#religious community please don't come at me for this

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

you guys ever think about the fact that Dante Alighieri basically self-inserted himself into bible fanfiction and then everyone read it and forced it into their own headcannons

[cherriesncinnamon]

forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

[gffa]

Jedi culture & community fics, my beloved! They're a bit of a rare breed for what you're specifically looking for, specifically focusing on positive Jedi worldbuilding, so if anyone has genfic recs outside of the ones I know, please feel free to add them! But these should help scratch that itch for you, each of them has at least some focus on Jedi philosophy or how Jedi interact with each other or the lessons they teach! It's been awhile since I've read some of them, so there might be some that aren't quite as in-line with how I see the Jedi these days, but they're all ones I felt portrayed them pretty positively and they're all genfic (except one that I made an exception for) and all really lovely fics I remember enjoying for the Jedi worldbuilding aspects! And there are some that will make you absolutely melt with how much you love these characters and their beautiful culture, because by god if canon's not going to give us as much detail as we want, fandom will step up. And fandom made sure to not just focus on the disaster lineage--we love Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, we always want more of them, please don't stop writing Jedi worldbuilding with them!--but also Mace and Yoda and Quinlan and Qui-Gon and even some Jedi OCs get some love in these fics, which makes me want to explode with joy to see! So, come cry about how much we love the Jedi with me, I WILL GIVE YOU A CRAPLOAD OF FIC TO READ. STAR WARS & JEDI CULTURE & WORLDBULDING RECS YOU'LL FIND HERE:

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH

MID-LENGTH

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH: ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k     Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k     During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & yoda & depa & shaak & quinlan & aayla & cast, 18.6k     Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & ahsoka & palpatine & yoda & quinlan & cody & cast, 126.3k wip     By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ Pragmatics of the Jedi by aroacejoot, ghostwriterofthemachine, loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & jedi, 31.3k     A series of fanfiction exploring the consequences and results of the Jedi having their own language, and speaking it still. ✦ light by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & jedi, 56.1k     Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi and being a part of their Order means that he is protected and accepted. The war is over and the Republic has to recover from the crimes of the Sith Lord, the Jedi have to figure out what it means to be peacekeepers again and the Clones have to learn how to be more than expendable soldiers. ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ocs & cast, 94.9k wip     After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance.

✦ Knightrise by Deviant_Accumulation, obi-wan & yoda & satine & ahsoka & asajj & cast, 89.4k wip     "Strong enough to fight the Sith Lord, you are not.“ And just like that the fight drained out of Obi-Wan, the barely scraped together agitation running out of him like water from a broken glass. He looked at Yoda, the other Master already hobbling towards one of the back exits, his presence burning with focus, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ✦ Make a Brand New End by Batsutousai, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & qui-gon & yoda & mace & dooku & jedi, 118.6k     Feemor, Qui-Gon Jinn's first padawan, did not survive Order 66, but the Force granted him a boon: A chance to go back to days before Qui-Gon's death. He doesn't know why the Force picked him to remember that terrible future, but he's going to do what he can to change it. And if he can heal the rift fallen between himself and Qui-Gon, and finally get the chance to know Obi-Wan, well, he's not about to turn that down. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by orphan_account, obi-wan & anakin & jedi, 61k     Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ The Moments That Time Remembered by CallToMuster, obi-wan & mace & vokara & bant & quinlan & garen & depa & jedi, 82.4k     Obi-Wan’s first memory was not his own. Rather, it was a vision steeped in darkness and flashes of red and choking heat and you were my brother and the harsh crash of lightsabers striking one another. He woke up sobbing in the arms of the crèchemaster, Master Kitaddik, who was hushing him and gently stroking the top of his head with her furry hands. Obi-Wan hid his face in the soft folds of her tunic and, still crying, fell back asleep. The first time Obi-Wan collapsed due to a vision was not long after that. [Or: in all the various iterations of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, the Force spoke to him. But in this one, it never stopped.] ✦ Starrunner by orpheus_under_starlight, obi-wan & jedi & oc, 80.2k wip     In what would have been the year 17 BBY, Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine is found slumped over his desk, dead to rights and emitting a foul odor. The coroners declare the body victim to a heart attack and the smell a result of a lack of a timely embalming—a bit of bowels humor, the head coroner says with a nervous laugh when interviewed by the Galactic Enquirer.

MID-LENGTH: ✦ 飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & quinlan & yoda & dooku & mace & bant & jedi, 13k     The Force is the first language that Obi-Wan learned to speak, the brush of one mind against another. But food is the second language that Obi-Wan learned to speak with, and he talks, he talks, he talks. A collection of fics about food and how food is an articulation of love. ✦ We Will Abide by naberiie, plo & shaak, 10.3k     Light. Dark. Balance. Beneath the Jedi Temple, far below the chaos of Coruscant's Galactic City, ancient halls and corridors sleep in silent darkness. Padawans Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are determined to explore them. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k     Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k     A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku's apprentice. ✦ Master by CJinn, obi-wan & anakin, 27.5k     Obi-Wan Kenobi had always wanted to become a Jedi Knight. What he didn't expect was to become a Master merely days after his own Master died. Adapting to his new role as the mentor and Master of the quite unusual Padawan Anakin Skywalker became a bumpy road.

✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cin & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Cave by Ria Talla (ronia), anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 10k     Ahsoka Tano, post-Star Wars Rebels/? And there was something else, more important, though Ahsoka found herself loath to do it. Her lightsabers drawn, deep in the labyrinth formed by the stone warriors and the crumbled temple. Yet the words broke certain into her mind. Your eyes can deceive you. Her heart pounded, as though warning her otherwise. But Ahsoka withdrew her sabers, and closed her eyes. Rather than her weapons, she let the Force be her light. ✦ A Candle in the Night by phoenixyfriend, anakin/luminara & obi-wan, time travel, 12k     In which Luminara finds a heavily injured Jedi, nurses him back to health, and falls in love. Then they get back to the real world, and she just can't figure him out... ✦ Found Clan by silvergryphon, boba & ocs & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 25.3k wip     After the Battle of Geonosis, a Jedi Healer discovers young Boba Fett mourning the loss of his father. Not about to leave a ten-year-old boy on his own, she promptly adopts him with the full collusion of her Padawan. ✦ the heart of kyber by outpastthemoat, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & depa & kanan & jedi, 32.7k     Tales of the Jedi: Stories about lightsabers, masters, and apprentices. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & mace & kanan & obi-wan & rex & cast, 10.5k     After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 17.6k     A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master's first apprentice. ✦ Familes Found by fyrefly, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & mace & plo, 8.2k     In a universe where "The Wrong Jedi" never happened, the war ends under different circumstances and perhaps everyone will get a chance at a happy ending after all.

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH: ✦ The Mathematics of Repair by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.6k     For raw teachers and rough-edged students building in the rubble: tiny steps are enough, provided they carry you in the right direction. Immediately post TPM, in short snippets. ✦ The Living Force; Parables for Padawans by glorious_clio, obi-wan & cast, 6.1k     Since infancy, younglings are taught the Jedi Code, “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.” Obi-Wan Kenobi learns these tenets backwards and forwards again. But even as a child, he is interested in nuance. And so his teachers tell him parables. ✦ A Jedi's Cloak ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex, 6.4k Jedi cloaks are made for children. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a year and a half old when he first sees this principle in action. He is fourteen, twenty-five, twenty-nine, and thirty-six when he gets a reminder.     Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here's a series of events showing why they're made that way. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, kanan & depa. 1.4k     Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k     There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple creche.

✦ Memories of Peace by Margan, obi-wan & clones, 2k     It's not quite flash training, but the Clones are used to learning fast. It helps that this is something that they actually look forward to learning, to putting into practice. Obi-Wan teaches the Clones how to make dumplings in the middle of war. ✦ Liberosis by Be_Right_Back, anakin & mace & yoda & jedi, 2.2k     The war is over, the Sith are gone, and there is now Anakin Skywalker's secret marriage to deal with. While love is a wonderful thing, some truths are hard to face, and letting go is the destiny of all Jedi. Or: the Council and Anakin clash. It doesn't go as terribly as it could have. ✦ Accepting Emotion by LazarusII, obi-wan & ahsoka, 1.1k     Dealing with the stress and anxiety of being a prospective Padawan, Ahsoka Tano struggles to manage her emotions. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds her practicing in the dojo, confidence in tatters. His words make all the difference. ✦ A Long, Long Time Ago by ruth baulding, dooku & qui-gon + qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 5.8k     A wisdom tale handed passed down through the generations poses troublesome questions for a line of masters and Padawans, from Dooku to Ahsoka Tano.

✦ Duet by Silver Sky 1138, oc & cin, 2.3k     Asha Scarsi, the Jedi Padawan who feels the Force through music, isn't half as good at lightsaber combat as she is at singing and mindtricks. So she's a little nervous when Battlemaster Cin Drallig calls her to the training room after class. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by GirlwithCurls98, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently.

✦ Night Shift at the Temple by ReneeoftheStars, oc jedi & cast, 1.8k     A Jedi Temple Guard sees all, speaks to few, and has attachments to no one. One must be prepared for any threats that may arise, especially at night, while most of the Temple sleeps. ✦ The Orchards by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.6k     When young Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured on a previous mission, Qui-Gon Jinn refuses to accept further off-planet missions until his Padawan's recovery. Yoda assigns the pair an in-Temple mission of utmost importance while Obi-Wan heals. Master and Padawan welcome the change of pace. ✦ Tipping Point by Ria Talla (ronia), adi gallia & finis valorum & eeth koth, 3.3k     "I believe that if what's happening on Naboo is allowed to continue, the other member systems will wonder what they owe to a Republic that can no longer protect them." ✦ A Personal Touch by DragonHoardsBooks, obi-wan & anakin, 6.2k     New jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker realizes that there is more to being a jedi then he tought. Discovering a completely new culture will take time and effort, but maybe he'll make some friends along the way.

✦ Jedi Parables by Peppermint_Shamrock, jedi, 5.8k     Values are often passed down generation to generation through stories, parables, and fables. What stories might the Jedi teach their children? ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k     The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k     Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k     "Aay’shee," Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k     "Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love." She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k     An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra.

✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures. ✦ yellow, you're a dreamer by nightdotlight, jocasta & anakin (& obi-wan), 2.6k     Normally, it wouldn’t be unusual, but— Jocasta did not earn her post without listening, and from where she stands in the aisle, gaze fixed upon the back of the young child’s shaking shoulders, she can hear a sniffle reverberate around the space. There’s a child curled up in the corner of the Archives— and they’re crying. ✦ once upon a time (a long, long time ago) by thebitterbeast, barriss & mace & shaak & ki-adi & bacara & trilla & cere, 2.3k     The Jedi love children. Children love stories. This changes some things. ✦ not the place that I was born in (doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong) by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin, 5k     “What were you consulting Master Obi-Wan about?” “Tea!” says the other Padawan brightly. “I’m performing a tea ceremony for my Master, one that originates from her home world. It’ll be the first time I sit foveo with her!” She says that word— foveo— as if it should mean something to Anakin. It does not. ✦ A Friend Indeed by ExtraPenguin, plo & ahsoka, 3.3k     After their rescue of the colonists of Kiros, Ahsoka Tano's Master asks for her to be sent on a mission away from the front. She ends up being sent to the Deep Core with Master Plo Koon to investigate one of the first known locations of the Jedi Order, since abandoned. ✦ In which we burn bodies as bridges by GraceEliz, obi-wan & ahsoka & depa & kanan & ezra, 1.4k     Lineage mantras, and the processing of grief. ✦ Five Times Mace was There for Obi-Wan, and One Time Obi-Wan Returned the Favour by wrennette, obi-wan & mace, 4k     five of the many times Mace Windu offered Obi-Wan comfort over the years, and one of the many times Obi-Wan returned the favour

✦ as the dust settled around us by thebitterbeast, finn & jedi, 5.2k     Bravery has never been the absence of fear. Prompt: There is no emotion, there is peace. ✦ Adi Gallia, Master of the Order by Perspicacia, adi & jedi, 7.2k wip     Palpatine didn't expect it. It was too soon for that in his plans: which Jedi would have left the Temple under assault? But Adi had. Ashes in her heart, she had left the younglings and the elders and the wounded for her duty to the galaxy, choosing to stop the Sith instead of protecting her people. ✦ “The Padawan Chooses The Master” by lurkingcrow, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 3.6k     prompt: AU - The Jedi say “The Padawan Chooses The Master” Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn’t Qui Gon. Instead it’s *insert your fav Jedi here* ✦ The Only Home We Know by ReneeoftheStars, katooni & petro & ganodi & byph & gungi & zaft & cast, character death, child death, 2.4k     The Jedi Temple is under attack. Determined to fight for their home, younglings Katooni, Petro, Zatt, Ganodi, Byph, and Gungi make their way to aid the Jedi Masters in defense of the Temple. But the situation is far graver than they expected. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by Mini_and_Might, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. Might become part of a series of missing scenes from the Clone Wars. ✦ Markings by wabbajack, ahsoka & plo, 1.6k     In which it is revealed that Master Plo Koon has always had a difficult time putting his foot down when faced with his Little 'Soka. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knigh, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k     Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum.

✦ Arrival by CJinn, obi-wan & yoda & jedi, 2.6k     Little Obi-Wan was only a few days old when he was brought to the Jedi Temple. His arrival caused some confusion among the Jedi. ✦ The Spire by skatzaa, obi-wan & jedi, 2.4k     The galaxy was on the brink of war, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had been assigned a new room. ✦ Room Arrangements by skatzaa, obi-wan & anakin, 2.2k     Anakin has some concerns about room arrangements at the Temple. Obi-Wan does his best to reassure him. ✦ Lineage by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, 1.5k     Anakin is new to the temple, and he does not yet understand that these are his brothers and sisters, his cousins, his uncles and aunts. He does not know yet, but he will learn, Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k     Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire's sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader's identity. ✦ Emotion is our Shared Tongue by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & quinlan & jedi, 2.1k     There are thousands of different species, with different languages and voices and hands, but what all Jedi have in common is the Force, and with the Force, they have language. ✦ To Know by Armin_05, obi-wan & anakin & shmi & kitster & fives & cast, 4.8k     Nearly all Jedi love learning. Anakin Skywalker is no different. Or, how Anakin found a love of learning and shared it with others. ✦ Shatterpoints and Students by soft_but_gremlin, mace & depa, ~1k     Depa always has shatterpoints hovering around her.

✦ Home-onym by virdant, jedi, 1.1k     Jedi younglings, like any other children, enjoy playing. Playing with lightsabers and playing with words. ✦ Threaded Lineage by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ezra & luke & rey, 2.9k     The journey of a single river stone through many generations of Jedi, allowing the Jedi of the old and the Jedi of the future to be threaded together. ✦ the river and the rock by nightdotlight, anakin & luminara, 1.8k     Lightsabers clash, and Luminara Unduli holds her ground. She doesn’t move, doesn’t lock her muscles, just makes herself an immovable object and lets her opponent strain against the lock. ✦ Five Meditations of Jedi Depa Billaba by skatzaa, depa & mace & yoda & kanan & kit, 5.3k     What is says on the tin. (Plus one more, for good measure.)

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hello this is just to say that I am very interested in that post you mentioned maybe making about indirect communication!

So to define Direct and Indirect communication with a pair of examples real fast:

Direct communication: "Hey, can you do the dishes?" Indirect communication: "There's dishes in the sink." (Please wash them.)

Indirect communication tends to trip a lot of ND, but especially Autistic people up because the implied request in the parentheses... doesn't always come through. So you don't do the dishes, and the Indirect communicator gets frustrated because they thought they had made that request perfectly clearly.

Which, in their defense, they did! ...in their micro-cultural language.

See, the actual purpose of Indirect Communication is to provide some extra verbal personal space and non-aggression measures in micro-cultures where people's personal autonomy has been compromised but there is also a high degree of understood social context.

