#post reveal black mercy

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

D-RIDING?! PART TWO (18+)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

GENDER: FTM READER (M!READER FRIENDLY)

SUMMARY: You, a famous YouTuber, got noticed by idol crush, Bang Chan, from an "accidental" drunk tweet you made when he was in BuzzFeed. Now you are waiting in your house to make that tweet into a reality.

GENRE(S): Smut (mercy on me yall), Explicit, Fluff, comedy (cringe because I need one mentally)

SEPARATE WARNING(S):

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ READER:

Role(s): Submissive Bottom. You are a versatile bottom because I said so.

Genitals: I made it separate since there are people out there who do have a bottom surgery.

T-dick section: So one will have you having a t-dick (mentions of squirting).

Dick Section: While a separate one in the same post will have you having a Penis.

(I don't want y'all feeling uncomfortable/Gender Dysphoria as a TransMan myself)

Names: Pretty boy, Baby boy, Handsome, Cutie, Sweetheart

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ CHAN:

Role(s): Dominate Top. Made him Versatile too.

Genitals: He has a big dick because of the big nose theory.

Names: Chan, Chris, love, pretty boy

OTHER WARNING(S): You both are virgins, Oral (Reader receiving), Mentions of Vagina/T-Dick(Mentions of squirting) for the reader along with a separate one of you having a Dick. Nipple play (Reader receiving), Reader getting Manhandled kinda, Choking? Not breathplay. Cum licking, Mentions of your chest scars (or just chest) Fingering. Anal sex. Beggingish?. Praising. Different words for Dick and Vagina. Crying (reader)

OTHER(S): y'all, please have mercy on me! I never wrote smut before so this might make me leap over a bridge!

Please like, reblog and/or comment for my dignity.

Tags: @braveangel777 @1s3v3n1 @kodasstar @webwanderer @coralblook @ironhyacinth @bitchyzombienacho

IM BEING SO FR, I CANT WRITE SMUT- I CANT WRITE SMUT! HAVE MERCY ON ME AHHHH!

(I DIDNT PROOF READ OR HAD GRAMMAR CHECK, YALL GOT IT!)

It was refreshing.

You lay yourself down on your bed wearing your pajamas, silk pajamas, covering your naked body. The silk only stops at your thighs.

You waited for Chan to message you as you scroll through your fans' comments; requesting collabs, games, or other content to record.

You keep on scrolling, almost forgetting about the whole sexual situation going on until you hear a knock from your front door.

You walk out from your bedroom, holding your phone out and texting him if he was the one behind the door of your front entrance.

CB97: Why don't you find out, Cutie?

You sighed, as you slowly unlocked the door then slowly opened the door to check it was actually him.

A white hand pushes the door fully, revealing the man himself, smirking at you. He was wearing a black shirt, compressing his muscles with baggy sweatpants.

He was checking you out, blushing a bit from the silk pajamas going nice with your figure and skin color.

"Don't you look lovely, pretty boy?" Chris comments, his eyes still lingering in your body.

You felt yourself getting flustered, shy even just from him staring at you. He steps closer to you while closing the door behind him.

"Can I touch you?"

You nodded and just by that Chris leans into you, kissing your soft lips while his hands roam around your waist, while one hand grips your butt.

You moaned softly around his mouth.

Your arms around his neck as your hands slowly reach to his shirt, gripping it as you push your face away from Chris.

He looks at you confused, giving you almost puppy eyes.

You thought it was cute. Yousmirked as you took him to your room.

He looks around, admiring your room until you smash your face into his lips again, catching him off guard but quickly kissed you back.

You both feel impatient, as you take off Chan's black shirt as he pushes you down on the bed, prying off the silk pajamas.

"You are already naked underneath, you were really expecting me, huh?" His accent, his voice raspy, making you want him more and more.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: T-DICK SECTION

For the people with no bottom surgery/testosterone:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar (or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing around your folds.

"You are so wet for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this wet? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your wet folds.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your t-dick, immediately licking and sucking your folds. Even getting closer to your small dick, giving a few licks.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. You even felt his nose touching your dick, sending more pleasure into your body.

Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his fingers closer to your t-dick, rubbing quickly as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucks harder and even rubs even faster until you finally cum, squirting.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, I squirted. This kinda embarrassing..."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: DICK SECTION

For the people with bottom surgery/has a dick:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar. (Or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing the tip of your dick.

"You are so hard for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this hard? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your hard cock.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your dick, immediately licking and sucking the tip. Pushing his head down, giving you a good suck.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his hands closer to your balls, fumbling around as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucked harder and faster until you finally cum, some hitting his face.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, that felt weird...."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

"But, you enjoyed it didn't you?" He questions, as he continues on kissing your face.

"I did, but let's get into the main event, shall we?" Chris chuckles as you stand back up, holding between his baggy pants, pushing it down and throwing it to the side.

He looks down at you while chuckling again, smirking from how impatient you were.

His dick flings up, standing a bit straight and even dripping with pre-cum.

You licked your lips, your mouth just watering from the sight of his dick, however, you felt yourself getting kinda scared since it looks big.

"Chan, how big is your dick? I mean I knew it was big because of the nose theory..."

"Huh, what nose theory?"

"Focus on the question and not the nose theory—I'll tell you that later."

You look up at him as he thinks, then shrug.

"I don't know, I never measured my dick before..."

"Fuck you mean you never measured your dick? You know what, wait right here. You grab the lube and the condom from the cabinet next to my bed."

Chan did exactly what you said while still looking perplexed that his dick size really bothered you that much.

You came back, holding a measuring tape.

You sat back down on the bed as you told Chris to come clover to your face. You felt his dick touching your cheek.

You licked your lips as you raised the measuring tape. Chan just chuckled on how focused you were.

"Is it really that serious...?"

You just nodded until you reached the top of the tip.

"Damn, 8 inches? I guess OT8 is for life, huh?"

Chan groans, as he smacks on top of your head softly. "Don't ever say that again..." He jokingly said, shaking his head, smiling.

"Anyways, let's continue."

"Gladly." He says as he pushes you down, putting you into a mating press.

You hear a bottle cap opened making you shivered in anticipation.

He squirts a generous amount into his fingers.

You felt his fingers circling around your rim as his other hand gripped your neck, holding you down.

You whimpered, shaking your butt for him to just insert in already.

"P-please Chris~ Fuck, hurry up!" You whined.

"Sorry baby boy, let me give you what you want~" He teases you as you feel one of his fingers inserting in.

You hiss in pain, not used to the feeling at all. Chan shushes you as he tries to calm you down, giving you a few kisses in your back.

"It will feel good, I promise..."

You calm yourself down, moving your waist side to side.

He gently plays with your rim as he slowly inserts another one. You hissed a bit but you could slowly feel the pleasure going through your body.

He continues on fucking you until he hits a certain area making you moaned along with your toes curling.

"Found it..." He whispers, hitting your prostate while inserting the third finger in.

You moaned, sending Chris's dick even harder; throbbing and aching in pain. He was getting hot and bothered—impatient—but he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable so he continued on. He adds a fourth one just in case after finding out his dick was 8 inches.

"Chan, love, just put it in already!" You whined.

You didn't need to tell him twice.

He quickly rips the plastic out with his teeth then taking the condom out and putting it on his dick.

He quickly takes his fingers off as he lines his dick up your hole, tapping it a few times until he slowly inserts the tip in.

You hissed again. Even though his fingers were thick, nothing could beat his thick cock (corny).

He apologized softly, while he hissed too from the clench.

"Fuck, so tight. I'm going to push in more, okay sweetheart?"

All you can do was whine while he slowly pushes in more. You both hissed again as you felt tears coming out of your eyes.

Chris hands both made it to your waist, going in circles.

He inserts more until finally he fills you whole.

He waits as he groans, your hole tightening around him as he tries not to cum just from it. He bites his lip as he caresses you again.

You felt warmth in your chest, loving the care from Chris and the fact he even was waiting for you to get used to his size.

You smiled softly as you shook your butt, making him grip your waist.

"You can move, love~"

Just like that, he pulls his dick out and slams back into you making you moan. He was already going rough, almost like a crazy animal.

He keeps on going, angeling himself a bit as he slams again and again, hitting your prostate.

You moaned even louder, gripping the sheets.

"F-FUCK~♡ CHRIS A~AH!" You cried out in pleasure as he continued on abusing your prostate. You felt overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

You both moaned out of pleasure feeling yourself getting closer. He was getting closer as well, you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

He leans in, his chest on top of your back, whispering sweet words to your ears making you shiver.

"P-pretty boy~ I'm about to cum...Are you about to cum as well? Hmm?" He whispers.

You repeated the word 'Yes' as he continued slamming until finally you both released. Chan's cum filling the condom whole.

He steps out, taking the condom out and tying it then throwing it away into the garbage bin.

You turn your body around, laying flat, your back facing the bedsheets as you calm yourself down.

Chan walks up to you then lies down next to you. "I never did this before so I wanna know (Knaur) if I did good?"

You smiled, feeling horny all of sudden from his sweet voice. His duality from being all dominant to almost submissive—You kinda wanna ride him until he breaks.

"it's my first time as well, Chan and you did so well for me, love..." You said to him, kissing him all over his face.

He chuckles, smiling widely from your praises until he yawns, clearly drained.

"I'm tired, my body is tired. Maybe we should've had sexs not around the performance. Haha!" He laughs, not noticing your eyes staring into him like you were going to devour him.

"Yeah, but, I'm quite disappointed..." You sadly said—well pretending to be sad—using your fingers to trace around his neck.

"h-huh? Why? You said I did good?" He sits up, looking at you like a sad puppy. (There is no pet play)

"of course! You did so well, but my tweet. You remember it don't you?" You said calmly as you continued on looking at him.

He thinks for a second until his face turns red.

"O-oh."

Oh indeed.

"B-but, aren't you tired, I'm quite tired myself..." He rambles until you shut him up by placing your hands around his mouth.

"But you promise you want to make that tweet into reality, right? I want to ride your dick until you cry. Calling my name. Plus, I'm doing all the work. You can just lay down and look pretty, my pretty boy~"

His face turns even more red, all of sudden turning shy and weak. His cock going hard again, throbbing in anticipation.

"Even your dick seems to agree with me~"

You can't wait to actually make that tweet into reality.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Ending (myself) in part three.

YALL IMMA KMS, I CANT WRITE SMUT WTF AHHHH

[slytherinboysvip]

Tom Riddle x Reader Smut

My first nsfw post on here 😈🙏 hopefully you enjoy;)

(Summary: No plot just smuty smut smut smut

(Warnings: Mature/Nsfw, unprotected p in v, dom/sub dynamic, dom tom, degrading, rough sex, cream pie)

(I listened to this song on repeat whilst writing, so I assume it should fit this well)

You walked into Tom’s dorm, no underwear on under your skirt. You wanted to tease Tom, he always managed to seem so nonchalant about everything; it drove you crazy. But the second he showed his dominant demeanor it caused you to fold into his touch immediately “You’re here quite late, I’m assuming your intentions are not for the faint of heart” He smirked slightly, pulling you by the waist into a deep kiss.

His tongue began to explore your mouth, occasionally biting down onto your tongue and lower lip, making you moan slightly. “Keep making those noises and I won’t be able to control myself doll.”

“Then don’t.”

The second those words left your mouth his lips attached themselves to your neck, your head leaning back exposing it more. Wet sloppy kisses, and hickeys were being scattered across it as he made sure to mark up every inch.

His right hand began to explore your waist, slowly moving down, rubbing up and down your thigh teasingly. “Tom, please.” You needed him to touch you. You craved it. “Beg.”

You sucked up your pride and gave in, the feeling of submission flooding over you. “Please Sir. Please fucking touch me, I need you.” You were helpless, a needy mess all for him, and he knew it. He fucking loved it.

You felt his fingers rub against your folds, causing you to gasp at the sudden friction. “Naughty girl. No underwear? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were just begging for another guy to fuck you, walking to my dorm without underwear like a fucking whore.”

Before you could respond he plunged two fingers deep into you without warning, your body folded over upon instinct and he catches you, still not stopping. “Fucking beg for me.”

You were already struggling to speak, his pace quickening everytime you opened your mouth. “Please mm fuck me Sir, please I need your dick please.” You pleaded through moans, barely able to look him in the eyes.

“Remember, you asked for this.” He grabbed you by the neck and threw you onto the bed, your back down. He yanked you by the foot to the edge of the bed and began to undress you. Your top was the first to go, revealing a new black lace bra.

You thought he’d admire it, however he ripped that off in the same fashion as your shirt, discarding it to an unknown area of the room. He yanked down your skirt and just stared at you for a moment before he undressed himself.

“Come get my cock wet whore.”

You wasted no time, you grabbed his dick and began to pump it slowly, putting it in your mouth and sucking slightly trying to take it all. Without warning Tom shoves your head down, making you gag immediately “We both know you can take all of me” His voice was deep and raspy, making your core ache, needing him more.

“Please fuck me” You looked up at him, still jerking him off. “Fine then, but I’m showing no mercy.” .. “Okay sir” .. “You know the safe word, yes?” .. “Yes, now please just fucking fuck me”

Before you could even finish your sentence he slammed into you, instantly starting a consistent pace; fast and hard.

“I want everyone to know who you belong to, so no fucking hiding your moans, understood?” His pace was relentless, constantly hitting your most sensitive areas. He could so easily drive you over the edge.

“Yes.. I understand, fuckk” You couldn’t hold in your moans even if you tried. He was hitting all the right places, all the while making eye contact. The way his eyes slightly rolled back as he rolled his neck letting out a deep moan drove you crazy.

His pace quickened even more, which you didn’t even think was possible, your moans filled the room and you were sure all of Hogwarts could hear you but you couldn’t care any less in this moment.

“Fuck, fuck, I need to cum can I please cum” You begged, he didn’t tell you to but you knew better than to cum without permission. “Cum for me, but I’m definitely not done with you yet.” He pounded harder, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your body was shaking, you were a mess. However he didn’t stop, just as he said. He continued to abuse your pussy, slamming into you endlessly.

“Tell me who you fucking belong to, slut.” He pulled out, flipping you over and slamming right back into you, continuing his previous pace. In this new position it felt like he was hitting all new places, you forgot to respond.

A hard slap landed across your lap, causing a shrieking moan to come from you, it stung terribly, especially where his ringed finger hit. “I fucking told you do tell me who you belong to” He pounded, and pounded your words being swallowed by moans. “YOU FUCK I BELONG TO YOU TOM”

At this point your vice became hoarse from your screaming moans. You could barely hold yourself up as he showed you no mercy. “Does my whore want my cum” His pace started to get sloppier signaling he was close. “Please, I need your cum so bad. Please sir” Your words came out between moans.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up like the cum dump you are Y/n” He pounded harshly into you a few more times, before cumming with deep long strokes, his cum completely filling you up. You could feel the sudden warmth of it, and it made your brain fuzzy.

HOW WAS THAT 🤔🤔 PLS LMK IF YOU LIKED IT!

[activesplooger]

Hey! I saw your post for kinktober requests. Could I ask for a reader x Alastor with choking and bondage? Completely consensual, reader just really likes feeling helpless. Have a great October!

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕯𝖆𝖞 2 » 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

»»𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖌𝖊+𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌««

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: (MDNI) this may be the kinkiest thing I've ever written lmao! I don't really know too much about BDSM-type stuff, so I did my best with research. also Alastor is uncircumcised my mind is made up (barely mentioned).

𝕮𝖂: Bondage, restraints, choking (consensual), penetration, sub-dom (reader: sub, Alastor: dom),

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Your spouse buys you a rather intimate gift, and you decide to put it to good use... (NSFW)

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1,976

»»———-————————————————-««

A beautifully wrapped gift rests on your bed adorned with ribbons and a letter reading:

'𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝑜𝑒~'

You take a second to admire the present, an adoring smile spreading across your face without even realizing it. Your partner had gone through all this trouble— buying a gift, wrapping it, decorating it—just for you, and on no specific occasion no less!

The innocent and adoring demeanor quickly fades as you opened the box. Your eyes widen, jaw ajar as the contents of the box were revealed... A strappy bustier, a leash, and what looked like bed restraints...

'Holy shit,' you whisper under your breath. Out of all the things you thought the gift would be, a bondage kit was the last thing you thought of. Hell, you didn't even think of it at all! You knew that Alastor was a sadist, but this?! Although you’re shocked, you couldn't deny the butterflies that fluttered around in your stomach.

Shaky hands reach out to grab the revealing outfit. It's a revealing scrap of fabric that can barely be considered actual clothing. The bust is made of thin lace with straps that cover where your nipple would be. The straps run all across your body, from your neck to your thighs, where sock garters are attached. As for the crotch and ass area, it's nonexistent. The area is completely bare... There's a collar attached to the straps up top with a ring that's presumably for adding the leash he gifted you. And dear God, that leash set something off on you. It has a black leather material with a silver clasp at the end to attach to the collar of your outfit.

While you're certainly overwhelmed, the thought of Alastor controlling you, seeing you in this skimpy attire, restrained and at his mercy for whatever perverse pleasure he wanted... Without thinking, you started to undress. The once dumbfounded and bewildered state had melted away and, instead, turned into a burning need for Alastor.

You slip on the skimpy bondage wear, ensuring every strap is tight against your skin. Grabbing the restraints, you set them up on the bed (which you kind of struggled to figure out on your own), but don't tie yourself down just yet. You just set it up for when he arrives, and when he does, it's up to him what he'll do with them. Grabbing the leash next, you unclip the clasp and hook it onto the collar of your outfit. You take a look in the mirror and make sure everything is in place. After securing everything, you set the mood; lighting candles, dimming the lights, etc. Heat pools in your core as anticipation builds, every single naughty scenario playing in your mind on repeat as you eagerly wait for his arrival.

-

About 10 minutes passed before there was any sign of Alastor. The door creaked open, "Darling! I'm ho-" His gaze lands on you, completely stopping in his tracks as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes are completely wide, pupils dilated to the size of bowling balls, "Oh~." "I wore the gift you got me," you say softly, biting your lip in suspense about what's to come. The deer slowly inches closer to you, coming to a stop in front of the bed. He hovers over you, eyes raking over your displayed form, "I can see that...". Cold, slender hands reach out to caress you. His index finger trails down the curve of your hip, his arousal growing with every second.

His hand traces up to your chin, grabbing it by his index finger and thumb. He lifts your chin and smirks sinisterly, "You have no idea what you've started. my doe...". Leaning down, he captures your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, not even bothering with easing into it. He pulls back just barely, still pressed against your lips, and bites down on your bottom lip hard. You wince in pain, but, it was a strangely good pain, one you hadn't felt ever before.

A small drop of blood trickles from your lips. Alastor immediately laps it up like a starved man until every last bit is gone. He starts to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking or biting the flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair, moaning softly at the affection. Kissing up to your ear he whispers, "My dear, I need to know that this is okay with you-". "Of course it's okay,". "No," he shakes his head and lifts it up to make eye contact with you, his expression serious, "I need to know that you want this. This isn't gonna be ordinary love-making, no no no, not at all... I want to push the boundaries of pleasure and pain and make the experience enjoyable for the both of us, but I need your approval before I try anything.". You smile, cupping his face in your hands, "Yes, It's okay. Just- if there's something particularly - what's the word- kinky? Tell me before you do it.". He smiles and leans into your palms, bleating softly, "Of course, my love.".

With your permission, he reaches out to grope the barely covered flesh of your breast, nipples hardening under his touch. He kneads them softly with tender affection, his arousal straining painfully against his trousers. You reach out and palm his erection, causing his caresses to pause for a moment. He grunts as you play with him, giving in to your touch before suddenly, he grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed.

He chuckles darkly, his expression grim and sinister, "No, no, no, my dear.". Releasing your wrists, he grabs your waist and flips you over, lifting your hips to guide you into a puppy pose. Your bare ass and drenched pussy are fully exposed and raised for his viewing, and if that weren't enough, you saw him reach for the upper restraints on the bed. Alastor grabs each restraint and ties them onto your wrist painfully tight. "This will do, for now" he says in a sultry voice.

