#please forgive me for my sins and my dreams

[sheawritesstuff]

An Angel Needs Their Rings

[David x Angel]

[Fluff - 2224 words]

[May this serve as my official apology for the last fic... I'm sorry for hurting your hearts - There is no twist on this one and it's proper fluff the whole time, I promise <3]

David turned the car off and tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. He took a deep breath and sighed. Shoving one hand in his pocket, he pulled out the little red box. He held it in front of his face and ran his thumb over the gold letters engraved on the top. He could feel his heart beating hard and fast as he traced the outline of his lover’s initials. He popped the box open and marveled at the ring inside. 

“I hope they like it,” he mumbled to himself. He tilted it in his hand to watch as the light reflected off the gems embedded in the thick gold band. It really was a beautiful piece of jewelry - worth every penny. He closed the box again and held it firmly in his palm. “Now comes the hard part.” He put the box back into his jeans pocket and finally decided to leave the driveway. He hoisted himself out of the car, checked to make sure the ring wasn’t too obvious, and headed inside.

As soon as the door was open, he could hear Angel singing along to their favorite song. They belted every note, almost screaming the words. David snuck in, quietly kicking his shoes off and closing the door behind him. He wandered toward the sound and leaned against the wall at the perimeter of the room. He watched as they danced around the room with their makeshift hairbrush microphone. Their eyes were closed tight as they ran and jumped like they were giving the performance of a lifetime. 

Their shirt, obviously stolen from David’s side of the closet, almost completely covered the sleep shorts under it. They gripped the front of the oversized T-shirt and tugged at it during the dramatic moments, revealing small slivers of their stomach in the process. The fabric swayed with them as they danced across their carpeted stage. 

He smiled fondly and relished in the feeling of his core’s steady hum in his chest. A deep feeling of contentment seeped through his whole body, filling him with a soft warmth. The nervousness he left in the car felt like a distant memory. This felt good, felt right. More than that, it solidified the fact he was going to marry his Angel. 

The song ended and they finally opened their eyes to look at their surroundings. Angel breathed hard as they struggled to catch their breath and pushed their hair away from their face. They turned to move toward the kitchen and met David’s eyes. They froze in their tracks and stared like a deer in the headlights. 

“When did you get home?” Their voice was quiet and edged with concern. 

“Not too long ago. A few minutes, maybe.” David didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Why? Was there something I wasn’t supposed to see?” 

Angel glanced from the brush in their hand to their mate still leaning against the wall. The thought of throwing it crossed their mind, just to prove a point - but they didn’t. Instead, they sauntered up to him and motioned for him to lean closer. They got in close, placed one hand on the side of his face, and whispered, “You tell a soul and I will end you.” They lowered their voice to a cartoonishly raspy level and glared at him. 

David snorted, against his better judgment, earning a light smack to the shoulder. He struggled to make his face more serious but failed tremendously. He laughed from his stomach and pushed his back against the wall for support. Angel crossed their arms with a huff and tried to fight back the smile tugging at their lips. 

“I love you, you know that?” David muttered once he caught his breath. 

“But are you intimidated? Scared, even?” Angel asked, wielding the hairbrush like a weapon. David leaned in and kissed the top of their head. 

“Oh, I’m terrified, baby.” He tilted their chin up and kissed them properly. “Downright petrified. I’m shaking in my boots as we speak.” He kissed them again, slower this time. He pulled away and looked at them for a long moment, absolutely lovestruck. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then we can start on dinner, alright?” 

They shared one last kiss before David made the trek to the bedroom. For the sake of being careful, he closed the door behind him before pulling the ring box from his pocket. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he searched the room for somewhere his beloved wouldn’t find it. There were surprisingly few good places, seeing as they shared just about everything. After a moment of consideration, he carefully placed the box in the back of his underwear drawer under a couple pairs of boxers for extra safety. 

They were going to get married. Well, engaged first. But eventually, they would be married. David Shaw, alpha of the Shaw pack, was going to be a husband. Husband. The term made his head buzz. It didn’t give him quite the same rush as “mate” but it was close, and it was new. Lost in thought, he forgot he was supposed to be getting undressed. 

The realization that Angel would get suspicious if he took too much longer dawned on him. He quickly lost his work clothes and threw them in the hamper. He replaced them with a comfortable black tank top and a pair of soft sweatpants. He found Angel cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and their switch. He leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. 

“You took forever,” they whined. 

“I know. I’m sorry, Angel, I had to find my sweatpants.” He leaned closer to their ear with a smirk. “You know, the ones you really like.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss to their jaw. The feeling sent a shiver up their spine. David chuckled and rested his chin on the top of their head. “I’m gonna get started on dinner,” he hummed. “Come sit with me?” It was equal parts question, offer, and request. 

Angel took a slow, deep breath as if they actually considered missing the chance to spend time with their lover. They clicked their tongue before turning off their switch and unwrapping the blanket from around them. They looked up at him and smiled. 

“Carry me?” They got up on their knees and turned around to face him. David put his arms out to catch them, a silent affirmative. They climbed up the back of the couch and onto him. They wrapped their arms around his neck and their legs around his waist like a koala grasping onto his front. He held their thighs in place to keep them from falling, though they’ve proven time and time again their own strength was enough to keep them on despite David’s best efforts. 

Once they arrived in the kitchen, David set Angel down on the counter so they could sit with him while he cooked. Pulling a saucepan and a tall pot from the cabinet, he began his work on dinner. He hadn’t planned on anything special today, just classic spaghetti for two. 

“Should I make meatballs too? Or just plain spaghetti?” David asked as he turned on the stove. Angel hummed for a second as they decided meatballs take too long. 

“Besides, the only meatballs I want are already in your pants,” they teased, waggling their eyebrows. David groaned and rolled his eyes but felt the familiar way his core lit up. They may be a menace, but they were his menace. 

“I can’t believe you,” he scoffed. He put the water on to boil and started prepping the sauce. “Tell me about your day, perv.” They moved their hands around wildly as they talked. They explained the new project they’re working on, the disaster that was the new burger place on the corner, and the infuriating interaction with that guy from accounting. They wandered off on several tangents throughout the riveting tale, but eventually got all the important information out. They ended the story with their jam sesh that was so rudely interrupted by their mate coming home. 

“What about you, Davey? Did you do any cool alpha stuff today?” David told them about his security gig. It was easy, honestly kind of boring, but he walked through the day’s events anyway. The jewelry shop was conspicuously absent from his retelling. His story ended with the same recollection of singing and dancing.

“...and now I’m making dinner for my gorgeous mate.” He leaned over from his spot at the stove and kissed them. They sighed at him and tilted their head as they watched him put the finishing touches on the meal. They looked him up and down and savored the way his clothes clung to his body. David split the pasta into two bowls and spooned a generous portion of sauce on top. 

“Wanna grate some parmesan on top?” Angel nodded and held their hands open for the little block of cheese and the grater to go with it. They carefully sprinkled the cheese on top as David held the bowls steady. Once they were done, they set the grater down and hopped off the counter, taking the bowl with them. 

The two of them sat across from each other at the table and ate in comfortable silence. He stole an occasional glance as they slurped the noodles from the bowl. It was a messy strategy, but it worked… mostly. The downside was the sauce that splattered across the lower half of their face. After numerous attempts at guiding their napkin verbally, David reached across the table and wiped the sauce off their face. 

Once they were done, David took the bowls to the kitchen and put them in the sink. Angel found their way back to the couch and wrapped themself in the blanket again. David sat next to them and craned his neck to look at the screen of their switch. They tilted their head to look at him and smiled.

“Wanna watch?” He nodded and readjusted to give them room to sit with him. Angel moved between his legs and laid their back against his chest. He put the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it around to cover their lower half. He wrapped his arms around their waist and rested his head on their shoulder so he could watch them game. His hands slipped under the bottom of their shirt. Not to lead to anything else, just to feel their skin against his.

He listened as they rambled about the villagers in their new game and the different animals they had on their island. They explained their debt to Tom Nook and sang Isabelle’s praises as they walked David through everyone’s roles in the story. He loved hearing them talk about these things, even if he didn’t really care about the game itself. He loved feeling their voice vibrate through his chest. The feeling of his mate pressed against him made his heart sing. 

After who knows how long of running around their island and decorating and carrying on, Angel yawned. David hummed and squeezed their waist. 

“I think we should head to bed, Angel,” he said softly. He pulled his hands out from their shirt and tapped their thigh. “Come on. You gotta get up, baby.” They grumbled, but eventually got themself up and turned off the game. David folded the blanket and draped it over the couch before following them to the bedroom.

David laid down first and moved the covers to let Angel in with him. They climbed on top of him and slipped their hands under the hem of his shirt. In and of itself, that was not unusual. But then they slid further down his body and lifted the bottom of the shirt like they were going to climb inside it.

“What on earth are you doing?” David asked, grinning curiously down at his lover. They paused for a second and looked up at him. 

“I wanna be close to you,” They said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Laying on my chest isn’t close enough?” They shook their head dramatically and shoved themself under his shirt. They wormed their arms up his sides and behind his shoulders. After a bit of struggle and a little assistance from David, Angel’s head popped through the top of the shirt and they settled against his chest. They hummed contentedly as their face nestled against his neck. He pulled the covers back up and over the two of them and tucked it around their legs at his hips.

“You’re ridiculous,” he laughed. He pulled one arm up and gently ran his hands through their hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Angel.” They wiggled slightly, trying to somehow become even closer to the rumbling of his voice through his chest. David’s other hand rested on their back and rubbed gentle circles into their skin.

“Goodnight Davey. I love you.” Their voice was already heavy with sleep.

“I love you too, Angel. Sleep well.” He continued playing with their hair and rubbing their back until they both slipped into blissful unconsciousness. He was confident his slumber would be filled with dreams of love, adoration, and a fairytale wedding. 

[daystud]

"we will meet again even if now we are separated" my ass he's not real anyways and i see him everyday everytime i log in ☠️

[madamechrissy]

Priest! Gojo - MDNI- freaky, horny Father Gojo, Imma end up in hell for this one lmaoo, including confessional fucking, please don't read if you don't wanna SIN mmkay, character in her 20s as is Gojo, explicit -word count- 1.2k

Full Priest oneshot- Forgive me Father for I have Sinned

Priest! Gojo who watches you sit in that sundress in that pew right up front, crossing your legs, revealing those pretty pink panties that drive him to think of sin, drives him to imagine being on his knees, worshipping your pretty body. Surely you are sin.

Priest! Gojo who is so beautiful you think he's a god himself, with his crystal blue eyes and that white hair, that perfect face so serene until his eyes hit you, and something... shifts.

Priest! Gojo who licks his lower lip as he reads the bible passage, and watches how you run your fingers down your collarbone, hips shifting in your seat, craving friction as you watch the man command the room in this white robes, as you watch him lick a thumb as he shuffles a page, you get wetter and wetter, knowing you're just a sinner, craving this holy man.

Priest! Gojo who when you come and take your eucharist, your tongue hanging out while on your knees, caresses your bottom lip as you swallow, eyes hungry as you're right at his lap with your face, seeing his huge length semi hard even under his robes. The wine drips down your chin, and he pictures his cum replacing it instead, making him even harder as he looks at you.

Priest! Gojo who takes your confession, and fuck what a confession it is, as you're in the little confessional. 'I dream of someone fucking me, someone I should not.' 'It's natural to have thoughts, my child...' 'Oh, Father... but I play with myself, thinking of him. Of his pretty mouth... drinking me, father. Or me, on my knees, drinking him.' Priest Gojo makes a choking sound then. 'I'm so sorry, I..."

Priest! Gojo who is rock hard now, pressing against his pants under those white robes, who feels sticky precum as he sees you through the lattice of the cross in the wall that seperates you, as he sees you arch your back, head tilting, hair falling. He starts stroking his cock over them, as you bite your lower lip, heating him huff, asking 'Father, what should my Pennance be? How long should I be... on my knees, I wonder?' and Father Gojo can't help himself.

