall, and war room in the past. Now, it is solely used to "prank" any visitors.

Both pictures, however, are the only ones that visitors see when they come to the Beast's Den. Unless you count the distorted view you get as you try to peer through the silk before you get eaten.  Now, if you are lucky enough to be seen as a visitor and not future food, you will see the Weavers are crafty and capable in many arts: weaving, metalwork, and war.

Now, apply that to Herrah and you should carefully take a few steps away.

This, however, is what is applied to Herrah based on a public area. It is time to enter the Beast's Den proper.

And immediately you start to have claustrophobia.  Webs everywhere…

Need I say more?

There is light, but it is very soft and in-between. Your lantern must suffice. But for the Weavers and Herrah, the light from the few lamps is more than enough.

Herrah's Den does not seem to be just for her glory alone, however, as several masks are seen.

IMPORTANT! Neither mask belongs to Herrah! The first mask is too round, like one the few Weavers we find alive in Deepnest, while the other is a Stalking Devout as seen by the hole where the mouth would go.

As for their significance, we are unfortunately left without a guide to tell us anything. But if they were in Herrah's Den with such fine art surrounding them, then Herrah wanted these masks there to honor whoever the masks represent. This detail speaks volumes of how Herrah greatly respects those whom she believes are worthy of honor, even if you must to travel into her den to know of her respect.

As for respect, let us see how the Weavers paid their last respects to Herrah as she laid dreaming to protect them all.

First, the room is the most lit in the whole den due to wide array of candles. Second, the webs are everywhere, but the angles framing the space make it far nicer on the eye (unlike the rest of the den. 😬). Herrah herself is laid perfectly centered, framed by two banners hanging. Even her hands are neatly folded in rest. This is no longer Herrah's home; it is her shrine.

Yet it seems that the Weavers are the ones who highlighted the importance of Herrah. The queen, after all, cared more about her people and daughter than herself. Of all the banners hung, the only markings on them are the six eyes of the Weavers, not just Herrah. It is her people's flag, not Herrah's. 

One last thing to mention before moving on to the other Dreamers, is asking Herrah what in goodness gracious is this?!

As it is deep within Herrah's den and there are more pressing questions in Hollow Knight, I have not seen many attempts to answer it. As such, we have literally no idea except for some insight provided by the Fandom wiki. I quote:

Beast’s Den Shrine

"A room located in the west part of the Beast’s Den contains an unknown being. The file names for the sprites in this room refer to the area as a ‘shrine’. Hitting the being with the Nail produces a metallic sound. Hitting it with Spells makes a seal appear over it. It is unclear if this being is the corpse of an ancient bug or a statue.” Taken from the Hollow Knight wiki: Ancient Civilisation - Hollow Knight Wiki.

If this is true, then we found what Herrah worshiped, or at least what she let her people worship within her den. Whatever this thing, it is not Weaver in origin. The seal used on it does NOT match up with the various Weaver seals of protection we see in the rest of the game. Perhaps the Weavers learn how to make such seals and spells by studying this creature? If so, then it shows how Herrah is willing to learn from others to protect her people.

Willing to learn from anyone but Hallownest.

The bench and elevator are destroyed, specifically the ones from Hallownest as seen in their designs. It is not that Herrah does not like benches, but that she doesn't like Hallownest. See proof below.

The Bench design here fits far better with the Weaver metalwork than the broken bench in the Stag Station. 

Herrah will use Hallownest to benefit her people, but it will always be on her terms.

Even the existence of the Stag Station is to further trade to increase power and influence for the Weavers while lowering the risk to them. Pro-Hallownestian or Pro-Weaver, you must admit that Herrah acts like a queen should, forever serving her people.

And that is all I could find! If you have any thoughts or questions, comment or reblog down below!

This is a part series to see if I can fit everything in. I hope you enjoyed Herrah's den!

Part 2.0: Monomon's Archives: Here

Part 3.0: Lurien's Spire : Here

Part 3.25: More of Lurien's Spire: Here

Part 3.5: Lurien's Spire: Pillows and Patriotism: Here

Part 3.7 Lurien's Spire: What is wrong with Lurien's Office?! Here

Link to essay on Ao3: Here

[phantomrose96]

The Silt Verses spoilers under the cut

I saw someone refer to Carpenter as dead after the finale and I had to do like, a double-take. And obviously it's a valid interpretation of her ambiguous ending. MOST people who get shot by soldiers and fall into the water are dead or about to be dead.

But this is Carpenter.

"Gods Won't Let Me Die" Carpenter. "Gods' most unkillable woman" Mallory Glass Carpenter the First. "When Faulkner curses out the Trawler-man the Trawler-man drowns him to death, but when Carpenter does it the Trawler-man declares her his favorite and intervenes time again to save her from murder by drowning his own devout instead" Carpenter. "Followed for months by the God of Death Carpenter and it takes Hayward pointing out that this God is actually steering her AWAY from death" Carpenter.

Carpenter could declare "I'm tired" and lay down to stop breathing and the gods of The Silt Verses would conspire to push air into her lungs. Carpenter could lay down on a knife and all the Gods would say "Queen you dropped this" and lift all of her blood back inside her.

I absolutely DID expect the finale to end with Carpenter's death, for sure. It's just that in order for me to believe Carpenter has in fact, finally, actually, died, I'd need Dr. McDoctor Head Coroner of the Peninsula to come by, hoist her body up, and say "Yes she's dead. I'm an expert in these things, and this is a dead person for sure."

The fact that Carpenter vanished under the water, and it bothered the soldier enough to comment "her body isn't coming back up." Brother she fell into the water. Trawler-man is down there sewing her wounds shut and making a crab-bake and getting her ready to live another wet reluctant day.

[girlactionfigure]

 THURSDAY HERO: Glagolev Family

It is undeniable that the role of Ukraine in the Holocaust was shameful. Almost a million Jews were killed by Ukrainian Nazi collaborators, most of them shot and dumped into mass graves, many while still alive. Because of this ugly history, and at a time when the Ukraine itself is under threat, it is crucial to remember those Ukrainians who did the right thing, even at great risk to themselves.

Alexei Glagolev was a Ukrainian Orthodox priest who practiced his Christian faith despite severe persecution from the Soviet communists. Together with his wife Tatiana and their children, Alexei hid Jews during World War II, a heroic act that almost cost the Glagolevs their own lives.

Born in Kiev in 1901, Alexei was raised in a devout Eastern Orthodox home. His father Alexander was a priest and professor at Kiev Theological Academy and known to be an ally to Jews at a time of rampant antisemitism. Alexei, a stand-out student in high school, enrolled in the Theological Academy in 1919, and studied there until 1923, even after it was shut down by the Bolsheviks and the students had to study in secret. Alexei married Tatiana Bulashevich, the daughter of a sugar plant owner, in 1926. They had three children, Magdalina, Nikolei and Maria.

In 1932 the Glagolevs’ world was rocked when Alexei was arrested by the communists for “anti-revolutionary acts.” He was freed after a week in custody, but was designated a “cult leader” and deprived of civil liberties. With his professional options severely curtailed due to his status as leader of a cult (the Soviets considered all religions to be cults), he labored as a construction worker and security guard. From 1936 to 1940 he studied Physics and Mathematics at the Kiev Pedagogy Institute, while secretly running an underground church. After the war in Eastern Europe began, Alexei was ordained as a priest and served in the Pokrov Church in Kiev.

In October, 1941, Alexei’s sister-in-law asked him to help her brother’s Jewish wife, Izabella Mirkina, who was in imminent danger of being murdered by the Nazis. Without hesitation, Alexei and Tatiana determined to do whatever they could to help persecuted Jews, despite caring for their own three children in difficult wartime conditions. Tatiana gave Izabella her own identity card and baptism certificate. In his memoirs, Father Alexei wrote, “My wife almost paid with her own life for her reckless action. The Gestapo was going from flat to flat asking for papers, and when they found out that Tatiana didn’t have a passport, they were going to arrest her. Very few people returned to their homes after such arrests. We begged and managed to persuade them to leave her alone after a few witnesses confirmed her identity.”

Even with Tatiana’s papers Izabella was unable to escape and returned to the Glagolevs in desperate need of a place to hide. Alexei later said, “Tormented, we searched for a way to save her. What kind of Christians would we be if we refused this poor woman, who was reaching out to us and pleading for help?” The Glagolevs welcomed Izabella and her daughter Irina into their own modest home. When other desperate Jews approached for help, Alexei gave them fake baptism certificates and hid them in his church, even though hiding Jews was a capital crime punishable by execution. The Glagolev children also helped care for the Jews and keep them safe and fed.

In 1943 Alexei moved out of his home and into the hospital at Pokrov Monastery, where he lived beside the Jews he was helping. This was very risky because the Germans had forbidden Ukrainians to live in that part of Kiev. He and his son Nikolei were arrested in fall of that year and deported to Germany, where Alexei was brutally beaten by the Nazis. Somehow they managed to escape and returned to Ukraine after the liberation from Germany in 1944. In 1945, Alexei wrote a letter to Nikita Khrushchev, Secretary of the Ukraine, about the Jews he had saved.

Alexei continued working as a priest in the Pokrov church until it closed in 1960. He worked in several other churches despite increasing ill health caused by his brutal treatment while imprisoned by the Nazis. Alexei died in 1972. Journalist Sergei Kokurin wrote in an article about Alexei, “It is hard to understand to an average man the determination with which Glagolev went against the tide. In 1936 this fragile-looking intellectual publicly carried the cross taken off the Church of Nikola the Kind, and despite threats from the communists kept it in his flat. He was the only priest in Kiev who refused in April 1942 to hold a church service to celebrate Hitler’s birthday.”

Alexei, Tatiana and their children were recognized as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem in 1991. In January 2002, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Alexei Glagolev’s birth, a memorial plaque to him and his brave father Alexander was erected on the wall of the National University of Kiev.

For their heroic actions saving Jews, and for practicing their faith in defiance of Soviet persecution, we honor the Glagolev family as this week’s Thursday Heroes.

[mrsshabana]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖: 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You are one of Douma's most loyal followers, and he decides that some affection from you is exactly what Gyutaro needs. But Gyutaro is worried because he has no experience in this department, so Douma steps in to guide him. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x Douma x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, manipulation. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.5k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Kinktober Masterlist

“Oh Gyutaro, you are going to love this,” Douma chimes excitedly as he leads upper moon six through the elaborately decorated halls. 

Gyutaro curiously follows Douma, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“But I did! This is a special occasion!” he squeals, “It’s not every day that we get a new upper moon!”

With Douma’s guidance, Gyutaro and Daki were able to quickly rise through the ranks. But of course, only Gyutaro was the true upper moon six. While he worked hard to become stronger, Daki was too busy terrorizing weak humans. And when a real challenge came along, she went crying to Gyutaro for help. 