He positions himself over you, erection pressed up against your ass. His hands grope the flesh of your rear, giving a firm slap to the right cheek. He stretches across your back, his chest pressed against you, as he whispers in your ear, "Are you ready, my love?". "Yes, Alastor..." you respond in a breathy voice. Abruptly, he tugs on your leash and pulls it back, causing your head to jerk back. Your head lifts straight off the bed to meet Alastor's fierce gaze, "Yes, what?". "Yes, Alastor," you repeat yourself in a strained voice as the leash presses against your throat. He tugs harder on the leash, making your upper body lift fully off the bed. The restraints are fully extended, arms fully out in front of you as you're repositioned.

You're now sat on your shins, back flush against Alastor's as his grip on the leash tightens, "No. It's 'sir' to you, my dear. "Y-Yes, sir!" you utter, voice barely audible as your airflow constricts. "Good girl," he coos, releasing the leash and putting you back into puppy position. "Was that okay, my dear, did I hurt you?" he asks with genuine concern. He pats your head softly to comfort you, but you don't need it. Your heart is beating faster than ever before, being in a place of complete submission unleashes something primal inside of you, something you never even knew was there. Your cunt is flooded with arousal, face fully flushed red. You look back at him, panting softly, "No, sir. I'm great, please, keep going.".

The deer's eyes widen, not expecting this sort of reaction. His smile stretches, eyes narrowing in on you like a predator examining its prey, "As you wish, pet.". He slowly reaches down and unbuttons his pants, quickly pulling them off and throwing them off to the side. His slender fingers work to unbutton his shirt, the red fabric sliding off his shoulders to reveal his toned chest. He quickly rids of his underwear, his erection standing proudly against his stomach as beads of cum pool and drip from the uncut tip.

He lines his aching cock with your needy entrance, circling the rim of the wet hole. You moan slightly, attempting to jerk your hips back to get some friction. He grabs your hips and holds them in place painfully tight. "Stop," he commands, "be patient.". "Yes, sir." you obey. He continues rimming your pussy, teasingly rubbing his tip against it before plunging in sharply. "Ah!" you cry, moaning at the feeling of finally being full.

Alastor snaps his hips at a vigorous pace, gripping your hip and ass to keep his balance. The louder you moan, the faster and harder he goes. His firm cock stretches you fully, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your moans. He reaches down and rubs circles around your clit, his motions in time with each thrust.

His grip on you tightens, claws digging into your skin as he thrusts from behind. Blood draws from the skin under his claws. He scoops it up and brings it to his lips, "Delicious.". Alastor pistons in and out of you harder, the takes of your blood fueling his desire for you more. You arch your back, pushing your ass further into his grasp.

"Tell me, pet," Alastor removes his hand from your ass and grabs your leash, "Are you close.". You nod frantically, too engulfed in pleasure to respond; the only sounds you're capable of making are moans and whimpers. "Good," his thrusts gradually slow down.

He tugs on the leash as if asking for permission, "May I?". "Y-Yes," you manage to utter, anticipation building up as you wait for him to continue. "Thank you," he whispers, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your upper back, "You can always opt-out. Say the word and I'll stop.". You look back and and nod, a determined smile on your face.

The deer resumes his reckless pace, digits rubbing circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. His other hand wraps around the leash, pulling it roughly. Your head leans back as the leash pulls it. "My doe, keep your head down as I pull," he instructs. You obey and pull your head back down to the bed, your airflow constricting. He pulls tighter, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he chokes you. The added pressure sends waves of pleasure coursing through your core. He pistons into you relentlessly, each brutal thrust driving him deeper into your willing body.

"Fuuuck!" You feel your orgasm crash over you, the tension finally releasing as he helps you ride it out. The pain of not being able to breath mixes with your orgasm, creating an amazing type of pleasure you've never been able to achieve regularly. Alastor's orgasm soon follows, a final thrust shooting cum into your cunt, filling your needy hole. He releases the leash, granting airflow back to your lungs.

Swiftly, he pulls out of you and rushes over to your side, immediately releasing your restraints. Once you're free, he pulls you off your stomach and onto his lap, "Are you okay, my doe?! Did I hurt you?!". You pant like a dog, still trying to catch your breath as you look up at his concerned expression. He pulls you against his chest and rubs your back soothingly, "Oh dear, why didn't you say anything I would've-". "I loved it," You cut him off.

Alastor exhales deeply, relief washing over him, "Oh thank god... I was worried you didn't love it as much as I did...". "I think I loved it more than you, darling," you chuckle, reaching up and whispering in his ear, "in fact, are you ready for round two?".

The end!

--

THIS IS WHAT READER IS WEARING BTW,

https://www.adameve.com/lingerie/womens-wear/fetish-wear/sp-naughty-lover-strappy-bustier-105163.aspx

enjoy!!! I've never really written for like BDSM b4 so lmk if its accurate and well-written bc idek what i was doing. :)

[anomaly-beans]

IT WAS A SOUTHERN REACH POST ALL ALONG AHAHAHAHA

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[w3bgrl]

chan and his 1st child/yt.com

creator. [subtitles/translations.]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 intro: hello my fellow smoothbrained friends. welcome or welcome back! today we will be taking a look at some bangju moments over the past (almost) 6 years with stray kids that never fail to warm my heart <3 if you like these kinds of posts consider interacting or sharing your favorite moment! thank you! now to what we’re really here for :)

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 stray kids survival show

splayed under the blue light from his computer screen, chan’s dexterity over the mouse begins to slow followed by heavy eyes fighting against the cozy weight of gravity lulling him to sleep, his loss against this force signified by his slowed, deep breaths.

[using the track as a lullaby, he goes straight to dreamland]

speeding up the footage reveals a better understanding as to how long he really sat asleep in his chair until a cut transitions to his new position leaned against the back, somewhat sitting up still with the room light shining bright as ever above his head.

[but, it sounds like someone’s at the door!]

soft shuffling footsteps reveal a squinting juyeon with major bed-head. [it’s the members’ mother hen!] carefully she reaches across the sleeping boy to his mouse, sliding it around on his track pad a bit clicking here and there, and then the screen goes black. [taking care of the leader making sure his work was saved. but…] she then turns and waddles out of view again. [what is she doing?]

the audible flip of a light switch shrouds the room in darkness, and from within this darkness, juyeon’s whispered coos could be heard.

[JY: oppa. come on,]

[BC: hm?]

[JY: to bed. everything is saved, just get under the covers.]

[~hardworking leader chan gets tucked in bed by angel juyeon, who looks after the member responsible for the rest. as long as he’s got her by his side, chan’s well taken care of.~]

[JY: sleep well, channie~]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 finding skz running man

stopping near the carousel in the center of the mall chan sighs heavily with his hands on his hips, catching his breath as he scanned over the layout once more. “ah — i really don’t know. i haven’t seen her at all.”

after pausing to listen for any movement within the building - and only hearing the commotion from the other boys - chan turns with a mischievous smile toward the camera man “do you know where she is? have you seen her?”

[meanwhile…]

cut to juyeon narrowly avoiding seungmin as he came down the hall, crouching to duck behind one of the arcade machines just in time for him to pass by without noticing the older girl. the second she decided he was far enough was when she took off in the opposite direction with the cameramen racing to keep up with her.

juyeon comes to a stop once she reaches the main room, the lights from the carousel twinkling in her wide eyes once she spots the blonde boy across the room.

[like a deer in the headlights, billie appears!]

chan is already looking in her direction as he throws his hands up mousily. “wait,” he says, masking the ulterior motives apparent to everyone but juyeon “will you help me?”

“help you?” she repeats, still as a statue whilst chan ambles over to bridge the gap between them. [will she fall for the leader's trick?]

“have you seen felix?”

a suspicious smile grows on juyeon's lips as he draws closer and her own palms raise defensively, taking half a step back from the boy whose mask of innocence had begun to slip the closer he got. "oppa." she says like an accusation. a bright smile dawns on chan's face.

"i'm not after you."

juyeon is now fully backpedaling. [she doesn't believe him] "oppa, have mercy."

there is a brief pause as chan seemingly weighs his options with his eyes still locked on hers, his jolly grin becoming more and more pixy with each passing millisecond before he abruptly lunges forward for her with outstretched hands to grab her nametag. juyeon nearly threw herself into one of the pillars behind her to protect the name on her back.

"please! you're my favorite member!"

chan now stops just before her with eyebrows knitting together before he laughs at her interesting tactic. "i'm your favorite?"

"totally," juyeon giggles "especially when you give me a five second head start."

"more than changbin?" he adds, prodding at her will to bargain. she simply tilts her head.

"who?"

[and with that, the deal is sealed]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 2 kids room

“honestly,” chan starts, removing the lollipop stuffed in his cheek as he sat criss-cross on the blue corduroy couch “i love this hair color on you.”

“really?” asked juyeon with a surprised smile, whose fiery red hair had become a hot topic recently. he hummed.

“i think red suits you well. of course you’re always pretty but the red really catches peoples eye.”

now giggling bashfully, juyeon subconsciously tucked an aforementioned red strand behind her ear to reveal her peachy cheeks, eyes sparkling with appreciation despite her response. "you've been suspiciously supportive recently — i feel like i need to look out for blackmail or something.”

“what is that supposed to mean?!” the leader shrilled, almost pouting, arms flying to fold across his chest teasingly at her insinuation. however, this feigned offense was quickly replaced by the smile accompanying his laughter at her mirroring of his demeanor.

“you know i can’t accept compliments!!”

“well! —” he began with the same chaotic energy before abruptly halting himself to instead dial it back with a nonchalant shrug “that’s okay, at least you know.”

juyeon, peeling open her eyes squeezed shut to hide from the embarrassment, now dropped the arms crossed tight against her chest and subsequently her guard. she spoke in a soft hum to mutter, “it is nice to know, though. i do appreciate it…”

“good. you should know how precious you are.”

“ew!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 chan’s room phone call

“hmm…was it a different name?” chan mumbles, more to himself than the stay watching his livestream as he searched for that particular day6 song he wanted to talk about, eyes quickly scanning over the titles in hopes of finding ‘the one.’

“oh! here it is.”

he begins playing ‘i loved you’ before sitting back in his chair to intently listen along with stay. it begins with the buzzing of crickets before jumping right into the members’ gorgeous and clear voices, and after only half a minute or so of nodding his head along with their labelmates past masterpiece, the discernible buzz of his phone against the table quickly catches his attention.

“oh!” he pauses the music to pick up his phone “it’s bibiya! let’s see what chu’s up to.”

chan answers her call below stay’s view, indicating that she’d actually facetimed him, made glaringly apparent by the bloop! as it connected. if that wasn’t evidence enough then surely juyeon’s squeaky voice coming through the speaker did, the leaders face lighting up prior to his laugh.

“sorry!! i just remembered about your live!”

chan quickly turned the volume down as he chuckled “it’s okay! the more the merrier. do you want to say hi?”

“yeah! can stay hear me?”

he nodded, eyes flicking up to filter through the live comments now buzzing with her name.

“helloooo stayyy! is channie entertaining you well? don’t forget about his weekly sunday live like i did. uh…make sure to eat well and get lots of rest!!”

chan would giggle before pulling his eyes from the comments and back to the screen out of view. “do you want me to call you back?” he asked quietly, wary of the audience listening in on the reason why she called “i’ll be done in 30.”

“oh — that’s okay — i just wanted to know if you still wanted to watch that movie with me tonight.”

the leaders eyebrows raised high, eyes panning up to the live almost like a scene from the office before looking back down at the girl on his screen.

“did you forget?”

“no! i remember!” he blatantly lied with a giggle “we’ll sit down to watch it as soon i get home, okay?”

there was an exasperated sigh before her response. “okayyyy. have fun with the rest of your live. bye bye stay!”

chan would mutter his own goodbyes to his bandmate before she hung up, and then his focus would immediately shift back up to the audience before him, a bashful blush dusting his cheeks as he laughed once more.

“i definitely forgot about the movie tonight. don’t tell joong.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 dinner w/ billie live

“okay, next!” juyeon turns from the pot of noodles boiling on the stovetop to then grab the jar of alfredo sauce on the counter “this is my favorite pasta of all time — after jjajangmyeon — so we’re gonna use a lot of it.”

the pajama-clad girl then attempts to open the lid using both hands, her face screwing together with pursed lips as she visibly uses all her might to twist the top off. “oh, man,” she wheezes, resting to glance up at the comments before trying again “it’s really on there!”

juyeon now readjusts her grip to get as much of her hand on the lid as possible, her other holding the jar tight as to not drop it before taking another shot at opening the precious sauce, nearly folding into herself at the waist as she once again fails to unscrew the lid.

“jeez! did they glue it on there or something?” she huffs “why is it so difficult? that’s so rude.”

for a moment she stands there in front of the camera, dumbfounded and red-faced as she looks over the jar like there was another method hidden underneath, before holding her index up to the audience now laughing at her struggles.

“hold on,” she says while backing toward one of the bedroom doors she’d banished the boys to while she was on live “don’t go anywhere! i’ll be back!”

thankfully, due to the positioning of the camera she’d set up in the kitchen, stay were still able to see juyeon as she waddled over to knock on one of the wooden doors with mumbles of ‘the stupid jar.’ this door would then open to reveal a comfy-looking and barefaced chan with a smile already on his face as he exited the darkness and entered the living room to take the jar from her.

it would only take him the few seconds of a walk back into the kitchen to then successfully pop open the blasphemous lid that had publicly defeated juyeon. he’d outwardly laugh as she stole the now-opened jar from his hands, a vexed frown on her lips.

“i loosened it for you.”

“oh i’m sure.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 stray kids survival show

[the members are hard at work, practicing their performance relentlessly to polish even the smallest of details before presenting themselves before jyp and yg in the morning]

the group looks wholly exhausted as the song then comes to a close, their heaving breaths and faces glistening with sweat acting as a visual indicator to how eager they were to give a good performance in front of not only their own boss but also yg and his trainees, hands flying to rest on their hips as they tromped over to their water bottles.

the boys’ quick disperse from the formation in the middle subsequently revealed a haggard-looking juyeon with her fingers interlocked behind her head. a quick zoom-in on the panting girl would expose her trembling bottom lip as she blinked rapidly before cranking her neck to look up at the lights on the ceiling.

[juyeon looks troubled]

chan, sitting in the right hand corner of the screen as he messed with the speaker, could be seen with his attentive leader gaze on the red-faced girl. to the untrained eye — namely the viewers watching who still didn’t know the members very well — his furrowed brow and pursed lips could easily be read as irritation towards the black sheep of the group. however, the speed with which he stood in order to be by her side after she turned her back indicated otherwise.

[leader chan is quick to check in on his members when they’re struggling]

“hey,” he hummed, placing a hand between her shoulders to seclude them from the other boys “you okay?”

chan’s soothing presence would be the catalyst that revealed juyeon’s true state even as her back was turned to the camera, face hidden from view as her frail, shaky voice exposed the tears she’d fought to conceal.

“yeah — sorry — ts’stupid”

“hey,” he’d say again, now moving to stand in front of her to catch her gaze “what’s up?”

juyeon shook her head, dropping her interlocked fingers to instead wipe the tears on her cheeks. “i don’t know — nothing — i’m good”

“talk to me, joong. you don’t have to find the right words, just tell me how you’re feeling.”

[although juyeon tried to hide her troubles, chan won’t let her suffer alone]

“m’just…scared. what they’ll think — what they’ll say…”

chan’s response was immediate; certain and encouraging as he brushed her hair from her face. “that’s okay, ju. it’s okay to be scared. it’s okay to worry about what people will think, we all do, but you can’t let it eat at you. they’ll say what they’re gonna say, but at the end of the day, you’re still the talented juyeon we know you are — you know you are. don’t let the fear stop you from doing what you love.”

with this, juyeon sighs. she stands there for a moment to take in his encouraging words, marinating his verbal and nonverbal support in her mind before nodding shortly once more.

“we’ll all be there to back you up, ju. always.”

[juyeon may be anxious about tomorrow, but she has her boys to stand behind her, and they’ll defend her to the ends of the earth]

[deancasbigbang]

Title: You Are Moonlight

Author: Maxine

Artist: onowey

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Past Dean/Lee Webb (one scene), Minor Sam/Eileen, Past Sam/Brady (mentioned), Past Sam/Jess (mentioned).

Length: 50000

Warnings: Minor character death, temporary character death, mentions of torture and brainwashing, descriptions of panic attacks, scenes involving alcohol intoxication

Tags: Reimagining of seasons 1-5, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, betrayal, heartbreak, fake!student Dean

Posting Date: October 24, 2024

Summary: On November 2nd, 1983, the fire that killed Mary also took Sam, leaving John to raise Dean to be a hunter. Thirty-two years later, following a violent encounter with some demons, a dying John reveals to Dean that he recently discovered that Sam and Mary are still alive. He also tells Dean that he must kill Sam if he can’t save him. Grieving, confused, and with no educational background other than a GED, Dean manages to find a way to go “undercover” as a student at Stanford Law School where his brother is currently studying. What he discovers is that there’s something big brewing; an Apocalypse waiting to happen, and that he needs to find a way to stop it. It also doesn’t help that Dean is falling for one of his professors and a fellow hunter — Castiel Novak, who may or may not really be who he says he is.

Excerpt: Dean had been stabbed. Oh, dammit. He fell to his knees, pain taking over everything, the dim street lights forming halos as his vision doubled. His attacker stood there and watched, and Dean wanted to say something — yell, ask her what she wanted, but… the pain. The pain was excruciating.  Blackness crept along the edges of his vision. He fell backwards, body hitting the ground. This was not how he’d planned on going. He needed… there was so much work to do. He couldn’t die. Not now. Dean’s vision wavered and he knew he was about to lose his battle soon. His attacker was still there, unmoving like a marble statue, and he wondered if she was having her fun.  Moments later, she finally opened her mouth. “Goodbye, Dean Winchester,” she said, while starting to walk away from his misery. Her suit-clad form trembled in the blurriness of his diminishing vision. He listened to her footsteps recede, and wondered if anyone from the bar might help him. Maybe if someone came out of there… A fluttering sound, like the flapping of giant wings. Footsteps, and a gravelly voice that spoke. “You are not supposed to be here, Sister.” A sigh, and Dean’s assailant replied. “And are you?” “Yes.” There was a scuffle — blows being exchanged with the answering grunts of bodies being hit, but Dean didn’t care anymore. The lights flickered some more and Dean’s vision blurred in and out as he let go, eternal bliss finally taking over his body. Maybe this is where Dad was… maybe Dean would finally find him now. More footsteps. Dean flinched, consciousness whittling away. He could see the shadow of someone bending over him as his eyes closed and made way to the inky blackness.  Suddenly, there were warm hands on him, his shoulders. “Dean?” It was that gravelly voice again. The same strange pair of hands also cupped his face, gentle but firm, a light behind Dean’s eyelids. Maybe the demon would have enough mercy to kill him now. He could hear a high-pitched ringing. This was it. This was it. The pain vanished as suddenly as it had started. Wait, what?  Dean was just barely able to open his eyes in time to see a shadowy figure over him, electric blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. He tried to sit up but his saviour held Dean’s left shoulder in a firm grip, coaxing him to lie down again.  “Rest, Dean,” he said, his voice so strong that it almost reverberated. Then he stood up and started to leave. Dean’s eyes fluttered as he saw his saviour walk away with his cape billowing behind him — was that really a cape? Clearly, he had lost a lot of blood, because he had to be imagining this. He had to be dreaming of how the street lights burst along the man’s path, showering him in sparks until he was gone, eventually vanishing into the night.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo!!

may i ask for a little spronkle of fluff? Donna goes out to town to buy fabrics, the neewww (oh, wow!) cleric selling it to her, Reader, has almost the exact same scar on their face (except for it not being unnaturally deformed, -- reader got it from like, an encounter with a rabid animal, or something),

Donna gets curious and asks about it, leading to a casual conversation, which led to Donna wanting to come back and chat with the new hire, seeing as how, unbeknownst to Reader (because, obviously, Donna wears the veil, Reader wouldnt know she had the same mutation) they had something in common, their scarring

Make it so that Reader (very slowly) catches on ?? And they develop feelings overtime ?? But, doesnt know if 'big-lady-Donna' feels the same way, so they just.. shaddap? (i had to use that 'big-lady' reference, or it wouldve haunted me, forgive, forget)

Reader asks to see Donnas face (although, very nervously, because of, yknow, Angie staring down Readers soul, aswell as Donnas rank/title), Donna complies, although hesitantly, and Reader is just so entranced by how similar the size/placement/colour of their scarring is, that theyre just so hyped, and cant help to call Donna beautiful, to call her newly-revealed, singular eye 'enchanting' and whatnot (make Reader a nervous sap, i beg and i plead, i need this prompt to rot my teeth),

Donna gets fed up from how clueless Reader is to how much Donna appreciates them -- leading to, very reluctant, and/or peeved (take that as you will, im unsure how to topic Donnas nerves, tremors, mood-swings and whatnot) confession, coming from Donnas side. (Meaning: Donna confesses first, very awkwardly, and shyly, and Reader obviously accepts, because, .. They're girlfriends, your honor!)