Priest! Gojo who says, 'I have to ask, how are you doing it, just so I can know what pennance, how many Hail Mary's' and you bite your lip, hot in the itty bitty room now, as your hips rock on the bench as you hear that husky voice of his. 'Father, I don't know how to say how... I guess I picture him, in my mind he is shirtless, and he's laying on top of me, so I play with my...' 'go on, it's all right' he whispers. 'my pussy, I play with it, it gets so wet, so aching, how do I handle this... Father... are you okay?'

Priest! Gojo who now has his cock in his hand and is stroking it, picturing you playing with yourself with his eyes shut, you say something but it's hard for him to listen as he's pinching his tip and imagining it between your thighs, he imagines you're so sweet, you're such a good girl, aren't you? 'Indeed I am, perhaps you need some help, some guidance? So that I could make sure you do not afflict yourself so.' You nearly touch yourself again as you hear him, his pants, as you barely see his robes move up and down, making you wetter 'yes, Father I need guidance'

Priest! Gojo who has you in his side of the confessional then, and he's crooking two long fingers, as you shut the door behind you, shoved right between his thighs, feeling his body heat as he looks at you, his cross right on his chest. 'Show me what you do, do not fret, it's god's will of course, through me.' You nervously let him lift your dress, and he slides down your panties, moaning softly as he sees your cunt, glistening. You rub between your slick lips, head falling back as you play your little clit.

Priest! Gojo who is close to cumming just from watching you, and sighs, putting his fingers right on your hand. 'Let me help you, so you can get this affliction taken care of, yes?' you nod eagerly, then Father Gojo has sunk two long fingers in your slick heat, hitting spots you could never, and you gush around him, as he pulls you on his lap, and you grip that silky hair. 'F-father Gojo! That's... that's...' he exhales, thumb slipping to your clit now, as he watches your pretty face flush. 'I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.'

Priest! Gojo who's hand is soaked, as he brings you higher and higher, and you're moaning against his neck, inhaling his scent as you cling to him, trembling. 'Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!' You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes. 'Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you' and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, sucking your juices off his fingers.

Priest! Gojo who tastes you, then watches you with a smirk, which no priest should have! 'Has it alleviated some of the... need, my child?' only for you to shake your head, straddling him on his little chair then, and his big hands grip your hips. 'it's only made it worse, Father Gojo! You must help me, I need to sin even more... and with who I'm thinking of.' He blinks a bit. 'Me, you think of? that is a sin.' You sigh, grinding on him, making a wet spot in his robes. 'I know, Father... I told you, I am consumed by the need to sin. You must save me.'

Priest! Gojo who is now thrusting into your tight little cunt, in the cramped confessional, as you're riding his cock, as he's slamming your cervix, and you're soaking his length. He's holding your mouth shut as he bucks up his hips, watching the lust and pleasure on your face, feeling you drool on his hand and his cock. 'That's it, let me save you, through... ah... mmm... God's wisdom." He sucks in a breath as he presses in so deep, and feels you cum all over him, burying his head against your breasts, biting at your tender skin. You can only whimper in response.

Priest! Gojo who whispers 'I'll bless you, do you want me to bless you, to fill you with so much... of... god's light?' he removes his hand, gripping your ass now, and you nod as you grind on his length, his tip bruising your cervix, as you're cumming again, all over your priest. 'Bless me, Father... please!' You beg, only for him to cum deep inside you, hot white ropes, as you're blinded by pleasure, as it's dripping back down the veins of his length, and he's hissing, capturing your lips in a kiss, sloppy, tongues messy and unpracticed, a string of spit between you hanging.

Priest! Gojo who watches you the next Sunday, and you open your legs to cross them, only for him to see you have no panties, and he fears he will have to work harder to save your slutty little soul.

[drvscarlett]

The Tortured Drivers' Department

— combining another one of my favorites. I'll be taking notes and writing fics about which TTPD song do I associate with the drivers ( + I will be including the retired ones). This is the main list and I'll be linking them when I finished writing them. Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Also give TTPD a listen. Its so beautiful and a masterpiece

Fortnight

— i love you, its ruining my life (Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes!reader)

The Tortured Poets Department 

— At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding (Pierre Gasly x ex!reader)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 

— 'Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart left all these broken parts (Lando Norris x reader)

Down Bad

— Fuck it if I can't have him (Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader)

So Long, London

— You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? (George Russell x secret girlfriend! reader)

But Daddy I Love Him

— "I'm having his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces (Alex Albon x Horner!reader)

Fresh Out the Slammer

— Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you (Esteban Ocon x childhood bestfriend!reader)

Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the Machine) 

—I need to forget, so take me to Florida (Logan Sargeant x heiress!reader)

Guilty as Sin?

—What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

— I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean (Nico Rosberg x Lewis Hamilton)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

— they shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I tell 'em he's my man (Daniel Ricciardo x longtime girlfriend!reader)

loml

— Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye. The coward claimed he was a lion (Max Verstappen x childhood sweetheart!reader)

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart 

— Lights, camera, bitch, smile (Zhou Guanyu x model!reader)

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

— And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive (Yuki Tsunoda x Actress!reader)

The Alchemy

—'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me (Kimi Räikkönen x assistant!reader)

Clara Bow

— This town is fake, but you're the real thing (Sebastian Vettel x Ferrari heir!reader)

The Black Dog

— I am someone who, until recent events you shared your secrets with (Mick Schumacher x driver!reader

imgonnagetyouback

— I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch (Fernando Alonso x wife!reader)

The Albatross

— She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you (Jenson Button x revenger!reader)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

—So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon? (Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!reader)

How Did It End?

— The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling (Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri)

So High School

—You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her (Charles Leclerc x reader ft Max Verstappen x childhood friend!reader)

I Hate It Here

—I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (Kimi Räikkönen x interviewer! reader)

thanK you aIMee

— And then she wrote headlines in the local paper laughing at each baby step I'd take (Mark Webber x reader)

I Look in People’s Windows

—What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time (Sebastian Vettel x reader)

The Prophecy

—Don't want money, just someone who wants my company (Pierre Gasly x politician's daughter!reader)

Cassandra

—So they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst (Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader)

Peter

— Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine (Lando Norris x reader)

The Bolter

— "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" (Max Verstappen x hollywood starlet!reader)

Robin

— You have no room in your dreams for regrets (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend!reader)

The Manuscript

—One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then I re-read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore (Carlos Sainz x McLaren employee!reader)

[tetzoro]

FORGIVE ME FATHER — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. sir crocodile !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : devious visions have haunted your dreams every night and chase off your sleep. it’s finally time you crack and beg your priest to save you.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader, innocent reader, corruption, coercion, virginity loss (reader), power play dynamic, minor alcohol consumption, sacrilegious themes, religious themes, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, crocodile is manipulative and perverted throughout it all — WC : 2.6k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : mind the tags ! i don’t know where this came from . if i forgot any tags please send me an ask and let me know ! enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

out of your house and into the darkness of night, you run towards the only place that’s ever brought you sanctuary. the wind whips against your face, a storm raging on – everything that should be a sign to stay indoors gets tossed aside as your mind floods with visions. the ones that haunt your dreams every night and leave you lying in a cold sweat, yearning for something you’ve never had.

not even the harsh sting of the cold water kicking up against your bare legs can break you away from your forbidden longing. narrowly dodging each puddle only to stumble like a fawn learning how to walk on a smooth sheet of ice.

the rain clings to your white nightgown, the coat you hastily threw on already soaked through as you see the glimmer of light in the distance – the lantern above the church door still burning despite it all. you just prayed he was still awake.

you burst through the doors in a frenzy of distressed momentum, eyes scanning the space as you see father crocodile standing by one of the altars, lighting his candles. the soft glow that kisses the air around him is the beacon of hope you had been searching for. his attention quickly turns towards you as a bolt of lightning strikes nearby, illuminating you in its sharp light.

you, the poor, shivering little thing that looked just as lost as the day you first came to him.

“father.” you rasp out, your hand pushing the door closed behind you before the wind takes it — slamming it shut, the noise dissolving into a boom of thunder. “father, please help me.”

“what is it, my child?” his voice was deep, somewhat slurred as he made his way over, towering over your presence — his height as otherworldly as ever.

“the visions, they came back.” you all but whimper, shame dousing you and making you colder than the rain that was seeping through your bones. “but i’m scared they’re getting worse.”

“i see.” always curt with his words, a glint of something all knowing twinkles in his deep purple eyes. the warm, welcoming palm of his hand rests on your frigid shoulder, thumb smoothing a circle over the sliver of exposed skin as your coat slides down. “let’s get you comfortable before we discuss what you’ve been seeing.”

with a small nod, he leads you toward the center of the church, an all too familiar place that already has your nerves calming down. but the fire that was still coursing through you was hotter than ever.

crocodile smoothly takes off your drenched coat, opting to remove the black coat he normally wears as well, prepping it to cover you. but his eyes trail over your figure before he does, the way your nightgown was almost transparent against your skin, pert nipples pushing against the fabric.

the moment his jacket wraps around your shoulders, your senses are invaded by his scent. something smokey, a deep musk wraps around you in a sinful delight that only fuels the fire deep in your gut.

slowly, crocodile eases you down on the pew in the front row, the harsh wood was as sturdy as ever — a welcomed feeling as you sit down. as you do, you hear something clink against the sea coming from the pocket of his coat. curiously, you reach down and feel something metallic, pulling it out as crocodile sits next to you – sturdy thighs brushing against yours.

“what’s this?” it barely fits in the palm of your hand, fingers not able to wrap around it. it jostles, liquid clearly residing in it.

“it’s alcohol.” he answers, hand wrapping around yours and the flask. “it’s often used as medicine to clean wounds. sometimes we must drink it in order to cleanse our bodies. would you like some?”

“is that what you’d advise?” you look up at him, eyes wide with a shaky hand, trembling under his intensity, foreign feelings swirling throughout you and drowning you under his gaze.

“it is.” he gently takes the flask out of your hand, twirling the top off. “open your mouth.”

you do as he says — you always do. a devotee that would never go against his counsel. hanging onto every word he says, everything he asks, without question. crocodile could barely hide the smug smirk that tried to crack through his stoic priest mask.

the liquid burns as it runs down your throat, trying to gulp it down quickly as more rushes down. you splutter in protest, the sensation filling your nostrils. swiftly, crocodile pulls back, tucking the flask away as his thumb reaches up to wipe the liquor that spilled down the side of your mouth.

“now,” your priest licks his thumb, savoring the taste for a moment. “tell me what happened.”

“oh,” you curl into yourself a bit, embarrassment prickling at your cheeks. “it was a dream, the kind you warned me about before.”

“you must give me every detail otherwise i will not be able to help you.” his voice is stern, eyes crinkling at the edges with a distant softness he’s started to show around you.

“you were the object of my dream, father. the things you were doing to me—“ you stop, looking away in utter shame. crocodile had been so good to you, teaching you how to expel sin from your body by being baptized in his office, teaching you ways to resist temptation by giving into it only a little — and only to him. admitting to this dream would mean you failed, his guidance going to waste.

“go on.” he pushes, heavy palm falling to your thigh and rubbing comforting circles against your still frigid skin.

“i was laying down and your —” your eyes flit to his lower section before you swallow down the rest of your shame along with the burn that lingered in your throat. “your cock was inside of me. but this time, it wasn’t in my mouth.”

“and where was it?” if at all possible, he grew closer, the faint scent of alcohol on his breath fanning over your face. “show me.”

“it was here.” your voice trembles, hand covering the one he had on your thigh and slowly moving it up towards your core, under your thin nightgown — to the place that was burning for him, the dream igniting it into flames that you didn’t know how to put out. “right here.”

“i see.” he nods, eyes glued to the spot between your legs. his knuckle runs along your underwear, your essence soaking through the fabric as he glides along, causing your body to shudder. “and how did you feel?”

“well i-“ your sentence is cut off by a startled moan, his finger moving under the fabric and pressing against your slick folds. everything felt so wet down there, a direct juxtaposition to the flames that licked at your core, edging you to some place you had only dreamed about.

“you?” his expression is almost bored, keeping a straight face as he presses his finger into you. you quickly grab his wrist, trying to hold it steady as he keeps going, fueling the wildfire that lied within your soul.

“feels good.” you manage to squeak out. “it felt good in my dream too.”