Gyutaro takes his new rank very seriously, so he doesn’t want to waste time with meaningless gifts and celebrations. But he respects Douma, so he puts up with his shenanigans. 

When the upper moons arrive at a door at the end of the hall, Douma puts his hand on the handle and smirks deviously before twisting the knob and pulling the door open.

Gyutaro’s eyes widen at the sight before him. A beautiful young woman wearing elegant robes with seemingly nothing beneath them. 

“A human?” he murmurs, “But why?”

The smirk on Douma’s face widens, “But for pleasure of course.”

Gyutaro shakes his head and holds his hands up defensively, “N-no, I don’t need things like that. I-”

“Shhhh,” Douma shushes him before he can finish his sentence, “I know what your weakness is, Gyutaro. You’re lonely,” his gaze softens as he looks into Gyutaro’s eyes, “Painfully, painfully lonely. And I’ve given you the solution right here.”

Gyutaro clenches his teeth and shouts, “I’m not lonely! I have my sister! She’s all I need!”

“Oh really? Are you sure?” He leans in closer to Gyutaro and whispers, “I think we both know that there are needs that siblings cannot fulfill.”

Gyutaro frowns and looks down at the ground, letting Douma’s words sink in. He hates to admit it, but it’s true. The connection he shares with his sister is immeasurable, but there are times when he wishes he had more. Wishes he could be loved in ways that he thought weren’t meant for men like him. He was always too ugly, too cruel, too repulsive. Even before turning into a demon, he never would have imagined having something akin to romance in his life. 

“Fine,” his voice cracks as he gives in, “But… I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, Gyutaro,” Douma grins and puts a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

You curiously watch as the two demons approach you. Scared but also excited for what is to come next.

Ever since you accidentally walked in on Douma devouring a human corpse, he’s been trying to figure out what to do with you. Lucky for him, you are a devout member of the Eternal Paradise Cult. So even something as shocking as seeing your leader eating human flesh couldn’t sway you from your faith. Your loyalty was to Douma and the cult, first and foremost. 

At first Douma was going to dispose of you himself, but you were too beautiful to just kill like that. He had to come up with some way he could use you. And what better use for a cute human woman than to give some much needed affection to the demon that needs it most? And not just any demon, a demon that he takes great pride in teaching and guiding. 

He knew you would be perfect for Gyutaro. Hoping that having a beautiful woman by his side could boost his confidence. So much so that perhaps he wouldn’t let his insecurities hinder him in combat anymore. That was the hope at least.

Douma had already made you aware of what was supposed to take place tonight. He told you that you would be introduced to a dear friend of his, and that it would be your duty from now on to serve him.

Keeping his words in mind, you smile and bow politely as the demons approach you. 

Both men take a seat in front of you, surrounded by fine silks and embroidered pillows. 

“This is Y/N,” Douma says with a smile. “Pretty isn’t she?”

Gyutaro nods shyly, “Y-yeah… she is.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gyutaro,” your soft voice is like a melody to him. He almost chokes hearing such kind words directed towards him.

“See? She’s incredibly obedient!” Upper moon two says with glee, “Why don’t you try touching her?”

Gyutaro’s eyes go wide and a blush creeps onto his cheeks, “Touch her?” He gulps and looks at your sitting form. With a shaky hand he gently slides his hand under your robe and touches your thigh, “She’s so soft…”

“Try touching her here,” Douma suggests as he takes Gyutaro’s other hands and guides him to your chest. Softly cupping Gyutaro’s hand over your breast, “See? She likes it.” 

A soft whimper escapes your lips and your face heats up as Gyutaro touches you. 

“C-can you show me what else she likes?” Gyutaro says shyly, looking at Douma for guidance. 

Douma’s lips curl into a deceitful grin, “Oh but of course Gyutaro! It is my job to guide you after all.” He wastes no time slipping his clawed finger under your robe and slipping it off of your body. Leaving yourself bare, the lustful gaze of the upper moons fixated on your body. 

Gyutaro’s eyes are filled with nervousness and excitement, while Douma’s eyes are much more calm and calculating, though he looks just as eager. 

The rainbow eyed demon gently pushes you down to lay on your back and carefully parts your legs. Exposing your most sensitive area to their hungry eyes. Gyutaro stares in awe, his cock already rock hard and jutting out under his baggy pants.

“Right here,” Douma glides his finger down your slit, “she likes to be touched here.” He uses his fingers to part your slick lips, “Try touching her with your mouth.” 

“My mouth?” Gyutaro says in confusion.

“Yes! Go ahead and taste her, I assure you she’ll taste delicious.”

Gyutaro doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he’s so eager to play with his new toy that he acts without thinking. Moving to lay on his stomach, and position his head between your legs. He gets right into it and begins to sloppily lap at your pussy. 

“ Ah! ” you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Your instincts tell you to close your legs but you fight off the urge, knowing that you must obey the orders from Douma no matter what.

But luckily for you he intervenes, “Slow down Gyutaro,” he chuckles, “try softly licking her here.” He gently tilts Gyutaro’s head upwards until his tongue hits your clit.

Gyutaro holds onto your thighs as he slowly licks your clit and rubs circles into it with his tongue. Looking up for your approval, he’s pleased to hear your soft moans and to feel your body relax under him. 

While Gyutaro is getting acquainted with your pussy, Douma figures he might as well have some fun too. Moving to lay beside you, he takes off his shirt and leans towards you. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” he coos, “I’m going to teach Gyutaro how to take care of you.” 

“Thank you, Lord Douma,” you moan.

Douma hums to show he’s pleased with your obedience, then he moves closer to your chest and begins sucking on your pert nipples. Kissing and circling his tongue around one, while his hand plays with the other - gently pinching and tugging.

Gyutaro gains more confidence as he hears the sweet sounds you’re making for him, “She’s so wet,” he says between kisses and licks. 

Douma momentarily takes his attention away from your breasts to take a look at your wet cunt. “Wow Gyutaro! Look how wet you made her,” he cheers, “You’re learning so quickly!” 

“Does this mean…” he trails off, looking away - too embarrassed to say it out loud. 

“That she wants you to fuck her?” Douma verbalizes exactly what he had been thinking, “That’s exactly right!” 

Gyutaro moves his face away from your core and wipes his mouth with his hand, “B-but… I’ve never done anything like that before. What if I mess up? Or…” he trails off again but takes a deep breath to recompose himself, “Or break her?”

“There’s no reason to worry, Gyutaro, I am here with you,” Douma coos, “And I will guide you the entire time.” 

Gyutaro is a panting mess, staring at you with a lustful gaze as you can see his cock throbbing under his pants. While Douma gives you a look of reassurance, one that gives you a sense of tranquility. 

“Go on and get on top of her,” Douma instructs, holding Gyutaro by the shoulder and guiding him to position himself on top of you. Which he promptly does, crawling on top of you and caging you beneath him. He’s seen humans having sex in the district before, so he thinks he knows what to do next. 

He pulls down his pants and grabs the base of his cock, gliding his tip along your slick folds. “C-can I put it in, Y/N?”

You’re so surprised that he even bothered to ask that it takes you a moment to respond, “Of course you can.” You smile sweetly at him, cupping his cheek with your hand. 

Your gentle touch makes his head feel fuzzy and he’s unable to think about anything other than being inside of you. So he pushes his hips forward and tries to slide into you, but he can’t seem to find your entrance. Aimlessly pushing into you, resulting in whines of discomfort to leave your lips. 

“Be careful with her, she’s fragile. Let me show you.” Douma grabs Gyutaro by the hips and tilts his body until he is properly angled towards your entrance. Then he slowly pushes Gyutaro’s hips forward - his aching length finally sliding into your tight entrance. 

Gyutaro’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head as he lets out a moan of satisfaction, “ F-fuuuck! She-she feels so warm.” 

“The intimate embrace of a woman is truly unmatched, I knew you’d like her,” Douma grins, seemingly pleased to see Gyutaro enjoying his gift. “Start off slow, you don’t want to hurt her.” He keeps a hand on Gyutaro’s hip, guiding his thrusts to a slow pace. You can feel that Gyutaro is aching to just fuck you as hard as he can, but Douma is keeping him in line. Guiding his movements to ensure not only your comfort, but a better result in the end. 

“Pay attention to her, Gyutaro. Listen to her moans and look closely at her body, you can speed up once she’s ready.”

Gyutaro nods and continues at the steady pace Douma had set for him. Groans of pleasure escaping him as he plunges his cock into your velvety walls.

Watching you get fucked by his apprentice makes his cock twitch. He thought he would be able to ignore it, but the temptation is too much to bear. There’s no harm in indulging right? He might as well use you while he can. So, Douma pulls down the front of his pants and languidly strokes his length as the sound of your moans fills his ears. 

You’re so busy being pounded by Gyutaro that you don’t notice it at first. But when Douma’s cock suddenly appears hovering over your face, there’s no missing it. The size is similar to Gyutaro, long and girthy with large veins decorating the shaft. Though Douma’s looks more human than Gyutaro’s. 

“Hey!” Gyutaro growls, “She’s my present.”

“Come on Gyutaro, I’m just trying to show you how it’s done,” he lies through his teeth, “Don't you want to know how to receive oral sex? I’m doing this for you after all.”

Gyutaro scowls and looks up at him, momentarily putting his thrusts to a halt, “Fine.”

Douma smiles innocently before looking down at you - placing his cock against your lips, “Open wide, dear.” 

With a nod, you open your mouth wide and tilt your head back. Douma slides his thick length down your throat as Gyutaro goes back to abusing your pussy. 

“ Ahh that’s it, good girl,” Upper moon two moans as you take him into your mouth. He begins slowly thrusting into you, you now having to take double the abuse. 

Gyutaro picks up the pace as jealousy begins to rise within him. He wishes that was his cock inside of your mouth right now. But he’d never admit that watching you take a dick down your throat actually turns him on. He grabs your hips tightly, and thrusts into you more aggressively. The sound of skin slapping and the groans of pleasure from the two upper moons fill the room. 

Tears roll down your cheeks as you’re filled with an overwhelming pleasure. Gyutaro is ramming into your sweet spot while Douma is ramming into the back of your throat, only giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before he forces you to take him again. 

“You’ll be a good little pet for Gyutaro won’t you?” Douma teases.

“Mm mm hm,” you hum. The vibrations from your throat bring another wave of pleasure through Douma.

“ Ahh , you’ll pleasure him as good as you are to me right now, won’t you?”

“Mm hm!” you nod eagerly. At this point your legs are trembling and you fervently suck on him. One of your hands is holding onto Douma’s thigh, while the other is wrapped around Gyutaro’s wrist. Both men picking up their pace. But you are the first one to reach your peak.