Hm. That's a weird sentence. Let's try some more examples.

Indirect communication is most common in places or situations where people's ability to stay in their own lane is compromised, but everyone also shares the same base knowledge of what's going on. One example is in large cities, where people are PHYSICALLY up in each other's personal space because they're physically crowded. So cities have etiquette like "Don't make eye contact on public transit unless you actually need to address someone", so that, if people can't stop violating your personal space, they can at least signal non-aggression and give you some privacy. People raised in large cities, or who have lived there for a while all learn these unspoken rules by trial and error, some of us with more errors and trials than others.

Thus, in physically compact situations, "There's dishes in the sink" means "There's dishes in the sink." (I trust that you are already familiar with the social rules that dictate that dishes need to be done, and assume the reason you haven't done them is because you haven't seen the sink yet. I won't insult your intelligence by elaborating on the Do The Dishes Rule, because I know you are smart <3)

Speaking of Privacy, the other place indirect communication is common is in situations where people have Limited Privacy and thus everyone knows what's going on with them, and they know what's going on with everyone else, whether they want to or not. Close-knit families and religious communities often have this shared no-privacy pool, but it can also happen with you and two roommates in a 100sq ft apartment, or on a research vessel in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Since y'all are up in each other's business, indirect communication is there to prevent hostility in close quarters.

This, in a low-privacy situation, "There's dishes in the sink." means "There's dishes in the sink." (I know you are a good and responsible roommate who is maybe a little forgetful, and I trust you to have enough context from living in the live feed of everyone's life to know that I need them done. I won't insult you by suggesting your motivation was malicious in any way, and i trust you to do them <3)

So, to an indirect communicator, that was a perfectly clear request to do the dishes because OF COURSE you'd know what they meant- literally everyone else they deal with is in on this shared knowledge of social rules and daily updates. And not elaborating on that request is an affectionate sign of trust in your competence.

Except, you know. You're not.

So, you try to explain to your indie friend that "There's dishes in the sink." only sounds like an observation, and your brain will not auto-fill in the request like theirs does, so if you want me to do the dishes, just ask with words, okay?

And your indie friend understands this! but then instead of going "Hey, can you do the dishes?" they instead don't say ANYTHING until they're really frustrated with the state of the kitchen, and communicate VERY directly at you, and with great anger.

What happened?

So remember how indirect communication exists to prevent hostility and violence? That's because the threat of hostility and violence is VERY, VERY REAL.

Like you, your indirect communication friend made some mistakes while learning The Unsaid Rules and How To Use The Shared Information Pool, and the social hammer came down on them HARD. Ostracization, ridicule, maybe even actual, psychical harm. So they grew very, very afraid of violating those secret rules, and doubly so with people they like, so your indirect communication friend is facing this HUGE EMOTIONAL BLOCK when it comes to directly communicating with you, because to someone who grew up with their boundaries compromised and the threat of hostility if they violate the communication rules, communicating directly with someone they love feels really, really, really mean and they don't want to hurt or lose you.

For real, "Hey, please do the dishes" sounds like "Hey, please do the dishes." (You fucking moron who doesn't give a shit about our home and probably hates me) to them, and they don't want to talk like that to you. It's like how we never like picking the mean dialogue option in video games.

So instead they... just don't say anything at all, rather than risk a potential confrontation, and then the dishes don't get done and it turns into a REAL confrontation.

What a headache.

So what are we gonna do?

Well, you can't control your friend's actions, emotional reactions or interpersonal skills, but you can manage yours, and you're gonna have to meet them halfway, and it's gonna feel like training a skittish cat that coming out from under the couch is safe. Several-pronged approach:

DO NOT PUNISH BEHAVIOR YOU WANT TO SEE. When your friend does manage to say "Hey, please do the dishes?" don't go "UUUUGH IN A MINUTE." even if you are in the middle of something else and their timing sucks, which is probably does. Stick to either neutral responses ("Cool, let me finish this paragraph and I'll get on that") to positive responses ("Oh, sure! Thanks for letting me know!")

REWARD THE BEHAVIOR YOU WANT TO SEE. -and then actually go do the dishes to demonstrate that this approach not only is safe, it's effective. Also, praise your friend when they do a good job communicating with you. "Hey, thanks for actually asking me to do the dishes, that was really helpful." or "You're doing a great job navigating and giving me directions, this is much less stressful than the GPS" or "Thanks for being honest about how I was annoying you and bringing it up before it became a huge issue." This will kind of feel like you're an actor on sesame street teaching big bird how to say please and thank you, but honestly? that was the age most of us learned our communication skills, and we return to that teaching method because BY GOD IT WORKS.

MODEL THE BEHAVIORS YOU WANT TO SEE. Humans learn by copying, so lead by example with the kind of communication that helps you, and explain why it helps. "Hey friend, a question so I can schedule some stuff- Do you have any plans this weekend I should know about, or am I clear to paint the bathroom?"