Angie, meanwhile, is hurling in the background because of how cheesy, and forced, Donnas confession was, (although, secretely, Angie is over the moon that her Donsie made a new (girl)friend). Maybe add a little bit of like, restless, over-thinking rambling in Italian to that mix. (Ex: Donna just going over about how cool it is that they have matching scars, maybe Reader could come over to her estate and see her portrait without it. *Mumble mumble, something nervy in italian*, do you wanna come over? Do you wanna see my workshop? Do you wanna see my dolls? I can have one resemble you. Do you sew? We can make dolls -- *Mumble, trips over words, Italian*)

Make it from Donnas prospective, Please and thanks!!

No smut, just wholesome wholesomeness, and ofcourse, happy, diabetes-inducing ending, where Reader does agree to come and hang out with her -- make them Girlfriends with your writers-magic from that point on, because i have no idea what else to add to explain how overtime THEY FALL INLOVESIES!!! (AGHH! SUCH ROMANCE! THEYRE SO INLOVE!!!)

No mention of G!P or just, like, any arousal in general (since ive seen it mentioned on other posts, by other people, when asked for no smut, i just wanted to clarify)

hope i explained this okay?? Sometimes im pretty vague/too specific while typing and add too many '()'s and '/'s (overthinking autism brain -- HEY! LOOK! I JUST DID IT AGAIN!)

wish ya the best of luck, aswell as the best of day, may Angie bite your fingers (not really.. aha.. joking! Or am i?), Ciao, Blusy!

Yesss!!! Wow, it was a curious request! Thank you!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Two broken faces

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings:¡ fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 9,376

Summary: She's so simliar, but so different...

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

I thought I had everything I needed.

I had my dolls, my books, the peace that solitude offers a woman like me… Always afraid of people, always hiding, I found in my isolated world a peaceful place to live, for all eternity.

I didn't ask for this, I never asked the Black Gods to have mercy on my soul, I didn't ask Mother Miranda to adopt me, I never asked anyone for that second chance, I just wanted to die.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my family hadn't been noble, if my ancestors hadn't been part of the founding of this village. Maybe I would have had the chance to live in a different way or maybe my wish to disappear would have simply been fulfilled.

Donna Beneviento, a young woman who stopped fighting. Yes, surely they would put something similar on my grave. I would have become a legend, that woman who lost everything, who was cursed with an illness, who was condemned to watch how little by little, the world around me faded away behind that horrible waterfall.

But… After all, after that mercy that I didn't ask for, the result wasn't very different. To think that I was no longer alone would be to deceive myself. Angie was already speaking before I insisted on giving her life with my new gifts. Angie was me, I was Angie.

Maybe she's still me, even if I don't realize it, maybe I’m not even a Lord, maybe I wasn't even alive anymore. It was hard to know. That position of power that the Gods granted me only served to make my horrible thoughts to take shape, to find in cruelty a way to relieve the pain of my soul, the rage I felt at having been unjustly deprived of a normal life.

Josef was the first, but not the last.

What was the fault of the man who took care of me after the death of my family? None. Why did I do it? Because I could.

I try to look in the mirror and not see that reflection, the reflection of my horrible appearance, of that punishment for the sins I didn’t commit, but I only see a monster, a monster on the outside, a monster on the inside.

Surely that was what Miranda expected of me: another terrifying being to keep the flock under control. I cannot deny that she succeeded. I myself became the fear, the terror.

That legend that I thought I would become by ending my life became a dark tale, a nightmare story, the story of the terrible doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

I could not say when she stopped mattering to me, I cannot even say that one day she stopped. Loneliness was my fear, until it became my refuge. You did not love me before, when I was just a girl with a scar, now that I am a monster your punishment would be to fear me.

None of that matters, not even my brothers, nor this cursed village. I only care about Angie, my dolls, those that do not judge, that do not laugh at me, that do not fear me, that do not feel anything. The flesh deceives, lies, harms, porcelain does not. Porcelain is malleable, it looks the way I want, it is beautiful, soft and does not hate me.

I wish I could have been a doll, I wish I could free myself from the hatred that was inside me…

“Grigio,” I said in a whisper, while I was devoting my soul to making my dolls, to creating those emotionless beings that I envied.

Angie nodded, walking around the work table, looking for the fabric I asked for.

“Grey again, Donna?” the doll asked, in a mocking tone. I nodded without looking at her, finishing correcting the imperfections of that new companion.

“What's your problem with grey?” I asked, cleaning the smooth porcelain, with my gaze fixed on it, trying not to let Angie distract me, as she usually did.

“It's boring,” the doll said, handing me a too small piece of fabric, making me frown.

“It's not enough, I need much more,” I said focused, shaking my head. The doll shrugged, walking over to her new friend.

“There is no more grey fabric,” Angie mocked, hands on her hips.

I sighed, snapping out of my concentration, searching through the drawers. I would never trust Angie, I would never trust myself.

“There isn’t?” I asked confused, searching the workshop for the desired fabric. The doll growled angrily at my distrust, crossing her arms.

“I already told you, silly Donna,” she mocked, getting down from the table. I sighed, rubbing my eye. I had been in the workshop for hours, I couldn’t say how many.

“Angie…” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head and finally abandoning my dolls, walking through the dark basement hallway, through that comforting darkness. “I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Are you ever in the mood?” the puppet asked, with a mocking tone.

I didn't answer. I simply walked towards the phone, looking in a address book for the number of the village merchant, the Duke.

“Oh, oh, oh, ask the fat guy if he has yellow wool balls,” Angie said, tugging at my dress.

 I looked at her, unable to help but smile. Who it was didn't matter, my position as a Lord didn't matter, I was sure that, without Angie, I would have given up a long time ago.

“What do you want yellow wool balls for?” I asked amused, picking up the phone and dialing the number slowly, indicating to Angie that she should let herself be picked up. I still needed her to speak for me.

“I don't know, they're funny,” she commented, taking the phone while I lovingly put her old clothes on. “Hello, hello? Fatty?”

Nothing, no one seemed to answer.

“He doesn't pick up,” Angie whispered so I frowned, snatching the phone from her and checking she was telling the truth.

“Maybe he's not in the village,” I sighed, hanging up and shaking my head. “How convenient, I need that damn fabric.”

“He might be in his warehouse,” Angie commented, going back down to the floor. “Although I doubt he will fit through the door,” she mocked amused, making me smile again.

“What do we do now?” I asked, looking at the crumbling ceiling.

“Why don't we go to the village?” Angie suggested. “We can look for the Duke there.”

“No,” I said dryly, hardening my expression.

“Silly Donna... I want my wool balls!” the doll protested, in a childish way, irritating me again. “Let's go to the village, to the village!”

“Madonna… I said no, Angie,” I snorted, in a brusque tone.

No, I didn't want to go to the village, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to see fear in people's eyes, I didn't want to see it again.

“Silly, you stupid pasta thing,” the doll hissed. “Stupid Donna”

“Are you done yet?” I asked with irony, with a dangerous look. As expected, the doll shook her head.

“Donna, you coward, I want my wool balls!” she shrieked irritatingly again, making me lose my patience.

“Chuidi quella cazzo di bocca!” I shouted furiously, completely out of my mind, causing the puppet to flee in terror, hiding behind a table.

Once again, I had lost control for no reason. I would never be able to escape my sentence.

I tried to relax, to make the trembling in my body disappear. I breathed deeply, lowering my head.

“Perdonami, Angie…” I sighed in a calmer tone, walking slowly to the doll's hiding place. She, timidly, peeked out. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“You're very tense,” the doll whispered. “You have to relax...”

“I know, forgive me, please,” I said with my voice broken by the rage of my behavior, extending my arms towards her, who timidly approached, letting me pick her up from the floor.

 “Of course I forgive you, silly,” the doll said, hugging me in a childish way, bringing the smile back to my face.

“Fine… W-we'll go to the village to get the fabrics, what do you think?” I finally said, trying to compensate my only friend for having to put up with me day after day, for having to live… With a monster.

“Yay!” the puppet celebrated as I carried her in my arms, leaving the comfort of that dark basement.

I never liked going out, feeling the cold on my body, feeling insecure, outside the safety of the cracked walls. Maybe no one had the misfortune of seeing my face, but my mere presence was already uncomfortable enough for anyone.

Just think about it, a woman in black clothes, with her face hidden by a black veil, a lifeless figure which comes walking slowly towards you. It was terrifying.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be many people in the village, it was a cold morning. I also didn't want to notice if there were eyes watching me, if there was a child trembling in its mother's arms when it saw me walking.

The Duke's warehouse wasn't far away, and I headed there as quickly as possible. My breathing was uncontrolled, my anxieties were already starting to make me too nervous. I wanted to go home.

“Duuuuke!” Angie called when we entered the cabin. “Duuuuke! Where are you?”

There didn't seem to be anyone there and we both looked at each other, shrugging our shoulders. Not wanting to wait for that vermin to appear, I approached the place where he kept the fabrics, looking for that desired grey tone my doll needed.

“What do you think, Angie?” I asked the puppet, who was curiously rummaging through the merchant's things, nodding disinterestedly. “Where are the grey ones...?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled me, a female voice that was not familiar to me.

From among the boxes, a girl appeared, a young girl with a splendid smile. I didn’t recognize her, I would remember that face. Near her left eye there was a horrible scar. I couldn’t help but bring my hand to my face when I found a similarity between that deformity and mine.

The girl shook her hands, with an elegant gesture, without that smile disappearing.

“Lady Beneviento,” she said softly, lowering her head. “Surely the Duke would spend the whole morning flattering your presence but I believe in naturalness, do you need something?”

“Where is the fatty? Who are you?” Angie asked, letting me pick her up again while pointing at that unknown girl.

“Oh, the Duke is on a business trip, or so he told me,” she said, amused, shaking her head. “But I'm sure I can help you, or try, at least.”

I looked at her curiously, unable to take my eyes off her scar, one that didn’t hide her beauty at all. I couldn't say why, but my cheeks began to blush.

I didn't say anything. I just looked at her confused, just like the doll did with me, waiting for me to react.

“Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself,” the girl said with an apologetic look, extending her hand towards me, a hand that seemed very soft… “I'm (Y/N), the Duke hired me to be his assistant when he wasn't around. I manage the warehouse too.”

I hesitated for a moment. My instincts pushed me to reject that greeting, to ignore that smiling young woman, but, for some reason, I didn't. I slowly extended my hand towards hers, shaking it briefly, feeling for myself that I wasn't wrong, her skin was very soft, warm.

“It’s, it's a pleasure to meet you too,” she joked, confused by my shy greeting, with a natural, beautiful smile... “I never thought I'd have the honor of having one of you here.”

“Shut up, you stupid village girl! We've come for...” Angie said, interrupted by a sudden movement of my arms, letting her fall to the floor. “Hey!”

“I ne-ne-need fabrics,” I whispered with a hoarse, timid, barely audible voice. The girl frowned, coming a little closer to me.

“Excuse me, but I didn't hear you,” she said amused but with a kind look.

“Fabrics, stupid! Fabrics!” Angie shrieked, startling the young woman, who, surprisingly, kept her composure masterfully.

“Oh, fabrics, of course,” (Y/N) said, nodding and passing by me, letting me get a closer look at that scar so similar to mine, one that had me quite interested. “If you would be so kind as to come with me…”

I nodded slowly, following the young assistant through the warehouse.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked naturally, rummaging through a pile of fabrics.

“G-Grey fabric…” I murmured, clearing my throat, with Angie looking at me strangely. I couldn't blame her for it, I was very nervous.

“Grey…” (Y/N) commented, searching with her eyes. “Oh, yes, here,” she said amused, pointing at several fabrics of that same color.

“Wool balls, we want wool balls,” Angie said with a haughty tone while I touched those fabrics with curiosity, unable to avoid looking at that girl out of the corner of my eye.

“Wool balls?” she asked confused, scratching her head. “Mm, yes, this way,” she said, gesturing for the puppet to follow her.

I paused for a moment to look at her again, my heart beating fast and my eye unable to stop studying each of her movements. She was a really beautiful young woman, who surely hid some terrible story, maybe one as horrible as mine, maybe… Oh, I didn’t know why I was thinking about it.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asked me when finished attending to Angie, getting closer to me, maybe too close, allowing me to look at her more closely again.

“Um, yes… I…” I stammered nervously, clearing my throat again and pointing at a random roll of fabric. Luckily, it was a grey one.

“This one? Good…” the young woman commented, taking the roll and heading to a small counter. “How much do you want?”

“No, I… I’ll take the entire roll,” I said, nodding, putting my hands together in front of my body, playing with them discreetly to try to stop shaking.

“The entire roll?” (Y/N) asked, frowning. The Duke never questioned me, why did she?

“Is there a problem, silly?” Angie asked mockingly, comically wrapped in a wool ball.

“No, there’s no problem but… I don’t know if you can handle it, it’s quite heavy,” the girl said amused, leaning on the counter and looking at that large roll of fabric. “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t… I mean, I…”

I laughed at that shy side, that nervous side my presence provoked in her. Normally I would have groaned or sighed at the sight of her body trembling, but on that occasion, I didn't. Even when she was nervous, she couldn't lose that bright smile.

“Calm down, I know what you mean,” I said in a different tone, louder and noticeable, as if my own voice was eager to talk to her.

“Uff, okay...” she sighed, running a hand over her forehead in a playful way. “Sorry, my lady, I'm not used to dealing with... Lords, you know.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. I could feel Angie's eyes looking at me inquisitively, but I didn't pay attention to them. Not wanting to look stupid, I took out a bag of coins, leaving them on the counter. (Y/N) picked them up, writing something down in a notebook.

“Fine...” the girl murmured, leaving the pen on top of the notebook. “Do you need anything else, my lady?” she asked kindly.

I shook my head, turning to leave, picking up my doll again, who was still staring at me.

“No, thank you,” I muttered before walking out the door. Something, something made me stop and turn around. “Uh, actually, I do.”

“Mm?” (Y/N) hummed, with that same kind smile, following me with her gaze as I approached the counter again.

“I don't remember seeing you before,” I said with a dry voice, with an indifferent tone. I didn't want to show her how nervous I was, besides, I didn't even know why I was that nervous.

“I'm elusive,” she answered amused, leaning on the counter in a casual manner. “But the truth is that I've been here all my life.”

“Working for the fat guy?” Angie asked, with a curious tone, shifting in my arms.

“No, no,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head, laughing amused. “I mean, I've been in the village all my life.”

“Really? It's funny, you don't sound familiar to me,” I commented, with a slightly dark tone, analyzing her expressions. The girl shrugged, as if it wasn't the most comfortable question for her.

“Well... I'm not very fond of masses...” she murmured in a cautious tone. “Don't get me wrong, I adore Mother Miranda, and you, and of course I pray to the Black Gods every day and...”

“Mmm…” Angie got out of my arms, walking along the counter until she was very close to her. “She's lying.”

“What? Oh, no, no, I’m not,” the assistant said, now a little more scared. “No, my lady, no, I'm not lying.”

“I don't care if you are, (Y/N),” I commented, moving the doll away from her, laughing shyly again. “I'm not judging you.”

“Oh, okay…” the girl sighed, with an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Well, to be honest, I've never had a particular interest in… All that stuff about the Gods.”

I nodded nervously, wanting to ask a thousand questions, without knowing why, without knowing what exactly was keeping me in that warehouse.

“But, but I go to masses,” she said with a more relaxed tone, pretending sincerity. “Um… Um…Do you want… Do you want something else?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, turning around again and walking towards the door.

When I arrived, I realized that my legs weren't moving, that my head wanted to turn towards that girl again. My behavior was strange, but I couldn't help it.

“Yes,” I said, entering again, causing her to laugh amusedly and look at me in amazement, probably because of my pathetic attitude. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Lycans,” she answered, relaxing her expression. I frowned and shook my head, confused.

“Cosa?”

“My scar, I know you were going to ask me about it,” she said with a relaxed tone, pretending to read the notes in that account book.

“No, I…” I stammered, embarrassed to know that it was really what I wanted to know, what had caught my attention.

“Don’t worry, my lady, nothing is wrong. I’m not ashamed of it,” she said with a sincere look, one that made me see that her left eye had a slightly whiter tone, as if it had no life.

That was how I was like when I was a child, when everyone laughed at me.

“What…? What happened to you?” I asked in a cautious, strangely curious tone.

“When I was 10 I made the stupid mistake of going into the forest at dusk, you know, I wanted to be the bravest girl and blah blah blah…” (Y/N) commented casually, gesturing with her hands. I nodded for her to continue. “How was I supposed to know that there were lycans in the woods? It seems unlikely in a place like this, right? Um, sorry, it was, it was a joke.”

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, frowning. “A joke?”

“Yeah, well… I've learned that, in order to be happy, you must learn to laugh at yourself,” (Y/N) explained, with a smile adorning her beauty again.

“Do you find that some lycans hurt you funny? You could have died,” I said annoyed by that attitude. No, that wasn't funny, it couldn't be.

“I know, but… Here I’m,” she said sighing, spreading her arms in a playful way. “I lost the vision of my left eye, but… I'm still alive, and that's the important thing.”

“You seem like a very optimistic girl,” I commented, with an amused laugh, inadvertently getting a little closer to her.

“Mm, well, it can't be any other way,” the girl said in a relaxed tone, tilting her head.

“It must have… It must have been… difficult for you, you know…” I said stuttering, raising my hand to discreetly point out the deformity of her face. “Children can be very cruel.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a wider smile, shaking her head. “There hasn't been anyone brave enough to mess with me.”

I laughed again, incredulous at that attitude, one so different from mine. So similar and so different at the same time… Like the two sides of the same coin.

“Why you say so?” I asked curiously, with Angie starting to get impatient, tugging at my dress probably wanting to go back home.

“Because if they did… Well, they were very likely to go home with a black eye,” she whispered in a lower voice, as if she wanted to tell me a secret. “You know what they say: an eye for an eye, right?”

She was a mysterious girl, one who, with every thing she said, brought a soft laugh to my lips. It had been a long time since I laughed so many times, that the smile refused to leave my face.

“Um, I…” I murmured after a moment of awkward silence, holding Angie's hands, which pulled at my dress harder and harder. “I'll leave you alone, I've already stolen too much of your time.”

“You can steal all the time you want, my lady, as you see, there's no one around here,” the merchant said amused, looking around.

“Um, yes, well, I… I'm, I'm leaving, th-thanks,” I stammered, closing my eye because of my pathetic stammering, ready this time to really leave, to control my desire to stay and chat with that girl.

“Wait,” she said, leaving me pinned to the ground, walking out the counter. “Wait, I…”

“Mm?”

“Um, hey, you're not as scary as they say,” (Y/N) said nervously, biting her lip to contain her words, words that, apparently, came out of her mouth on their own. “I mean, I, I liked meeting you, Lady Beneviento.”