Your gummy walls tighten around Gyutaro as you gush all over his pelvis. Moaning and gasping around Douma’s throbbing cock, that threatens to spill at any moment. 

The sensations of your orgasm quite literally milk Gyutaro dry. He’s quick to follow you, moaning and tilting his head back as he fills you full of hot sticky cum. His black nails digging into your flesh as he shoots rope after rope into you.

And finally, Douma cums down your throat. Moaning and grinning as he’s filled with a sense of satisfaction. His dick twitches as he empties his load into you, staying so deep down your throat that you have no other choice but to swallow. 

“Great job to both of you,” Douma says with an affirming smile as he slides his length out of your mouth. 

You’re barely able to process anything that he’s saying. All you can do is pant and tremble beneath the two demons. Drool rolling down your chin, and cum seeping out of your cunt. 

Gyutaro finally slides out of you and gently places you back down on the pillows. He tenderly runs his thumb along your hip.

“Still think you don’t need her?” Douma asks with a cocky grin.

“Fine… I guess I could find some use for her,” Gyutaro blushes, “Thanks for the present.”

[procyonloser]

Adam wasn't certain when it happened, if it came from growing up in a devout family or not, or if something else sparked his imagination as a young boy, but from early on, he'd been obsessed with the idea of the biblical Adam. Of course other biblical figures stood out more, and most people viewed Adam and Eve as simply a cautionary tale, a Just So story - but not Adam.

He saw a wide world of untold stories, of suffering and hardship, of tests of faith, of love and loss, all in a world that had no other people to speak of. Adam was captivated by the concept, and maybe it was because of his namesake, but he felt a sort of kinship with the Adam figure. Responsibility and loneliness, but duty over all else, Adam sympathized with that.

He'd started drawing, just little doodles at first, that turned into comics. At first it just rehashed the story of Adam and Eve, but he started to embellish it, to bring more life to them, and eventually to imagine what their lives must have been like. It'd been a big hit at his private Christian highschool, but Adam didn't expect to make a living off of it. Still, he kept drawing into college, turning it into an episodic comic about the life of Adam.

He wasn't expecting a major Christian publisher to contact him when he was only 21.

Over the years, First Man grew in popularity, he'd even gained a good amount of followers from other religions and backgrounds. Adam of the comic was essentially an action hero, but with more heart - dealing with his flawed but devoted wife, the loss of his first two children, and surviving a world before the flood. It gave Adam the freedom to think up all sorts of demons and fallen angels for comic Adam to face. Comic Adam was tall, handsome, ripped, talented, perfect.

Adam stared into the cramped airplane mirror, scratching at the stubble on his chin. Adam was tall, sure, but he didn't think he was exactly handsome, more average in the face; he wasn't ripped, and didn't even think he had muscles under his stomach anymore, not after years of sitting at a desk drawing and doing nothing else.

He was far from perfect, and the stories were beginning to weigh on him. He'd just completed the most major arc in his entire comic, after over 7 years of writing, comic Adam had died an old man. While some thought that was the end of the series, Adam had a sequel planned, of Adam in heaven, an agent of God with the original angels.

But Adam needed a fucking break, he needed a vacation. It was tearing him up inside, he hadn't even believed in God in about 3 years, but fuck knows he hadn't told his publishers that. The longer he drew Adam, Adam began to feel less and less... Himself. It felt wrong, it wasn't just that he'd sacrificed his social life or chances at any relationships, it just felt more and more fake.

Adam dragged a hand down his face, before exiting the bathroom.

He dropped down into his aisle seat next to a mildly annoyed looking British women, that eyed him up and down. The bags under his eyes, his unkempt hair, the fact he was in sweatpants and flip-flops on a plane.

"You're flying into Ankara?" The woman asked after a long few minutes and Adam gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Then to Adiyaman." Adam said simply, knowing it would be quite the trek across Turkey.

"You may want to... at the very least, put on a proper pair of shoes." She said, and Adam rolled his eyes. It wasn't his first time here, though he'd never been outside of Istanbul before, but no one gave a shit what was on his feet. They were usually more astonished he was over 6'5 than anything.

"Eat a bag of dicks," Adam grumbled, before popping on his headphones, only briefly remembering the good Christian boy he'd been when he'd started his comic.

But it was at the heart of why he'd come here. To Turkey, to the Euphrates River in Adiyaman. Adam's fascination with biblical Adam, with Genesis, with Eden, never really went away, even as he grew more nihilistic and angry at the world. He'd dreamed about visiting here for years, because Adam, deep down, knew that this area was Eden. The whole of the area, from where the Euphrates began and ended in the ocean. The garden was only a piece of the much larger area of Eden, and he'd been waiting years to come here, to see it with his own eyes. To feel the history dripping out of every rock face and curve of the river.

This was where humanity began.

Adam handed his bags over to the clerk in the Ramada he was staying in, because of course they still had a Ramada in the middle of Turkey. Adiyaman so far was... It wasn't exactly small, but half of town seemed like it was in the process of being built, and the streets were lined with cars that looked old to Adam. But, it didn't matter, he wasn't there for that.

Adam sighed loudly, wanting to get up to his room to pass out in bed for maybe the next day. He'd pressed the elevator door close button, but at the last minute, pale fingers curled around the metal, and the doors slid back open, revealing a rather short man. He was wearing an interesting suit, and was at least a head shorter than Adam, but there was something about how he used the space around him that made Adam look him over cautiously.

"Going up?" The man said, with a half smile.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "... You American? Canadian?"

The man shrugged a shoulder, "something like that."

Adam had no idea what the fuck that meant. Why be cagey about that kind of question. It was a simple answer.

"What brings you back here, Adam?" The man askedv pleasantly enough, changing the subject.

"The Euphrates, the archaeology in general. It's a tax write off vacation for my work." Adam answered, not understanding why he was bothering to tell the guy all that.

It didn't sink in until after he got off on his floor, that the man knew his name.

And Adam had never been to Adiyaman before.

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Hello!!! Can you please write a Seo Moonjo fic, where he becomes possessive/obsessed with Jongwoo's gf or with a female who works with him?

Overcompensate

Absolutely lovely! Here's a bit of a drabble for you!

Pairing: Seo Moon-Jo X Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore & possessiveness, Moon-Jo shows very yandere tendencies, cannibalism allegories

Moon-jo was a simple man.

Not necessarily in theory, but in practice. He knew what it was he aspired to obtain in his lifetime and with the amount of work and dedication he put into those aspirations, it makes sense that he would achieve them. Simple.

But as to what he wanted and the lengths he would go to, stopping at nothing...that was a little more complicated.

To his surprise, he had found himself in a situation where the goal wasn't in relation to dentistry or murder. He was having a bit of an issue sorting out just exactly why the new tenant of Eden Residence was so captivating, so enthralling to him. What was it about the boy who lived next door that led Moon-Jo to believing that his existence was some sort of spiritual awakening he would have to come to discover? Why was he suddenly so fascinated in the idea of pulling back his brain and picking out all of his thoughts, consuming them in their entirety until there was nothing left of poor Jongwoo but a vessel of the human being he once was? It was Kafka-esque, a metamorphosis of his character; to watch him succumb to the ravaging animalistic qualities that Moon-Jo believed all humans to possess. It was strange and it was beautiful.

And oh, was it something Moon-Jo wanted.

So he put in the work. Day after day he spent trying to get under Jongwoo's flesh, tearing open another layer piece by piece to truly understand his newfound obsession. But with every step closer to his goal he got, the more confused he became. There was nothing he was learning that he had hoped for. Jongwoo was buckling under the weight of his neighbor's madness, yes. But he wasn't the right image of Moon-Jo's work. This frustrated him to no end.

He still remembers when everything finally clicked into place. The night had just fallen and the stars crept up in the sky, illuminating the long path to the Residence. Although the lights were dim, one could still make out the small cats darting back and forth as they played with one another in the underbrush. The air was crisp and still with no wind, a perfect temperature to end an outrageously hot summer day. Moon-Jo awaited on the rooftop with two beers, as he usually did, watching the path below for his Jongwoo to arrive back home with his furrowed expression of displeasure and overly large backpack slung over his shoulders from an excruciatingly long day at the office. He would be lucky to convince Jongwoo up to the roof where he sat and even luckier if he could manage to get him to drink his beer. He knew Jongwoo was onto him and his...stranger tendencies, but he would receive the fruits of his labor. He always did.

The beer can was cold under his grasp, the condensation slipping from his fingertips and falling beneath him as the drops pattered onto the cracked concrete. He was starting to grow slightly warm, however, he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or the growing anticipation he felt as he awaited the boy's arrival. His eyes didn't leave the road once.

As he looked beneath him towards the winding street, he finally saw his neighbor trudging up the path, same expression on his face Moon-Jo had expected him to be wearing. But, to his surprise, walking beside the man he'd so desperately tried his best to court 24/7 was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life.

It shocked him-almost-his hand immediately dropping the beer he was holding as he lost his composure for the first time in many years. It was sudden, as though he'd been impaled by sword, piercing through his lungs and stopping his breath as his heart skipped a beat. He had never been so hungry, so devout for human meat. He didn't want to cannibalize you, no. But he so desperately wanted to consume you and your being which is almost the same thing...right? He knew what Jongwoo had meant to him now, it was almost so clear in the way it presented itself; Jongwoo was never meant to be the product of his manipulation. It had always had to have been you.

Your eyes looked up towards Eden, missing the strange man on the roof entirely. Moon-Jo found himself entranced by them, watching the way they shone under the stars and the soft light from the windows of the Residence. They were like Bosch's paintings of the divine, absolutely encapsulating the beauty of the gods. Your hair fell slightly past your shoulders and framed a face he could only assume belonged to heavens itself. Your body swayed with the movement of your feet as you followed your boyfriend's suit, duffel bag in hand.

Moon-Jo thought he had died and been met with the face of a deity.

On your end, the only thing you were thinking about was Jongwoo's warnings from earlier. Once he had moved to Seoul and started living in this dingy place, he had instantly been met with strange roommates whom he'd talk about often. You were worried about his dwindling sleep schedule and his overall safety, residing in a place like this on the outskirts of town. If something terrible were to happen here, you weren't even sure police would show up in this precinct. For Jongwoo's sake, however, you swallowed down your nervousness preparing to have that conversation with him later.

Collecting himself, Moon-Jo practically sprinted towards the stairs and made his way down to Mrs. Eom's desk, leaning against the dilapidated building's walls, forcing himself to contain the sparks flying through his veins. He had to keep himself together, make the most impeccable first impression and swoon you over, whoever you might be. He needed you to like him, to trust him. If he ruined his image right off the bat by voicing his true inner monologue, it would be so much harder to mold you to his image and sway you into his grasp.