“did it?” he presses. so many questions, so little answers. the only thing on your mind was the pleasure building in your abdomen, the foreign feeling lulling you higher.

crocodiles ministrations were precise, laced with experience and forbidden knowledge that had you itching to learn more. it’s like he could read your mind, receiving a divine message from god himself as he gives you what you’ve been praying for.

“mhm.” you gasp as another finger slips into you, “you were teaching me things, things that i haven’t — ah — learned yet. things i’m not supposed to.”

“curious little thing, aren’t you?” crocodile practically purrs, the squelch of your cunt growing louder, combating the rain that still fell along the rooftop.

for just a moment, you let yourself get lost in it all. the way the storm persisted overhead, crocodiles deep and raspy voice curling around your ear. two fingers rubbing along your walls, stretching you in a fashion that you’ve never known, feeling a strange level of fullness, new sensations rippling along your body with each thrust of his fingers.

his pace never falters, languidly pushing his digits in and out as he watches you intently, the way your eyes periodically squeeze shut in pleasure, lips parted as you breathe out a sigh of his name.

“can you help me?” your other hand grips the edge of the pew, hips jutting toward his finger and chasing the steady rhythm he was feeding you. “please?”

“normally, i’d advise against following these visions. but since you’re with with me, one of god's most trusted disciples, we can find a suitable alternative.” he feeds you lies that are tainted with an ounce of truth, just enough to have you nod along as you writhe around in your spot, pleasure hazing your mind.

“whatever you think i should do i’ll — mmm — i’ll do it.” your words spill into moans and crocodile finds himself getting drunk off of them.

“these urges are normal, but only when you are wed.” he pushes as your hope diminishes.

“but i’m not married.” tears brim along your lash line, frustration boiling from hanging on an edge that led to the unknown and the fact that you had no husband to fall back on.

“i know, but i will fill in for your husbands place, god will allow me to help you.” he decides out loud, even though his mind had been made up the moment you walked through those doors. crocodiles digits quicken their thrusts, causing you to yelp out. “all you need to do is surrender.”

with that, a blinding light that must’ve been the heavens themself paint your vision. the blood rushing through your ears are merely the angels singing to you, a soft lullaby that helps you float back down to earth.

your body had never felt so relaxed, so pliant. crocodiles fingers slip from between your legs and into his mouth, cleaning up the essence that coated them with a satisfied groan. he lets you curl into him for a moment as he picks you up, bringing you over to the altar that stood proudly in the center of his sanctuary.

thunder booms overhead, hiding the normally distinct click of a man undoing his belt. crocodile’s movements are practiced, but hasty. you’re still coming down from your high when he tugs your underwear down your legs, pressing the tip of his cock against your folds.

“before we begin,” your priest drags you closer towards the edge, legs dangling off the stone. “i must warn you that it may hurt, but this is the harsh way you must repent for your sins. do you understand?”

“yes, father.” you nod, his cock twitching against your clit, a burst of euphoria jolting through your body. “please save me.”

just like in your dream, crocodile looms over you. rough hands prodding along your body as they trail down your side, tearing at your dress as they move. he grips your hips as he starts to slide in, splitting heaven and hell apart as he pushes forward.

the pain is more than you expected — especially compared to your dream, but you bare it. letting yourself repent for the sin.

it’s agonizing though, how slowly he goes, breaking you apart so he can pull you back together in god's will. fraying at the seams, you’re sure to lose your mind as everything feels red hot to the touch — the flames of hell licking along your back as you dance along the lines of purgatory, praying with all your might that crocodile will bring you back to the heights of heaven.

“father—“ you gasp as everything clicks into place, his cock nestling deep within you, the pain subsiding as he coos down at you, murmurs of praise flowing from his lips.

“relax,” he tucks his fingers under your chin, half lidded eyes set on you and you’ve never been more desperate for a kiss in your life. “i’m here to save you now.”

crocodile’s hips pull back before snapping back into place, nudging a spot deep inside of you as he fills you back up. the pressure inside of you already threatening to snap, undergoing a rebirth that molds you to him, for him – forever bound in a way that marriage could never touch. ruined for any other man that would try to lay with you, when your cunt would only fit the shape of his cock.

his normally slicked back hair was tumbling forward out of place as his pace quickened, slivers slipping in front of his face as his focus remained on where the two of you were joined.

you mewl out, back arching as the pain subsides and euphoria starts to settle in your body. but crocodiles quick to push your back flat against the altar, keeping you locked into place as he starts to pound into you.

it was overwhelming, your mind being cleared of every thought. every virtue flown out of your head as well as every sin. just a state of contented bliss that only your priest and god could bring you.

the answer to all your prayers.

“how does it feel?” crocodiles voice was raspier than ever, a dull growl that had you clenching around him. he grunted in return, grip tightening around you as your body jiggled in place.

“so, so good!” you cry out, droplets of devotion falling down your face, you’ve never felt so whole in your life, so completely full of happiness.

crocodile doesn’t say anything in return, just shutting his eyes, cock thrusting into you sporadically, letting himself get lost in the heavenly feel of your silken walls.

the thought of your purity now tainted by his hand sends him further into his frenzy, dreaming of all the ways he could have you now, all the ways you can bend to his will and fully turn you into his own little devotee.

his balls tighten as your body gives into itself, tightening around his cock and squeezing it as you cry out his name. not gods, his.

crocodile's hips stutter before he buries himself deep within you, filling you up with all of his cum.

for a moment it's silent. the storm outside had subsided, barely pattering along the roof now as the walls are filled with your heavy breathing, a dazed look in your eyes.

“now.” he pulls out slowly, watching his cum spill out of you and along the altar. you whimper at the loss which only lets more of it fall out. “thank me.”

“thank you father.” you prop yourself up on your elbows, an earnest look on your face. crocodile watches you carefully as he tucks his cock back into his pants. “thank you for helping me absolve my sins.”

“of course.” he nods as you shakily get up, finding your footing on the wooden flooring, his cum trailing down your thigh.

you looked a mess, crocodile thinks. your nightgown in tatters, tears streaking down your face, legs trembling. absolutely devoid of purity. the innocence ripped from you and resided limply in his victorious hand.

just as he wanted.

“what happens now?” you ask, a shy look resting on your face as you avert your gaze. he chuckles, picking up the coat he had given you earlier, the one that fell off your shoulders when he took you to the altar. he wraps it back around you, the candlelight creating a halo around his head.

“you’ve been plagued by these visions for quite some time. this will only help for a while.” he frowns and dread fills you, worried that you really won’t be saved. “but worry not, every night you will come to me and we will ensure they do not come back.”

“thank you, father.” you beam up at him, unadulterated trust and hope shining at him. a sick part wonders if he can break that too, but not yet. maybe not ever, he’s not sure.

the only thing he’s sure of is that you were his now and this was only the beginning.

thank you so much for reading ᰔ

[sweets3rial]

sweetserials kinktober masterlist !

(ik im late sorry guys)

Oct 6 - Camgirl Fantasies (ao3)

he's a lonely man and finds warm comfort in the girl on his computer screen. the girl with the pretty pink lips and sweet sugary moans.

Oct 9 - Blinded (ao3)

he can't see. all he can do is feel; feel her curves, the warmth of her skin, and her shuddering breaths against the shell of his ear

Oct 12 - He's a Monster

he's out of his mind. he's hungry but not for food. he's hungry for the woman that carries a salivating scent with her, the woman with glasses perched on her nose and the tight as uniform.

Oct 15 - High Heels and Black Nylons

click. clack. click. clack sound as she walks down the halls, legs clad in black tights and three buttons of her blouse undone. clickity. clack. clickity. clack sounds as she leaves. black nylons torn and knees weak.

Oct 18 - Sleeping Beauty (tw: CNC)

when she isn't speaking, she is sleeping. so peaceful and so graceful. her disheveled appearance out for anyone to peek, her innocence ready to take. and her dreams ready to invade.

Oct 21 - Run Bunny Run (tw: predator and prey themes)

tag, you're it. run and hide. if i find you, i fuck you.

Oct 24 - Bitter Wine and Saccharine

bitter words and drunken slurs. sweet kisses and even sweeter sex. the fire that burns in them as they shout at each other simmers into a sweet passion only they share.

Oct 27 - In Her Reflection

look at yourself. a mess just for me. no, i want you to see how beautiful you are and just how im ruining you.

Oct 30 - Deity (tw: religious themes)

on your knees. worship me. i am your god, the only one you need. sister, please me. it is no sin, since i and god forgive you

Oct 31 - Bonus!

a/n: all of these fics are fiction!! i do not wish to disrespect anyone in the making of these fics but still please let me know if anything above bothers you/makes you uncomfortable.

these are mostly fics i either 1) never finished or 2) have been sitting in my notes collecting dust :D! these will also be posted on ao3 ;).

[maleyanderecafe]

Video Game Recommendations

Indie Visual Novels

Solipsism Reigns

Eat your heart Valentine!

My Darling

Home’s Embrace

Don’t Take This Risk

XOXO Blood Droplets

Y.A.N.A.

Infatuation

Yandere Love: Chains of Fate

Sweetest Valentine

Forgive My Sins, Father

You Are My Sunshine

Pulsato Cordis

Picture Perfect Boyfriend

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel...HELP!!

ITYH: A Horror Otome

Froot Basket Valentine

Invite Me In

What's Your Name?

Mistrick

Yandere Heaven

Love Me Not

Too Deep In Love

Love Company

Missing

Pocket Lover!

A Portrait of Feathers

Dr. Morgan's Counseling Session

Picture Perfect Romance

Tentador Leches

Colorful Mirai: Spooky Edition

Be My Muse

Froot Basket Dark Chocolate

The Science of Staying Awake

Eat Your Heart Valentine 2

Line 88

Please Don't Hate Christmas

Lucky Day!

House Check

Mushroom Oasis

Yanchat

Karamu

Gentle Fall

Sweet Dreams

Where Winter Crows Go

A Date with Denial

Kimbark Street

Past Hope

The Stranger from the Bus Stop

Love Me Dearly

Akahane Academy

Flowers of Evil

Bleeding Canvas

My Ange

Is it Wrong to want to be Locked up, Toyed with and Tortured by a Hot Guy?

Bittersweet Blythe

Klein v0.1

Rot with Me

Inclement Idee Fixe

Death by Fire

Loser

Dear Devere

Domestic Dread

The Shades of Red

Blood and Lust and Lust for Blood

Eternal Dreamscape

Pretty Boy Panic

Suffocation

Hell Trap

MindMindMind

Channel 453 -Shadows of the Game

Than Winter Came

RPG/ Other Types of Games

Devil's Gankuran

Saccharine

Desperate Love Feast

Desert Nightmare

Love, Sam

Doom Stones

PC

Ephemeral Fantasy on Dark

[holybibly]

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

[ddollys]

“NIGHTS LIKE THIS…”

────୨ৎ────

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💭ɞ˚‧｡⋆

:: IN WHICH :: you’ve been killed during the shibuya incident. and yuji, who had feelings for you—both platonically and romantically, misses you. so, now, he finds himself in a dream with you.

:: angst, fluff, comfort :: — afab reader, bottled up feelings, angst with a happy ending, yuji itadori missing you, reader has dimples, etc. not proofread.

i really hope this is good , reblog if you enjoyed. 🤍

—

yuji itadori loved you—but in fear of rejection, he bottled up his feelings in a space that was somewhere in the back of his mind. he refused to acknowledge the bittersweet love he felt for you, pushing it away. he didn’t want it to get in the way of your tight friendship. he didn’t want you to avoid him because you felt uncomfortable being with a man who liked you.

“hold my hand until we turn to ashes.”

he didn’t get any time to genuinely confess the truth about how he truly felt about you… because, now…

you’re laying right in front of him. dead.

he stared in disbelief—he should’ve… he should’ve protected you! he promised, he made a deal in his mind that he swore to protect you; to reserve your place in life.

he didn’t move. he didn’t breathe. his lungs begged for air yet when they received oxygen, they denied it and closed up. his throat was shutting down, burning and pleading for water.

but, he stood still. same stance, same form, same face. he was splattered with your blood, and he begged god for it to be his instead of yours.

your bodily fluid on him felt like an unforgivable sin. yuji itadori… didn’t know in the afterlife, when his time came… that you would forgive him.

that you would accept his bittersweet love for you, the true love he felt for you.