“Oh, I…” I stammered, struggling between joy and anger. I couldn't blame her for fearing me, everyone did and everyone would, forever. “Me… Me too, (Y/N)…”

It could have been just another day, but it wasn't. Meeting (Y/N) made me start to smile. It didn't matter what I was doing: cooking, reading, working with my dolls... The beauty of her face was always present in my thoughts.

Chance is a capricious God, one that made me suddenly find myself with my distorted reflection. Yes, a scar identical to the one I had as a child, a face deformed by misfortune, just like me.

But, even though we had that in common, we were very different. (Y/N) was cheerful, outgoing and didn't let anyone make fun of her. I was the opposite, like an evil double, like the negative of a photograph. It might seem silly, but, as the days went by, that urge to want to go back to the warehouse became more and more intense.

Sewing in my workshop, as always, I searched in my head for a logical explanation for my sudden interest in that young woman, like every time I did, without finding an answer.

“Angie,” I said, frowning, looking at the old sewing machine. The doll, having fun with her new wool balls, walked towards me comically getting tangled in the yellow thread.

“I hope it's not something to do with the girl from the warehouse,” the puppet hissed. Poor thing, she was sick of hearing me talk about her.

“No, no,” I said with a look that gave away my lie. “Look,” I helped the doll to get on my lap while pointing at the old machine.

“What's wrong?” she asked, looking at the machine and then at me, confused.

“Don't you see it?” I asked with a frown, picking up a piece of freshly sewn fabric. “Look at these seams, they're not right.”

“They’re just like always,” the doll commented, playing with the piece of fabric in her hands.

“No, no, not at all,” I said, shaking my head again, blinking, giving away my lie. “There's something wrong with the machine.”

“Do you know what's wrong? Your brain,” the doll mocked, causing me to grunt. “There's nothing wrong with the machine, Donna.”

“I'm telling you, it's broken,” I insisted, pretending to look for the fault that old machine didn't have. “I think there's something stuck… I should take it to (Y/N). Maybe she can take a look at it.”

“Oh, of course, of course…” the doll sighed, moving her arms in an exaggerated way. “You just want to see her again.”

“No, I… Non è vero…” I muttered, stumbling over my words. “It's, it's the machine…”

“There's nothing wrong with the machine, silly Donna, stop making stupid excuses. If you want to see (Y/N), why don't you just go?” Angie said, putting a wooden finger on my nose, which I wrinkled in displeasure, determined to deny the evidence.

“It’s not about that, Angie,” I protested, pounding my fists on the table but relaxing instantly. “I want her to take a look at it.”

“A look?” the doll scolded me. “Oh, yes, what a great idea… What are you going to tell her when she realizes that the machine is perfectly fine?”

I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t. I huffed angrily, gritting my teeth. Angie was right. My legs trembled nervously as my gaze wandered to the old machine. I didn’t even think about it.

With a quick gesture, I pushed the sewing machine to the floor, crashing against it with a dull sound, indicating that something had broken. It was a pathetic, almost desperate plan. I still didn’t know what I was doing, why I was doing it, or rather, I didn’t want to know.

“Silly Donna! Nonna’s machine!” Angie shrieked, getting down to the floor to check the condition of the machine. I remained serious, but I adopted a haughty pose.

“What do you say now? Diamo un’occhiata?” I asked mockingly, bending down to pick up the broken machine from the floor, ignoring the insults and protests of the doll.

It was too easy for me to put the veil back on and leave my house. I had a fixed destination. I had her beauty waiting for me. I think I was starting to get too nervous. Breaking my grandmother’s machine so I could see that girl… It sounded crazy, but I didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, my lady, what a surprise,” (Y/N) said, coming down a ladder, with a, as always, beautiful smile. “The Duke has already returned from his trip, he should have brought you the fabrics.”

“Yes, I…” I murmured nervously, holding the box under Angie’s fierce gaze. “I wanted, I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” the girl asked, approaching curiously, brushing the dust off her dress.

I could only nod, leaving the box on the counter.

“I thought you could help me with this,” I muttered, with a broken voice, much more nervous than in our first meeting.

“Wow…” the young woman commented, taking the broken machine out of the box, observing every detail. “A Singer 66k, from 1917… What happened to it? It's in pieces…”

“Angie threw it,” I lied cowardly, earning a furious gasp from the doll.

“What are you talking about?!” the doll shrieked unpleasantly. “Liar, Donna liar, Donna…!”

I silenced the puppet with a subtle movement of my hands, making it stop screaming and move away, unable to stop it from glaring at me as it did so.

“Oh, that was a nasty fall…” (Y/N) joked, studying the machine. “It's a shame, it's a beauty.”

“C-Can you fix it?” I asked timidly, starting to regret what I had done. Her smile showed me that I shouldn't do it.

“Mm, I think so,” she said nodding, moving the machine to a small table with tools. I followed closely, watching her curiously. “Let's see…”

“I can, I can leave you alone if you are more comfortable,” I murmured when she started working, checking the pieces with a frown. She stopped and looked at me, shaking her head, with that wonderful smile…

“Oh, no, well… It's good to have some company, besides, that way I can prove that I'm not scamming you,” the assistant said amused, carefully unscrewing the machine.

“I trust you,” I said without thinking, playing with my hands again, trying not to look at her face, not to notice that scar that told me we had something in common, even if she couldn't know it.

“You must be the only one,” she commented sighing, searching for something in a box of spare parts. I tilted my head curiously. “Normally the people of this village are quite distrustful… I can't blame them, my boss is not exactly a… reliable man…” she said smiling, making the gesture of quotation marks with her fingers.

“You are not like him,” I said, stating a truth of which I was completely sure.

“Mm no, I hope so,” the girl joked amused, struggling with the machine. “Okay…”

Silence reigned again in the warehouse. She worked on the machine with surprising skill while I watched her, memorizing each of her movements. If she had noticed how I looked at her… Well, she would surely be terribly uncomfortable.

“So… Do you use this machine to you make clothes for your dolls?” (Y/N) asked, taking me out of my thoughts. “Y-you made dolls, right?”

“Cosa?” I said distractedly, thinking about her past, about how she had to live through that attack, about her courage when facing mockery and offensive comments, how did she do it? “Oh, I… Yes, yes of course…”

She smiled, nodding, without stopping working.

“You know? You can tell the quality of a handmade product…” she commented distractedly. “I mean, there are modern machines now but… If you ask me, I prefer the old ones, like this beauty”

“Y-Yes, I… I think the same,” I said with a smile that she couldn't see, luckily.

“I think… I think it's done,” she said, moving the crank to check that it worked correctly. “Just like new.”

I didn't expect it to end so quickly. I got nervous, like every time something didn't turn out the way I had thought.

“You are… You are skilled,” I flattered her, taking the machine and checking that, indeed, it was already fixed.

She shrugged, with an amused smile.

“There had to be something good about me, right?” she joked, getting up from the table and passing by me, allowing me to look even more at her beauty.

“Uh… Tell me how much I owe you,” I said, putting the machine back in the box, searching in my head for an absurd excuse to stay a little longer, just a little longer…

“Oh, nothing,” she said, looking at me amused, shaking her head. “It’s not necessary.”

“W-Wait, I have, I have to pay you,” I said, with my hands starting to sweat again. You relaxed your expression, sighing and shaking your head again.

“No, that it’s not necessary,” the girl said with a confused smile, surely due to the trembling of my body. “I’m happy to help you, my lady.”

“No, don't be condescending to me for who I am, I beg you to let me pay you,” I insisted with a darker, almost angry voice. Her smile was worth more than all the gold in the world...

“I'm not condescending, I'm just doing you a favor, I like you,” she murmured, frowning, as if she was trying to meet my gaze.

I pointed at myself in surprise. The words refused to come out of my mouth.

“Do you... do you like me?” I asked stammering, puzzled by that phrase, one that couldn't be true.

“Yes, you're kind,” she said, looking away. “It's not something that's especially common in this place.”

“Oh, well, I... I...” I said nervously, having the imperative need to run out of there to hide my embarrassment, the invisible blush on my cheeks. “Grazie, (Y/N)…”

“Prego,” (Y/N) said, with a wider smile, as if she knew the reaction that hearing her speak that way would provoke in my body, paralyzing it completely.

“D-Do you know Italian?” I asked curiously, with my voice shaking at the same time as my body. She laughed amused, with a clueless expression.

“Nope,” she whispered in an ironic tone. “I know the basics.”

“Oh, of course…” I said, even more nervous, looking for Angie with my gaze. “I… I'm, I'm leaving now and… Well, we'll see each other, and…”

“Whenever you want,” (Y/N) said, sitting on the counter casually, swinging her legs and picking up what looked like a cup of coffee. “Um, my lady,” she said suddenly, when I had already turned around. My blood froze again. “I hope your doll doesn't break any more things.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, rummaging through the counter. “Shut up, you idiot!”

“Angie…” I sighed, gesturing with my head so the puppet would stop stirring everything up.

“She seems to be funny,” (Y/N) commented, looking curiously at Angie.

“Yes… W-Well… She's… I don't know how to describe her…” I said, more and more nervous. “I guess she's one of a kind.”

“I see, she's like you then,” the girl said in a low tone, one that betrayed nervousness. The doll was making her nervous.

“Angie, basta,” I growled at the puppet, who was staring indiscreetly at the cup of coffee.

“Do you like coffee?” the saleswoman asked in a kind tone, looking at Angie, letting me see her beautiful, damaged face. It was so similar to mine…

“I don't know,” Angie said, in a petulant tone. “What I know is that calling this thing coffee is blasphemy, how disgusting.”

“Angie…” I protested, losing my nerves, kicking the floor pathetically.

“Hey, it's not that bad, is it?” (Y/N) asked, bringing the cup to her lips and making a face of disgust. “Well, maybe it is.”

“Don't mind her, (Y/N)…” I sighed, noticing how the sweat ran down my forehead, how my nerves kept increasing. “Angie, dai!”

“Don't be mad at her, my lady, she's right,” (Y/N) said, pouring another coffee into a different cup. “Maybe you can give me your opinion… You, you Italians are good with coffee, aren't you?”

“Me?” I asked, leaving the box on the counter, timidly reaching out my hand for the cup she offered me. “W-Well, I wouldn't know how to answer that… Actually my, my family was Italian, I… I was born here.”

“Well, but I'm sure you have better taste than me,” the girl commented, leaning on the table, frowning suddenly. “Oh, it's not mandatory, I'm sure you have a lot of things to do instead of wasting time with me.”

“Not really,” I whispered, breathing heavily at her apparent nervousness. Not wanting to think, not wanting to feel the things I felt when looking at her, I brought that steaming coffee to my lips, moving my veil aside.

(Y/N) looked away, not wanting to be indiscreet, respecting my decision, but fighting with herself to do so. I could see her confused face, her desire to look at me.

The bitter taste filled my throat. It was really horrible, I hate having to agree with Angie.

“How is it?” the young woman asked, with a fearful look. I shook my head, pushing the disgusting coffee away from my sight and smell.

“È orribile…” I murmured, trying to sound amused. I never knew how to do it.

“I thought so…” the girl sighed, making a face of disgust at that cup. “No matter how hard I try, I can't handle that thing,” she said amused, pointing to an old coffee maker.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?” I asked without thinking, I asked without wanting to, without being able to help it. She looked at me curiously, then at the coffee maker, and finally at me again, nodding with a shy smile.

“Well, it's not necessary,” she murmured, scratching the back of her neck, downplaying it.

“Please, consider it… A favor,” I said, mysteriously sure of myself. “Because, because of the machine.”

“Mm, well, okay,” she said quickly, gesturing for me to follow her.

As calmly as I could, I taught the young woman how to make a real coffee and how to handle that coffee maker properly. She listened to me attentively, looking at me from time to time and writing down my advice in a notebook.

She was so close to me, her bright eyes were so close to mine… I don't know at what moment I was stuck in her gaze, in her almost perfect face, no, no, in her perfect face.

“It smells so good…” she commented, inhaling the intense aroma of coffee, closing her eyes, granting me the blessing of contemplating her relaxed face, her tender gaze. “I was definitely doing everything wrong.”

I laughed shyly, pouring some coffee into a cup, offering it to her kindly, praying that she wouldn't notice my shaking hands.

“Try not to fill it with too much water,” I said with a serious tone, pretending disinterest while she tasted my creation, with a look of satisfaction. “Always pay attention to the valve.”

“Yes, this is wonderful…” (Y/N) sighed. “Oh, sure, um… Let me pour you one cup.”

“I… Okay…” I stammered, accepting the offer to sit next to her in a couple of chairs.

Without having thought about it, we were together, enjoying a quiet coffee.

I couldn't remember when I felt so calm, so relaxed and at the same time, so nervous, with my heart beating too fast. I guess it was the coffee…

“And then I told him: I don't need to see with both eyes to notice that you're a complete idiot,” (Y/N) said, chatting with me in a friendly way, as if she had known me all my life. I wish it were like that.

“Did you tell him that?” I asked amused, unable to stop smiling. She nodded with a serious look.

“He wanted to go on a date with me to give me a chance, can you believe it? A chance, as if I couldn't choose...” she asked ironically, shaking her head.

I didn't answer, I just listened attentively. Her anecdotes were funny, but hearing them through her lips... That was out of this world.

“Bah, I don't need a stupid boy to tell me nice things... I know he would only do it out of pity,” she said with a slightly sadder tone.

“Mm,” I murmured, playing with my hands in my lap.

“Every morning I look at myself in the mirror and think: what would my life be like if I didn't have this thing on my face?” she commented distractedly again, stirring her coffee with her spoon erratically. “I always come to the same conclusion: Here I am, this is me, and if you don't like it, fuck you... Oh, I mean, sorry... Go to hell?”

I laughed again, a bit sadly. I saw so many things about myself in her, things she didn't consider a problem. She was brave, I was a coward.

“I wish I could think the same way,” I murmured with a broken voice, attracting her attention, drawing a confused look towards me.

“Why do you say so?” she asked in a different tone, with a more discreet smile, with the glint of caution in her eyes.

I suppressed a sob. (Y/N)'s attitude was admirable, enviable. I was never able to accept reality, to look at myself in the mirror in the same way. I was a monster, and she wasn't.

“Forget it, it's nonsense,” I sighed, getting up, wanting to go home, wanting to cry for being unable to recognize the meaning of my heartbeat, wanting to scream, to curse the Black Gods for being unfair to me.

“Oh, have I, have I said something wrong, my lady?” (Y/N) asked, suddenly standing up, putting a hand on my wrist, making my whole body shudder.

“No,” I said in a cold tone, moving away from her grip, perhaps too abruptly. “Dai, Angie,” I whispered to my doll, who was playing with the junk in that warehouse.

“W-Wait, I'm, I'm sorry,” the girl said, stopping me from continuing, standing in front of me with a pleading look.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, with an involuntary resentment in my voice.

“Well, I, I didn't want to offend you… If I’ve said something I shouldn't have… Oh, of course, it's because of the: fuck you… I don't usually swear, really… Not always…” the young woman stammered nervously, with her gaze traveling everywhere, unable to focus on mine.

“You haven't offended me,” I said, trying to sound softer so my demons wouldn't overwhelm me again, not at that moment, not with her. “I have to go.”

“Sure, I…” she stammered, helping me to pick up the box again, with a fake smile. “Um, if you're not mad at me… Maybe you'd like to come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, surprised by that offer.

“Yes, you know, I, I'd like you to check if I've learned anything about coffee,” she said nervously, with a strange blush on her cheeks.

“Do you want me to come here tomorrow?” I asked again, unable to believe her words.

“Yes, well… Yes, if you want,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.

“Mm, maybe I will,” I murmured, smiling, taking advantage of the fact she couldn't see me, my smile was hidden from her, as my monstrous face was.

That was the beginning, just the beginning of my constant visits to that old warehouse.

Funny conversations, exploits and experiences of (Y/N)… Any reason was good to hear her voice, to look at her beauty under the aroma of coffee. I could no longer deny myself my feelings. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, every minute, every second.

“Donna and (Y/N) under a tree …” Angie sang, jumping around while I, like every day, walked towards the village. I growled angrily at the doll, wishing she would shut up.

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t, don't talk that loud…”

“Oh, come on, there's no one here,” the puppet protested. “Besides, you're offended because you would like to be with (Y/N) under a tree.”

“Yes, it's true,” I said with a murmur, taking the doll in my arms so she wouldn't entertain me any longer. “(Y/N) is wonderful, don't you think?”

“(Y/N) is wonderful, beautiful, good, kind, fantastic, the best… Yes, yes, you've been repeating it constantly for weeks,” the doll mocked.

I smiled embarrassed.

“I've never felt this way about anyone,” I sighed, walking slower. “Angie, I'm… I'm in love with (Y/N)…”

“I know!” she complained, crossing her arms. “You're so annoying, Donna…”

“I'm not annoying, I'm talking about my feelings,” I said with a frown. “Hey, do you think, do you think she…?”

“Oh, no, no… Don't try to make me believe that I'm a fortune teller or something, I've already told you that I don't know if she feels the same. I can't read minds,” Angie said, shaking her head.

“But you're always with us,” I said, stopping before crossing the door. “Maybe, maybe you saw something that…”

“Oh, yeah… She doesn't take her eye off you,” the doll mocked with an evil laugh. “You get it? her eye.”

“Cazzo… I'm serious,” I said with a stern tone, starting to breathe hard.

“Me too,” Angie said, defensively.

I sighed, frustrated for not knowing, for not being able to read her thoughts, to decipher her smiles, to know if in any of them, she expressed something else than friendship…

“Oh, but that's not what I'm looking for,” the voice of an unknown woman made me stop in front of the warehouse door. (Y/N) was not alone.

“Who is that witch?” Angie asked, peeking through the door. I covered her mouth, hiding behind a wall.

“Mrs. Gravic…” (Y/N) sighed with a tired voice. “If you would be so kind as to tell me what you are looking for…”

“How rude, girl,” the woman protested, with a tone that made me burn with rage. “I don't know why the Duke hired you…”

“Donna… What do you think?” Angie whispered, rubbing her hands in a playful manner. I nodded, concentrating and gently reaching out my hand towards that unpleasant woman.

“Let's see… What do you say about this?” (Y/N) said, leaving something on the counter, something I couldn't see.

“Mm… Well, it could be that… Oh, Black Gods… Grandpa Igor…” the woman sighed and I smiled in satisfaction.

“Excuse me?” the girl asked, confused.

“Oh, I didn't mean to steal Grandma's jewels, don't chase me, leave me alone… No!” the woman screamed, running out of the warehouse in horror.

I nodded to the doll, high-fiving her. Mission accomplished.

“Hey, Mrs. Gravic?” (Y/N) said, looking at her confused, smiling when she saw me walk through the door. “Oh, Donna.”

“Ciao, (Y/N),” I said with the tone I always used for her, a calm one, increasingly sweeter, increasingly obvious.

“You came early today,” she commented, closing the door, like every time we were together, as if she wanted to save that moment just for the two of us. I shouldn't mistake that kindness, but at the same time, I couldn't help but do so.

“Well…” I said disinterestedly, leaving Angie on the floor, sitting on my usual chair. “I hadn’t anything better to do… I mean… Ugh…”

She laughed amused, shyly looking away, pouring the usual coffee.

It seemed like any other conversation. My words lost their fear. They became bold, even funny. All conversations developed the same way, all except that one.

“Um, forgive me for asking you but…” (Y/N) murmured, with a serious, different tone, with a look far from usual. “You probably think I'm stupid or… Well, that I'm butting in where I shouldn't but… I'm, I'm curious.”

“What are you curious about?” I asked, confused by her different attitude, by the fear I began to see in her hands.

“That,” she said with a sigh pointing at my covered face, one to which I brought my hand, with my breath frozen, lacking air.

 No, not that, my love…

“Um… What?” I asked nervously, diverting the conversation, saying with my gestures that this was the wrong path, that it would only bring her problems.

 “Well, you know, your veil… Why…? Why are you wearing it?” she asked again, her voice increasingly blurred by nervousness.