"Jongwoo, are you sure this is something you want to do? We could always sleep at my place if you're as uncomfortable by this place as you say." You said, closing the heavy door behind you and setting down your duffel bag for a moment to regain your breath.

Jongwoo shrugged and picked up your things containing all your overnight clothes and whatever else you'd brought to work that day. He had just simple given you a "yeah, this is fine" before turning around to be met face-to-face with the one person he didn't want to see or have the imposition of introducing to his girlfriend at all. He had hoped he might be able to sneak you past and into his room before anyone even noticed he was there; as he usually did. He'd presumed Moon-Jo to be on the roof for his nightly drink, whenever he stayed at the residence and not in his own apartment.

Beside the wall-almost eerily so-Moon-Jo stood, ignoring Jongwoo completely. His eyes were trained on you as you gathered yourself enough to take him in, watching the man before you breathe in the very fiber of your being. He was tall and dark haired with extraordinary cheekbones. With a face card like that, you were sure he'd have had to be a model or do side-gigs of the sort. His smile was a pleasant one as it seemed inviting, but upon staring at it for a few moments, something about it felt off to you. His black button-up was loose around his collarbones and neatly tucked into his slacks. He was fairly handsome, you thought, forgetting that Jongwoo had warned you of this 'crazy neighbor' before inviting you to stay at his place to catch the train back home tomorrow.

A piercing feeling of nervousness took over your body and shocked you instantly. There was something extremely peculiar about this man and you wanted nothing to do with finding out what it was. There was something haunting about the depth of his cold, dark gaze, contrasting Jongwoo's warm and inviting one. You swore to yourself in that moment not to walk anywhere on these premises without Jongwoo for fear of running into this man alone.

However uncomfortable you may have felt, Moon-Jo was in love, if that's what you would call it. He wanted this-you, so intensely and so immediately that his entire body felt as though it were shaking with tremors. He would stop at absolutely nothing to have you, to own you. You were what he had been unknowingly waiting for his entire existence and Jongwoo had only been the key. Smiling, he shook his hand out towards yours, ignoring the complaints from your boyfriend from beside you.

"My name is Seo Moon-Jo. The pleasure is all mine."

"(Y/N)." You replied.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! Is it alright if you could write GP! Donna and how, in the beginning of the relationship, she was nervous to have sex with the FEM! Reader because of her GP? It’d be cool if the reader found out about her GP by accidentally pressing on her erection.

Thank you!

Yesss!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry if it's too long, and about the language mistakes!!!!

Everything about you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, insecurities, angst, fluff, first time

Word count: 6,746

Summary: You just wanted to know why she’s always hiding…

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting for yours :))) I love you all!!!

“You’ve came...” the woman in black sighed when she opened the door.

You smiled at her soft voice and nodded, amused.

“Of course I’ve came. We have met, right?” You said, getting a little closer to her and putting your hand on the black cloth that covered her face. “Hey, Donna, aren't you forgetting something?”

“What?” She asked confused. You waved your hand to move the black fabric and she laughed sheepishly. “Oh, I... I'm sorry,” she said, putting her hands on her veil, ready to take it off.

“Wait, keep it just for a moment,” you interrupted, picking it up and leaning down to kiss her under the black cloth fabric. “I love doing this...” You whispered. “It reminds me of our first kiss.”

“Yes, I...” She said, removing her veil completely. “Forgive me. I'm still not used to it.”

“Well, get used to it,” you whispered in her ear, amused. “To hide that beautiful face of yours is a crime, Donna.”

“You always say those things...” The woman in black murmured, stepping aside so you could enter the house.

“I say what I think, you know me,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

She responded to you with another of her dazzling smiles.

Living in that dark village had been a problem for you since you were a child. You were not comfortable. You didn’t share Mother Miranda's sermons. You were almost a hermit, refusing to please this strange cult you lived in. But it's not like you could get out of there, so it was better to get used to it.

You got so used to it that you ended up falling in love with one of the priestess's Lords, according to the villagers, the most dangerous Lord, Donna Beneviento.

Crazy, disturbed, sick, evil... All of those were adjectives that your neighbors said without basis. She was not a normal woman, she had problems and, like you, she was a hermit but you didn't see anything resembling those words about her.

From the moment in which, after one of Miranda's speeches, your gazes met, there was no turning back. It might seem like you suddenly became devout, but your excursions to church had little to do with Miranda. You were looking for Donna. You were looking for her among the people. And she, she was looking for you.

Shortly after starting those strange chases, meeting in unusual places and starting something resembling a conversation thanks to the Angie doll, everything else was just a matter of time.

Love seemed impossible in that place, but you, oh, you found it.

“Well, so...” You said hanging gently on her neck, making her shyness come to light with a slight blush. “What are we doing today?”

“I was thinking about taking a walk,” Donna responded, putting her hands on your waist, without taking her gaze away from yours.

You slyly rolled your eyes. Two months of relationship and that was the only thing you did: walk, have dinner, read, have tea. You couldn't complain, you didn't. You loved her and that was the most important thing but... A few weeks ago, your body began to get tired of shy kisses and innocent caresses.

“A walk? It’s cold out there,” You said, exaggerating a shiver. Donna rubbed your arms lovingly and stepped away from you, sighing and knowing that you were making excuses to stay home, again.

“Okay, (Y/N), what do you propose?” She asked tenderly, running a hand over your cheek, making you bite your lip involuntarily.

“Well, I don't know...” You sighed, pretending to think about the possibilities. Laying on the bed and making love to each other was definitely not something you could say loud and clear. Donna was excessively shy and she never made the slightest hint of taking the next step.

You assumed it was due to her loneliness. It was no secret that she lived alone, she was always alone. She herself told you that you were the first person who loved her, with everything that statement entailed. You were never a heartbreaker either. You had only played to be girlfriend with or kiss with or sleep with. You had never felt the need to prolong a relationship. None of the girls you met were really worth it, just Donna. Donna was the love of your life and you wanted everything with her.

 “Maybe…. Maybe we could watch a movie,” you proposed, deciding that the best environment to carry out your desires was a dark room. You were also shy, but a little less. It was much easier for you to express your feelings and that could be an advantage.

“Oh, fine,” she said, smiling widely before kissing you quickly. “Why don't you go down and choose one? I'm going to make some tea.”

You nodded and obeyed, keeping your hand on hers for a moment longer, making her laugh softly again, with that smile that said how happy I am to have met you.

The room was dark apart from the light coming from the projector. It wasn't your first afternoon of movies and tea, but it was a special one, more romantic than usual. Your head rested on her shoulder while her arms made you feel like you were on a cloud, forcing you to think about other things, about forgetting your lustful desires. From time to time, there were knowing glances and tender and unbearably soft kisses on your forehead.

You leaned a bit closer, kissing her on the lips slowly, getting closer to her body. She smiled at you and obliged your wishes, just for a few moments before her head turned back to the bright white screen of the bookshelf.

“I'm very comfortable with you, Donna...” You sighed, lowering your head to her chest. She laughed softly and brought a hand to your chin to bring it up before kissing you softly again.

“Me too, (Y/N),” she said with a low voice. “I would spend my life looking at you…”

“I love you so, so much, my love! Come on, give me a kiss!” A shrill and unpleasant voice interrupted that moment. Of course, it had to be mentioned that Angie doll was always present on your dates. Sometimes she just kept an eye on you, in case you dared to hurt Donna, other times she spent the time making fun of you.

“Angie...” Donna whispered, annoyed by that interruption. “Please, behave.”

“Behave yourselves. It's going to give me a diabetic attack just by looking at you,” the doll protested, climbing onto her owner's lap and pushing you away with her ridiculous strength.

“Oh, if it bothers you that much, why don't you leave? I'm sure you have better things to do,” You said, crossing your arms in resignation.

The puppet laughed triumphantly, having taken away the comfortable position you had in your lover's body.

“Yes, of course. What you want is to be alone with my Donna,” the doll said, pointing at you with her hand.

“Well yes, that's what I want, to be alone with my girlfriend,” you said, fighting with Angie again, as was customary.

“Your girlfriend?” Donna asked, abruptly, looking at you.

Well, her expression was not surprising. In all that time you had never talked about what you really were. Lovers? Sure. Anything else that involved more commitment? It seemed like it, but it was never something that was said.

“Yes, well... We are girlfriends, right?” You asked, red shyly appearing on your cheeks. It was a bad idea to ask, since for a moment and due to her confused expression, you thought that maybe it wasn't so clear to her.

“I... Well... Of course. I... I didn't know if you wanted to...” The woman in black stammered, nervously playing with her hands in her lap.

“Donna, what do you think we are then?” You asked amused, enjoying her innocent disorientation.

“I, I don't know... I'm sorry, you know I'm very clumsy,” she said, embarrassed but with a shy smile appearing on her face.

“Well, then girlfriends, right?” You asked, slowly approaching her, ignoring Angie's fuss. Donna nodded before kissing you again, this time more passionately.

“Disgusting,” the doll protested, getting off her owner's lap. “Okay, I'm leaving.”

With the doll out of the picture and your kisses not wanting to stop, naughty ideas returned to your mind. Your hands rested on her chest as you settled on the couch, leaning slightly towards her.

“(Y/N)...” Donna murmured among kisses, putting her hands on your waist, pulling your body slightly. You, on the other hand, went down her jaw, down her neck, causing tremors in her body.

That was the perfect situation to strengthen that small commitment. You should thank Angie.

The atmosphere suddenly heated up, becoming unbearable. The kisses didn’t stop. The caresses wandered lower and lower, until your hands reached her legs. Everything seemed to be going according to your plans, but a hand on your wrist prevented you from following the erotic path of her leg upwards.

“Wait, tesoro...” Donna said, scared, nervous about something.

You stopped kissing her and looked at her with bright eyes. The lady in black moved away from you a bit, as if she had seen a ghost, as if something was bothering her.

“What's wrong? Are you alright?” You asked, worried by her terrified look. She nodded with a fake smile. Yes, she had never been with anyone. Donna was terrible at pretending.

“Yes, yes I...” She stammered, avoiding looking at your face, with her fists clenching tightly against the fabric of her dress. “Oh, but look at that… The tea is gone. I'm going, I'm going to go get some more,” she said hastily, making a useless attempt to get up.

Your hand on her arm stopped her, sitting her down on the couch roughly again.

“What are you talking about? I have my cup almost full,” you said, a mischievous smile on  your face, biting your lip.

Donna looked at the small coffee table, closing her eyes, trying to control her nervousness.

“Surely it’s cold...” She said, thinking that such a horrible excuse was going to work.