“love me til’ they put me in my casket.”

weeks later, he was still restless. he kept reliving the same moment in his dream. it kept repeating, each time he thought that he was finally letting go of the memory; the dream would crash down and morphed into that same, horrifying reality.

it felt like his brain was taunting him, letting him experience the haunting guilt that gnawed in his guts. each time he felt an ounce of guilt—he was rushing to the bathroom to puke out all his sorrow.

“i got all these feelings that i’m maskin’.”

his dream tonight was a stark contrast to his prior experiences… it was oddly peaceful. it wasn’t anything special; just a plain white room.

but there was just a gentle presence that soothed his nerves, that helped shake off the feeling that it was going to turn into a nightmare.

“…yuji.” you called out, behind him. your voice was devoid of ill intentions, just pure. “…i’m glad you’re holding up.” you spoke, a soft smile on your face. yuji whipped his whole body around.

it wasn’t a fake smile—yuji knew that you had small dimples when you actually put a genuine smile. “…i—i missed you.” yuji shakily whispered, his knees bucking down and he was on the floor. tears bubbled up in his eyes as he looked up at you. “…it’s… it’s really you.” he murmured, his pretty light brown eyes still locked on yours.

“hey… no, get up.” you coo, bending down to grab his hands and lift him up. “…yuji,” you say, “…you’re strong. please, don’t give up just because of me.” you console, your hands still clasped with his. you were glowing, just how he first met you.

“…i—i can’t-” yuji whispered, but got cut off by you.

“…oh yes you can.” you replied. “…i love you, yuji.” you smiled, the dimples that he always took notice to appeared.

“…i love you too, love…” yuji replied. you gave yuji a gentle kiss on the lips. “…everything wasn’t your fault, please, don’t stress about it.” you say. you faced your back against him and walked away; your body fading.

for once, he finally found solace in a dream.

“can i lay it on you? that’s what i’m asking.”

nights like this - the kid laroi.

[thewidowsledger]

Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 12: A Room of Your Own | 5.2k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, horny thoughts, gun pointing (?), bully Yelena (?), is fluff a warning? If yes, then what the fluff?

Author's Note: Scene reference from the movie Black Widow👀 I had to watch it so I can be able to write the scene. And, and, and the mascot was from my own experience, lol. Not proofread so if you see some stupid mistakes, no you didn't.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as soon as you're sure that she's out of the room. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath since you felt Natasha close to you and now you're gasping for air. You immediately slapped your cheek over and over, trying to remove the thoughts out of your mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is wrong.” You feel your head being light, remembering her words.

“You can take it.”

“Just like that.”

“Good girl.”

You took a pillow and slammed it on your face with both of your hands and screamed at it, it stayed at your face for a couple of seconds before you slowly removed it.

You squeezed your thighs shut to relieve the aching feeling between your legs, “Oh God, forgive me for I have sinned.”

“Y/N?” A call coming out your door freaked you out, you immediately shuffled and got out of your bed, you ran towards the door as you put your clothes over your freshly cleaned up wound.

You peeked revealing Maria outside, “Oh hey.”

“Here's your food, there are actually stocks of food in your room but Natasha told the chef to have some soup made for you.” She said carrying a tray of soup and water. “You okay?” She asked as she saw your blushing form just staring at the tray.

“Oh yeah, shit t-thanks. I mean…” you winced as you opened the door for her to come in and immediately but carefully took the tray from her. You put it on the side of your bed and walked back towards her.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you, “So? How are you?” She asked crossing her arms, offering you a comforting smile

“I…” you shrugged.

"I know things are hard for you...complicated," Maria empathized. "But please don't sleep naked on the tile floor again, Y/N." She chuckled, as did you.

She noticed your nervous fidgeting and slowly began walking towards the door, with you following closely behind, crossing your arms and rubbing your arm.

"She was really worried about you," Maria declared as she looked at you.

You nodded slowly, recognizing the depth of Natasha's concern. Your heart wanted to jump out of its place. But you actually hadn't meant to cause her any worry, and now a plan began to take shape in your mind. You thought about making it up to Natasha for all she had done for you. Just as Maria started to leave your room, you hastily called out to her.

"I uh, Maria," you began, "Is it possible for me to go into the kitchen later? I'd like to do some cooking, or something." You cursed yourself for being so awkward.

“Oh…” she smiled, “Sure, I’ll tell the chef. Finish your food first and you can have the kitchen all by yourself.”

⧗

You quickly finished the remainder of your soup and carried the tray with you as you made your way out of your room.

With the tray in your grasp, you navigated through the halls, making your way towards the kitchen. As you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoed slightly in the deserted corridor, as if the emptiness itself was listening to your every step.

Finally, you arrived at the kitchen that Maria had pointed out to you a day ago. The kitchen was one large expansive room, without any doors or dividers. The space was seamless and open, allowing the air to flow freely between the workstations and appliances.

You cautiously stepped inside, placing the tray in the sink. You took a moment to survey the kitchen, your hands slightly fidgeting from nerves. You had initially planned to bake, but now that you are faced with the vastness of the kitchen, you actually don't know what to do now as you feel a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen was immaculate, the stainless steel counters gleaming under the warm glow of the overhead lights. Rows of pristine cookware, pots, and pans hung from hooks on the backsplash, and the various appliances were meticulously arranged on the counters.

“Wow…I only had a microwave in my apartment.” You muttered to yourself.

You took a moment to examine the cabinets, quietly searching for the ingredients you needed for what you planned to bake. Opening each one, you looked closely, taking mental note of what you had and what you still needed to find. Then, your eyes landed on the pantry, located to the left of the large fridge.

You entered the pantry, which was another expansive room brimming with ingredients.

“Wow…” your jaw literally dropped as you took a good look around the pantry, you couldn't help but marvel at the variety of items before you. It seemed like a mini grocery store!

One by one, you managed to retrieve everything you needed. The ingredients in your arms grew, until eventually you had everything you needed, including flour, sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, and butter. With your arms full, you carefully walked out of the pantry.

You began your cooking project by setting all the ingredients out on a clean countertop. The measuring cups, spoons, bowls, and baking sheets were placed strategically so you could easily access them. As you arranged everything, a small wave of overwhelm washed over you as you looked at the materials before you. You were anxious that you may accidentally damage or ruin them in some way.

You measured each ingredient, the aroma of the dough began to fill the room, blending the scents of sugar and butter. With each cup and teaspoon, you mixed the ingredients in a large bowl, creating a smooth and creamy base.

You had finally completed the cookie dough and were now preparing to bake it. However, in order to do so, you needed to find the parchment paper, which was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did I put it?”

You were frantically searching for it, knowing that you had just placed it in one place together with others. You began to worry that you misplaced it. Suddenly, you heard a voice behind you. “Looking for this?”

Startled, you whipped around to find Yelena, sitting casually on the countertop, holding the parchment paper you had been looking for. Your clumsy hands accidentally knocked over some of the ingredients, causing it to crash to the ground.

You immediately and instinctively crouched down to fix the mess you made, Yelena smirked down at the sight. She toyed with the parchment paper as you cleaned in front of her.

Yelena hummed a nonsensical tune, her feet idly swaying and occasionally coming close to your head, almost purposely. However, you tried not to let it get to you and refrained from showing any reaction. Deep inside, you couldn't help but hope that Natasha would appear, as she usually did when her sister was around, to rescue you from this frustrating situation.

“Yelena.”

Yelena turned, a smirk creeping in her face. She tilted her head, “Hey Riri.”

Maria's expression toward Yelena remained emotionless. She maintained a stoic demeanor, silently observing Yelena's actions and behavior. “You know where to find your sister.”

“I always do.” Yelena chuckled as she leaped off the countertop and nonchalantly let the parchment paper fall to the ground as you focused on cleaning up. Without a pause, she promptly walked out of the kitchen.

When Yelena was finally out of sight Maria immediately inquired if you're okay to which you nodded.

Maria, noticing the lingering tension Yelena left in the air, she turned to you with a sympathetic expression and softly apologized for Yelena's behavior.

"I'm sorry about Yelena," she said gently. "She can be quite...a lot."

Sensing your lack of response, Maria quickly shifted the conversation and her eyes landed at the countertop, seeing the dough you just made ready to be baked.

“You know, that looks really delicious,” she said, her tone shifting to a more casual one.

Her words were meant to ease the tension, hoping to alleviate any discomfort you might still be feeling. Her words, though simple, had a profound effect, causing your cheeks to blush. A small, shy smile graced your lips as you gratefully accepted her compliment.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood with the ingredients on your arms. “I just need to bake them, can I ask for a hand? I don't know how your oven works.”

Upon hearing your request for assistance, a warm smile spread across Maria's face. “Sure, whatever you need.”

⧗

"I know you’re out there.” Yelena, still concealing her presence, speaks out, her voice carrying a hint of challenge as she carefully closes the door behind her and pulled the gun behind her jeans.

Natasha, unfazed, responds calmly, she leaned back to her office chair, "I know you know I’m out here."

Yelena cautiously steps forward, her eyes scanning the room carefully. She picks her way through the room, avoiding any objects that might make noise or hinder her movement.

"So, are we going to talk like grown-ups?" Natasha said after a lack of response from her sister.

“Is that what we are?” Yelena shot back, finally revealing her sister who's sitting in her office chair, gun pointed in her direction.

The room is tense, their eyes locked in a deadly staring contest. Natasha stood from her chair and circled the desk, walking forward, her gun pointed directly at Yelena.

“Put it down before I make you.” Yelena said with a stern voice, she walked backwards when she saw Natasha slowly begin to advance. She kept her gun pointed precisely at her sister.

“You put yours down.” Natasha replied, keeping her gun trained on Yelena, her footsteps are measured and steady, her gaze still locked on the blonde.

As Yelena takes a step backward, she slightly stumbles. She falters momentarily but quickly regains her footing.

“Watch your step.”

Yelena responded with a smirk.

With each step, the distance closes between them, their body tense and ready for any sudden moves from each other.

In a quick, coordinated movement, both Natasha and Yelena switch their guns with each other, passing them between their hands while still maintaining their defensive stances.

The switch is swift and seamless, a testament to the skill and familiarity the sisters have with each other's movements. Both continue to watch each other intently, weapons now held in the other's hand. The air crackles with tension, neither of them willing to back down.

Natasha, in a split second, reaches out and touches Yelena’s gun and the unexpected touch is enough to send Yelena straight into attack mode. She quickly launches herself at Natasha, slamming her sister towards the wall.

Natasha winces, the impact on her back momentarily catching her off guard. But Natasha was quick to counterattack; she grabbed Yelena’s jacket, and pushed her harshly, she then yanked her towards the cabinets. In a single swift motion, Natasha slams her sister’s back against the table below, pinning her firmly by the jaw.

“Stay down, stay down!”

Despite being in a disadvantaged position, Yelena makes quick work of the situation. With her sharp and agile movements, she sneaks her hand behind her and grabs a stack of thick papers from the table. Before Natasha can react, Yelena brings the papers down hard against her sister's head.

The unexpected blow sends Natasha staggering back, her grip on Yelena momentarily loosening. Yelena uses this to her advantage and quickly stands from being pinned.

Natasha and Yelena continue eyeing each other, both of them are breathing heavily and are refusing to back down. The tension in the room is palpable. After a long moment, Natasha breaks the standoff and walks back to her desk, she winced as she touched her side slightly.

“How's mama?” Natasha asks in a detached tone as if they didn't just almost kill each other seconds ago.

Yelena can't hold back a smile. The mention of their mother seems to bring a bit of tenderness and excitement into Yelena's voice. She straightens her clothes after the fight, pausing to collect her thoughts before she speaks.

“She uhm,” Yelena started fidgeting, “Mama’s fine, she's okay and uhh…she misses you so much, like she always cooks your favorite when she misses you.”