This is the one that sucks but YOU GOTTA MEET THEM HALFWAY AND LEARN ABOUT THE CONTEXT POOL. Can't make everyone learn, and Indirect communication has it's uses (especially in modern jobs and social media), so you gotta learn their style too. I literally have a discord server that's just me where I keep notes on the life events and conditions of my friends, coworkers, neighbors and loved ones because I know I won't remember that shit, but they will kind of expect me to, and it's been a lifesaver in both not blundering into social faux pas, and actually getting around my crap memory to know them better. You can also model hybrid communication and practice your indirect skills by using an indirect request opener, but then saying the rest of the implied context aloud: "Hey, there's dishes in the sink. I know you'll do that ASAP because you're cool, I just wanted to make sure you knew they were there and needed to be washed, thanks <3"

Accept that some people aren't gonna change for reasons that are beyond their control and probably have nothing to do with you, and decide what you're willing to invest in learning to deal with them. I still have to play 5D words chess with my mother-in-law, who was raised in a close-physical-space-AND-no-privacy culture and is an excruciatingly anxious indirect communicator as a result. I can't make her go to therapy for the anxiety, and until she does, her ability to communicate effectively probably won't improve. It's got nothing to do with me, even if I'm the person she's most frequently at odds with. As a result, I have extremely limited contact with her. I don't see her for more than a few hours at a time, when we have an activity to do together, and only a handful of times a year. More than that, and I get brainworms by proxy, so for my sanity, I've limited what I am willing to do with her. Maybe your indirect communicator is someone worth effectively learning a second language for, like a lover. Maybe they're someone you can cut out of your life entirely without issue, like a manger at a retail job you can quit. You'll have to decide.

Anyway, that's my raised-bilingual ADHD/Autism Direct/indirect communicator ramble, hope it helps.

[kisspurins]

perverts ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ an riize series

୨୧ warnings｜dark content，religious themes，cult themes，noncon，dubcon，stepcest，cannibalistic themes，etc.

୨୧ inspired ｜the films : 'carrie'，'pearl'，'bones and all''，and ethel cain (with the help of my genius girlfriend @bubbleseo)

୨୧ playlist

୨୧ reminder｜this is a series that will be done with a large amount of time and not entirely consistent. it will be paced throughout the year because I work and go to school, please be patient and understanding with me!!!

a woman, a bride, a mother 𝜗𝜚 osaki shotaro

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，cannibalism mentioned，forced marriage，dubcon，anal，corruption，slapping，freak nasty taro，humiliation，brat taming，hard core bdsm，kidnapping，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain

in your small town, a serial killer known only as "the cannibal killer" has been terrorizing the residents, mostly targeting members of the church and leaving behind a single body part. the killer's true identity is hidden, until the day they strike at the heart of the community, killing the priest and taking you. with signs left of the priest behind but not for you, the killer's motives are questioned. but you, you are his special special bride.

୨୧ released｜soon

an ode to eaters 𝜗𝜚 song eunseok

୨୧ warnings｜cannibalistic themes，strict power dynamics，yn has no sense of self，love bombing，bite play，dubcon，dom eunseok，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain，the film bones and all

In a world where it's eat or get eaten, eunseok, an eater, falls in love with you. a love destined to fail from the beginning, but eunseok clings to a future where you can live happily without the fear of internal and external forces. while you would let eunseok have you, bones and all.

୨୧ released｜soon

perverts 𝜗𝜚 jung sungchan

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，age gap relationship，manipulation，grooming tactics used，corruption，ddlg themes，mean dom sungchan，naive yn，raw penetration，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain

bible studies teacher sungchan who starts a "innocent" love affair with one of his new students. convincing her that this is what is in God's will, that this is a good thing, and those who shame you will have to repent. It only makes sense when you get completely brainwashed into believing him, brainwashed into thinking of only him and his approval. you are who you are, and that is nothing unless sungchan says.

୨୧ released｜soon

two headed mother 𝜗𝜚 park wonbin

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，cult themes，stepcest，inexperienced!yn，inexperienced!wonbin，dom wonbin，raw penetration，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain

living in a secluded cult with wonbin, you are bound by an unexpected and powerful connection. during a mysterious ritual, fate pulls you together in ways neither of you can explain, and since then, you can't seem to stay apart. despite the fact that your parents are getting married soon, nothing can come between your intense connection with wonbin and you don't want it any other way.

୨୧ released｜soon

sun bleached flies 𝜗𝜚 hong seunghan

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，cult themes，dubcon，priest!seunghan，nun!yn，cult themes，corruption，gagging，mean dom seunghan，spit play，raw penetration，exhibitionism，humiliation，yn calls him father，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain，my genius girlfriend @bubbleseo

you've despised sovereign monasteries since you were old enough to form an opinion. living a rebellious life was one way to seize control until you were forced into a journey of purity. being a nun was one of the best things, you thought, until you started working side by side with priest seunghan. he had the same past as you but became reformed after joining the cult. to others, you pair to set a perfect example of evolution, but as time goes on, the longer you spend with seunghan alone has you questioning what your morals are, if purity is worth it, if your convent is worth it.

୨୧ released｜soon

strangers 𝜗𝜚 lee sohee

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，noncon，manipulation，raw penetration，soft dom sohee turned hard dom，mentions of gore，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain，the films carrie and pearl

you've been told you're off-putting your whole life. even after making your faith a big part of who you are. so you gave up on conformity, indulging in your twisted desires. sohee, a devout churchman, is sent to "save" you and bring you back to purity. however, the more time spent with you, the more he gets sucked into your dark world and starts losing his morals. what begins as a mission to fix you turns into a spiral of corruption for you both.