“I like it cold,” you counterattacked, leaning over her again and attacking her neck without mercy. Her hands on your chest prevented you from getting any closer.

“No, (Y/N), you said that you were cold and...” Donna said, avoiding your kisses, pathetically running away from your touch.

Well, that was enough. The subtlety is over.

Taking a deep breath, you cupped Donna's face in your hands, forcing her to hold her gaze.

“Donna, I want to make love,” you said with a clear voice, leaving the shame you had aside, knowing that you were the one who had to act, the one who had to be less shy.

“Fa... Fa... Fare l' amore...” She stammered nervously.

“Yes, that's it,” you said, sure of yourself, crawling across the sofa so you could leave the woman in black with no escape. “I want to take that step with you, Donna…”

“I, I...” The lady in black said, freeing herself from your hands on her face, unable to stop your kisses, which resumed immediately, making her gasp at your touch.

Your hand returned to her leg, cornering Donna to the edge of the small couch. Your hands caressed the black fabric of her chest. It seemed like you were finally going to get it, or so you thought.

When you moved to position yourself on top of her, she became even more nervous, jerking you away from her, causing you to fall back into the seat.

“Donna...” You sighed with a sad voice due to that rejection.

The woman in black hurriedly stood up, touching the fabric of her dress, as if she was searching for something, or rather, as if she was trying to hide something.

“I, I'm sorry, tesoro... I don't, I can't,” she said with a broken voice, as if she really wanted to do it but for some reason, she wasn't able to. Fear of the first time, that was the explanation you found.

“Why? Are you okay?” You asked, standing up to grab her hand. She dodged you gracefully, heading towards the door, turning her back to you.

“Yes, yes I... I'm... I'm going to get that tea, okay?” She said, without stopping touching her dress.

“Okay...” you sighed, rolling your eyes. She had made it clear, you weren't going to insist. “Do I help you?”

“No!” She shouted abruptly, turning partially to make a gesture with her hand, emphasizing her refusal. Her face relaxed a bit and she closed her eye embarrassed by that out-of-context yell. “No, I...  Stay here, will you?”

“As you wish,” you said with a frown, crossing your arms and letting yourself fall back onto the couch. Donna almost ran away and you shook your head. “What's wrong with you?” You sighed, picking up that cup of almost iced tea.

Despite that small awkward encounter, the rest of the afternoon passed normally. But there was something you kept thinking about: what the problem was? Her gaze, her eager kisses, her caresses wandering over your body. Those weren't symptoms of a person who didn't want you. You heard her gasping. You could see how her face was blushing but... But something stopped her from continuing.

Was Donna afraid of the first time? Probably she was, but there was something, something that didn't quite make sense in your head. If she wanted it so much, why did she run away like a coward? And most importantly, why did she look scared?

Little by little, as the days went by, your insinuations increased. You didn't want to pressure or force her to do something she didn't want to do. Donna’s mental health was quite delicate and she was a very sensitive woman. You didn't want to overwhelm her, or make her so nervous that she would forget to speak your language. No, you didn't want that.

But what you did want was to know what she was really worried about, what she was afraid of. You asked several times and the answer was always the same: I can't, a simple answer lacking arguments. Always the same scared attitude, always hands going to her black dress and always, always disappearing from your sight almost without explanation. What was going through her head? What was it that embarrassed her so much?

Donna wouldn't tell you, she never would. But your desire increased every night you came home, every time you heard her shy laugh, her eager gasps, every time you felt her hungry kisses on your skin.

“Tonight you are...” She commented while you were having dinner, one of the hundreds of romantic dinners you had. Her gaze had long since been lost in the corners of your new dress, one that you bought especially for that dinner.

“What?” You asked, hiding your smile behind a glass of wine.

“You look, you look beautiful, (Y/N),” Donna said, with that look of real love that only she knew how to convey.

“Wow, thanks, Donna... Do you like the dress? It's new,” you said amused.

You really didn't mean to insist that night, there was something special in the atmosphere, something that made you forget your carnal whims and enjoy Donna's innocent love.

“Yes, I, I like it. It frames your figure quite well,” she said, drinking from her own glass, still smiling.

You laughed at those words.

“Does it frame my figure? That’s a very… Professional opinion,” you joked, raising your eyebrows. She laughed with you, playing with the fork on the plate.

“I guess I can't help it,” Donna said, amused. “I would like to make you a dress, one much better than that one,” she whispered, observing your clothes with a different look. Sometimes that she diverted attention away so easily was maddening, but hey, you were used to it and you didn't mind at all.

You pretended to be indignant, opening your mouth with a gesture of surprise.

“What is wrong with it? It hasn't been cheap at all,” you said ironically, looking down at your new article of clothing.

“Hasn’t it? Well… I'm sorry to tell you that they have deceived you,” the woman in black commented, wiping herself with a napkin. “Look at those seams, they look weak.”

“The seams?” You asked amused, finishing your glass of wine. A heat suddenly came to your face. You looked at the Regina Rose bottle on the table and felt a bit embarrassed. You had perhaps drunk a little more than necessary.

“Mmm,” Donna agreed. “Surely they will break at the slightest touch.”

“Okay, are we here to talk about dresses and sewing?” You asked, sighing, putting the empty glass away so you wouldn't be tempted to fill it again.

“No, I...” Donna said, embarrassed, blinking in confusion.

“Hey, it was a joke, Donna,” you said quickly, grabbing her hand that was already clenching nervously. Fortunately, she relaxed almost instantly. “I would love for you to make me a dress…”

The woman in black smiled, running her thumb over your skin, caressing your hand in a way that gave you shivers, pleasurable shivers, of course.

“Ugh, everything was delicious,” you said, dragging the chair back.

“I'm glad you liked it, tesoro,” Donna, responded, pleased.

She got up to clear the table and you, of course, intended to help her.

“Wait I'll help you...” The familiar sound of fabric tearing made you sit still, red rising up your face and a knot in your stomach threatening to kill you with shame.

A shrill, shrill laugh filled the room. Of course, Angie was the first one to notice that your dress had torn down the side.

“Look, Donna, silly (Y/N)'s dress is torn. Silly, silly!” The doll hummed, pulling the black dress of its owner, making her look right at you.

“Shut up...” You said embarrassed, trying unsuccessfully to join the two parts of the dress. “Shit…”

“Don't say those words...” The lady murmured shaking her head and putting the plates back on the table. “You already know that I don't like it when such a beautiful girl talks like that...”

“I'm sorry, someone is forcing me to do so,” you hissed, glancing at Angie, who was writhing on the floor, laughing and pointing childishly at you with her hand.

“Let me take a look...” Donna said softly, leaning down to look at the tear in your brand new, pitiful dress. “You see? I’ve told you. Poorly done seams…”

“You're enjoying this, right?” You asked with an amused voice. She looked up and nodded triumphantly.

“Me? No, I’m not...” She whispered, amused, running her hand along the seam, concentrating. “Don't worry. I can fix it for you.”

“Oh, yeah... I wouldn't want to go with this hole out there,” you said, to which Donna nodded again, sitting up.

“Okay, come on, tesoro," she told you, sitting at her desk and taking sewing materials out of a drawer. “Oh, well, I need you to take it…”

You didn't give her time to finish the sentence. You, discovering this new opportunity to put your girlfriend on the ropes, slid her dress until it fell down your body, leaving you in your underwear in front of her dazed face.

“What? I'll have to take it off so you can fix it, right?” You said amused, walking slowly with the dress in your hand.

“Yes, well I...  You could have gone to the room for it,” Donna commented, blinking nervously and taking the cloth with trembling hands.

“What difference does it make?” You asked, hands on your hips. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Donna shook her head, looking away from you and searching for a thread the same color as the dress.

“No, I... I, I like looking at you like this, I mean, your body is... I mean...” She stuttered before closing her mouth in case she said something stupid. An even wider smile spread across your face, enjoying her discomfort.

As she began to fix your dress, you sighed, leaning on the desk with your hands resting on your face, watching as Donna struggled not to look at what was in front of her, at your breasts barely covered by your bra.

“You're looking at me,” she said confused, swallowing.

“Oh, yes, I like watching you sew. It seems like you're very good at it,” you said with a provocative voice, blinking seductively. A shy smile spread across her face. She was still unable to look at you.

“Well, I learned when I was very young,” she commented with a slightly calmer tone, but with the nervousness still visible in her hands.

“I see,” you murmured, reaching out your hand to caress hers. She stopped instantly. “You have very skilled hands… I wonder what else they can do.”

Donna laughed sheepishly, moving her hand for you to remove it. You didn't know if she was the most naive woman in the world, or if, on the contrary, she was avoiding your hints with unusual mastery. The first option was the most likely one.

“Hey, since you know so much about fabrics... What do you think of this one?” You asked, with a more casual tone, pretending it was an innocent question. It wasn't, you were pointing at your bra, forcing poor Donna to give in to temptation and look at you.

Her eye fell on your cleavage immediately and her mouth opened, but she was unable to utter a single word.

“I... Well, I guess...” The doll maker stammered, staring at your breasts shamelessly, which made you bite your lip.

“Do you see something you like?” You asked in a whisper, leaning further into the desk.

Donna nodded involuntarily, shifting nervously in her chair, stopping her sewing.

“Touch it. I think you'll like this fabric,” you said, taking her hand and bringing it to your chest, making it gently pass through your bra.

Her breathing became even more agitated and her face began to have that same scared expression, you knew that she had gotten excited, but that she wouldn't do anything, as always. Seeing her confused look, and letting herself run over your naked skin, you decided to give her a break, since with her other hand, she was about to finish tearing your dress.

“Sorry, I'm distracting you,” you said amused, approaching just enough to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Donna remained motionless for a few seconds until she took a deep breath and continued her work, now with your tempting body away from hers.

“Okay, I think, I think it’s done,” she finally said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, probably blaming herself for being enthralled with your body.

“Great, thanks, Donna,” you said sighing, picking up your dress again and kissing her briefly.

“You're welcome,” she said, nervously, without stopping moving in her chair.

“Hey, can you help me with the zipper?” You asked, this time without ulterior motives. You were feeling a bit cold.

“Me?” Donna asked confused, quite reluctant to get up from the chair.

“No, I’m talking to Angie,” you joked, rolling your eyes and turning your back on her. “Help me, Donna, come on.”

After a few seconds, in which it seemed to you that Donna was murmuring something incomprehensible, finally, you heard the sound of the chair moving against the floor and you felt her breathing very close to you.

The zipper went up slowly and you closed your eyes at the feeling of having her body so close to yours, but so distant at the same time. You were having a good night and Donna was having a bad time, because of you. It would be better to give her a truce.

“Thank you,” you said kindly, taking her hand and kissing it softly. “Well, what do you want to do?” You asked, separating yourself, bending down to put your shoes back on.