Yelena's excitement was almost palpable as she shared this tidbit of information. On the other hand, Natasha's stoic expression gave away nothing of her emotions. She reached for a beer, uncapping it. The sound of the cap snapping off echoed in as her sister continued to ramble.

“And papa, he’s—”

“I only asked for mama did I?” Her response was crisp and biting, a clear indication that she had no interest in hearing about their father.

Yelena was visibly taken aback by Natasha's abruptness. She watched in silence as her sister finished the beer in one smooth gulp, setting the empty bottle down with a firm tap on the hardwood desk.

She huffed, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the room. Her voice was slightly mocking as she made a comment about Natasha's setup.

"Quite domesticated here," she began, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Got yourself a wife cooking downstairs, huh?"

Natasha's cold gaze flicked up to meet Yelena's, her expression hardening at the mention of you. She interrupted her sister sternly, knowing how this conversation would go.

"Enough."

But Yelena didn't relent, continuing to push her sister's buttons.

"All cutesy," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bringing poison into this house."

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. Her eyes flashed and her jaw tightened. In a swift, fluid movement, she slammed the jagged pieces of the broken glass onto the table, the sound of it making a loud thud against the hard surface. Her voice was low and sharp as she shouted at her sister.

Yelena didn't expect the sudden move, and she flinched momentarily.

"I said, enough." She emphasized each word, her fingers digging into the desk, the fragments of which were now scattered across the desk and the floor.

“Get out, I have a meeting to go to.”

Yelena let out a huff, her neutral demeanor faltering. She started walking backwards, still facing her sister.

"I don't understand you," she said, shaking her head slightly. "All of this for a woman you just met weeks ago."

She began to make her way out of the room. As she reached the threshold, she turned back to look at her sister, her expression firm. In a quieter voice, she added, "Don't drag yourself into this."

And with that, Natasha was left alone in her office, shattered glasses, scattered papers everywhere. The silence was thick and heavy. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the chaos that surrounded her. She let out a sigh, running her hands through her hair, the stress of the situation starting to manifest physically. As the clock ticked by, counting down the minutes until her meeting, Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself.

⧗

You had just finished plating the cookies, neatly arranging them on a tray. The thought of finding Natasha to give her the baked goods brought a small smile to your face. However, your thoughts were interrupted when you turned and saw Yelena leaning against the counter. Her sudden appearance made you jump slightly, the familiar feeling of uneasiness creeping over you.

Yelena chuckled seeing your reaction. She watched you intently, her expression amused. It was clear she enjoyed startling you and making you feel uncomfortable, as always

“Looking for Natasha?” She asked as if she could read your mind, you nodded not daring to look at her.

“I know where she is,” remembering that her sister just told her that she has some meeting to attend to. A smirk creeped into her face as she thought about you making some surprise visit to that meeting.

“2nd floor, last room at the left hall.”

You smile slightly at her and your eyes flickered as she told you where her sister is, the excitement evident in you.

“Thanks,” you said, slightly stuttering due to your eagerness to leave. “You can have some if you want.”

With the tray of cookies in your hands, you began slowly making your way past Yelena. A wave of disdain flooded over her. She hated how genuine you were, showing kindness even after she had been so tough on you. No matter how hard time she gave you, you still managed to make small genuine acts towards her and she hated it.

She hated you.

Yelena, despite her best efforts to stay aloof, found herself drawn to the freshly baked cookies sitting on the counter. The aroma was irresistible. Her pride told her not to take one, but her stomach says otherwise. In a swift motion, she picked one up and quickly stuffed it into her mouth, the sweet taste only adding to her inner conflict. It was so good that she hated you more.

⧗

As you make your way down the hall towards where Natasha is, your heart thumps in your chest. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach, each step bringing you closer. As you approach the hall, you mentally rehearse what to say.

“This is for you,” you say aloud, testing the words out. Then, you jokingly chide yourself, “What? No greetings? That's so disrespectful of you Y/N.”

“I baked cookies for you,” you tried again with a sigh on how awkward you sound.

Caught up in your internal monologue, you continue to walk and rehearse your lines, blissfully unaware of your surroundings. The door suddenly opens under your touch, and you find yourself standing in the doorway of Natasha's office.

Shit. You stop short, your eyes swept across the room. Not only is Natasha present, but there are also four other men in there, all of whom look like hardened criminals. They were in the middle of a meeting, and your unexpected entrance caught everyone's attention. Silence filled the air as their gaze landed on you, and you felt completely out of place, standing in the doorway with the tray of cookies in your hands.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. All the men in the room quickly stood up, their expressions neutral as they drew their weapons and aimed them directly at you as if they were trained to do it. The sound of multiple guns cocking filled your ears, and you instinctively froze, the tray of cookies trembling in your hands and your eyes started to get covered with tears. You thought this is it for you.

Natasha shoots up from her chair. “Fuck,” she muttered enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t you dare fucking shoot her! Out! Now!”

Your shoulders jump at the sharpness of the order, you know she has your protection in mind, though. You're on the verge of crying while apologizing for barging in on the meeting, but the men in attendance also jump to their feet, instantly bowing courteously to Natasha before hastily making their exit giving you a wide berth as they open the other door to her office and file out.

Natasha's eyes were locked onto you, concern etched across her face.

“Fuck…” a cursed escaped her lips. “Baby…” And without realizing it, a term of endearment slipped out this time. Natasha could see the shock on your face and the tremble in your hands holding the tray of cookies. She gently took the tray from you and set it down on the long table in the meeting room.

“Hey,” she called, holding your face.

Your words came out in a shaky breath, your voice quivering slightly. “I'm so sorry Natasha,” you said, the guilt and embarrassment evident. “I didn't mean to…” You tried to hold back the tears, but the sobs began to take over, your body shaking slightly.

You managed to get the words out between the sobs, explaining, “I just wanted to give you these cookies I made for you. And...and your sister...she told me you were here…” Your voice sounded like a small child complaining.

“Eta suka.” (That bitch) she whispered.

“I’m sorry, you weren't supposed to see that.” She said softly, bringing your head on her shoulder. You caught a whiff of her perfume as you nuzzled closer to her neck.

“You baked this for me?” she asked, caught off guard, your shy nod confirmed and a small smile curled on her lips.

“Why don't we get out and enjoy them?” You nodded again, this time with a genuine smile blossoming on your face.

⧗

As you and Natasha walked side by side, she casually looped her arm around your waist, making you feel safe and secure. In her other hand, she held the tray of cookies.

Suddenly, you were startled to see a guard carrying a large gun standing in front of you. Surprised, you looked up at him, but Natasha quickly intervened, asking him to step aside.

She turned to you and explained apologetically, “Sorry, it's security.” You nodded, understanding the need for precautions in her line of work.

“Don't you have an ongoing meeting?”

Natasha simply shrugged and responded nonchalantly, "They can wait."

“I’m really sorry, you should've finished whatever you're discussing if I didn't barge in—”

As you began to apologize once again, Natasha quickly reassured you, cutting off your apology before you could finish. Holding your hand, she gently squeezed it to comfort you.

"Y/N, it's okay." She continued walking with you, leading the way towards the tranquil garden of the manor.

Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the breathtaking view of the lake in front of you. "Wow," you breathed out, captivated by the beauty of your surroundings.

Natasha gestured for you to take a seat beside her in the soft grass. She removed her leather jacket and laid it down on the ground, creating a soft surface for you to sit comfortably.

As she did so, you inadvertently caught a glimpse of her biceps flexing. To your surprise, you could see that her arms were adorned with intricate tattoos, the ink dancing across her skin. But there was also a long, slender scar running through one of the tattoos, partially concealed by the ink.

The sight of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, your gaze lingering on her skin and her strong arms.

You quickly shifted your gaze, your mind raced as you hoped she hadn't noticed the way your eyes had lingered on her arms.

Looking away, you redirected your attention to the serene lake in front of you, the cool breeze gently ruffling your hair and bringing some relief to your flushed face.

The two of you sat down together, she put the tray of cookies in front of you and you on the other hand was still fascinated at the view of the lake, your mouth slightly opened. Natasha couldn't help but smile at you, she grabbed a cookie from the tray which caught your attention.

“So?” You asked, “How was it?”

“You should try your own cookie.” She said, winking at you and you did, you grabbed one and took a bite.

“It's heavenly,” she commented, you looked at her with your brows furrowed.

“Heavenly?” You laughed, “What are you a poet?” You said between giggles.

For a few moments, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you sat together in the garden. It wasn't an awkward silence per se, but rather a calm and peaceful atmosphere that surrounded you both.

Your eyes wandered idly, scanning the surroundings until they landed on a beautiful rose bush nearby. A sense of wonder filled you as you spotted a single red rose in full bloom. Excited, you pointed at it and exclaimed with a childlike enthusiasm.

"Look, a rose! Like the ones on your shoulder!”

As soon as the words left your lips, you immediately realized your faux pas and hastily apologized.

“I'm sorry,” you said remorsefully. “I think they're cool you know, your tattoos.”

Natasha looked at the roses, not providing an immediate response. Feeling even more embarrassed, you repeated your apology with a pout, feeling awkward.

Natasha chuckled at your adorable reaction and reassured you, “It's fine, Y/N.”

After a moment of silence, you found yourself rambling again. Curiosity tinged your voice as you mused aloud,

“So it's true, mob bosses…gangsters or whatever…they all have tattoos on their upper bodies, huh?”

Natasha hummed, “Yeah, I guess they do,”

A teasing smile tugged at your lips as you jokingly inquired, “You think I'd look good with tattoos too? Look, I have scars now too.” Natasha's eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips in response to your question.

Your heart skipped a beat as her laughter filled the air. The mere sound of her amusement sent a wave of warmth rushing through you, causing a flutter in your chest. It was a small victory, earning her laughter, but one that felt significant nonetheless.

“You silly girl,” she remarked as she took another cookie from the tray.

“It's an initiation rites,” she started, you shifted and sat properly beside her ready to listen to whatever she's going to say.

“I never wanted to have it, my mother told my father that it should stop with him.” She pauses, gathering her thoughts, before continuing, “The curse of our blood.”

That line just made your skin crawl.

“I saw how people looked at my father, all the scars in his body? I don't wanna be seen that way.” Her voice trembles slightly.

“I woke up,” she shifted slightly, “in a chair, I was tied up. I was 15 when I had it, my father slowly scarred my skin while I was begging him to stop. I was shouting for my mom but she never came.” She said it nonchalantly as she recounts the harrowing experience.

Your heart wrenched in your chest as you listened to her.

“From then I had to accept my fate.” A hint of bitterness tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. “But that didn't mean I had to carry it on with me.”

Her eyes darted to the ground, studying the blades of grass that lay beneath her feet. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I managed our business for 4 years and left to start my own. I haven't seen my parents since, only Yelena.” She looked at you, placing her hands at her back so she could lean on them and she straightened her legs forward. “What about you?”

“Oh, me?” You asked, pointing at yourself using the cookie.

“Yes, silly.” She giggled at you.

“I don't wanna make it about me though, you’re sharing yours—”

“Please tell me, I wanna know.” She cut you off.

You fell silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts and steeling yourself recalling your past. You swallowed the last piece of cookie in your hand before you spoke.

“Well, let's start with the fact that I never got to see my parents,” you began casually. “My mom died giving birth...to me and my dad left my mom before I was even born. So I grew up with my grandparents, but when they passed away, I had to live by myself.”

As you continued, your hands instinctively sought comfort, and you started to hug your legs tightly.

“My aunt took my grandparents' house and decided to sell it,” you huffed, your voice laced with bitterness. “They gave me my part of it because my mom’s gone and yeah, of course, I get to have her share in that.

“I started working at 17 to pay for my school," you said, recounting your early attempts at earning money. "I did everything, I worked at a laundromat, waitress, hostess, janitress, mascot…”

“Mascot?” Natasha's curiosity piqued, as she immediately asked.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you nodded and explained, “Yeah, there was this pizzeria that was having their opening and for a month I was half human and half pizza.”

“Wow…” Natasha laughed, “That’s funny…I mean no offense and respect to that because that's a difficult job.”

“Yeah, it is ‘coz they stink with all the sweat you know, ugh.” You rolled your eyes and made a gagging noise that earned another laugh from the redhead.