୨୧ released｜soon

house of psychotic women 𝜗𝜚 lee anton

୨୧ warnings｜religious themes，cult themes，noncon turned dubcon，bdsm，bondage，yn gets treated like a pet，humiliation，dumbification，yn has absolutely so sense of self，tba.

୨୧ inspired ｜ethel cain

you've never felt a stronger love than when you saw anton presenting his new plan for your cult for the first time. he was older than you, twenty at the time when you were thirteen, but you knew that was the man you were going to marry. the man you needed to marry. over the years, you slowly corrupted yourself into nothing in hopes of getting his attention, but got you nowhere but outcasted for not following in God's true will and for not being holy and pure. but that didn't matter as long as you got closer to anton. at eighteen, your parents had enough and sent you to his reform school, and he was as perfect as ever. thinking you have a chance until one of the girls says he married, and the world around you tumbles. I mean, it's not your fault what happens. whats a girl supposed to do when shes in love?

୨୧ released｜soon

© KISSPURINS 2024 ✿

[crossingthedreams]

you still don't get it — joel miller x f!reader

a/n: is this… an angstober post… on time? yeah, baby, that’s day 07 - you still don't get it on the actual 7th day! omg, i feel so grown up and put together right now. i had a very specific idea for this, and i hope y’all enjoy it. as always, feel free to hit me up on the dm’s! oh, we also have a masterlist know, hehe.

summary: sometimes, you just gotta put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral’. and sometimes, you just have to put an end to things, even if they are with the one that makes you feel a petite mort over and over.

word count: 1.7k 

warnings: angst. unprotected p in v. pulling out (just don't, use actual contraceptives, please). oral (f receiving). mentions of death. 

Joel Miller found his way between your legs quite often, and thank God for that. Life during a fungus pandemic wasn’t really easy, and everyone had to find some pleasure in order to fight another day. For Joel, that wasn’t always sex — it could be a cigar, maybe an old stereo that played good music. As for you, during most of your life, sex was just a bargaining chip, but that all changed when you realized that, if done correctly, it was immensely fun.

But now, whenever you and Joel would meet, sex was always the number one option. The two of you found solace in each other, and, again, thank God for that. 

You weren’t religious (really, who could be during the apocalypse?), but Joel made you see Heaven. 

Everytime Joel knocked on your door, you knew you were in for a mind-blowing night. Your moans were quiet, as Jackson was a small community and any screams could be heard in the dead of night for miles. But it was hard to keep quiet as his hands and mouth kept pressing and licking you in all the right places. 

“Joel, o-oh, J-Joel”, you moaned, one hand reaching at the headboard above you and the other tugging on his graying hair. 

He had once said the best way to get to know a man, really get to know one, is to find out how he eats his girl’s pussy. According to Joel, there’s nothing worse in God’s green Earth as a man unwilling to put his mouth on what was, also according to Joel, the most perfect part of the human body. He was always so willing to eat you out, you were sure he was the most stand up guy out there. 

“Come on, baby, I know you got in ya”, he murmured, kissing your thigh, putting one of his long fingers inside of you, stretching you out and making that vision of Heaven appear before your eyes once more. His mouth reattached itself to you, going right to the money maker. 

As he licked your clit with just the right amount of pressure and movement, a second finger entered you, curling up with the first one and awakening that spot in you that made you a goner in just a second. This was your third orgasm of the night. It was ridiculous. You were dripping so much you could feel it down your ass and going straight to your freshly washed sheets. 

You were still gripping on the sheets when Joel raised himself, his large body hovering over yours. You didn’t see it, no, you kept your eyes closed. Instead, you let yourself, with those heightened senses, just feel him. His thighs against you, your body falling just a little towards him due to the pressure of his knees on the mattress, his hands on either side of your torso. His smell, mixed with your own. You felt his lips on your neck, then your cheeks, then on your mouth. Your hands instinctively flew to cup his cheeks and make the kiss deeper. 

You really hoped you weren’t falling in love with his man. He had much too much baggage, and he already had enough things to worry about, with his daughter for all effects and purposes, Ellie. He was much older, more complicated than you could ever wish for a man you were involved with. Therefore, no love. No, this couldn’t be love.

But, God, you really did fall in love with his cock.

It wasn’t bigger than you were used to, but certainly girthier. This cock made you wetter than any other, and it belonged to a man decades your senior. 

When you felt it throbbing against your leg, there was nothing to do other than to open yourself up as he slowly, oh so slowly, entered you.

You both moaned in unisson. Joel murmured your name, and you finally opened your eyes to meet his brown ones. “You’re so beautiful, baby”, he said in a low tone and began to move his hips. “So wet”, he thrusted and you moaned his name louder, hands gripping his shoulders with enough force to leave nail marks.

You crossed your legs around his waist, changing the angle to make him go deeper. Joel loved missionary and all its variations. He would never admit it, but he was a boob man through and through. The visual stimulation was really important to him, and that was proven by the fact that his eyes couldn’t leave your tits as he pounded harder and harder into you, making them bounce with every movement. You were sure your nipples were perky, too, as they always did when you felt this aroused. 

Joel was nearly drooling on your chest. 

After a few more thrusts, he grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that your ass was up in the air. You smiled against the pillows and looked over your shoulder just as he entered you again. That smirk turned into a perfect ‘o’. 

Your hips moved against him too. After all, Joel was an old man, and you couldn’t let him do all the work now, could you? 

He was manhandling you with such force you weren’t sure you’d be able to move in a way he didn’t want you to. He pushed your head back against the pillows as his body fell on top of yours, mixing up with the position once more. 