“I... I don't know... I have to clear the table first and then, then we could...”

“Ah!” You shouted, losing your balance as you stood on one leg to put on your shoe. You fell back, right where Donna was, being picked up by her arms.

Your body hit hers, keeping you very close, so close that you could notice something strange, something that was pressed against your body...

“Oh, wow...” You said nervously, knowing exactly what that lump that pressed against your body was, immediately understanding the reason for Donna's strange attitude when you hinted at a bit of intimacy, the reason for her cowardly escapes, the reason about her hands playing with her dress when you were too close to her.

Donna didn't move immediately, and neither did you, you were still processing what had just happened and on the other hand, you were fine with her body pressing against yours.

“Donna...” You sighed, moving slowly, moving away a bit, just a bit from her body. “What is…?”

Before you could continue with your question, you heard a sob, which matched the beginning trembling of her body. You turned around slowly.

Her face was broken, embarrassed, tears were beginning to run down her cheek as she was unable to move or say anything.

“Hey, hey, my love... Don’t, don't cry...” You said nervously, caressing her cheek. “Come on, Donna, calm down, it's okay...”

“You haven't stopped until you've achieved it, right?” She said with her voice broken by crying, pushing your hand away unpleasantly and darkening her gaze.

“What? No, I didn't mean to...” You said with a soft tone, the tone that those situations, in which Donna lost her temper, required.

Normally it happened to her for no reason, and that was easy to deal with but... That time it was not the same, that time she had a reason to lose her mind. You had discovered the secret she was hiding from you, a secret that embarrassed her terribly.

“Why did you have to do it? Why?!” She shouted nervously, slowly letting herself fall to the floor, with her back leaning on the desk, hiding the tears and shame with her hands.

“Shh, hey, come on, calm down, Donna...” You said with a calming, somewhat complicated tone, you were also nervous. “It, it was an accident... I’ve tripped and...”

“Say it,” Donna said, making sure you couldn't take her hands off her face. “Say it once and for all!”

“What, honey? What do you want me to say?” You asked a bit scared. You've never seen Donna so out of her mind.

“Say... Say that you don't love me... That I disgust you...” She said through clenched teeth, bringing her knees to her chest and balancing on herself.

“No, Donna. That's not true I... Listen, let's talk, okay? Let’s talk calmly,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders, trying by all means to get her to look at your face.

“There is nothing to talk about, (Y/N)... I...I...” She said, a bit calmer, but shaking her head.

“Hey, come on, it's okay... Everything's fine...” You whispered, resting your forehead on hers.

“No, nothing is fine. I, I have... I have a...” The lady in black stammered, trying to confess to you a truth that terrified her, the reason why she always ran away from your caresses.

“You have a penis, right. I've noticed it, so what?” You said, sure of yourself, making her stop crying instantly, looking at you surprised.

“So what?” She asked, pushing you away and standing up, now more furious than embarrassed. “So what, you say? Do you realize what that means?”

You, ready to deflect any stupidity that Donna accidentally said, put on a cocky pose and a superb look, raising your eyebrows and stamping your feet on the floor impatiently.

“Enlighten me, what does it mean?” You said with the same superb tone.

She looked confused for a moment, but then shook her head nervously.

“It means that you... That you... You can't love me...” Donna whispered, letting out the air that her anger forced to retain in her lungs.

“Well, I'll tell you something, Donna... I love you,” you said, approaching her, preventing her from running away again, grabbing her by the waist. “I don’t care…. Nothing can prevent the love I feel for you.”

“But, but I...” Donna murmured confusedly, being interrupted by a passionate kiss, the most passionate kiss you had ever given.

“Shh, don't talk anymore...” You whispered, moving her arms so she hugged you too. Her gaze was still disoriented, but her tears stopped sliding down her cheek.

“I'm sorry,” she said, ducking her head and burying it in your neck. “When, when Mother Miranda adopted me… My body…. My body changed and…”

“Shhh, I said don't talk,” you insisted, putting a finger between her lips. “I don't care, Donna. I don't care what happened to you, I don't care about your body... I care about you, your smile, your caresses, your words of love... I care about the time I spend with you...”

“I'm not what you're looking for...” The lady murmured again, caressing your cheek, looking at you as if trying to discover your lies.

“Of course you’re not, Donna...” you said, taking the hand that was caressing you. “You are much better…”

“But, (Y/N)...” She whispered very close to your lips, without that shyness that made her not be so close to your body.

“Come with me, Donna,” you said, grabbing her hand and gently pulling her toward the elevator.

“What? Where are we going?” Donna asked, almost stumbling as you pulled her along.

“You know what? I'm very tired of waiting,” you said amused, pressing the elevator button. “You won't escape me tonight, tesoro.”

“Wait, wait,” she said, standing in front of the metal bars. “Do you want? Do you want to…? Even knowing...?”

You nodded with an amused smile.

“You no longer have anything to hide so... Why don't we stop repressing ourselves once and for all? I want to love you so much, Donna…”

“I... I want it too...” The woman in black admitted embarrassedly, running a hand over your chest.

“Go first, in case you try to escape,” you said amused, whispering in her ear. She smiled nervously, but she ignored you, entering the elevator.

Once in the bedroom, you sat Donna on the bed and sighed, waiting for her to make the first move. She didn't do it, obviously.

“I've never done this... I don't know, I don't know what to do,” she said shyly, playing with the sheets. “I just, I'll just make a fool of myself...”

“No, don't say that... I'll help you, okay?” You said sitting next to her and holding her sweaty hand. “Why don't you start by taking off that dress and lying down? I will do the same.”

“Oh, well I...” She said, nervous but somehow, excited to finally feel free, to know that nothing could stop you from loving her.

She slowly undid the buttons on her top and, after a few moments in which you decided to leave her alone, you did the same. You just looked at each other, you didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Although you were also new to what was to come, at least in that way, you decided to take charge of the situation, taking her hand and settling on the bed.

“Your body is beautiful... Did you know that?” You whispered as your hands roamed over her bare skin, partially covered by the two clothes you swore revenge on. She shook her head, stroking your back, playing with your hand.

“You're just saying that to make me feel better,” she said in a whisper, her face blushing as you forced your legs to intertwine.

“Do you know what would make me feel better, Donna?” You asked, getting closer to her lips. “Kiss me…”

Her reaction was not long in coming and hot, intense kisses were the only sounds that filled the room. You pulled on her lower lip as you let yourself be carried away by desire, by that desire that you had been living with for a few weeks.

Donna was passionate, she felt liberated and calm, and that was evident in her caresses, in her kisses... Nothing could stop her from placing her lips on your collarbone, from running her hands over your legs, your breasts, all those places where she refused to touch on other occasions.

“I love you, I love you so much...” She whispered in your ear, making you moan at the seductive tone of her words while her hands surreptitiously went to the closure of your bra, undoing it in milliseconds. “Nothing makes me happier than looking at your entire body…”

You smiled, letting the fabric disappear from your body, suppressing the stupid urge of your hands to cover yourself. No, you couldn't be ashamed, that night was for her.

Donna climbed on top of you, with her legs on either side of your hips, running her hand over your chest, over your belly, as if wanting to save the best for last, as if she didn't dare give in to her desires, your body.

You looked at her curiously and took her hand, running it slowly over your skin until she reached one of your breasts, which caused you to moan involuntarily. Feeling the softness of her hands on that part of your body was like an electric current passing through your entire spine. The delicacy with which she explored your skin, the tenderness of her innocent caresses in a place that was not innocent was wonderful.

Her kisses returned to your lips, wet kisses that camouflaged the pressure of her hand grabbing your breasts, the soft pinch of her fingers on your nipples. Your hands wandered aimlessly along her back, through her hair, across her waist. You wanted to keep her warm body on top of yours. You didn't want her warmth to leave you.

Taking advantage of that confusing mix of kisses and gasps, you unclasped her bra, not causing any shy reaction from your girlfriend, you imagined it was because she was too distracted filling your body with kisses and caresses.

With a slightly less discreet gasp, you decided to turn the tables, having her body under yours.

Your kisses traveled across her pale, hot, trembling skin. You kissed, grabbed and adored her chest as if it were almost a miracle, as if that beauty that she denied so much was incomprehensible to your eyes.

Your hips swayed with a calm rhythm, making her erection more and more evident, making her hands travel to your waist so not to lose that pleasant contact.

“I think there's something dying to come out...” You said amused, making Donna stop in her caresses, looking at you embarrassed by that naughty joke.

“(Y/N)...” She protested with a nervous laugh, being immediately silenced by your wet, eager lips, as your hands moved down to her underwear.

Donna gasped as she finally freed herself from the garment that was pressing down her, freeing her throbbing, quivering penis before you. You laughed amused, looking out of the corner of your eye.

“Don’t, don't look at it that way,” Donna asked you, biting her knuckles out of embarrassment at being completely exposed to you.

“Why not? I like it. I like everything about you, Donna…” You murmured, running your hand gently over her erection and moving to lie down next to her.

“Un, undress yourself too, please...” Donna whispered in your ear, intertwining your legs again and filling the skin of your neck with kisses and small bites.

“As you wish,” you said, moving to fulfill her wish.

Now naked, totally free of any barrier, your bodies moved in a dance of hugs, kisses, licks, caresses... The tension was unbearable, but passion reigned everywhere, in each of your moans, in each of your caresses, in new places that you had just discovered.

“You're so good, Donna... Such a good woman, so beautiful...” You sighed, tense from those caresses, from that hand that went down your belly to your moisture. She was soft, delicate and respectful, quite the opposite of your previous relationships.

She didn't respond, she seemed focused on making you enjoy, moving two fingers in circles, massaging your clit carefully, just like you needed it.

With the sudden feeling of injustice, you lowered your hand to her hips and stroked her erection up and down, making her shudder with an involuntary moan.

“Keep doing that...” Donna murmured anxiously, trying to ensure that the pleasure that your hand was giving her didn’t overshadow the soft movements that her fingers made inside you, curving, adapting to your body in a terribly pleasant way.

After a few moments of silent pleasure, of your hand grabbing her penis, hugging it, going up and down slowly, causing less shy and more natural moans, made the situation become dangerously hot. No matter how much you wanted to, and no matter how close you were to releasing yourself with just her fingers, you refused to do so and even more so when you felt that her length was also trembling with eagerness.

“Enough playing, Donna,” you said, removing your hand and bringing it to her face, gently pushing her against the mattress and climbing her hips again.

“(Y/N) I...” The brunette murmured when you placed yourself right above her sex, rubbing it, without touching it.

“Tell me you want this...” You whispered, leaning down to kiss her while with your other hand you lined up her penis right at your entrance. You noticed how she nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please, please...” She said in an almost pleading tone while you began to go down little by little, feeling how it made its way inside of you, how it stretched your walls in a way you had never felt.