“Do you know how mascots blink?” you asked, your chin lifted in with a grin on your face.

“Ooh interesting, how?”

"When I did it, there's actually this thing in the hands of the mascot that whenever you close the hands," you lifted your left hand and formed a balled fist, demonstrating the mechanism of the mascot, “the mascot also blinks.”

“Ooh, I thought—”

You quickly guessed her thought, laughing slightly, “That it blinks when the person inside blinks?”

“I know it sounds so stupid but yeah.” She admitted with a sheepish grin.

You both couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea, to the point that both of you had to lay back down almost dying in laughter.

When the both of you finally calm down, Natasha's question broke the silence, and her curious tone filled the air as she asked, facing you as both of you were laying down, “So you went to college?”

“I did.”

Natasha then continued her line of questioning, “What happened? Did you finish?”

“I did. I was late for 2 years. Decided to have a leap year so I can save money for college. I took theater arts and when I finished I moved to New York with all my savings, hoping to fulfill my dream, you know...every kid's dream, everybody's dream, Broadway. But things didn't go as planned. But…I still had planned my future and I did plan some options. We need some safety net y’know?”

“Planned some options?” Natasha asked, slightly curious at the thought.

“Yeah.” You nodded, you can actually feel the grass and the dirt mixing with your hairstrand.

“And the plan is?”

“My plan is…one, to get a degree, finish college and I already did that. And I have two options if my degree doesn't work out for me.” You paused, your tongue darting out to wet your lips before continuing.

“One, be a stripper or two, be someone's trophy wife. And that's how I landed on Valkyrie's, option one.” You finally turned to look at her but she was already staring at you, your eyes widened and immediately got up trying to cover up the blush creeping in your face.

Natasha slowly sat beside you, your heart skipped a beat. You felt her presence as she reached for your hand, gently pulling you to your feet.

"I gotta show you something."

You grabbed her leather jacket and left the empty tray of cookies. The two of you walked back towards the manor, passing by a couple of armed guards who stood watch.

Natasha led you towards the large hall, her grip on your hand firm and sure. As she opened the double doors, you were immediately struck by the empty room that greeted you.

The space was spacious, with mirrors lining the walls and a solitary pole placed in the center. The polished wooden floor shone under the dim lighting, creating a subtle and intimate atmosphere.

A shy smile played on Natasha's lips as she spoke, looking directly at you. Her voice was soft, almost sheepish as she confessed.

“I still remember that dream of yours being a ballerina. So I had this room made just for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “Natasha, this…” Your voice trailed off for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice cracking slightly as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

You don't need to be scared now.

No one will stop you.

No one will threaten you to know your place.

Because right now, at this moment, you do know your place.

You stepped forward and leaned towards Natasha, you gently planted a soft kiss on her cheek, your lips lingering for just a fraction of a second.

Secrets Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Four ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Four Warnings: slight profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Four]

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time. 

Say, a couple years ago, you never would’ve considered the possibility that you could end up in a room full of rubber ducks. In Hell. With Lucifer Morningstar. Or, what sort of situation could lead you into it.

But you supposed that life was full of surprises. 

You ran your finger along the side of the head of a random rubber duck you had decided to pick up. You heard a small gasp, and a hand shot out to snatch it out of your hands. 

“Careful,” Lucifer gasped. You stared at him blankly. 

“You don’t know what they can do…” he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure.” 

He smiled at you. You crossed your legs, staring down at him in his chair from your perch on the table. “So, is this what you do with your highly important, influential, immortal existence? Create an army of rubber ducks?” You teased lightly. He tipped his head back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. 

“Maybe.”

You tilted your head, and your eyes drifted over to a painting on the wall. Standing up, you walked over, feeling golden eyes train into your back. You pointed at it, turning to face him. “Who are they?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard- he just stared at you as if you had threatened to strangle him. You furrowed your brows in concern. “What?”

 He cleared his throat. “Nothing. That’s my daughter and my… ex wife.”

“Oh,” you managed to utter, feeling a strange mix of regret and guilt burrowing it’s way into your chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-“

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “Ask away.”

“Are you sure?” The reply was a simple nod.

Curiosity killed the cat. You winced, trying to banish Sera’s voice from your head.

“Her name is Lilith, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

You shifted from foot to foot. “What’s your daughter's name?”

“Charlie- Charlotte.” 

You returned to where you originally were. “I take it she doesn’t live with you in this huge, erm, house?” 

Lucifer smiled wryly. “No, she… she’s off doing, uh…”

“You don’t know, do you?” You sighed. He shook his head. “It’s alright. Do you two not talk?” He shook his head, again. 

You dragged over a chair to sit next to him, and reached out for his hand. He didn’t shy away from your touch as you intertwined your fingers. The cold metal of a ring- you glanced down- his wedding ring, pressed against your skin. 

The air slowly filled with a thick silence, until he broke it.

“She left to chase whatever dreams she had a while after Lilith left.” His next words were bitter. “She just left- Lilith, I mean. Just disappeared.”

You glanced at him, and he laughed. “But whatever. It’s been years. She’s clearly not coming back. I’ll just have to move on.” 

“You’re clearly not trying,” you pointed out, tapping a finger against the thick gold band. He sighed, then looked up at you suddenly. 

“What?”

“I’ll take it off.”

“Seriously? I didn’t mean-“

“No, you’re right.” He stood up and went over to a drawer in the corner. You watched as he pulled the ring off his hand and dropped it in one of them, then locked it with a key sitting on the top. “Catch.”

You caught the key as it came flying through the air towards you. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it. Or toss it, I don’t care.”

You buried it in the depths of your satchel. “Fine,” you muttered. You could see his pleased smile in your peripheral. 

♱♱♱

“Fuck! [name]!”

You yelped as you fell into a giant pile of rubber ducks. The smell of- well, rubber- attacked your senses, almost suffocating. You gasped, emerging in a flurry of rolling yellow ducks to see Lucifer standing over you, stifling his laughter. 

“Do you not have, like, places to keep these…” you gestured agitatedly at the colony of artificial creatures surrounding you. “Specimens?”

“They’re ducks.”

“I know they’re ducks.”

He grinned as he offered his hand towards you. 

A scream sounded out outside. Two black shapes zipped across the red sky, the scene framed by the window you were staring out of. It was behind Lucifer, framing his silhouette as he turned around to glance outside. The scream had dissolved and the shapes had disappeared. Lucifer glanced back at you.

You stared at him and gulped, frazzled.

“Are you sure your… friends aren’t looking for you?” You took his arm and he pulled you up. But didn’t let go. 

“I hope not.”

Lucifer stared at your face, intensely, as if he was trying to memorise it. You flushed and turned away. “Maybe it was a bad choice you made, seeing me.”

You laughed nervously. “It’ll be fine. Plus, you hardly left me with much of a choice.”

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “We all have choices, angel.”

It knocked the breath right out of you. 

You stared at him, then turned away again. “Sure, whatever.”

You heard his low chuckle behind your back as you walked away. 

♱♱♱

The pentagram would be closing soon. 

You grappled with the window, until Lucifer sighed and pushed you to the side, gently, opening it up for you. It swung open soundlessly as you clambered onto the windowsill, wings poised for flight. 

“Angel, wait.”

You stared at him as something closed around your wrist. You looked down. A bracelet. “Huh?”

He held up his own wrist. The bracelet on it was identical to yours. “First thing I’ve made since a rubber duck.”

“…a bracelet.”

He held his finger up to your lips to silence you. You flushed. “Not just any bracelet,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “It’s for communication. And you’re the perfect person to help me test it out over long distances. You press the stone on the front, and mine will buzz and light up. Vice versa.” 

“We are worlds apart.” The sentence seemed to strike a strange feeling in you, one of melancholy. Lucifer, however, seemed unfazed.

You knew that, deep down, you’d give in anyways. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

♱♱♱

The morning light filtered through the window and onto your bed as you emptied out your satchel. Your notebook and pen dropped onto the covers soundlessly. The apple bounced off the corner of the frame, rolling across your rug. 

As you leaned down to pick it up, you heard something else clatter onto the floor.

You turned and stared at the ground where it lay, next to your foot.

The key, glinting in the pale light.

You kicked it under your bed. It spun away into the shadows with a final flash.

You sighed, shoulders relaxing, and sat onto the bed, leaning over your arm, staring at the bracelet. The stone in the middle was flat, in the shape of an apple, and a 

metal snake coiled around the band of the bracelet. Pretty. 

You pressed the stone. Buzz.

It lit up as you touched it. A few seconds ticked by. 

Buzz. 

You flinched as it lit up and vibrated, by itself too, then let out a deep breath. He was on the other side. It worked. 

Knock knock knock. 

You stiffened.

The knocking started up again, more relentless this time. You scrambled forward, quickly picking your way across your living room and opening the door.

“Lute?”

She smiled thinly, crossing her arms and glaring at you. The look on her face made your heart sink down to your shoes and dribble out in a puddle onto the floor. You gulped.

“[name],” she said coldly. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows

[petalsprompts]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒; 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆.

change pronouns, tenses and other details as deemed necessary. & please specify muse when sending to a mumu.

Everything  you  see  in  here  is  either  haunted,  cursed,  or  has  been  used  in  some  kind  of  ritualistic  practice.

There  is  something...  horrible  happening  in  my  house.

The  Vatican  approved  the  exorcism.

A  dark  spirit  has  latched  itself  to  you/[your  family]  and  is  feeding  off  you.

What's  the  opposite  of  a  miracle,  Father?

I'm  afraid  there  is  something  very  wrong  with  this  place.

I  can  see  things  that  your  people  can't.

An oppressing spirit will try to force you to commit the ultimate of sins; murder, suicide, or both.

There  is  a  lot  of  evil  in  this  room. 

This one still haunts me.

I’m  so  afraid  this  thing  wants  to  hurt  us. 

There's  a  lady  in  a  dirty  nightgown  that  I  see  in  my  dreams.  She's  standing  in  front  of  my  mom's  bed.

Look  what  she  made  me  do!

Oh,  my  God.  A  Ouija  board?!  Have  you  two  been  playing  with  this?

Well,  ghosts  used  to  be  people.  And  not  all  people  are  bad.  So  maybe  not  all  ghosts  are  bad...?

It  was  the  same  vision  I  had  seven  years  ago.  I  had  a  premonition  of  your  death.

It's standing right behind you.

Whatever  you  do,  don't  stop  praying.

The  court  accepts  the  existence  of  God  every  time  a  witness  swears  to  tell  the  truth.  I  think  it's  about  time  they  accept  the  existence  of  the  Devil.

The  devil  exists.  God  exists.  And  for  us,  as  people,  our  very  destiny  hinges  upon  which  one  we  elect  to  follow.

[Name],  this  is  as  close  to  hell  as  I  ever  want  to  get.

Forgive  me,  Father,  for  I  am  about  to  sin.

Remember  how  I  told  you  that  an  inhuman  spirit  needs  to  be  invited?

There  is  one  spirit  I'm  most  worried  about  because  it  is  so  hateful.

Diabolical  forces  are  formidable.  These  forces  are  eternal,  and  they  exist  today.

It said it wants my family dead.

When  the  music  stops,  you'll  see  him  in  the  mirror  standing  behind  you

It  scares  us  just  thinking  about  it.

Our  presence  here  could  make  things  worse.

Help me!  It  won't  let  me  go!

There  are  things  happening  that  I  can't  explain.

An  inhuman  spirit  is  something  that's  never  walked  the  Earth  in  human  form.  It's something demonic.

No,  I  can't  feel  any  presence...  just  the  opposite.  I'm  not  sensing  anything  at  all. My sight is – blocked.

The  voice  doesn't  come  from  inside  me...  it  comes  from  behind  me,  like  I'm  being  used.

I  don't  know  what's  worse:  the  demons  or  the  people  who  prey  on  our  willingness  to  believe  in  them.

The  demon  in  your  painting  is  real.

It  wants  her.  So  badly,  and  it  almost  has  her.

Everything  they've  experienced  has  been  a  manifestation  of  the  demonic.

It  said  it  would  kill  you  if  I  didn't  make  them  leave.