His mouth was close to your ear, and he took full advantage of that to nibble on your ear lobe. “You look so pathetic, all unraveled like this, baby.” he spoke in a whisper, his pace still punishing inside of you. “All mine, huh? All mine to ruin?”.

You shook your head yes as best you with his hand still pressing your skull into the pillows and his full body weight atop of you. 

“Nuh uh, silly girl. Need to hear you say it. Tell me, baby. Tell me who’s the one who makes you come undone, sweetheart”. 

“Y-you, Joel, hmm, it’s all you”, you half-spoke, half-moaned. 

Not to your surprise, all of his weight disappeared as he pulled out, leaving you on the bed as he finished off alone, on the side, not even bothering to cum on your tits, face, or ass like any other guy would’ve. Not even caring to let you see him cum, which sucked. 

He had started up with this new habit of pulling out and leaving right after. But not this time, no. You wouldn’t let him. 

“Come back”, you said almost purring and turned on the bed, stretching in the sexiest way you could. 

His eyes analyzed you for a long time before he approached the bed again. He didn’t sit down, instead he stood, fully naked, looking down on you at the end of your bed. He looked glorious, like a Greek deity or a model from the days before the outbreak. Did you love him? Probably not yet, but you would someday if he let you. 

You sat up on the bed, naked. Did he like your figure as much as you liked his? You were much younger than any other woman old enough for him. Some would say you were inappropriately young, but you knew they didn’t care for you or Joel beyond the gossip and the fun remarks. 

“You don’t come in me anymore”, you said, trying to look innocent and confident at the same time. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No”, he simply said, collecting his clothes. You waited for him to continue, and when you realized he wouldn’t, you kept on talking.

“You used to at least cum close to me”, you tried to crack a smile and lighten the mood, as verborragic and honest as you always were. You and Joel hardly talked about your situationship or whatever this was. “Maybe we could try something like that again, because, y’know, breeding is not just a kink and someday I really want kids and…”

“You still don’t get it, do you?”, he interrupted you, and you realized he sounded defeated more than anything else. He sighed, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “There’s no we, and there’s no future”. 

You weren’t gonna be the one to break the silence. Not this time. With him, the silence was always loud, and you felt as if it was a physical entity that put itself in-between the two of you. 

He put his head in his hands, still emanating exhaustion in every possible way. 

“I won’t have anymore kids”, his tone was harsher than ever. 

“Joel…”

“This ain’t about age, even though that sure is a problem. This isn’t about this batshit post-outbreak world, either”. 

The words unspoken were louder than anything he could have ever said. 

Sarah. 

You closed your eyes. All the future he could have had flashed before your eyes. How old would she be now? Perhaps she’d even be older than you. 

He hardly talked about her, but you picked up on a thing or too. Especially last year, on his birthday. What a horrible day that was. You now realized that Joel’s future died the day of the outbreak, at the same moment his daughter did. 

Even though it ached, the truth was clear and simple: you couldn’t sacrifice the future you could still have for Joel’s eternal mourning. You wanted more than to survive. You wanted to live. And here, in Jackson, you could actually do that. 

Your eyes were watery, but you refused to cry. In the quiet, you knew you didn't have to say it. The silence was loud, and it said enough. 

Joel stood up and looked around the room. He seemed to avoid looking at you, knowing what would happen once he did. He liked and cared for you, even if he didn’t want to. The wonderful sex was part of it, not the whole thing. His eyes finally met yours, and without saying a word, you knew what he meant. This is over, isn’t it?

Your gaze was locked with his, and your mouth was drying. Yet, you replied, without a word. Yeah, baby, yeah, it is. 

He left, and you stayed. And that was that.

[slashercult]

pick a fruit bowl to find out how you will recognize your future spouse

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

you will know that your future spouse is your future spouse because the connection will be instant between you two. it will feel completely different from all of the other relationships that you have been in, a lot more passionate. i feel like with your past lovers, you would make them out to be a lot better than they actually were to you. but this isn't the case for your future spouse because they are the real deal and you know it. your future spouse could be an air sign (gemini, libra, aquarius) or could be a talented artist. i feel like they enjoy doodling in their journals, they seem like a daydreamer kind of person, their head is always in the clouds. they have strong arms, i feel like they could be a bit buff and like working out. they won't be shy with their displays of affection in public but i also don't see them trying to do anything that could possibly embarass you. they value you your feelings over everything.

pile two

you will recognize who your future spouse is because of how calm and peaceful you feel whenever you are around them. they won't sugercoat things when talking to you, but not in a negative way, more of like if they feel something is upsetting you they will go ahead and ask you what's wrong because they don't like seeing you feel bad. communication is something they do not take lightly, and this works in your favor because i don't see you two arguing with each other as much because of this. this person could be a lawyer or could be in a profession that has somethng to do with law. they have a well defined chest and back area, nice neck area as well. i feel like they enjoy being outdoors and taking care of their plants in a garden. they are wise and may look a bit intimidating at first but they are actually super sweet and understanding.

pile three

you will recognize your future spouse because of how optimistic and confident they are. this person is also be extremely lucky, they may have some sagittarius placements. they just radiate golden retriever boyfriend/girlfriend energy. they are a deep thinker and they are not afraid to voice their opinons. you both may share the same political beliefs (or just beliefs in general). you could come from the same religious backgrounds and may have a similar childhood. this person enjoys watching sunsets with you and their favorite holiday is halloween because they love pumpkin flavored things. they definitely play a sport, i feel like the sport could be hockey or lacrosse, something that involves a stick. you will know your future spouse is your future spouse because their beautiful wide smile. they are soft, warm, and love cuddling on the couch while watching a sports match. your relationship with them could help heal your inner child.