“Hey! Don't dare to say that to my Donna!” Angie shouted, staring at her, as if she was trying to do me a favor by deciphering her expressions.

“I…” I muttered. My hand was shaking so much that I dropped the coffee cup, breaking it into a thousand pieces on the floor. “Oh, porca miseria!”

“No, it's okay!” she exclaimed, putting her hands in front of her body. “It, it was my fault, I shouldn't have asked that… I, I… I'm, I'm sorry, shit, oh, no, no, I mean, dammit! I'll go to get a broom.”

I stood up, looking at the mess beneath me, nervous, seeking Angie's comfort, one that always brought me back to my senses. I couldn't find her, but I made a decision, the last decision, one last act of stupid bravery.

“Wait,” I said in a whisper, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist as she swept the floor. “Wait, (Y/N)...”

She looked at me scared, guided by the movement of my hand, which forced her to keep her eyes on mine. Slowly, letting her go, I brought my hand to the black fabric, removing it from my face, revealing my deformed face to her.

Neither of us said anything. (Y/N) blinked in confusion, staring at me, getting a little closer, squinting, mouth agape. I looked away, suppressing my desire to put the veil back on, to run away and never come back.

“Wow...” she sighed, reaching out her hand to my face. I breathed nervously, holding her wrist tightly so it wouldn't reach its destination. I was about to lose my mind, in front of the love of my life… “Donna, wait, let me do it, please.”

I closed my already wet eye, holding back my tears, letting the softness of her hand caress my horrible scar, touch my hair with a rapt look.

“It's, it's incredible...” she murmured again, without stopping caressing me while I, nervous, unable to move, let that tear run down my cheek.

(Y/N) took her hand away, bringing it to her own scar, shaking her head. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move.

“Donna, you are, you are... You are such a beautiful woman...” she said, smiling in a nervous but sincere way, illuminating me with the light of her beauty, returning her hand to my deformity, as if she herself were as nervous as I was.

“What are you talking about?” I said with great effort, almost furious, clenching my teeth. “N-N-non mi mentire…”

“I'm not lying…” she sighed, touching her own scar again, with a look of astonishment. “Wow, it's… Incredible… We have almost the same scar… Wow… Forgive me, it's just… What a coincidence, isn't it?”

“No, you're beautiful and I'm horrible,” I said sobbing, not believing her words, not even for a second.

“Oh, you must be joking,” (Y/N) said in a calmer tone, almost amused. “You have… You have a beautiful face… And well, what about that eye? It's, it's the most beautiful eye I've ever seen in my entire life.”

“What? Have you gone crazy?” I asked nervously, letting the veil fall to the floor. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Do you really think I'm laughing at you? Really?” she joked, pointing out her defect with a smug pose. I shook my head, trying to control my thoughts. “No, Donna, I'm telling you, I'm telling you the truth… Wait, what did you say?”

“Mm?” I muttered confused, running my hand through my hair, feeling unable to handle the situation any longer.

“That, that thing you said before…” she said, gesturing with her hand, accidentally stepping on the remains of that cup. “You know, that I'm…”

“You're beautiful,” I said with my head down, clenching my fists tightly.

“Mm, and how do I know you're not lying to me? You're my friend, there's no need to be accommodating,” she joked with an amused face, completely ignoring my subtle statement.

“Friend? Are you stupid?” Angie asked. “Donna, please… Tell her now.”

“Tell me what?” (Y/N) asked, curious. I cursed my doll. I was becoming more and more nervous.

“I don't know what she's talking about,” I stammered, having to stop my legs from running away right then and there.

“Hey, you can tell me anything, Donna…” the girl said, whispering in a tender voice, lowering her hands to mine, caressing them in a way that I thought was friendly, that I didn't think was romantic. “Really…”

“No, I…” I said, blinking nervously.

“Is there something worrying you?” she asked again, getting closer to me. “Come on, you can trust me.”

“(Y/N), I…” I stammered again, becoming almost hysterical as I looked at her peaceful gaze.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it was so difficult for her to understand my feelings. I had taken a definitive step, I couldn't go back. I couldn't turn back now that I had come that far.

“Cazzo! I, I like you, (Y/N)!” I squealed disproportionately, making her widen her eyes and frown.

“Oh, is that it?” she said, still smiling, not getting the not-so-indirect hint. “Oh, Donna, I like you too.”

“Angie’s right,” I hissed angrily, shaking my head. “Are you stupid? I’m telling that I like you, damn it!”

Her face immediately changed to a confused look. I growled again, kicking the chair roughly.

“What do you mean?” she asked again. I froze, turning to her slowly and dangerously. A thunderous laugh filled the warehouse. Angie seemed to be enjoying that.

“Porca puttana!” I squealed again, kicking the floor in rage. “I love you, (Y/N)! I’m fucking in love with you! I can't stop thinking about you day and night, counting the hours until I can see you again! I love you, ti amo! You're the woman of my life!” I squealed abruptly, making her blink comically.

“Oh…” she sighed, with an amused look.

“Is it clear now? Or do you need me to write it down for you?” I said, losing control of my emotions.

(Y/N) shook her head, but didn't say anything, so I growled furiously again, grabbing the notebook from the counter.

“I…Love…You. That's it, you still don't understand?” I said furiously, tearing off the paper and angrily putting it on her chest. “Taci, Angie or I'll deactivate you!”

“Hey… Come on… calm down…”(Y/N) said, putting a hand on my trembling shoulder, turning me around slowly. “Calm down…”

Her soft voice relaxed me, but the tears were already traveling freely down my horrible face.

“Shh…” you whispered in a tender voice, taking my hands again while I, desperate, shook my head.

“I-I'm in love with you, (Y/N)… Ti amo…” I whispered more timidly, coming back to my senses little by little, dying of embarrassment for my nervous outburst.

“Yes, I've already realized,” she said amused, bringing one of her hands to my intact cheek, wiping away one of my tears. “Donna… Listen to me… I… I feel the same way about you…”

“What?” I asked nervously, startling myself.

“The truth is that I didn't expect to fall in love with a Lord but… Well, I guess life has brought us together for a reason, don't you think? And I'm not just saying that just because... Well, you know," she said in a pleasant voice, pointing at her scar.

“You... You have feelings for me...” I said, not knowing if it was a question or a statement.

(Y/N), still caressing me, nodded.

“Please! I'm going to get diabetes!” Angie shrieked, breaking the magic of the moment. “Yuck...”

“Angie...” I lamented, just when I was starting to enjoy that moment.

“It doesn't matter, Donna...” she said, amused, still looking at me, still piercing my heart with her gaze. “You can tell she’s happy...”

“Well...” I said, laughing nervously.

“Hey... I thought about closing the store for today,” (Y/N) said, moving away. “Maybe you'd like to do something together...”

“Vu-Vuoli... Vuoli...fare qualcosa... in-insieme?” I stammered awkwardly, not keeping control of my own language.

“If you told me what I think… Yes,” she joked playfully. “Let’s do something together…”

“Oh, okay, I… Io… We can, go… You can… You can… You can come to my house if you want… I, you… you liked sewing, right?” I said nervously.

She nodded with a funny look.

“I can, I can show you my workshop, and… I can, I can… We can sew together… se… se hai voglia… E… And, I can, I can show you my bam… My dolls, and… I can, I can make one like you if you want, and we can, we can…”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting my pathetic attempt at conversation, relaxing my nerves with a soft caress, one to which I also joined my hand. “I would love to go to your house…”

“Really?” I asked, nodding, with a sincere smile, far from my usual nervous look. “Would you like to?”

“Yes…” she sighed, getting dangerously close to me. “But first, I'd like to do something…”

“Oh, okay, wh…?” I said nervously, interrupted by her lips, which kissed mine, caressed them in a tender way, in a way I never expected to feel. I don't know what her first kiss had been, but mine… I would never forget mine.

“Much better, don't you think?” she sighed still on my lips, letting the rhythm increase on its own, so I could kiss her without fear.

“Ugh, they’re kissing!” Angie protested.

We both smiled, resting our foreheads on each other.

“Come on, honey… I'm looking forward to see your dolls…”

[mambalae-s]

fallen glory — ushijima wakatoshi x reader

wc: 3.2k words

cw: god! wakatoshi x nymph! reader; unprotected sex; breeding kink; size kink; wakatoshi is a big boi; reader is described as a black woman; degradation; manhandling; ; creampie; not proof read; if i’m forgetting anything please let me know!

notes from author: please, if you’re under 18, do NOT interact with or read this post. i will block you.

there are legends among mortal towns, the tellings of stories passed on by flesh and bone. a god, mankind will utter through shrouds of smoke, beneath fire-lit nights of centuries old, where the stars would even hold their breath to hear the words of divine destruction. a god so mighty and fearsome that wields power in his breath alone, that the earth would tear herself apart and offer her burning heart, that she would so desperately beseech her master that this mere sacrifice would be enough to please him. mankind would sing those sorrow-filled ballads of flaming rivers that sputtered brilliant embers, so brilliant in their dying glory that venus herself would weep and beg for mercy.

and this god, oh, this righteous and almighty god, his heart would mirror the depths of darkness. how cruel, this god, that he would beckon the tempests and the floods to destroy and ruin the earth, that he would paint wars and famine across endless seas and planes until there would be nothing left of man. when he bestows his wrath on bellowing thunders and rips the heavens asunder with magnificent lightning, he holds no mercy for the weak and unfaithful. his eyes behold, and his left hand cast their judgement, and the earth can do nothing but wait with bated breath as the universe stands still around her, powerless, and without charge of the pestilence that would next consume her and wipe her filthy soul clean once more.

oh, but who could imagine the divine’s demise at the hands of a damsel?

let these words not travel far, lest they spread across continents and reveal him for what he is. let the world not know of his mortality, of a heart that quivers before summer-touched evenings and sings wretched hymns of manly lust and desire. of his visits to the holy garden, they must not learn, even less should they know of the soul that resides there — the very same that would tame the tempest, and incite a hunger so ravenous and feral only to quench it all the same.

he’s here; you know without even looking, and your intuition tells you that he knows that you know. you don’t need to look behind you to know that wakatoshi’s watching you, eyes of gold and olive that stalk you like a hunter. he takes in every part of your image as a devotee does with visions. the droplets of water that glisten across dark brown skin, the sheer white fabric that clings to your full mounds and ass, barely doing anything to conceal your perked nipples, or the dip between your plush thighs. by the heavens, you truly are a vision of sin and desire — one that held the key to destruction between two-toned lips and written like scriptures among dark coils of hair akin to sacred vines.

“well?” you sigh, sinking further into the pond. the cool water kisses your skin with a tenderness that washes away the day’s searing heat. goosebumps rise across your body and you lull your head to the side, and that’s when you see him, your god come here to visit the garden of eden. “will you just stand there or are you gonna join me?”

how brazen, you must’ve sounded, irreverent as if you knew not the god who’d walked into your sanctuary. yet you knew all too well who he was, and you knew what he’d come for. you knew that, just with the sight of your body drenched in water, you could unravel this benevolent god and reduce him to nothing but a man lost in desire. since the first day he found you here on a lonely spring’s afternoon so many years ago, you’d somehow wrapped his tongue between your teeth and poisoned him with pleasure untold so that he would return time and time again. he reminds you of a lunatic, seeking the taste of your nectar like a man who knows nothing else, and you’d become his drug and his achilles heel, the very thing that could unwind this god and render him to nothingness.

the waters part to make way, welcoming wakatoshi into the pool as he comes close to you. his body presses against yours and he leaves no room between, so greedy in the way his fingers dip into your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck to take in your scent. you reach up one hand to wrap into his long, jade green locks, and you pull him closer to you, eager to feel his lips leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“i can’t stop thinking about you…” he grumbles into your jawline, hungry and impatient. his fingers wrap into the thin fabric of your gown, nails digging into your flesh as he pulls you closer, pressing his hard cock into your ass as if he wants it to disappear between it. “fuck, what are you doing to me?”

you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips, though you know there’d be no sense trying to. coyly, you reach for one of his hands and bring it down to your pussy, pressing his palm flat against it and pushing yourself further against his length. “nothing, darling.” the words that leave you are teasing, almost to test him — accentuated by your sugary laugh when his fingers begin to peel your dress against your skin without you needing to tell him. “it’s you who keeps coming back here on your own accord.”

his fingers dip between your thighs and your knees buckle a bit when they brush against your pussy. you’re wet, wakatoshi discovers your slick already pooling into his hands despite him hardly even touching you. tauntingly, he caresses you, pools your slick along his fingers as he so barely slides them between your swollen cunt to hear the hiss that slips out of your mouth.

“look at you,” he chuckles, condescending. “so needy already, hm? do you want a god’s cock to defile you that badly?”

he’s baiting you, drawing on your words like a puppeteer, you know it. only touching you ever so slightly, giving you the smallest taste of what he knows you want, yet he wants you to beg for it. he wants you to throw yourself unto desperate abandon and give yourself up to him. and it’s working too damn well. greedily, you try to sink yourself down on his fingers, but he quickly stops you with a hand around your throat. frustrated, you whimper. “wakatoshi…” you keen. “for god’s sake, stop toying with me already!”

his teeth sink into your neck suddenly, the sensation of his lips sucking on your flesh causing your pussy to flutter. “nngh…” overcome with weakness, your head falls back against his chest, and your eyes are forced to behold the behemoth of a man behind you; the glistening droplets that slide down olive skin and the furrowed lines atop his expression. his lips part on breaths heavy and weighted as he squeezes his fingers tighter around your throat, and your own breath catches beneath his grip. you’re left wanting, needing the very air he robs you of, needing him inside your core, needing him and everything he’d give to you.

ah, you think bitterly, i’ll lose this war again today.

“you know what i want to hear from you, little one.” wakatoshi’s words ghost against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, heat coursing through each pulse despite the chill of the water. he takes his hand from your soiled thighs and brings his fingers to his mouth, and you watch with eyes glazed by lust as he sucks your juices from them and groans. “hurry…” he huffs. his cock twitches against your ass impatiently, his balls almost ready to burst and bury themselves inside your tight little cunt. “you know i don’t like waiting…”

those words so heavy and fogged over by hunger, you know he’s teetering on the very edge of snapping, letting you know that you’re not the only one who wants the other. he makes slow, intentional work of licking his fingers clean and he sees the way your inhibitions snap behind your eyes, revels in the whimper that leaves your lips as your hands fly to remove your dress all on your own. your breasts fall freely for him to see them glistening under filtered sunlight and of sight of your pursed nipples causes his length to twitch hungrily against your ass.

“please…!” inhibitions abandon you, your pride lost on the incessant pulsing between your legs. you need him to fill you, to ravish and demolish you — you’re aching now, impatient, craving him, “please, toshi, i need you inside me… now!”

you see the very moment wakatoshi reaches his limits and he snaps.

a yelp escapes you as he hoists you up, spinning you around to lock your legs around his hip. his lips crash into yours, mercilessly pushing his tongue into your wet cavern like a beast as he drinks you in. he feels your moans rumbling through his chest and he responds in kind, the space between you non-existent and your body flushed against him.

“that’s a good girl.” whimpering, you claw your fingers into his back as if holding on for dear life. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you want to curse him for toying with you, want to shut that filthy, irreverent mouth of his but your mind is too cloudy to give anything but sweet pleas of his name. drool pools from between your lips as he draws his tongue along your neck, suckling and biting every inch of skin. you’ll bruise blue and purple, you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to care. you want him to mark you, want him to possess your body and soul.

your fingers tangle into his tresses of green hair and you pull, causing him to hiss against your neck. “enough already, wakatoshi..!” despite your harsh words, you know they sound like nothing but muddled pleas to him. he’s so much bigger than you, it’s hard to forget he still has control over you — the way his large palms squeeze your ass, the way your body has to sit just above his hip, it’s hard to forget that fact.

“just fuck me already! you act like you don’t know the things you do to me, haah, like you don’t know how much you make me want you even— nngh, even when… you’re not here…”

ah, but how unfair of you, isn’t it? how can you accuse him of such things when really, you’re the one who does this to him? how could you not know that your visage haunts him day and night? that he dreams of taking you over and over, of pumping your hole full of his seed until your tummy would swell? that even then, he’d keep filling you up, keening to hear those sweet, filthy cries of his name over and over? you must know what you do to him; he growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your collar and causing you to cry out and pull against his hair. “then tell me what you want, darling…”

frustration bubbles within you like an erotic poison as you glare down into emerald orbs. have you not been clear enough for him? what prayers would it take to satisfy this insatiable god? for him to finally give himself to you and abandon all else? you’re already powerless here in his hands, your dress reduced to a soaking bundle that wraps around your waist where his hands palm your bare skin. the tip of his cock only barely touching your core, and you can do nothing but wait until he sinks you down unto it. struggle as you might, your need couldn’t be fulfilled until he wills it, until he finally lets in and use you like you want to be used.

“i want you to take responsibility…” pettily, you huff, eyes narrowing further at the coy grin that sits on his mouth. even with his flushed cheeks and your spit coating his skin, he looks up at you, waiting for you to finish. “i want you to destroy me and fuck me senseless. i want you to force me to take every drop of seed and use me until your fat cock empties out everything inside me.”

wakatoshi hums, pleased, it seems, by your words, though he knows he wouldn’t have been able to hold off any longer even if he hadn’t wrung them out of you. oh, the things you do to him without even knowing that turn him into a wild beast. he all but eagerly lines up the head of his throbbing dick to your entrance, and the warmth of it is already so welcoming as he parts your pussy lips, teasingly rubbing your clit.

“take responsibility, hm?” he purrs against your skin as you whimper, soon forcing out the loveliest scream of his name as he brings you down in one swift motion. he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, drinks in the way your lips fly open as his length spreads you apart. his own eyes narrow and he clenches his teeth — your tight walls squeeze around him so deliciously, so small and delicate as they clamp around the intrusion. “such a pretty, fragile little doll, aren’t you? fuck…!”

god, he hadn’t even fully sunken into you yet, and already he felt himself hitting the tip of your cervix, pressing deeper and deeper and causing your entire body to convulse as drool pours from your lips, fat tears pooling on your waterline. your orgasm wrecks your body in waves and you tremble, already fucked too weak to even support yourself. helplessly, you fall limp into wakatoshi’s arms, neck lulling back so that you’re forced to look up at the god above you, forced to watch his face contort in mortal pleasure as your hole continues to needily suck him in.

“aww…” he coos at your pathetic form. he brings one hand to cup your messy cheek while the other continues to support your weight, pushing a thumb into your open lips. almost mindlessly, you latch unto it and begin sucking. “already? kitten, i’ve hardly done anything to you yet.” even then, wakatoshi wants more from you. he wants to fuck you senseless, break you to nothingness until you couldn’t think of anything but him inside you. so he pushes, deep past your walls until he fully buries himself inside you, his tip so deliciously hitting your womb. you squeal and tighten your legs at the sensation of him bottoming out of you, dig your nails deep into his arms as if to ground yourself from slipping further.

“w-wait…! please, toshi—!” you cry, though your words are lost on him, drowned by his heavy breaths as he presses his lips against yours, pleas swallowed up while your body shakes. “i only just came, i’m— nngaah! ‘m too sensitive, slow down— fuck! ahh!”

despite your begging, wakatoshi doesn’t give you a moment to recover. he sets a relentless pace of pounding into you, pushing deeper and deeper, the sound of his balls clapping so filthily against your slick not yet enough to hide each honey-coated wail he forces out of you. “you said to… hnngn— take responsibility, didn’t you?” roughly, he wraps his hand around your throat and forces you to look up at him, all so he can take in that beautifully fucked expression you wear, teardrops lining your lashes and your mouth wantonly gasping for air. “that’s exactly what i’m doing, darling. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes..!” you can’t deny it. lying to him would be no use, it’s too late to try. your body’s already betrayed you for the pleasure he gives you, your battered hole pulsing around him with each thrust as he stretched you impossibly wide. “yes, wakatoshi..! fuck! i wanted you to fuck me n use me just like this!”

he chuckles, sinful and ungodly, as he releases his hold on your throat to place it around your waist and pulls you down, over and over, repeatedly until your body can do naught but fall to his mercy. “haah..! nngh….! fuck, fuck, fuuuck!”