You had to hide a small wince at that intrusion. The pleasure was much greater, but your body was certainly not used to her body and needed a moment to adjust.

“Black Gods... You're... Oh, how good it feels...” Donna moaned, making her words serve as a signal to you to move, riding her slowly.

“Yes, my love... You feel so good inside of me...” You whispered, closing your eyes and forgetting about that little prick. The pleasure of feeling her inside of you eclipsed everything else. “I feel you so much…”

She also closed her eyes while you took care of bringing yourself to the pleasure itself, of moving in the way that her moans indicated, looking for your own pleasure, looking for your body to embrace her in that way so intense that it made you almost explode.

“I, I'm sorry, tesoro...” Donna whispered, also moving her hips, letting the rhythm be harmonious, coordinated just like your moans.

“What are you sorry about, my love?” You asked curiously, without stopping moving, without letting her body leave yours. “You are perfect… My body takes you so well…”

“No, I...” She said, moaning more and more, squeezing her eye tightly to avoid looking at you, to avoid what both of  you knew was coming. “I, I can't… I can't hold myself anymore...”

“Good, because I don't want you to do it... I want you inside me...” You said nervously, suppressing your own cramps, your own need to tense your muscles and scream loudly.

In less than a second, your movements became uncontrolled. There were no words anymore, only moans, grunts at the speed of your hips. Donna gasped suddenly and her heat flooded you, causing, in that same instant, your orgasm to pass through your entire body.

You gasped exhausted. You were still on top of her, caressing her hands, with your gaze fixed on her face, on her sweaty forehead and her breathing becoming slower and calmer.

“(Y/N) I...” Donna said, looking away and carefully getting out of you, noticing how some of her seed left your body. “I’m sorry about that…”

“Shh,” you said quickly, moving up her body to her lips, kissing her tenderly, calmly, saying in that way that you had liked making love with her, that nothing could stop you from loving her more and more. “Not a word, Donna. You're perfect…”

“That's not true,” she said amused, placing your head on her chest, letting your body relax little by little.

“You are perfect for me. You always will be.”

[lady-dulcinea]

Something the October 11th entry really highlights is how much Mina and Jonathan are sure about each other. How much they know each other to the point they can read each other without any perceived difficulty, and how their devotion, their partnership, although treasured and seamlessly reciprocated by both, is never even questioned by them.

When Mina receives news that Jonathan is alive, she goes, an unmarried and unaccompanied woman, all the way to find him and marry him, even tho he’s still traumatised, half mad from his stay at Castle Dracula, and in the eyes of society could very much be considered an “invalid”. But she marries him anyway, and although Jonathan does gently reaffirm the delicate state of his body and specially his mind, he never really seems overly surprised that she chose him despite it all. And in the same entry we see a similar reaction from Mina when Sister Agatha feels the need to inform her that she shouldn’t worry that Jonathan’s malady might be because of some other woman; she all but scoffs at the idea, because it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Of course there isn’t another woman. Similarly, as she eventually makes acquaintance with several men, all of them rich bachelors who grow a quick and openly affectionate bond with her, Jonathan has not a single moment of insecurity about it. Of course they all love Mina, why wouldn’t they? Jealousy requires a certain lack of confidence in your partner that neither of them has. Their worries concerning each other are always ALWAYS directed at external influences: That something will hurt them, or that something will keep them from each other.

Which brings us to October 11th, when that sureness is brought to it’s highest, most tragic peak. Jonathan knew what Mina intended calling them all to meet her before their trip. He was so sure of it he spoke with Jack beforehand to make sure it would all be documented correctly, as he himself would never be able to write down such a thing as a symbolic funeral for his beloved. And he also knew what she would make them promise to do.

Because Mina, beyond just wishing to have the littlest bit of agency over her own death, is being strategic here. She knows Jonathan will “be with her to the very end”. She does not need to know of the promise he made to her in the solitude of his diary. Their devotion to each other is a given, one they do not take for granted, but that they expect nonetheless because they know each other and the strength of their love. Had she read the promise, she would undoubtedly be shocked by it, specifically by the utter heresy of it, devout as she is to her faith. But she would not be surprised, and this entry shows her anticipating what the Worst Case Scenario could potentially do to her husband, and trying to avoid it at all cost.

No, I don’t think she gone as far as assuming that Jonathan would deliberately choose vampirism for her. He has been as much of a devout christian as her for most of their lives, and tho she is not blind to the changes the last few months (and specially the last few days) have caused on him, she would not there suggest the Holiest Love conclusion is anywhere close to his mind. For after all, she has explicitly stated that she wants to be received by the grace of God, wants the same freedom granted by the boys to the soul of dear Lucy, and Jonathan simply wouldn’t deny her that.

Right?

And guys, as much as I love Jonathan’s vow and how he absolutely refuses to let her “walk into that unknown and terrible land alone”… it is a selfish vow. Romantic to the core, but selfish. Jonathan knows that’s not what Mina wants. He phrases it in a way that makes it seem like he is doing it purely out of love for her, so she’ll not be alone, but really, the selfless thing would be to do what she asked of him today. Her soul would be free, there would be no more Dracula to torment the world and kill innocents, and when Jonathan’s time came, he would join her in heaven.

But as I said before, the only thing that ever worries them about their relationship is whether or not they are hurt and when there is something keeping them apart. Jonathan goes to Transylvania and Dracula tries to keep him there: they both suffer from the distance. The first time Jonathan went to meet a client was the first time he and Mina were away from each other since the wedding, and she expresses anxiety about that. The men want to keep Mina away from vampire business to “protect her”: both her and Jonathan are unhappy with suddenly keeping secrets from each other. “A door is locked between them” because there is a part of Dracula inside Mina’s mind and she cannot be trusted to know all their planning, and Jonathan is crestfallen about it. Their deepest source of misery is always not being with each other, not being able to communicate properly, not just be together. And they both know that. Mina is just severely underestimating how far Jonathan would go so they’re not separated. As it is, she knows her death would bring him terrible grief, and by asking the help of their friends today and making him read the burial service, she’s trying to both a) Guarantee that should Jonathan’s hand falter, more steady ones would fulfil her wish; b) Unite them once more in the care they all have for her and show Jonathan that, should the worst happen, he won’t be alone. The other will be there. He shall not be so lonely if/when he becomes a widower; c) Perhaps by reading the burial service he can become more used to the possibility of her death and ease his heart to the matter.

However, Jonathan promises nothing to anyone. He asked for Jack to make an accurate description of what happened so that no detail would be left out, and yet we hear no word of confirmation from him.

And I’m sure she noticed it, too.

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya! If you have the time, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for some August Walker fics, whether by you or another writer, it doesn’t matter to me. Most of the fics I’m finding recently make him out to be rough, animalistic, and cruel (which makes sense cause he was the villain after all lol). But they also include non-con, degradation, etc, which I’m not comfortable with. Don’t get me wrong! Stories with those elements are fine! It’s just not my cup of tea, personally. And I do like rough August, but I guess it’s more in the sense of him being rough to his enemies and being soft, sweet, and super protective of his sweet and innocent girl. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if it doesn’t, and for the rambling, to this day I still get nervous and panicky whenever I write an ask. 😅 Hope you have a great day! 🥰

Hey love, no need to be nervous about sending an ask. We are all just humans here :) 💖

I have several August stories where August is a pure softy - smut and non smut included.

List below the cut

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 

Whiskers and Wet Silk - August comes home to find his princess watching Shadow and Bone and simping for the General and gets a bit insecure…

A Perfect Day - August Walker x Reader (smut to heavy fluff. Mentions of oral sex performed on a woman, male masturbation, and bodily fluids.) A perfect day in rural italy with the most dangerous CIA agent on earth. 

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Gentle Monsters - August x Reader (smut, vaginal fingering, groping, grinding, cock grabbing, virginity. SoftDom vibes. August is the big bad wolf, but he can be soft for the right woman) It’s your first date with agent Walker, and things get a little too raunchy, but you are not ready to go all the way… 

One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch

Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, size kink, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker. 

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion)  August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster    

Eivor - August Walker x ofc (Fluff)   August Walker wore many masks and had done horrible things but never in his life he imagined he would become someone’s father.

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August 

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation. 

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Behind Blue Eyes - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV,  angst, bad language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, longing, love, heartache. August being poetic AF and August being a prick and stealing candy. ) Beaten and broken, August Walker walks the streets of an unnamed city while he is taken by sudden longing.

Some drabbles

August doesn’t like it when his princess is sad (fluff)

Soft Tender August - August x Reader (Fluff, aftercare)

August singing Sinatra to you - August x Reader (Fluff)

Watching porn with August - August x Reader (mutual masturbation)

Forever Yours - August loves his cuddly princess

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Penance

Based on a request

I want to thank my friend for helping me with this fic and listening to me ramble lol

Rated: Explicit | Warnings: occult, Lovecraftian themes, dark-ish, sadism/masochism themes, flogging

Many do not understand the weight of being a faithful and discreet slave to a Divine Force, to an omnipotent God; the Great Old Ones are demanding but they reward loyalty and unyielding faith. Their motives are a mystery, their voices echoing riddles, yet they have those like you who follow their will without question. The Great Old Ones slumber, the Reverend Patriarch says, when the time has come we of faith will ascend like children answering the call of a parent. The Reverend Matriarch told you that the path of faith is difficult, unknowing to us, and at times confusing; we are lambs being guided by an unseen shepherd but we must follow no matter where it takes us. It is written in the notes of a man who touched the slither of the Great Old Ones’ minds. They hold the answers to ‘all that was occurring in the universe’. They live yet are not alive. They can be seen or rather felt when the stars are aligned and the houses rise and fall in sync.

It is your path to accept and go where the invitation to the manor is your test, the Reverend Ones believe you as their child, one touched by a Great Old One, was chosen to see what the Baron of the Oletus Manor.

And you are tested in every match and every interaction.

You try to keep track of how long you have been here, but there is no telling time, no defined way to count. Is it like time is frozen, or is it in a loop? There are nights you stand in the dark of the dormitory halls and sense the force shielding the manor. It is not one you recognize, but you know it is young, hungry, and curious. Then it pulls away as if you scared it.

You try to contact it despite the one titled Priestess advising you not to seek something you do not understand. It makes you chuckle given she is a worshipper of Yog-Sothoth yet has only scratched the surface of his divine power. A young branch of the Gods, Outer Gods, you know as the notes of the first devouts and sacred texts of dreamers who projected themselves to the first home of the Great Ones, Mount Ngranek.