In  my  vision  he  wanted  to  help  me,  but  he  was  too  afraid... and  he  kept  speaking  in  a  kind  of  riddle.

Knowing  the  demon's  name  gives  us  power  over  it  and  we  can  cast  it  out.

We  have  both  seen  the  same  inhuman  spirit.

I'm  just  so  tired.  I  can't  sleep  here.

Negative  entities  often  feed  off  emotional  distress.  They  like  to  kick  you  when  you're  down.

All  I  can  sense  is  their  own  fear.  I  can't  seem  to  see  beyond  that.

It's  something  inhuman.  Something  that's  taken  a  blasphemous  form  to  attack  my  faith.

[haosweater]

forbidden fruits [on hold]

content: ateez x reader, smut. warning: all these pairings are considered to be taboo. please read at your own risk, and just scroll away if you feel uncomfortable.

note: another draft sitting in my notes for what, two years? this is another level of sinful, so do forgive me… (i still hope you enjoy!) also please let me know if you want to be in the taglist!

sheriff! hongjoong x outlaw! reader [smut]

summary: hongjoong was done with both your theatrics and flirting. finally, he was going to lock you up and make sure you didn’t escape. well, he’d be biting his tongue by the end of the night.

mom’s bf! seonghwa x older! reader [smut]

summary: after your father’s death, the news of your mother dating a man younger than you is all but pleasing. however, the moment you lay eyes on him, you know you want him for yourself.

stepbrother! yunho x stepsister! reader [smut]

summary: you knew it was wrong– you both did. this secret of yours was something you were ashamed of. but you couldn’t possibly stop. no, how could you? not when it felt so good.

teacher! yeosang x student! reader [smut]

summary: being pinned down and fucked on his desk by you was a fantasy yeosang had dreamt of many nights. tonight, however, it seems like it wouldn’t remain a dream for much longer.

doctor! san x prisoner! reader [smut]

summary: san was not a stranger to the mentally unstable. he thought you were one of the more normal patients and adored you. well, it was his mistake for letting his guard down.

dilf! mingi x intern! reader [smut]

summary: you were an excellent intern– bright, passionate, driven, and oh-so attractive in mingi’s eyes. so when you find him fucking his fist in his office, you decide to make the best of it.

idol! wooyoung x ceo! reader [smut]

summary: wooyoung was your brightest star. he brought the money in and you knew that. in return, you made sure to personally pamper him and cater to all of his needs.

hybrid bear! jongho x hybrid bunny! reader [smut]

summary: you and jongho didn’t exactly get along, always competing academically. under unfortunate circumstances, you get stuck with him during his heat. you don’t hate a choice.

[celaenaeiln]

so my friend, at 12 am, called me just to say that dick grayson is the only one in his family that bruce truly views as an equal and then hung up. what. what do i do.

well, call them back and tell 'em they're right 😂😂😂

I started cackling so hard I began wheezinggg oh my god that's hilarious!!!

But maybe for a more reasonable time to talk about this concept after you wake/have woken up from your dick grayson cameo dreams, I'll drop some comic panels

Dick is privy to all of Bruce because of the way Bruce treats him like an equal

He lets Dick in on secrets that he doesn't tell any of the others

I've made a post before on how Clark views Dick as his equal just as Bruce views Dick as his equal.

I'm going to drop the Bruce segment here:

When Bruce was gone the only person he entrusted any information to was Dick. He left a personalized - voice activated - message for Dick and only him that lists his worries, faults, and regrets.

"The girl, Cassandra Cain... I told her to give this file to you should I fall tonight."

"She's my greatest sin, Dick. My deepest regret. Stay alive, and please. Try to forgive me--"

He lists his insecurities to Dick as friend, as an equal.

Of everyone Bruce left behind, the only person Bruce left a message for was Dick. He relies on him unconditionally to take over because Bruce doesn't seem him as a kid like he does with the other - don't get me wrong, he still values and knows just how brilliant the rest of his children are - but he sees Dick as an equal in terms of intelligence, abilities, and leadership. Actually -

Bruce puts Dick on a pedestal.

He views Dick as the golden standard of everything he's working toward.

The reason I think Bruce is so harsh on Dick in regards to training is he doesn't see him as a kid that needs protection, he seems him equal to himself.

Time and time again he sends Dick on solo missions because of the faith he has in Dick's abilities and intelligence

In another comic there's an Arkham breakout and Bruce just. He just sends sends Dick on a solo mission to contain the entirety of Arkham and the villains inside by himself.

And Dick does. Effortlessly.

The fight for Spyral

"I know the other heroes. I know them all. I'd have them do it, but they can't. They'd fight, but eventually they'd give up, they'd give in."

We all know that Bruce despises himself when he fails at something. He thinks he's the best in the world and struggles to cope with the idea that he failed. As such, Bruce views Dick as an extension of himself. Unlike with the kids where he acknowledges their differences and treats them like children, Dick and Bruce are so intertwined that Bruce considers Dick as the "good part" of himself while Bruce is the "bad part".

He gets the angriest at Dick during times where Dick disagrees with him because he believes that Dick should understood what he's going through and what he believes in. For his part, Dick is always on Bruce's side and acts like Bruce's leash. He'll let Bruce do anything he wants as long as it's within the limits of acceptable behavior. Once Batman crosses those limits, Dick fights with him to bring him back.

As such, Bruce doesn't differentiate himself with Dick. He is the best and as a result so is Dick. Except in his mind Dick is better than him in every way possible and he took the steps to ensure it through training.

One of the reasons people in the comics call Dick the Golden Child is because he's the living embodiment of everything Bruce strived to create. It's not because he follows his orders religiously or anything. No, Dick just gives Bruce a longer leash than most.

In the Spyral fight I think he hits Dick because he is in part frustrated with himself. Imagine seeing someone you have unconditional faith in because you know they're capable of the very same things as you and can even surpass you fall to a threat. Doesn't that mean you would've fallen too? Is their failure just as much yours if you see yourself as a god? But how can a god-like being fall?

Their relationship is complicated because while Bruce sees Dick as his own person, he also sees him as the reflection of his success.

That's why Bruce is harsher on Dick than the rest of the kids. That's why Bruce makes Dick his right hand man. That's why Bruce shares his sorrows, fears, and vulnerabilities to Dick.

The way they interact, they view each other as father and son but with all the roles and responsibilities as partners.

Dick's compartmentalization and the way he mothers Bruce and Bruce allows it? He doesn't let anyone do that. I feel like on some level he subconsciously expects Dick to take care of him. As someone he can turn to with his worst and darkest sides and still be loved and appreciated and told everything will be alright. It's not a burden he places on the rest of his kids. Which is why Dick's relationship with Bruce straddles the line between son and guardian with him playing both roles and Bruce reacting/ forcing him to react that way.

Also

"Robin fuctions as support."

"Robin wasn't your idea, Bruce! It was mine! I sat in your cave and I watched you and I learned-- and when you needed my help I was there!"

"I'm not your employee, I'm not your son. I'm your partner."

One thing that differentiates Dick's robin from the other robins is that while the other Robins were worried about meeting Bruce's expectation, Dick was more worried about Bruce not seeing him as an equal. He ran away from home because he was mad that Bruce was becoming more controlling and not at all like how they used to be - partners.

There's a reason Dick is the only one Bruce views as his equal. It's because the experiences they've shared have woven them so tightly together that Bruce considers Dick his better half and pillar of strength. If he falls back, he can rely on Dick to take over. Emotionally and physically.

Still laughing at your friend lol. Wild

[novaursa]

ahhhh so happy to see ur request are back open!! love ur works so much ! can u do something for reader x aemond and its something like they was married and she was madly in love with him but when he meets alys rivers and he decides to accuse his wife of treason and infidelity which leads to her yk being executed. and everyone (otto, aegon, alicent) knows that the claims are false but doesn’t do anything about it <33 ! thank you in advance bookie

The Dagger's Kiss

- Summary: You loved Aemond since you were children, but what he did to Luke was a sin you could not forgive.

- Paring: baratheon!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

The storm rages outside, howling winds rattling the ancient stones of Storm’s End. The great hall feels colder than usual, despite the roaring fire that blazes in the hearth. You stand beside Aemond, his presence a steady force amidst the chaos of the weather outside. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, his face unreadable as he converses with your father, Lord Borros Baratheon.

The tension between them is visible, a silent battle of wills. Your father’s eyes flicker toward you, his jaw tightening before he finally nods.

“The Stormlands are yours, Aemond,” Borros rumbles, his voice as deep and grating as the waves crashing against the cliffs outside. “But I won’t have my daughter dragged into your family’s war.”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to you, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Y/N is my wife, Lord Borros. Her place is by my side, where she has always wanted to be.”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. It’s true; you’ve loved Aemond since childhood, your affection blossoming over the years as he grew from a serious, studious boy into the fierce warrior who now stands before you. When he proposed marriage, you thought it was a dream, even knowing it was a political move. But he chose you, and that meant something. It meant everything.

“I can speak for myself, Father,” you interject gently, stepping forward. “I stand with my husband, wherever he goes.”

Borros’s face softens, just a fraction, before his expression hardens once more. “Then may the gods protect you both.”

Before Aemond can respond, the heavy doors of the hall swing open with a crash. A drenched figure stumbles inside, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. Prince Lucerys Velaryon, your cousin Rhaenyra’s son. The sight of him is like a knife to the chest. Your heart lurches, remembering the carefree days you shared with his mother, Rhaenyra—your beloved cousin, your dearest friend.

Lucerys’s wide eyes scan the room, settling on you for a brief, heartbreaking moment before darting to Aemond. “I come with a message from my mother, Queen Rhaenyra,” he announces, his voice trembling. “She asks that you, Lord Borros, honor your oath and remember your duty to her.”

Your father’s brow furrows, a scowl darkening his face. “And what of the promises your mother broke when she sent her sons here without offer of marriage, boy?”

You barely register the words, your gaze fixed on Aemond. His eye narrows, a predatory gleam flickering in its depths. You know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s ready to strike.

“Aemond,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please…”

But he shrugs off your hand gently, his focus unyielding on Lucerys. “I’ll not have bastards and traitors speak to me of oaths.” His voice is calm, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You owe me an eye, nephew.”

Lucerys’s face pales. “I—I came as a messenger. I don’t want to fight.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Then you should not have come, Lucerys.”

He turns to leave, and you feel your heart hammering against your ribs. “Aemond, don’t do this!” you plead, but he doesn’t look back. He strides out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

The door slams shut, and you’re left standing in the echoing silence. You can barely breathe, your hands trembling as you stare after him. You know what he’s going to do. You can see it in his eyes, the same madness that once took hold of your grandfather Aerion Brightflame. The storm rages on outside, the winds screaming like the dragons of old.

“Father, please!” you beg, turning to Lord Borros, but his face is stony.

“He’s your husband now, girl. His choices are his own.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, the world spinning around you, before the doors are thrown open again. Aemond strides back into the hall, his face flushed with victory, his eye glittering with a savage light. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull, but he looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s done,” he announces, his voice ringing through the hall. “Prince Lucerys is dead.”

The world tilts beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head as if denying it could change what’s happened. “Aemond, what have you done?”

He steps closer, reaching for you, but you shrink back, horror clawing at your throat. “He attacked me, Y/N. I had to defend myself.”

You want to believe him, you want to hold on to the image of the boy you loved, the man you married. But the way he speaks, the pride in his voice—it’s not the Aemond you know. This is someone else, someone who has been twisted by hatred and vengeance.

“Rhaenyra… my cousin… Aemond, she will never forgive this,” you say, your voice breaking.

“Let her come,” he snarls, his face contorting with a rage you’ve never seen before. “I’ll deal with her as I dealt with her son.”

You feel the world collapsing around you, everything you’ve known and loved crumbling into ash. This is not what you wanted, not what you dreamed of when you stood beside Aemond, pledging your life to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife,” he says, his voice softening as he steps closer. He reaches out, cupping your face in his cold, wet hands. “You belong to me, as I belong to you. This is the price of loyalty, of love. You understand that, don’t you?”