“that’s it, kitten, just like that.” oh, heavens help him, he already feels himself beginning to waver, his hips staggering as he drives into you. he’s so close, his cock twitching viciously inside your beaten pussy, so close to exploding and filling you up. “take everything, you hear me? i’m gonna cum deep inside your filthy little cunt, and you better take all of it. gonna breed you again and again.”

“mhn! mhn! mhhn!” you’re far too gone to even understand the words he growls at you, far too gone to care for much else other than the sensation of him breaking you apart, or for the prayer you let escape your corrupted heart. “do it..! do it, waka…! let everything out and cum inside me, please, please, please!”

oh, how good did it feel to be at his mercy, to let him ruin you time and time again, at his beck and call. beneath his hold, you release all senseless moral and surrender to the wicked hunger of a being far greater than you. without warning, your body convulses beneath your pleasure as your second orgasm crashes over you. it rips through every vein in your body and releases itself from your core and you scream, your mind gone blank as you cream and squirt all over him. the very coil wound so tightly within your gut breaks like a tidal wave and pushes you off the edge, and after a few more harsh thrusts, you’re granted your reward.

wakatoshi grunts and gasps as his cock bursts his cum inside you, near panting as he pulls you flush against his hip and forces every drop into your delicate womb. his fingers dig deep into your doughy flesh, moans falling from him like a man needing air. he’d spent every last drop inside of you, his chest heaves on the aftershocks of pleasure, but gods be damned, he isn’t through with you yet. you, crumbled against his chest and fucked positively dumb, he hadn’t yet had his fill of you.

“h-hey, wakatoshi, what’re you—!” your startled shout goes unheard by the god as he forces you off his cock, only to bend you over rear up against the edge of the pool. shivers involuntary wreck your body, your whole clenching and your form already weakened by him. “please, i can’t take anymore, lemme rest a little— gaah!”

he silences you quickly by pushing his fingers into your stretched hole, pushing his cum back inside you as your walls object, already far too sensitive. “didn’t you hear me?” he grins, though you can’t see his expression from behind you. so, he pulls you up by your neck, grinning as he towers over your small frame. oh, how feeble and defenseless you stood before him, your legs couldn’t even support your frame, and it was all because of him.

“i said i’d make sure to fill up this tight little cunt. i’m not just done with you yet.”

© mambalae-s — rb’s+feedback are greatly appreciated!!

[ejoym]

Devlin's History. This is Part II of an ask. Devlin's backstory is like a tour through horror film history with influences from Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, Halloween, and Hereditary. I generally try to work within the BG3 framework for Dark Urge but I do take some narrative liberties. 

Content warning for mentions but no explicit descriptions of some dark shit (horror, violence, sex, pregnancy, and abusive cults.)

Spoilers abound for the Dark Urge below.

Her adoptive parents were wealthy high elves who were thrilled to learn that a moon elf baby was abandoned at a local orphanage. They were new money and trying desperately to claw their way up the social ladder in the upper city. Devlin was cared for well enough but there was always something a little off about her. 

She loved the circus. She dreamed of being a clown when she grew up and insisted on dressing like one everyday. This alone wouldn’t have been cause for concern but she started acting out in other notable ways…like vomiting black bile, speaking infernal tongues, floating into corners of rooms, and turning her head 180 degrees - you know, typical puberty shit for any Dark Urge, but A LOT more than her adoptive parents signed up for. 

These were, of course, early manifestations of the urges.

Her parents were mortified. They tried to bring in a cleric to purify her. Daddy Bhaal was having none of it though. He took possession of Devlin to hard counter the naive cleric. Devlin, as controlled by Bhaal, incinerated the cleric as well as her foster parents. When she regained control over her body, she was horrified and fled. For a while she survived on the streets as a feral little sewer gremlin in a ratty clown costume. 

Sceleritas Fel eventually found her and revealed her true origin as a Bhaalspawn. He took her back to the temple where she began training as a Cleric of Bhaal. Her father granted her direct power over life and death, which, you know, gave her just the teeniest-tiniest god complex. The downside was that Bhaal used his influence to exert total control over her life. 

She knew that shit was bad at the temple. She ended up having A LOT of sex as her chosen form of escape. She also did this as a way to dull the more murderous urges. Which kind of worked but like most forms of dysfunctional escapism, it was short-lived and came with its own pitfalls.

One of her most important roles as a Cleric of Bhaal was assisting in the childbirth of Bhaalspawn (someone has to do it right?) She trained by delivering for members of the cult but the birth of a true Bhaalspawn was a significant event to Bhaal. It only happened twice during her time in the temple. 

Devlin was in fact the one who delivered Orin from Helena. I have it that Devlin is about double Orin’s age and she served as an older sister role in Orin’s life. 

BUT before Orin there was also another. Remember those pesky little pitfalls I mentioned? Pregnancy was one of them.

It made sense to me that with all of Devlin's chaotic horny energy that she got pregnant, full on birthing another Bhaalspawn. This happened pretty early though. It wasn't a part of Bhaal’s plan but he ended up using it to his advantage. She became his pliable puppet during her pregnancy. The urges were the strongest they had ever been because he could also exert control over the spawn inside.

Birth was a bloody fucking nightmare and she did it alone. She tried to flee with the baby but Bhaal personally showed up in a reaper avatar form to recover her and the spawn. He showed Devlin no mercy in his punishment.

This becomes a huge turning point for her. She grew more compliant to Bhaal’s will as a survival mechanism. She internalized a lot of shame and rage - leading her urges to become more violent.

She never learned what happened to the child. As of the events of the game, she has lost all memory of that time. That said, I imagine her life post-tadpole will be about slowly recovering some details from her past, leading to some interesting revelations.

Thanks again for the ask! Her back story is grim but I suppose it's par for the course of a Dark Urge. 😅

[vicmillen]

Random LU/LU au headcanons that I really like:

Four is the actual oldest. Just, the irony of the team's shortest being a man in his mid thirties? Beautiful.

None of them is 'normal', none. They each appeared to be, depending on the occasion, but none of them is normal.

Wild, Time and Legend suffer from the resting bitch face syndrome. Well resting blank face, as I prefer to call it. It's just how they looks when they're relaxed. They do tend to make somewhat of an cold first impression because of it.

Time's age doesn't match his appearance. But he isn't older then he looks, he's younger. He somehow got stuck as a kid after Termina and resulted to magical intervention (again) to grow up. If it overshot by a few years or seven... Well at least he's tall now, and the difference between 18 and 25 isn't that obvious anyway.

Time also get his marks and lost his eye somewhere around that 'second growth spurt'. He never told people how exactly he got them, because he isn't entirely sure either. The whole few weeks around that time are a blurry mess in his memory. Same with his exact age, he doesn't know because he's adopted by a tree, and trees aren't the best at keeping Hylian months.

Wild doesn't have visible scars, like at all, not before the shrine and not after. It is actually unnerving how he heals completely. However the scars does shows up if you use any kind of truth revealing items. Like Legends magic mirror or Time's mask/lens. And Robbie's goggles too. Under those lenses Wild glows with Sheikah tech blue, because there's so many patches that the shrine of resurrection has to make.

On the topic of healing, Wild consumes food the way Master Cycle Zero consumes fuel. He doesn't need to eat physical to heal, just burns them through his slate. It's just one of the things that became his new normal after the shrine. He's part divine beast now...

Wind owns a eye patch and wears black 'eyeliner'. The eye patch is for battle on a ship, to keep one eye acclaimed to darkness in case they need to barge under deck. The black paint under the eyes is for reducing glare from the waves, according to Tetra at least. Obviously he don't wear the eye patch when he's on land, but still.

Wild (and most of the chain too, actually) gets non-verbal when they're stressed. Tho the others have more experience with managing communication, and Wild just, never needed to.

Sky needs that much naps because he sleeps very poorly. Out of everyone in the chain he is the surprising insomniac, staying up well past midnight and sometimes crashing in mid day as a result. Sleeping with others close by helps tho, small mercies.

There's more, oh so much more, but I hit post instead of edit in the drafts (again) so here we are...

[1-800fandomqueen]

Murdered 1462

Vladislaus Dragulia x fem!reader

Part Two

WC : 3.7K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mentions of witchcraft, verbal abuse, murder, canon-typical violence and story-line, pregnancy, death, etc.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

“Born: 1422… Murdered: 1462.”

‘I was born into a noble family, my father was the duke of Hungary.’

Slipping into the more tame selection of your clothing, muting the sound of ruffling cloth as much as possible to not wake you lady-in-waiting, Agnes, who had fallen asleep whilst handling your linens. Once dressed, you throw a shawl over your head in any attempt to hide your identity. You’d been hated by the townspeople ever since you and your father had travelled here for business, the small-minded people of Transylvania already despised the idea of foreigners, but the idea of you and the rumor of the practice you brought along? Most claimed you to be a witch. But alas, even their hatred couldn’t extinguish your spirit.

Sneaking out had never been easier. 

You’d always been an adventurous person, something your father always chastised you for. He believed ladies should sit still, sit quietly, and sit pretty. He had an image to uphold, and he couldn’t have his only child galavanting around town, acting improper. He used to let you do as you please, but when the plague took your mother he became cold, harsh. 