You are the most abnormal of the two who are connected to the Gods of Old, of the Outer, and of the New; you are the one most of the other survivors are uncomfortable around. They fear the unknown though many of them are touched by the forces they cannot understand. You do not speak about your faith with the other survivors though Eli is curious and Fiona senses your soul is touched by something very Old— Older than Hastur and Yidra. But you are not going to preach as it is not your place as a lamb nor do the Reverend Ones allow the preaching of the Great Old Ones. If the person is chosen then they will seek out their kin.

But you find it is different with the ones who follow the Eye of Darkness.

Darkness is a product of the union between Azathoth and Shub-Niggurath, a mysterious one that lacks a proper name. The symbol of it being an eye and a cat is taken note of as this is new information. Along with it having followers, the two are part of the church while the decoder clearly has been touched yet the Hermit does not recruit him? Strange, you do not interfere.

The longer you are here, new arrivals coming in with connections to the ones who are here first or some with no ties to this place, you can know the young entity is joyful. Loneliness? You try to find spots in the manor where the veil, as some will call it, is thin; a crack within the mirror to push against. This is how you found Miss Nightingale, a bird woman who is deeply connected to the manor.

She tells you when the time is right you will have your answers, the Baron will keep this promise.

So the matches go on, the survivors and hunters play their parts, and you find yourself finding an odd understanding with the one called Herald or as many call her here Disciple, the cat did not like you at first during the first match ever you had with her.

Perhaps it sensed the blessing of kin on you? You are curious about it as it is in you.

No one worships the slumbering Old Ones as the Eldest of the Old Ones is frightening and when summoned to this plane of existence only disaster follows. This is known, and it is not what your brothers and sisters want; no, faith and patience are what is given until their awakening. 

The Hermit only becomes aware of seeking you out when the cat, Apostle, keeps slipping between the boundaries of the hunter and survivor side of the manor to stay in your room. It is disruptive and he was lucky you were not in your room when he got the cat.

Until you were there and greeted him at your door, the cat rubbing and walking around your legs.

“Father Alva,” You are the only person to address him in such a manner outside of those within the church of the Eye of Darkness, “Good evening.”

“Good evening, (Name),” He is tall compared to your doorway, “It was not my intention to dispute your evening routine, but a certain cat decided to play cat and mouse at an inappropriate time.” Knowing the avatar hates to be called a cat by Alva, it is just rude!

“Hah,” You bent over and picked up the cat that made a ‘mew’ sound as if it was disappointing you were not going to fight to keep it, “He was no problem here, in fact, he was very insightful on who I should speak about… Well, private religious matters.” Your hand stroking its head causing it to purr.

To say this is the start of a blooming relationship like many have in the manor would be… Saying you became friends with him, which is not the case.

Alva and your faith clash, he is a shepherd and you the lamb, it is in his nature to try to guide what he believes to be a lost lamb into his flock.

You are a lamb but you are not lost, you have a flock but the Great Old Ones have laid out a path for you to follow; he does not see it nor is it for him to see.

Alva a temptation, the one who tries to use this scepter like a shepherd's crook to catch you.

“My faith remains. They have guided me, my path is as clear as they deem necessary.”

Your words hold the weight of truth, but there are nights when you wonder who in the Dreamland wants to indulge in fantasies and sinful pleasures with the Hermit. Lust is nothing to be ashamed of and some use it as an act of worship, however, you feel guilty.

He is a temptation, questions you with his arrogance, and yet he talks to you as if he is the mentor and you the student.

Praying helps but it is not the way of seeking to rid yourself of wild thoughts.

It has been some time since you have done this without assistance; a Reverend One would be here to oversee this and a kin member would be behind you to lash you.

Though this is not the ideal place to commit the act, it is sacred ground and you know the original present that once graced this place is long gone. The cat being here during matches is proof of that, a hollow husk of a place of worship.

You begin placing the materials on the ground. First, you place a covering over the podium—a long black simmering sheet—to symbolize the vastness of space. Next, you remove your robe and place it beside you an arm's length away. Then, you place a wooden box with the symbol of your church on it, then open it to reveal the velveteen fabric inside and the tool of your penance.

You kneel on steps, an arm up gripping the top of the podium, the other hand grabbing the flogger. It has metal tips that will scratch into your skin, pain is a gift and reminder. You lightly tap it on your back, to caress yourself with a familiar object.

The first strike does not as you did it wrong, so you do it again causing you to gasp in pain. Again.

This is not easy without any assistance but you keep going nonetheless.

Over and over, the pain is sharp and there are marks of bruising and welts forming; each side of your upper back is marked and the tears you shed are held back as much as possible.

"Ah!" The next hit hurts causing you to stop and tremble in pain, a sharp inhale of air before the hissing as the cold air is touching the broken flesh wounds. Thoughts of the Eye of Darkness priest still plague you as you swear you can smell him. Burning incense, the faint hint of bathing soap, and the neutral clean scent of medicine. 

The baritone voice coming from behind you only a few steps away snaps you out of thoughts of how mad you feel, "Your devotion is admirable," The undeniable reality of Father being here, like a man of faith who walks into a confessional, you dare not turn your body around towards him.

The Hermit is here because there is peace in the Red Church, odd as that sounds given his faith lies in what the church will say is the enemy— Fools, all of them.

The cries of someone in pain echo within the church, the slapping of something on the skin.

When he enters he sees you kneeling in front of the altar, the top part of your robes off and neatly folding away from you; the thing he heard slapping skin is a flogger... A part of him was mortified to leave cuts on your back, yet true to his word about admiring your devotion to the Old Gods who will never answer your prayer. 

They are silent, long ago to the aether, however, you debate him and hold firmly to your faith. Always reminding him of the young God he worships, a child compared to the God who has marked your soul.

Apostle, the avatar of the Eye of Darkness, confirms it though it wants your faith. You are special, in what way is unknown. If the feline was here in its usual spot on the podium (it seems, it must have decided to return to Disciple's side for her match).

The podium is covered by a black veil shimmering in the low light, the aura around it is both foreign and familiar. Likely be part of this ritual. 

You look over your shoulder at him. "My flesh is only a canvas—A vessel to exercise my worship and hold my faith within.” Speaking with conviction though your voice trembles from the pain, “This is expected."

"Very well," Walking in long strides to be closer behind you, careful of the blood around the floor. "Confessing to the air and seeking atonement through self-inflicted torture." Those golden cat eyes are on you with his head high as he looks down upon you. "There would be a high priest to administer this..." Gesturing to your position, “Correct?” The marks are uneven on your back and your grip on the flogger is not as strong likely from getting tired and the pain.

"Yes," Looking at the podium. "If you will excuse me—"

"Allow me."

You stopped mid-swing, so it didn't connect yet. You looked up at him, "Why?"

Why indeed.

“One cannot help to admire,” You feel the cold scepter press upon your back, blood dripping onto the metal as he presses on open cuts; the pain moans you let out causing him to draw back his scepter. “If only you…” Alva stopped himself from starting a disagreement, “Such dedication to your faith should be praised.”

“But… Why help me?” You feel vulnerable like this kneeling on the steps of this church, him placing the scepter on top of the podium. 

There is an indulgence drive of greed in the self-inflicted atonement that could be considered blasphemous.

That is all he is thinking as he takes the modified device from your shaking hand. He admires your determination and only wishes to help you in your devotion. It has nothing to do with the soft lines of your body with the deep-set marks... nothing to do with your flushed face glistening with sweat. Your parted lips are swollen and trembling from biting back your cries.

"Because it is my duty."

The Hermit is the shepherd and though you are a claimed lamb, he cannot help but offer a hand to ease your journey. His God does not disapprove, it knows you well and your master well enough not to push. For pushing will only drive the lamb to flee, the conflict on your face telling him to ease you into the idea. The way you go tense as lukewarm leather and metals dance up and down your back, the inhale and exhale as your eyes close before they open. They are alert as you glimpse into the darkness of the fabric in front of you, and then he sees you sit up adjusting your position like the one you had before your body was too weak to keep it up.

“Father,” Gripping the top of the podium, “Your duties are obligational to another, however, it is kin to the Old Gods thus they are permitting you to blend our goals.”

“Pray tell me what goals do you believe I have?”

“That has not been revealed to me, Father.” This is true, you can only see as far as they allow, and as far as your human mind can handle, “Only stop when I say so.” Informing him.

In the matches Alva has had the pleasure of you being in, pain does not hindrance for you but rather empowers you. Faster movements, healing not quite as fast as others, but you can take their pain and feel into yourself. A masochist is what they call you, but the scars on your back say this is your belief and the power given in return. He will follow your words as the first strike has your crying out, words of prayer in a language he cannot decipher. It matches no human language.

Another hit, you refuse to fall. Another hit. Then another,

Though you know his strikes are no less harsh than your own the endorphins rushing through your body make the harsh sting of the leather and metal arc down your spine in strangely warm waves. The fabric beneath your fingertips feels soothingly cool to the touch. 

You take it as a sure sign of your God's approval albeit you feel strangely guilty for it. To need assistance from one such as him feels like a test of faith you've not been taught how to navigate and as the warmth spreads through your body you find yourself gripping the podium tighter as the thought flits through your mind

Is this a test... or an outright trap?

"I will not feign that I know the heart of your God, but if you truly believe in that shared kinship then perhaps this is intended." His voice didn't waver but he couldn't stop the softest of grins to curl the corner of his lip. Your shiver was subtle but he knew he had struck a chord.

He let the leather tresses of the flogger go lax against your back for a moment, the gentle caress only bringing more awareness to the tight and throbbing welts making you bite your lip again to steady your breath. 

"To what end?" You thought you had it but your voice wavered slightly.

His grin deepened as he slowly traced the tails back up. The cold metal scratches against your flesh and draws another harsher shiver from you.

"Perhaps some mutually glorious purpose." He flicked his wrist suddenly drawing the full shock of the device across the one relatively unmarred patch of your back. Your sharp yelp echoed through the abandoned church, the passionate echo dancing across the stone a litany that made his breath catch in his own chest.

You fell forward slightly, clinging desperately to the podium to not fall. His words made sense.

Why else would your God allow him here in this most intimate of devotions?

Alva keeps going until there is more blood on the floor and his shoes; stopping when you collapse, still conscious and able to move enough to try to pull yourself up, “(Name)—” Has he found your limit?

“W-why did you stop?” Upset as if you did not nearly pass out because you did not tell him to stop, “My thoughts are still tainted.” Panting as you get yourself back up as if you have a second wind kicking in to keep going.

“This is ineffective.” Dropping the bloodied flogger, “If your thoughts are truly sullied then we are using my method.”

“Y-your method?” Lying on the floor confused then making an indigent sound when he picks you up far enough to have your legs dangling from the floor, a reminder the hunter has supernatural strength. “Father Alva what are you…!?”