You stare up at him, searching his face for some trace of the man you loved. But all you see is a stranger, a monster wearing your husband’s skin.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “I don’t know if I do anymore.”

Aemond’s face darkens, his grip tightening on your chin. “You will,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “You will, Y/N.”

And in that moment, you realize that you are trapped—trapped by your love, your duty, and the man who stands before you, holding your heart and your fate in his bloodstained hands.

The journey back to King’s Landing is a blur, the days melting into one another as the memory of that night at Storm’s End lingers like a dark cloud. Aemond’s mood grows darker with each passing day, his patience shorter, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You try to reach him, to understand the turmoil churning beneath his calm facade, but he shuts you out, his focus consumed by some unseen enemy.

When you finally arrive at the Red Keep, it’s as if the entire city holds its breath. Word of Prince Lucerys’s death has spread, and the reactions are mixed. Some cheer for Aemond’s act of vengeance, while others whisper in dark corners about the reckless cruelty of it. You feel like a ghost, drifting through the familiar halls that once felt like home, but now seem haunted by your own guilt and grief.

In the throne room, Aemond stands tall and proud, his chin lifted as he faces his mother, Alicent, and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. They’re all there—Aegon, lounging on the Iron Throne with a smirk playing on his lips, Helaena watching quietly from the shadows, her eyes distant and unfocused. 

“You did well, Aemond,” Otto says, his voice cold and calculating. “This was a necessary step. The Blacks will think twice before challenging our rule.”

Aemond nods, his expression blank. “It had to be done. He was a traitor.”

Alicent steps forward, her face softening as she looks at her son. “You’ve proven your strength, Aemond. But please, be careful. This war… it will tear us all apart.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of sympathy for her. She’s a mother caught between love for her children and the brutal realities of power. But then Aegon laughs, a harsh, grating sound that grates on your nerves.

“Oh, Mother, don’t worry so much. Aemond did what needed to be done. The boy was a bastard, and now he’s dead. Simple as that.”

You can’t hold back any longer. “He was a child!” you snap, the words bursting out before you can stop them. “Lucerys was just a boy!”

Aemond’s head snaps around, his eye blazing with fury. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. “Do not forget where your loyalties lie.”

Your heart sinks, but you hold your ground, your eyes never leaving his. “My loyalties? I’ve stood by you, Aemond, through everything. But what you did… it wasn’t justice. It was murder.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Alicent’s face pales, and even Otto looks momentarily taken aback. Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and Aemond with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Aemond’s expression hardens, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You know nothing of justice,” he says coldly. “You’ve lived your life in comfort, protected by your father’s name and your family’s power. You have no idea what it means to fight for something.”

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I fought for you, Aemond. I’ve always fought for you. But I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

You turn and leave the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The walls of the Red Keep seem to close in around you as you make your way to the courtyard, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and sorrow. You don’t know where you’re going—just away, anywhere away from this nightmare.

The courtyard is quiet, the stables bustling with activity as the grooms prepare your horse. You’ve made up your mind. You can’t stay here, not with Aemond like this, not with the memory of Lucerys haunting every corner of your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N, your horse is ready,” the stablehand says, his eyes wide with concern as he helps you to the saddle. But before you can mount, a hand grips your arm, yanking you back.

Aemond stands before you, his face a mask of fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice shaking with rage.

“I’m leaving, Aemond,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself.”

“Destroy myself?” He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “I’m doing what must be done, Y/N. For our family, for our future. And you would abandon me?”

“I’m not abandoning you!” you cry, your heart breaking at the look in his eye. “I love you, Aemond, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. I can’t watch you become—”

“Become what?” he snarls, his grip tightening painfully on your arm. “What am I becoming, Y/N? Tell me!”

You struggle against his hold, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Someone I don’t recognize,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Someone I can’t follow.”

His face twists with a fury that is almost madness. “You swore to stand by me, to be my wife, my partner. You promised!”

“I know,” you sob, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t what I wanted, Aemond. This isn’t what I thought—”

Before you can finish, you feel a sharp pain in your chest, a burning, searing agony that steals the breath from your lungs. You look down, your eyes widening in horror as you see the hilt of Aemond’s dagger buried in your chest, his hand still gripping it tightly.

The world seems to slow, everything fading to a muted blur. You look up at him, your lips forming his name, but no sound comes out.

Aemond’s face changes, the fury melting into something else—something like fear, or maybe regret. He pulls the dagger free, and you stumble, the ground rushing up to meet you as you fall.

“No, no, no…” His voice is a broken whisper, his hands trembling as he catches you, cradling you against his chest. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to…”

The pain is overwhelming, a crushing weight that steals the air from your lungs, the light from your eyes. You can barely see him now, his face blurring into darkness as your world begins to slip away.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice choked with grief. “I love you, Y/N. Please, stay with me.”

But it’s too late. The darkness is pulling you under, your body growing cold and heavy in his arms. You try to hold on, to reach out to him, but your strength is gone, your breath slipping away like the tide.

And then there’s nothing but darkness, the world fading to black as you fall into the void, his voice the last thing you hear, echoing in the silence of your dying mind.

[dark-frosted-heart]

I Love You, I've Sinned - Azel

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

One day during my stay in Tanzanite, I wound up becoming a servant to God—

Emma: Prince Azel…Is it true that you deliver divine punishment to people?

When I asked Prince Azel about this after handing him something he had me fetch for him in town, rather than giving me his usual smile, he scowled. 

Azel: What did you see while out in town?

Emma: There was theft in the market today. The criminal was immediately captured by a passerby—

~~ Flashback ~~

Male onlooker: How dare you…Never did I expect that there would be such a ruckus in God’s own land.

Female onlooker: You will face divine punishment. Our Living God will not forgive you.

~~ Flashback end~~ 

Emma: —It seemed like everyone, the thieves included, feared “divine punishment”.

Azel: Absurd.

Emma: Have you ever threatened people across the country in the past?

Azel: That slander deserves some reparations.

Emma: I can’t say anything at all can I…

Azel: Don’t talk nonsense unless you want to experience divine punishment for yourself.

Emma: Ah, so divine punishment does exist.

Azel: Who knows?

After checking what he had me get for him, Prince Azel placed the jute bag in a corner of the crumbling ruins.

The temple which was supposed to be the Living God’s home, was as shabby as ever.

(Prince Azel’s a two-faced god, so it’d be scary if he actually did deliver divine punishment…)

Azel: Have you ever sinned?

Seems like Prince Azel’s in a good mood if he’s continuing the conversation even though he said not to talk about nonsense.

Emma: Probably…not

Azel: You’re lying.

Emma: Why do you say so?

Azel: Because no humans are without sin.

Emma: …Wouldn’t that mean everyone’s been imprisoned before?

Azel: Has anyone ever told you how empty your head is?

Emma: This is the first.

Azel: Have you never been exposed as an idiot before?

(You have a response for everything…)

Prince Azel leaned against a wall in the shade.

I followed suit and took a sip of water out of my flask.

Azel: Only acts that violate the law aren’t sins. Sins are actions that deserve God’s divine punishment.

Emma: So only God has control?

Azel: Is that so bad?

Emma: …No.

Azel: Simply put, anything you think you’re guilty of is a sin. Surely you’ve also been guilty of something to some extent. Whether it’s telling small lies, hiding things from others, or doing something to hurt someone unintentionally… As long as you’re alive, it’s hard to avoid them.

Emma: Well when you put it that way.

(Then, looking back, I probably have too)

(Sins that I need to apologize for…)

Azel: Confess your sins to God, and through receiving divine punishment, all will be forgiven. Perhaps that’s why people seek God…How laughable.

(Hm?)

Mysterious, starry eyes look at the flask in my hand.

Emma: …I’m not giving it to you?

Azel: Stingy.

Emma: I don’t want to hear that from a greedy god.

Azel [polite]: Ahhh, then at this rate I will dry up and die.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: For a human to treat a god so cruelly…That’s god abuse.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: God abuse is a felony and the charges cannot be compared to any that has existed to this point—

Emma: OKAY! Then in exchange for the water, please forget that the reparations demanded earlier ever existed.

Azel [polite]: Of course. Thank you very much.

(Can’t believe you put on the god act in times like this…)

When I handed Prince Azel the flask, he started drinking immediately.

(I don’t mind giving him water, but…does Prince Azel care at all?)

Feeling restless somehow, I turned my gaze away from the mysterious god and toward the ruins.

(...)

(If god abuse is a sin, then…)

(There’s one guilty sin I remember)

--

—That night.

When I came to, I found myself in place with half-bloomed roses.

(I’m here again…)

The usual dream in the usual place, but today, there was something unusual.

At the end of the countless paths stood a figure.

That person sat improperly on the oak table where a book usually was, and as I walked down the path, he turned from the large full moon in the sky toward me.

Azel: We ran into each other in a dream? …Give me a break.

Emma: That’s my line. It’s not like I enjoy running into you either.

(I heard that dreams have some deep psychological meaning, but…)

(I wonder if seeing Prince Azel means he’s occupying my mind that much)

(...That being a good or bad thing’s another story)

Azel sat on the table with one knee up and looked down at me cheekily.

It was like the dream world enhanced his mysterious, inhuman appearance.

Emma: …You’re not here to deliver divine punishment, are you?

Azel: If you’re feeling guilty then maybe.

Emma: …

Azel: You are.

Emma: Who knows…

Azel: Sins are forgiven when you confess. It’s easier to let it out than to suffer in distress, that’s just how it is.

Emma: …

Azel: Say it, then. If you seriously ask for forgiveness, then I’ll deliver divine punishment to you. …It’s not a free service though.

(That’s why he’s so oddly assertive)

Emma: Nevermind then.

Azel: No, ask for forgiveness. Or else this dream won’t end.

Emma: That’s a threat!

Azel: Talking back to God like that’s asking for more to be added on to what you owe.

(...If Prince Azel wasn’t a real god, then I could ignore him)

Tanzanite’s living god was a true god, recognized and revered as sacred throughout the continent.

Even if the face he showed me was different from the face he showed the public, I wouldn’t dare to ignore God’s word.

Emma: …Will you listen without getting angry?

Azel: That depends.

Emma: To tell you the truth… The other day, I saw you taking a nap. Even when I got closer, you didn’t wake up, so… …Out of curiosity, I played with your beautiful, silver hair.

Azel: …

Emma: I’m so sorry! But it felt really nice to touch!

Azel: That’s a grave sin.

When I tried to run away, Prince Azel lept off the table and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder before jabbing my cheek.

Emma: Please stop! The jabbing really feels like you’re going to hollow my cheeks out!

Azel: Accept your punishment. I noticed your eccentric behavior though.

Emma: Then why didn’t you wake up?

Azel: I wasn’t in the mood to entertain you.

(A very Prince Azel-like reason)

When he finally released me, I rubbed my cheek.

(Even though I suffered…my heart definitely feels lighter)

(I can’t let him off easy…)

Emma: Have you ever sinned, Prince Azel?

When I asked the question in retaliation, he shrugged in exasperation.

Azel: How could a god sin?

Emma: At it again…

Azel: If there’s no one to punish it, then it’s not a sin. If neither man nor god can punish me, then no one can punish me for my sins.

Emma: …

Azel: Perhaps one day God will commit a mortal sin. When that time comes…I wonder who will sit on the Throne of God and punish me.

Prince Azel’s mutterings melted into the dream space.

(That…doesn’t sound like a joke…)

Emma: Leave it to me. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.

As if to dispel the mysterious aura around the god, I made a proud declaration.

Emma: I hope your cheeks will be able to stand it.

Azel: That doesn’t sound like a big punishment to me.

Emma: Stay complacent while you can. I have a mean slap.

Azel: …No one’s asking you to slap me.

Emma: If it doesn’t hurt, then it’s not a punishment worthy of being divine punishment.

When I pretended to slap him, Prince Azel smiled condescendingly. 

However, there didn’t appear to be any ill intentions behind the smile.

Azel: If God were to sin, then it would be a sin on a different level from humans. Possibly enough to wipe out an entire country. Punish that sin if you can…Actually you might do that.

Prince Azel looked up at the glittering moon in the dream world.

I still wasn’t sure about the meaning behind that melancholic look on his profile.