Feeling the cold air hit your skin as you shimmy out the window and down the trellis until your shoes hit the ground with a small thud, making a small promise to yourself to be back before dawn. The entire grounds of the house were fenced in, with guards stationed at the main gate. You couldn’t exit out that way as they would stop you the second they saw you. But unbeknownst to them, you’d discovered a break in a part of the fence. Shimmying out the back, you begin the trek down the hill the house sits on to the village. 

~~~

‘It had been cold when I met him, when he saved me. If he hadn’t shown when he did, I fear I would have been no longer. ‘

“You can run but you can’t hide, witch!” You were growing tired, legs and feet burning with effort. When turning a corner in the marketplace you’d run into someone,  knocking the shawl off your head, revealing your identity. You’d garnered the attention of a group of particularly cruel drunkards, who began to hurl obscenities towards you. And before you could even blink, they began chasing you. You tried to throw them off, hoping all your time exploring would have given you enough of a terrain advantage. But the feeling of someone grabbing the back of your shawl and pulling you to the ground steals all your hope of getting away. 

Pain absorbs your back as you land hard and fast on the cold ground. The early morning dew seeps through your dress as the cold air fogs your breath as it leaves your lungs from the impact, the main perpetrator kneeling on your neck, cutting off your air supply. One of the other men wrapping your feet and hands with rope. Your ears rang as your head snapped back against a rock, vision going foggy. You couldn’t hear what the men were saying to you, only that they were taunting you. You were able to make out the blur of a mass of light coming towards you, and it was only when the heat brushed against your face could you tell it was fire. 

You tried to fight back, to struggle. But with the mans’ knee against your throat, the lack of oxygen was making you weak. As the black spots were so close to entirely filling your vision, the man suddenly lets off of you, and the heat of the fire goes away. You cough, rolling over onto your elbows and knees as you try to regain your breath. You can hear the men pleading to a deep voice for mercy, and then your vision returns in time to watch as they run away.

“Are you alright?” 

‘I didn’t even know his name, he wouldn’t give it to me. All I knew was that I was utterly captivated by him.’

The deep accented voice held your attention entirely, as the man attached to that voice crouched down next to you, a gentle hand placed on your back. “Madam? Are you alright?” Gasping out, feeling like your vocal chords are completely crushed, only able to choke out a small “yes.” The hand on the small of your back stays while one reaches to your left forearm, grabbing it to help you up. And when you stumble backwards, the firm body of the stranger is there to catch you. 

When you’ve regained your breath, and were able to stand on your own, you stepped away from the stranger. “Who are you?” gazing at the man before you and trying to map his features by only what you could see in the barely-there moonlight. You’ve decided by what little of him you could see, that he was still undoubtedly handsome. Slightly taller than you, possibly 6-foot, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes. 

“Who I am is of no importance at the moment,” the deep voice jolting you out of your stupor, “But it is important to know why a group of beţivii (drunks) were attacking a young woman in the forest?” At the mention of your attack you feel the pain seep into your neck, adrenaline finally beginning to wear off. Letting out a cough as your hand comes to gently cup the base of your neck. “Well, Romanians tend to be quite wary of foreigners, and you’ve just bore witness to the fact that they don’t particularly like me.” your tone clipped, pulling a deep chuckle from the man. 

You feel blush overtake your visage as you realize how rude that sounded, embarrassment filling you at your rudeness to the man who saved you. “I’m sorry, I’m usually not this rude I swear, I’m still just a little frightened. Thank you, by the way, for coming to my aid. I’ll ask my father to make sure you’re rewarded for your valiant efforts.” The stranger ignores your apology and thanks, “Your father?” his head tilted to the side, pieces of hair falling across his face, “Yes my father, He’s the Duke of Hungary, we’re here on diplomatic business.” “Hmm, for what?” You falter and cover your mouth, giving the man an apologetic look. You’re relieved when he seems to pick up on what you’re implying, even though he gives you a dark, brief, look of knowing,  “I understand, trade secrets.” He says with a slight smile, holding out his arm. “Here, it’s almost dawn, let me accompany you back to wherever you’re staying.”

And with a small smile, you take his arm. 

‘I didn’t anticipate what would happen when I took his arm. That my world was about to turn, that taking his arm on that cold, damp, morning, signed my death.’ 

It was a lovely walk back, filled with small talk and pleasantries. When you approached the doors to the Governor’s house, you could hear the commotion before you saw it. When the stranger accompanying you opened the door, his right elbow still linked with your left, all the commotion suddenly came to a screeching halt. Several pairs of eyes turned to you, including those of Agnes, then the faces attached to all those eyes paled when they saw the man whose arm you still held. When your father called you towards him, a dark look in his eye, you felt the pit of your stomach drop. “Step away from him. “ Your father beckoned, he hadn’t looked this grim since the doctor in Hungary told him of your mothers fate. 

Swallowing in nervousness you look up to the man accompanying you only to find him already looking down at you, a rather downcast look in his eyes. Your father calls again, walking towards you. “Step away. Now.” You stare long and hard at the man by your side until he gently nudges you towards the others in the room. You failed to notice until you looked up that most of the guards in the room had their weapons aimed towards him. Stepping away from him you’re immediately met by your lady in waiting coming and sweeping you up the stairs. “Lock her in her room Agnes, until I call for her.” You throw one last glance towards the man to find him still staring at you. Turning the hall, Agnes gently pushes you into your room, and before she shuts the door behind you, the angry conversation from the foyer floods into the room. “What were you doing with my daughter, Impaler.”

‘I suppose it wasn’t a bad situation, after all I was quite taken with him, even if I didn’t know who he was at first. I didn’t fear him, even though everyone else did.’

It was what felt like hours before you heard a key being inserted in the lock of the door. Bounding up from the bed to be greeted by the sight of two guards when the door swung open. You weren’t able to utter a single word when you were grabbed by both arms and dragged away from your room, well actually the room belonged to your Stranger, in your time locked in you had discovered from Agnes that Vlad was the Military Governor of Romania, and that you and all the diplomats were currently residing in his house. 

Ironic how things work out. 

 When you asked where you were being taken you were met with utter silence, the guards only tightening their grip after you tried to pull away. Only feeling ease when the door to what you recognize to be the master study of the house was yanked open and you were promptly thrown in. 

Glancing up at the long table to see other diplomats lining the perimeter, your father and who you've come to know as Vlad the Impaler, gracing the far end of the table. “What’s going on?” questioned towards your father even though your eyes are locked with Vlads. Your father says nothing to you as he quietly sends off the others in the room, leaving only the three of you. You only move when he quirks a finger in a come-hither gesture, your eyes glued to your socked feet as you cross your hands in front of your legs. “You understand the reason for my business here,” your father says, “to create a treaty with him” word spoken with venom, “to prevent him from causing any more destruction and massacre off to the West” Saying nothing, only giving a slight nod, still looking down. “Well everything was lined up perfectly, but now, the Voivode (governor) has added a new term to the treaty. Your hand in marriage.”

Feeling your eyes bulge out of their sockets as your head flies up, immediately shouting out “What?” the glare your father sticks on you prevents you from saying anymore. “You heard me girl.” grabbing your arm as he drags you to the farthest corner of the room. “And as much as I hate to do this, you will marry him. You’re reaching your twentieth year and still haven’t married, and I will not jeopardize the well-state of Hungary just because you decide to be stupid and prance around in the town unsupervised.” Your jaw dropping in shock, eyes welling with tears. This man before you was not your father, in all fairness he hadn’t been much of a father after your mother died but his words still hurt nonetheless. 

“Your grace, I would like a moment alone with your daughter.” your father turns red-faced, the beginnings of a protest forming in his mind, “It wasn’t a suggestion.” One elegant finger pointing towards the door, “Leave. Now.” huffing, your father pushes past you and storms towards the door, the loud sound of it banging closed behind you causes you to jump, a small cry of fear leaving your lips. 

Now it was just you and him. With your head still down you didn’t notice his approach until perfectly polished shoes fell just within your line of sight. Your name being gently called as a rough hand softly finds itself upon the back of your elbow. “I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.” His right hand coming to your chin and tipping your head up, Blue eyes coming into contact with yours once again. “I hope you know I do not wish to cause you distress with my proposal.” You nod profusely, muttering out a soft repeating of “I know.” The same hand on your chin moves up to wipe the tears you didn’t know had fallen. For a man who had killed thousands with those same hands, when he was near it was nothing but gentle touches. “Our marriage doesn’t have to be immediate, I’m not immune to the benefits of a little light courtship, however I am reaching an age no bachelor ever should.” Words spoken with a joking lilt, Vlad briefly hunching over. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of his horrible interpretation of an old person. 

The two of you are launched into a comfortable silence, and you realize that with all that you’ve learned about this man in the past however many hours didn’t scare you as much as it probably should’ve. And with this newfound bravery and lack of fear, you confidently reach and grab the hand that’s resting on your cheek and with as much courage as you could muster, and you accept his proposal. 

‘Being with him wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. He was nothing but kind to me, nothing but gentle touches and words all throughout our marriage.’

With the treaty being settled and your newfound courtship with a certain military general, everyone left back to their home territories, including your father. Him practically trading you off to sell his own skin didn’t hurt as much as it used too. He left quickly and with promise that most of your possessions still in Hungary would be sent down to Romania. You kept Agnes with you, after all she’d been one of your closest confidants since your mother had died. When the spring of 1460 came along, it brought your twentieth birthday and marriage ceremony with it. 

It was a truly gorgeous ceremony. While not filled with pomp and circumstance, it was graceful, elegant. Your pursuer wasn’t exactly poorer, and you were able to have the most gorgeous gown you’d thought you’d ever seen. You had Agnes of all people walk you down the aisle, seeing as your father hadn’t thought to show even though invitations had been sent weeks in advance. You had been introduced to an estranged number of people at your wedding. Your husbands’ father, Valerious, who served a group of Holy Knights. He proved to be a rather cynical man, yet seemed to be nice once you’d gotten to know him. 

You couldn’t help but notice, however, a man who always hovered near the back. He was tall, dark hair, covered in black clothing, however you could never make out his face. You knew he was watching you, even when separated from Vlad you could feel the glare of someone constantly burning into the back of your neck. Everytime you garnered your husband's attention to question him about the man, he seemed to have disappeared, swallowed by the shadows he hid in. 

Marriage to one of the most dangerous men on this side of the Balkans wasn’t bad. He always treated you with a gentle hand, was never harsh, never cruel, and he never-ever raised his voice. When questioned on his docile behavior his reasoning behind it being that you were his wife, and you should never need to fear him. 

When you came to find out that he didn’t live in the palace-like house you were staying in when you first arrived in Romania you were slightly shocked. No, instead he lived in a citadel, a castle near the Arges River; Poenari. And what a beautiful place it was. You much preferred the secludism of this house than the one in the town. The view of the mountains and the fresh air they produced was always a reprieve. Your room was in the highest level of one of the castle spires, with a large window parallel to your bed, so you always woke to the stunning view of the sunrise. 

You were however surprisingly lonely most of the time. As it would turn out, being someone of extreme military prowess took a lot of your husband's time away from you. If it weren’t for Agnes and the few estranged workers who milled around the estate you fear you’d have gone mad. When he wasn’t busy trying to take over most of Europe, he was a very caring man. Giving you luxurious gifts, taking you on trips. His love took you into the deepest throes of passion, both physically and metaphorically. 

You truly couldn’t ask for a better husband.

‘It was raining that night, not quite cold enough for it to snow. I can’t remember that much, I just remember how scared I was.’

The rain crashed against your window, thunder and lightning taking the sky ever-so-often, Vlad wasn’t in bed even though it was quite late. He was having a very crucial meeting, about what you didn’t know, he’d only come to your room to tell you not to wait on him, to go on and sleep, and to bestow a small kiss to you and your rotund stomach. 

After almost two years of marriage, the summer of 1462 blessed you with news of a child. With Poenari being so far from any doctors, your dear Agnes stepped in as a midwife of sorts, making sure you were healthy; sleeping and eating well. She said that springtime would be when your child would finally make their appearance into the world, and you were eaten alive with both anticipation and excitement. 

But with your pregnancy came all sorts of changes. For example, it might have been the dead of winter, but you felt as if you were burning alive. Dressed in nothing but one of your husband's shirts and your undergarments you couldn’t find it in yourself to combat the heat. Grabbing the side of the mattress and your bedside-table, you heave yourself off the bed, reaching for your thin silk robe.

You failed to notice the dark figure in the corner of your room. 

Shuffling over to the other side of the room you go to feel around the box of matches off one of the bookshelves, to relight the lamp on your side-table. Once you find what you’re looking for, you turn on your heel right as lightning strikes and lights up the room. It was for only a moment, but that split-second of light was all you needed to see the man standing in the corner of the room closest to your door. You almost think it’s your husband playing a trick on you, but the rational part of your brain understands that Vlad would never do that to you, especially in your current condition. With the man so close to the door you surely can’t run, so you do the only other thing you could think of.

Scream and hope your husband or a guard hears you in time.

You didn’t even register how loud your scream was, your body going into fight or flight mode the second the man lunges forwards. You bolt as quickly as you could to your Husbands’ side of the bed to grab a dagger he keeps next to him off his side-table. You turn to stab your assailant as he reaches to grab you. He clutches your wrist faster than you could keep up with, pushing it back and trying to twist your own wrist towards you. Crying out as it reaches an angle it shouldn’t, you propel your knee forward into his groin which gives you enough time to run around the other side of the bed and towards the door, reveling in his groan of pain.

As you work your way past the bed you feel the air around the back of your head shift and the next sound you hear is that of your window breaking. Ignoring the glass that flies all over the room, you crank open your bedroom door, screaming at the top of your lungs for help as you try to begin to make your way down the spiral staircase. It’s only when you hear voices shouting from below do you feel a hand wrap its way around the back of your neck, yanking you back up the stairs. You’re dragged through your room and brought to where your window once was, glass shards digging into your feet. Lightning strikes once more as you’re flipped around, back leaning out into the rainy abyss, and you’re able to get a better glimpse of your attacker.

It’s the man from your wedding. 

Right as you reach this epiphany the door to your room slams open, your husband entering. He calls your name, hand lifting in the air and weakly falling back. “Don’t do this Gabriel,” he pleads, “Please let go of my wife.” The mystery man, Gabriel, pushes you further, your back bending at an awkward angle out and into the chilling rain. “I’m sorry,” your assailant murmurs, “But you broke the oath.” 

And with that, he pushes you out the window. 

You can’t tell if that sound is you screaming or if it’s the wind rushing past your head. Your hair whips around your face as rain projectiles onto you like tiny bullets. The last thing you see is your Husband leaning out the window, gazing at you in defeated sorrow, and a gloved hand coming around, plunging a dagger into his chest. 

You’re not quite sure how you die. Whether your body slammed onto the hard ground hundreds of feet below your bedroom, or if you land in the Arges. All you remember is that brief bit of searing pain,

And then everything went dark. 

~

Originally posted December 2nd, 2021.

[oliveroctavius]

Doesn't the decision to get involved with Sam Bullit prove Gwen was a bad person?

Hey, I've been looking for an excuse to post about this. The Sam Bullit arc isn't really about Gwen (though it certainly reveals some things about her character). The Sam Bullit arc is about racist dogwhistles and why they work.

ASM #92 pg 19: "I will bring law and order to the people of this great city! I will show no mercy to the anarchists and all others who would destroy our way of life!"

Bullit's platform is not openly white supremacist in the sense that it doesn't overtly mention race. He talks about laws and safety in a way meant to appeal to rich white voters. The true meaning should be clear to anyone with any political awareness (who are those others and what is our way of life?), so why does this rhetoric attract "otherwise rational" people?

ASM #91 pg 6: "I want to volunteer to help you--in your campaign for DA. Because--I want you to bring Spider-Man to justice!" "We need strength--strength to punish those who mock the law! I will use such strength to bring Spider-Man and others like him to justice! I will not betray your trust."

Gwen makes her decision to back Bullit on the way home from her father's funeral. There's a very real phenomenon of tough-on-crime bills named after (white) murder victims. The grief of families who feel like justice hasn't been served is a powerful tool to push harsh laws while smothering any criticism as "disrespectful" to the victims. What’s in a Name? An Empirical Analysis of Apostrophe Laws, 2020.

Bullit showed up at George Stacy's funeral with this exact goal in mind, and when Spider-Man "kidnaps" Gwen later, he leverages the media obsession with white girls in danger for his cause. Gwen is a pawn, but she did offer her help first. Her desire for closure is very human and her short-sighted reactionary faith in "the law" is very white.

Oddly absent from your "proven bad person" takeaway is J. Jonah Jameson. The Bugle lends Bullit a platform to make Gwen's personal tragedy a political talking point. JJJ has the ~Black best friend~ excuse and everything, and he still blows past red flags like crazy.

ASM #91 pg 7: "Maybe they were better days than now! At least we had law and order then." "Yeah--and lynch mobs, and bread lines, and Uncle Toms..." "Come off it, Robbie! What's wrong with a man standing for law and order, anyway?" "Maybe it just depends on whose law--and what kind of order you're talkin' about, man!"

(Another point of this arc: marginalized groups learn to recognize dogwhistles pretty quickly for survival reasons. If they tell you something is a dogwhistle and you don't see it yet, look closer.)

ASM #92 pg 9: "Parker's story just served to open Jameson's eyes--but I've kept a dossier on you. I haven't been city editor all these years for nothing! I know where your support comes from. I know about the lunatic hate groups who are backing you. I know what you really mean by law and order!"

Late in the campaign, the Bugle switches sides. This scene tends to be described as JJJ giving the racists what-for, but the moment is truly Robbie's. (Note that it took Peter getting roughed up for Jameson to take this seriously!) JJJ can yell at Bullit all he likes without consequences, but Robbie is kidnapped and threatened by white supremacists in retaliation. It's Robbie's determination to speak up that eventually puts Bullit out of the running for good.

The Bullit arc isn't there to sort characters by Bad Person and Good Person. Neither Gwen nor JJJ have to personally hate black people for their self-centered sense of safety to be weaponized by a racist agenda. This is a Stan Lee PSA about masked bigotry and how it might appeal to you even if you consider yourself a Good Person.

But for some ~mysterious~ reason, Gwen's brief agreement and Jameson's brief rejection are the only parts of these two issues I ever see brought up, with Robbie's major role not mentioned at all. Some ideas fit more neatly than others into smug ship-war quote tweets and anon asks, it seems.

[highvern]

Track 3: Cyber Sex - Doja Cat

“We freak on the cam, love at first sight, just a link to the 'Gram”

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: camgirl!reader, whipped/loser!yunho, flirting, strip tease, cyber sex, butt plug, sir kink

Length: ~900

Note: finally finished. hate it! next is yeo and idk when it'll be posted

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!

Mixtape Series: Late Nights Masterlist

main masterlist

Connecting imurangel with uknowme…

The black screen buffers into a dark bedroom. Or what you imagine is a bedroom given the layout; posters haphazardly hung on the walls, a basket of laundry off in the background. All warmed with a soft glow of the lamp resting on the bed side table just in the corner of view.

“Hi,” you smile at the camera, observing the man illuminating your screen.

He’s cute. Much cuter than you expected. The few times you auctioned off a private show like tonight you’d been met with men old enough to be your grandfather or guys who’d never seen the inside of a shower stall. But money was money and you put up with it as long as the deposit cleared your bank account. 

User uknowme is already defying your usual expectations. Dimples and a shy grin answer you. His ears burn red already and his lips fail to release any of the words they silently stretch around. 

The twitch of your lips is visible in your viewfinder; a genuine smile at his nerves before you throw him a bone. “What's your name, cutie?” 

“Ugh… it's Yunho. I’m Yunho.”

You roll the letters around your tongue, “Yunho.”

The speakers echo his sharp inhale at the sound of you tasting his name. 

Leaning back on your hands, you press your chest forward and draw attention to the low cut of your top. He specified this outfit, or at least some version of it. “Whatever you’re comfortable in.” Most men want you in some cheap lingerie or a shoddy halloween costume. Easy, simple, straight forward. A nuisance to wear but for what they paid you’d suffer the infernal straps or itchy lace.

But tonight, you stressed more about it than ever before because no one extended such consideration. And that was before you knew who was on the other side of such an innocuous request. The silky white pajama set you settled on at the last minute was perfect. 

At least, Yunho seemed to think so. 

“I..ugh…like your top?”

“Thanks! It's a little different than what I usually get to wear.”

“Yeah, some of the stuff on stream seems like a pain.”

Puckering your lips in a pout, you reply. “You don’t like it?”

“No! I mean yeah I like it I just— you look good no matter what you have on.”

The bumbling nervousness is delicious, especially from someone it seems so out of place on. For the first time, part of you wishes he was in your room. At the mercy of your teasing touches, where you can watch the blush bloom across his face as you goad him; maybe see if it bleeds down his chest as well.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you’re beautiful.”

Now you blush. No one had this effect on you. At least not in this space where people eagerly shower you in cheap compliments in hopes you’ll reward them with your body. And yes, Yunho did pay for a private show but something about him screams earnesty; like you’re really that pretty to him and he’d be happy to just talk even if you were covered from head to toe with a paper bag over your head.

And it makes you want to surprise him.

“Yunho,” you revel in the way he squirms just from his own name, “do you wanna see the rest of my outfit?”

Yunho nods, eyes tracing the strap of your tank top skating down the curve of your arm. 

Jumping to your feet, you step back in the frame. The satin shorts are just as revealing as any pair of underwear you own. He can glimpse more skin that peaks in and out of view as you give a slow spin; the crease of your thigh, the curve of your ass, and a peak of white lace panties melting against your skin. You can feel Yunho’s eyes take in what you flaunt for him, as if he’s in the room with you and not however many miles away in his own solitude.

“I picked it out for you.” You chime over your shoulder.

The smile on your face is sweet on the surface but sadistic satisfaction runs deep at how so few words fluster him so easily. And his inability to do anything other than provide a choked reply only deepens the ravine.

Cute.

“Do you wanna see the rest of it?”

You're at a proverbial fork in the road. You could take off your top and let Yunho see your bare chest first or you could turn, take off your shorts, and show him the jeweled buttplug he listed as one of his kinks. His reactions make you eager, hungry to see how far you can push him and what you’ll be rewarded with when Yunho reaches his limit.

And the final nail in the coffin, “Sir?”

There's a pause, long enough that you doubt you read the questionnaire right. But Yunho brings himself back up to speed in no time.

Leaning forward, his entire demeanor changes. The tips of his ears still burn red but his face morphs into a controlled impassivity. If you examine him close up, you're sure you’d see the remaining anxiety linger just below the surface. Laying in wait to take over at the first misstep. But you aren’t about to let that happen when you’re just starting to get a taste of what hides beneath such a cute face.

“Show me, pretty girl.”

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[its-a-snood-silly]

An AU, where Wednesday wasn’t healed by Goody after being stabbed by Joseph Crackstone

(rest of this story is posted on my wattpad!)

*For background context*

After helping her win the Poe Cup, Enid had begun to grow an attachment to Wednesday. She had always tried to brush it off, saying it was just a normal friendship attachment feeling, but she knew deep down that it was more than that. Wednesday could feel it too, but would never allow herself to embrace the feeling. The two spent the days leading up to the night of the battle ignoring their feelings towards each-other.

_________________________________________________

The dagger comes at Wednesday so quickly that she doesn't have time to recoil or react to Crackstone's sudden motion. "Now burn in the eternal fires of Hell," Crackstone spits in Wednesday's face, his expression darkened with such a deep, evil presence that makes even Wednesday feel taken-aback.

A gasp escapes from Wednesday's lungs as he twists the blade in further. Hot. Burning, no— Seething pain. Excruciating.

Crackstone retracts the blade, causing Wednesday's body to protest; Every alarm sounding in her nervous system that lethal injury has occurred. Panic perks up every goosebump that her body is capable of producing, bile rising to the back of her throat.

Wednesday stumbles back, her spine eventually finding a wall to collapse into. She slides down the wall until she slumps onto the cold floor of the crypt that will soon be known as her final resting place. Black specks begin to cloud Wednesday's vision.

"Sweet dreams, Wednesday!" she hears Thornhill call out, and in that moment Wednesday swears she could kill Thornhill with the anger in her gaze alone, if she wasn't suffering this damnation that is mortality.

Dying doesn't feel nearly as exhilarating as Wednesday had imagined. This feeling is cold, nothing like the sweet embrace she had once pictured. The black specks in her vision are growing as Wednesday begins to think of what this means.

She was meant to be the savior of Nevermore. She was the one to finally piece together the puzzle of all the recent murders, to have found what was hiding at the Gate's mansion, to have the Master of the Hyde revealed. All of it meant nothing now. Thornhill will win. Nevermore will be destroyed, exactly how this pathetic pilgrim envisioned so many years ago. Heat rises up the back of Wednesday's neck and into her face at the thought. She grits her teeth. For a second, the black specks subside.

Wednesday thinks of Eugene. Of how there would be no justice for him. Everything he went through because of her. The heat in her face turns into what feels like a boiling point.

Finally, of all people, Wednesday thinks of Enid. How Wednesday put her through such deception to go to the Gate's mansion with her to look for some sort of evidence. How she put Enid in danger when Tyler tried to chase them out as the Hyde. The memory of Enid leaving Wednesday in their dorm room alone out of anger replays in Wednesday's mind.

The boiling anger spills over, and Wednesday lets out a scream. A shockwave of nerve rushes through her body, and the pain in her abdomen lowers to a manageable level. She stands on shaky legs, letting out another scream as the stab wound begs for mercy from the adrenaline fueling her to get up. She stands fully, giving her lungs time to catch up. It all hits Wednesday at once. The inconsolable rage in every atom of her being.

She picks up her legs, putting one foot in front of the other, the adrenaline flowing at full force. She can feel the blood seeping through her clothes, running down her legs, but in this moment, it doesn't matter. Too many people deserve justice over everything that's happened at this school, and Wednesday fully intends to serve it.

Wednesday breaks out into a sprint, her feet pounding on the ground of the woods in the direction of Nevermore. But something doesn't feel right. She slows down and pauses, trying to make sense of what feels off. Then it hits her — literally. Wednesday is thrown up against a tree by her neck. It's the Hyde. Tyler.

It opens its mouth to let out a growl, but is cut off by the sudden impact of another being slamming into it. The Hyde loses its grasp on Wednesday and she falls, hard, onto the ground beneath them. A shooting pain goes up and around her abdomen. Wednesday lets out a harsh breath. She has to refocus her vision, threatened by the black specks once again, but once it refocuses, Wednesday is shocked by the being that has come to her rescue.

It's not some being, it's a wolf. A werewolf, with pink and blue coloring streaking its fur. Her eyes widen. "Enid?" she whispers, the werewolf meeting her gaze. Enid's eyes soften. In this moment, Wednesday feels a sudden feeling of what she can only describe as comfort. But the feeling is cut short by the memory of the situation they're currently in.

Wednesday looks up to see the Hyde sprinting full force at Enid. "Enid!" Wednesday yells just as the Hyde slams into Enid. The two of them go into a full attack against one another. "Enid..." Wednesday thinks, a sense of worry rising in her chest. As much worry as it brings her, Wednesday knows that Enid can handle this. She has to.

Wednesday hesitates, but finally wills her legs to pick up the sprint again. "I have to get back to the school!" Wednesday yells, hoping Enid understands why she has to flee. She can't think about it, about her. All of the suppressed emotions that've been building between her and Enid are starting to burst at the seams.

"She'll be okay. She has to be," Wednesday whispers to herself as she trudges on towards the school, the black specks threatening once again.

*The scene of Wednesday defeating Crackstone plays out, Wednesday growing paler than her usual from the blood loss, but the adrenaline in her body keeping her strong and upright.*

The entirety of Nevermore students are huddled together in the woods, where Bianca and the other sirens led them. Enid soon meets up with them, in nothing but her pink coat, the only article of clothing that managed to survive the transformation. She's covered in blood, her face cut up from the claws of the Hyde. A hard fight, her first fight, but a fight that she'd won. She was able to escape, leaving Tyler unconscious.

She looks around, looking for the familiar face that had been the reasoning for her wolfing out. "Where's Wednesday?" Enid lets out, unable to hide the concern in her voice. Everybody exchanges glances with one another, but nobody has an answer for her question. That can only mean one thing, right?

Enid lets out a gasp, taking steps back while trying not to think the unthinkable. Tears threaten to fall from her eyes. In that moment, she wanted to collapse onto the ground and cry. "It was all for nothing," she thinks. Just as she feels her knees beginning to fold, something causes her to look up. Her heart skips a beat.

In the shadows of the trees, a shadow emerges. Slowly, the shadow develops features. Two braids, a small but strong frame, and the darkest eyes you could imagine. Wednesday!

Enid quickly runs towards her, knocking her entire body into Wednesday, not caring that she's committing the unthinkable by touching her. Enid gives Wednesday the tightest hug she can muster.

"Enid."

"Wednesday!"

"Ee...n..nid....."

"Wednesday?"

Enid looks up, immediately sensing something is wrong. Then she sees it. Any life that Wednesday could've possibly had in her face prior to today was now gone. Pale couldn't even begin to describe it. Her eyes are no longer their usual cutting darkness. They're glazed over and unable to focus on anything. Her lips are so white they could almost be blue.

"Wednesday? Are you..." Enid starts to question, but her eyes peer down enough to notice how blood-soaked every square inch of fabric on Wednesday's body is. "Oh my god-" she exclaims, her eyes then catching on the rip in the middle of Wednesday's uniform. "Oh my god!" Enid screams, realizing the rip has to be from a knife.

Enid felt Wednesday's weight fully falling into hers, causing Enid's reflex to catch Wednesday by the back of her neck and the bend of her knees. There is no resistance. The entirety of Wednesday's weight is in Enid's arms, with Wednesday now unconscious in Enid's embrace.

"HELP! PLEASE OH MY GOD, HELP!" Enid screams loudly, her voice cracking under the strain.

Yoko and Bianca rush over first, offering to help with the weight of carrying Wednesday, but Enid refuses. Tears were fully streaming down her face at this point. "Please just come with me to take her to the infirmary, PLEASE!" she cries.

Bianca and Yoko share a worried glance with one another, but comply as they begin following Enid in the direction of the school, their hands offering support by resting on Enid's shoulders.

A tired graveyard shift nurse is sitting at the front desk of the infirmary. "Do you kids know what time it is? I'm sure you all just drank too much alcohol as per usual, just go ba—" the nurse stumbles on the end of her sentence the second she finally glances up at the bloodied students standing in front of her. "Ohh... Oh! Oh my. Oh my!" the nurse exclaims while rushing out of her chair and lunging to hit the "Staff Assistance" button on the wall. A bell chirps above, causing a group of four other infirmary workers to rush in.

Enid begins to sob harder than she ever has before. "Please, please help her. I need her to be okay, please help!" Enid sobs so hard she begins to gag.

Two nurses lift Wednesday out of Enid's arms and swiftly onto a gurney. Another nurse quickly moves a trash can to catch the vomit that comes out of Enid's mouth quicker than Enid can even process that she's getting sick.

The repeated motion of retching cause a deep exhaustion to wash over Enid's body, and she grows weak in the knees. "Don't you go out on me too. Here, sit," Nurse 2 commands while pulling a wheelchair behind Enid. Or maybe it's Nurse 3. Enid couldn't tell anymore. Everything has become a blur.

"Is this what shock feels like?" She wonders to herself. Enid notices the room is starting to darken. "Wednesd... wenssd...." Enid tries to call out, but the exhaustion of everything that's happened takes over, pulling her into the darkness.

[teffiyx]

let's talk about mouthwashing!

spoilers for the game. duh.

trigger warning for abuse, SA, death.

second out of three posts baby! this MAY be a hot take but i am speaking my TRUTH !!!! these posts are just purely fun for me to write, its not meant to spark anything bad. i hope everyone is civil about this no matter what opinions you hold about this. first post

before i start a few disclaimers: i am rather new to mouthwashing so i do not know EVERYTHING. im just talking about my own interpretation, if there's any missing details pls inform me!

If Anya told Swansea about her pregnancy he would've took action on Jimmy!

i don't think this would happen. not because Swansea is awful or he was disregarding Anya. but this whole situation is not black and white. his character is just as complex as everyone else in the Tulpar.

Swansea's mercy-killing on Daisuke

so many people say that Swansea will get Jimmy for what he did to Anya instantly if Anya told him first instead of Curly but that is simply not true. because we already saw what he would do. how he handled it in the game when she told him post-crash would how he act if she told him first before the crash. the nasty look, the judgement. he didn't straight up confront him but ever since he knew, he was quite standoff-ish with Jimmy.

why is that?

from what i know, people understand Swansea's decision to end Daisuke's life. but the reason why i'm bringing this up is because people can understand this situation with Daisuke yet they couldn't understand Anya's. they constantly say things that aren't true but accepted how Daisuke's went.

and why then? why is it that it is in that scene, when Jimmy go to grab a gun, is when Swansea decided to take Jimmy's life?

why can you understand Swansea's decision made for Daisuke but not Anya? why did he choose at the very end, after Daisuke is gone, to reveal he knows what Jimmy did to Anya?

you can argue all you want, saying i don't know you(that is true, i don't), that what i am assuming you would do is wrong, then yes. you can argue that. because at the end of the day, i am just some random person, somewhere in the planet, writing about an indie horror game on the internet. but you know yourself best, so ask yourself this.

you have to realise, not everything is black and white. you say that you'd be the first to confront Jimmy if you were in this situation where Anya tells YOU about what happened. almost anyone would. but i will believe without a doubt, that if given this same situation, you will do the same as Swansea did. why? because we're human. if something like this happened in real life, where you're given this option to choose, on what to do, you'd probably panic, you'd probably never think that would happen.

would you truly go out of your way to confront a man you recently know to be dangerous, while in a place where you don't have a way to escape or protect the vulnerable people within this man's reach?

[eternallytxt]

RED LISTED || Chapter 1

Author: Eros

Warnings and themes: futuristic au, dystopian au, non-idol au, asshole!Johnny, female reader, blood, violence, cussing, some suggestive themes, angst, some fluff, featuring some other idols.

Words: 3500

Summary: In high-tech dystopian SoKo, the right to trial by court is obsolete. Instead, criminals are marked as Red-Listed in society. When your mother frames you for murder and you become Red-Listed, you're forced to live life on the streets and desperately evade law enforcement. In a turn of events, you meet Johnny, another framed criminal, and leader of a group of rebels fighting to get justice. Along with Johnny's seemingly cold and unempathetic exterior, he appears to hold secrets about your past. Will you be able to become closer to the temperamental leader, or will you be thrown back into the unforgiving city with no hope of clearing your name?

Playlist: Cyberpunk - ATEEZ, I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton, Villain - TRENDZ, GODS - NewJeans, Runaway (U&I) - Galantis, Odd Eye - Dreamcatcher, Ash - SEVENTEEN, Sayonara Wild Heart - Daniel Olsén

Author Note: Hi everyone. It's been years since I posted the teaser to Red Listed. I've decided that I want to try focusing on my creative writing more recently, so I've been going back through my old WIPs and working on them when I can.

I would also like to warn you that the updates will NOT BE SCHEDULED.

I hope you guys like Red Listed!

At this rate, you were going to be caught. You weren’t very athletic at all, and despite the adrenaline keeping your boots slapping the pavement, your lungs and muscles were screaming for mercy. It didn’t help that the wounds from the LAW officers’ light phasers were throbbing and making spots dance in your vision. You skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a group of businessmen. The light bullets whizzing past your head were coming too close, and you instinctively duck your head as you barrel on through the mass of people.

It was times like this that you cursed your mother for what you had become. You had a normal life. You were a college student. The only things you had to worry about were catching the bullet trains and making sure your assignments were completed on time. When you walked into your house after class and saw that puddle of blood on the floor of your living room, none of that mattered anymore. Not when you screamed over your sister’s lifeless body. Not when your mom came in shortly after and accused you of taking a sibling squabble too far. None of it mattered when your mom pressed the emergency button and you took off running into the streets of Neo Chicago. All you had to worry about, now, was staying in the shadows and evading the LAW. 3 months later, It was working out fantastic.

The chase had led you to the west side of the city, and as you looked around, you noticed that upper-class civilians and familiar skyscrapers had dwindled. Scary-looking criminals in all black, half of them with the signature “RED-LISTED” lettering floating above their heads, peered at you from the sidewalks. They were probably pissed you brought the cops into their neighborhood. Just great, you thought. If you’re lucky enough to escape the officers hot on your trail, you’ll still need to worry about the criminals coming after you.

You rounded another corner, pumping your legs in hopes of giving you a headway from your pursuers so you could duck into an alley. And it worked. A look over your shoulder revealed only loiterers. You let out a short breathy ha! and faced forward. Your glee didn’t last for long.

Too quick to process, a hand grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you into a dark alley. Before you could let out a scream, a hand slapped over your mouth and an arm went around your waist, pulling your back into a hard body. 

“Shh. Be quiet or they’ll hear you.” a male voice whispered in your ear. You felt a click and something sharp pierce your neck. The alley was immediately swallowed by darkness, the red glow from your “RED-LISTED” sign disappearing. 

You couldn’t move. The tight hand over your mouth prevented that. All you could do was listen to the blood rushing through your ears and your thoughts racing. You were going to be killed, or even worse. You were sure of that. One of the criminals you saw earlier had you in a tight hold, and you were too weak to fight back. 

“Stop struggling,” the voice hissed in your ear again.

On one hand, you could stop struggling and let this unknown assailant drag you away and have his way with you. On the other, you could try to break free, only to run right into the LAW’s hands. After weighing your options, you stopped struggling and relaxed into the guy’s hold. You would let this guy keep you, but as soon as the officers were out of sight, you would break free and escape.

Multiple rapid footsteps echoed in from the street, paired with yelling and radio beeps. You watched in disbelief as the officers ran past the alley opening, their footsteps fading out. After a moment, a sigh of relief escaped your mouth, misting your assailant’s hand. You managed to escape again, but how long would that last you?

“Be quiet. I’m going to see if they’re gone.” The hands never left your body, and you were dragged to the mouth of the alley. The assailant peered his head around the corner and looked down the street. From the minimal lighting, you could only see his side profile for a brief minute. A murmur of, “Good. They’re gone,” escaped his lips, and the tight hold on you was released.

You didn’t even hesitate before attempting to book it down the alley. Savior be damned. You only were able to make it a few steps before two arms wrapped tightly around your middle, a cry of pain leaving your lips and he pressed into the wound on your hip.

“Will you shut the fuck up! I’m trying to help!” You struggled desperately, only stopping when his hold tightened. Tears pricked your eyes, and only the sound of the two of you panting could be heard bouncing off the brick walls.

“Don’t run off.” his warning made you shiver, and you were soon let go. You dropped, wincing when your knees collided with the hard concrete. “Jesus. You’re insane, you know that?” A small light surrounded you, and you slowly brought your head up, only for your eyes to finally meet with your crouched assailant. 

From what you could see, he was fairly attractive. He was young, probably not much older than you, with medium-length, chestnut-brown fringe laying over his eyes. Plump lips sat in an annoyed scowl on his tanned face, glowing from the small light. He held a small, electro-lighter in his gloved fist, his cold sharp eyes narrowed at your figure.

“I was trying to get you from the cops and this is how you thank me? Running off and beating the shit out of me?” His voice was no longer in a whisper, but now an aggravated shout. You panted in response, unable to escape the tightness in your lungs and the pain from your injuries, which had now tripled.

“How was…I supposed to know…trying to help me?” This man had the audacity to call you insane when only moments ago, he had grabbed you like one of his kidnapping victims. How the hell were you supposed to react? The unknown man sighed and stood up, taking you aback at how tall he was. 

“What did you expect me to do? Walk out and be like ‘Hey, come here! Let me rescue you!’? Be pissed at me all you want, but I saved your ass. If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve been a bloody imprint on the road.” You tried to push yourself up but only managed to irritate your wounds further, making you collapse on your side. The man quickly dropped down beside you, pulling your arms from your abdomen and spitting out a “Shit.” All you could do was whimper pathetically, squeezing your eyelids shut when black spots danced in your vision. “Your wounds are severe. We need to get you help or you aren’t going to make it.” you cried out again when you felt arms slide under you and jerk you upwards, cradling you into his chest. As he took off down the alley, your vision went in and out of focus. You were only vaguely aware of the man’s hushed whispers. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.” Your eyes shut despite his pleas, the echo of his footsteps and words fading with your consciousness.

You were only able to get bits and pieces of the world outside of your unconscious state as you faded in and out. At one point, you thought maybe you were in a hospital. A harsh light penetrated through your eyelids, and a lot of muffled voices surrounded you, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying. The pain had gotten so immense at some point that you couldn’t feel anything anymore. You were probably dying. You hoped that it would just be done and over with soon.

When you fully came to, you couldn’t open your eyes. Your entire body felt heavy like only your gravitational pull had been kicked up. You simply lay there, taking in your sensory-deprived state. The steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the room as your hearing returned to you. 

When you mustered the strength to peel open your eyelids, you expected to be greeted by some sort of hospital room. Instead of white walls and a holo-flower vase by your bedside, grey, cinderblock walls surrounded you. The room was relatively dark, too. Probably due to the lack of the window. Despite this, It kind of looked like a normal room in a small clinic. Were you in some sort of basement?  I guess that guy sold me for parts. 

There wasn’t a soul around. Nothing but an empty chair in the corner of the room. Sitting and listening for a moment revealed the only sounds being the quiet beeping of the monitor to your left and your own heartbeat. No muffled voices outside the door, no steady hum of a security system keeping you locked in the room. Maybe you could escape. You looked at the IV tubes sticking out from your left arm and began yanking them out. You winced at the sting and waited for a moment for any sort of alarm to go off. Nothing. 

You hopped off the bed. It was now you noticed you were no longer wearing the torn and bloody clothes you last remember wearing. Instead, you were dressed in a nude-colored monochrome set, a sort of high-neck sports bra-like top that had a zipper in the middle, and skin-tight shorts that ended mid-thigh. The lack of covering allowed you to see the bandages that wrapped around your midriff and upper arms. Your feet were bare, allowing the coolness of the concrete beneath you to seep in.

You only made it a couple of steps toward the door before a voice resounded behind you, making you jump.

“You still need rest.” You wheeled around, to find a woman standing in the middle of the room. She seemed around your age, perhaps younger, with a pretty, slender face. Her skin was like porcelain, adding to her doll-like appearance. Light brown eyes stared back at you.

What the hell? You were sure that no one was in the room besides you. The only door out was the one you had just tried to escape from, so where–

“Please come back to the bed. In the meantime, I will alert Yuta, the doctor, that you are awake,” the woman spoke again. It was now that you noticed a slightly electronic lilt to her voice. Ah, she was an AI Holo. A very…interesting one, you might add. Most of the ones you've had the rare pleasure of seeing certainly weren’t as pretty looking as her. They definitely didn’t wear fashionable clothes, either. 

You remembered what she had said about “alerting” someone named Yuta, and you slightly panicked. “No! No, no, don’t do that,” you stepped towards her waving your hands. “I just…uhm…” The AI pursed her lips and said “You must have your vitals checked. Please have a seat. I have already alerted Yuta.”

Shit. Why the hell did this have to be difficult? Also, what kind of black market organ thieves have a Holo AI? As far as you saw it, you currently have two options.

The first was to take off running out the door. However, that had a ton of risk. You had no clue what lay beyond that door. For all you knew, the entire crew of criminals could be out there, gathered around some bucket full of organs they stole off of other people (you have to admit, your overly active imagination was a tad dramatic). The Holo AI said it alerted someone, and that person was most definitely on their way. They could spot you and chase after you. You were certainly in no condition to be running like a crazy person through a crime den.

The other option was to simply agree to the AI’s wishes and play along. To your annoyance, this was the option you would have to go with. Besides, you already feel the pain beginning to come back. With a hesitant side-eye towards the AI, you slowly climbed back into the bed.

“Can I ask who you are? Or where I am?” She seemed to straighten at this, and you could almost see her programmed script running through her head.

“I am WINTER. I am an AI Holo developed to assist with any task instructed to me. Currently, you are in the clinic room of the base.”

“Base? What base?” Before Winter could answer you, the door was thrust open, and in stepped a man who looked the farthest thing from a doctor. The man was clad in an all-black ensemble of jeans and a short-sleeved button-up with the top two buttons undone, allowing a sneak peek of tattoos on his neck and chest. More ink covered his arms, and if you had to guess, his entire body. Dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun to reveal a face with strong features. 

“That’s enough, Winter. You can go back to Ricky now,” The man spoke with a smirk and a shooing gesture toward the AI. Winter’s short, silver bob shimmered in the light as she bowed toward who you assumed was Yuta. She then turned toward you. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and with that, dissipated. 

There was a moment of silence as you actively avoided looking at Yuta, though you could feel his eyes on you. You wondered what he was waiting for. You didn’t necessarily get evil, organ-stealer vibes from the guy, but you were obviously hesitant nonetheless. 

You heard a sigh and he approached you, pulling out a tablet and tapping away. “So…You tried to make a break for it, huh?” You frowned. That damn snitch of an AI.

Yuta chuckled a bit at your expression. “What? You thought she wouldn’t tell me? Don’t worry, we aren’t trying to hurt you.” He swiped up on his tablet and a hologram of information appeared in the air between you two, your personal information.

“F/N L/N. 23 years old, Junior at SMCU, no body modifications. Currently at large for the murder of her younger sister,” He looked at you with an eyebrow cocked. You glared heavily at the man. How the hell did he have all of this info? You were starting to wonder if you were instead in a government prison. How else would he have all of your info?

“So what? You work for the LAW or something? Are you gonna kill me,” you bit. You were really starting to get fed up with all of this. The running, the judgemental glares, being treated like a criminal. All you did wrong was not escape from your mother's clutches. If you’d just cut her off the second you went to school, none of this would be happening.

Yuta smirked, a look that made you feel like a mouse caught by the cat. “Not at all, sweetheart. We’re all just like you.” The projection disappeared with a beep, and Yuta pocketed the tablet, finally settling his arms in a crossed position.

“So how did a smart little SMCU student end up becoming a cold-blooded killer?” 

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Relax, it was a joke. Of course, you didn’t. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Yuta smiled with his teeth this time, a more gentle expression than what he had previously shown you. You were honestly a little taken aback. He had one of those smiles that, if you had seen under any other circumstance, would’ve made your heart skip a beat.

“Where exactly is here?” Yuta now strolled over to your left side and began to fiddle with the monitors. There were a few minutes of silence as he pressed a couple of buttons on the machine. He tsked when he saw the IV tubes dangling. You watched as he dug a packaged IV needle out of a drawer nearby.

“You’re in our little hideout. Hold still for a second.” You winced as he inserted the IV needle in the top of your hand, taping it off and gesturing for you to lay back down in the bed. 

“We’re a group of false and small-time criminals, all of us considered rejects by the so-called ‘perfect’ society. Ex-cops, mercenaries, hackers, wrongly accused, you name it.”

He shined a small light in both of your eyes, then gave a satisfied hum. The tablet was pulled out once more and he tapped away.

“You were unfairly Red-Listed, correct?” Yuta glanced up at you and you nodded. “Then you’re just like us.”

You blinked back at him and he laughed a little, his pretty teeth making a reappearance. “Johnny brought you in here because he wants you to join us.”

Johnny. That was the first you heard that name. You could probably assume that he was the one that you had met. The asshole that yanked you around and make the whole kidnapping experience so… kidnap-ey. But, he was admittedly the one that also brought you to a doctor. Regardless of whether that doctor was legitimate or not.

“Hold on. I never agreed to join…whatever you guys are doing–”

“We’re trying to take down SoKo,” Yuta said. You laughed. When he didn’t laugh back and instead just stared at you with a steady expression, you stopped. 

“Oh my god, you’re serious. Yeah, absolutely not. Do you think I’m insane?” 

Yuta leaned back a little, hands going in his back pockets and a small smile appearing on his face. “Why is it so crazy? I mean, when has SoKo ever been a good thing? Well, besides for the big wigs making the fat stacks.”

You waved your hand, forgetting there was a needle in it which tugged a little and made you flinch. “No, I’m not talking about that. Of course SoKo is awful. Power to you guys who wanna take over the government and whatnot. I’m talking about me. I’m a normal freaking person. Not some,” you wracked your brain, “mercenary or whatever else you said.”

“You’re Red-Listed, right?”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re one of us.”

You paused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. “...But why me?”

Yuta shrugged at this. “Johnny wanted you here. What Johnny says kinda just goes.”

You took some time to process his words. A little crime syndicate, basically. That’s who had “captured” you. Though, from the sounds, and, so far, looks of it, they weren’t as big of a threat as you had initially imagined. That, and you were technically also a criminal. 

Still, you weren’t planning on joining some little gang. You just figured you would be living the rest of your most-wanted-list life on the streets alone, scavenging for scraps of food, outrunning LAW officers, sleeping in boxes in alleys while the rain poured on you.

Wow. Sounds like a bright future for you. 

But then again, what the hell could you offer to some little gang? You were just a (former) normal college student! You’ve never dabbled in anything even remotely crime-related. Why did “Johnny”, whoever this guy was, want you in their little group?

Yuta could practically see the steam coming out of your ears as your brain worked in over-drive processing all the new information. He chuckled a little.

“Look, no one is forcing you to stay here. If you want, as soon as you’ve recovered, feel free to leave. I could always just…Look the other way.” He winked at me, then fiddled with the machine again. A teal liquid began to flow down the tube and into my hand. “I’m gonna give you some sleep juice. It’ll make the pain go away.”

“Honestly, though, Johnny’s gonna be pissed if we wasted our meds on you and you just dip. Again, no pressure.” Yuta smirked. You wanted to hit him, but damn, the medicine works quick. You could already feel your body getting heavy. 

“It kinda sounds like you aren’t giving me a choice,” you muttered back instead. “I didn’t say anything like that, Y/N,” Yuta replied to that. 

You really wanted to ask more questions. You wanted to ask more about their group, dig around, and try to figure out exactly why you were wanted. You definitely wanted to ask to talk to Jonas, who was most likely the leader. The medicine was beginning to make it hard to think, though.

“I need more information. I’m not gonna join some anti-government rebel group just because I'm homeless and being hunted down.” Your head felt like it was floating, and your eyelids were beginning to droop. “But…I guess I don’t have any other options…”

Yuta smiled at you. It was the last thing you saw as you finally let your eyes close.

“Welcome to Kwangya.”

masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

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