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.

[fushiglow]

10 things I've learned about being a fanfic author over the last year

At the time of writing this post, I have been writing and sharing fanfiction for Jujutsu Kaisen for almost two years. This time last year, my in-progress longfic, Over the Threshold, started to gain popularity and, over the last twelve months, I think it's fair to say I have become somewhat of a BNF in the SatoSugu community... Sigh...

While every creative wants their work to be seen, there is a threshold (ha) past which visibility brings difficulties, and unfortunately I went over it (ha) in recent months. It has changed my fandom experience significantly, and not entirely for the better. While there have been friendships for life forged, beautiful memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, and more kind words and fanart than I can shake a stick at, there have also been opportunists, naysayers, and even outright bullies.

Seeing your name thrown around in fandom spaces with little regard for the real person behind the writing — for your character, for your circumstances, for your creative liberty — does force you to re-evaluate your relationship with your work and your audience. With that in mind, I thought I'd share the lessons I've taken from the last year as a fanfic author.

I really hope this serves as advice for any fanfic authors seeking more visibility on their work, and also generally encourages more thoughtful engagement with fandom creators. Let's go!

1. Writing for anyone except yourself is still a bad idea

That doesn't mean it isn't sometimes worth taking reader preferences into account. It's just about knowing when to disregard them. We write fanfiction for lots of different reasons that vary from fic to fic. Sometimes, making other people happy is a good enough reason to write a fic, as long as that's what you set out to do and you're under no illusions about that.

However, letting reader expectations creep into your approach to your other work in a way that doesn't serve your personal creative vision is a bad idea, especially because...

2. People disrespect fanfic authors even more than you thought

There are plenty of kind, supportive people in fandom. However, the unfortunate truth is they are vastly outnumbered by people who will gobble up your work without even taking a moment to say thank you for the meal and who will, in fact, demand more from you instead.

Trying to please entitled people who are impossible to satisfy, who bring nothing of value to your fandom experience, and who may even resort to bullying if you don't play by their ever changing rulebook is a pointless endeavour — so don't bother!

3. Your writing process is a constant work in progress

Because you are a constant work in progress. You can't always expect something that worked for you a year ago to work the same now. There are too many variables in play, not least your skill as a writer. If the stabilisers you put on last year are no longer helping, maybe it's a sign you don't need them anymore. Maybe it's time to take them off and try something new.

I am still planning a more in depth writing process post, but the simple truth is, my writing process can be summed up as...

4. Whatever works!

My main piece of advice when it comes to writing is always going to be, "at some point, you've just got to do it". Sure, there are tools and techniques you can use to aid the process, but ultimately it always comes down to you and the words.

There's no right or wrong way to write, and there's no point comparing your process to someone else's, because ultimately you'll do whatever works for you. Whether you're someone who religiously practises a warm-up routine before sitting down to write or someone who stares at the screen for two months straight before vomiting up a masterpiece whole (or someone like me who jumbles their way through with a slightly different approach every time), it's all good as long as it ends with words on paper.

5. Writing for an audience changes the game

For better and for worse! Having an engaged readership on a WIP has, on occasion, created unique and invaluable opportunities to elevate my work beyond what would have been possible by myself. I'm very grateful for the artist-audience dialogue that I know we all crave when sharing our work with the world but aren't always fortunate enough to experience.

However, being aware of your audience while writing also influences your approach in unhelpful ways, no matter how much you try to get around it. Ensuring that I maintain control of that dialogue (or, at the very least, a 50/50 back and forth) requires constant vigilance.

6. Community is a double edged sword

I think everyone in fandom is seeking community of one kind or another. Building a dedicated community around my writing and seeing real good come of it was an unexpected by-product of sharing my fic with the world, but a deeply rewarding one. However, communities aren't static and they require a collaborative effort to maintain.

Series come to an end, fandom trends shift, people move on. On the flipside, you build something so wonderful that others want to share in its benefits without contributing in meaningful ways. Seeing a community so closely tied to your work and your sense of self shift into something unrecognisable until you start to feel like a stranger in your own space is very hard. Furthermore, managing a community in a dedicated forum takes significant time and energy which could be spent writing, which is why...

7. The most successful fanfic authors are selfish

What I mean by "successful" is up to you. However, whether it's replying to comments, supporting fellow creatives in the fandom, or even tagging work for discoverability, some authors disregard anything that prevents them from getting words onto the page. Some people are here to post their shit and leave — and more power to them.

The more of yourself you offer, the more people come to expect until, eventually, the already generous act of writing thousands of words for your fandom becomes the bare minimum. This is often where the topic of "fandom etiquette" comes up, but fanfic authors are already taking on a disproportionate share of the burden simply by sharing their work in the first place. Anything beyond that is a courtesy we are not obligated to extend. We should thank authors who thoughtfully choose to extend those courtesies anyway, rather than vilifying them when they don't.

8. Guarding your enjoyment is paramount

If, like me, you're an author who does enjoy being an active member of the fandom community, then it's important to watch out for the myriad of things that can come between you and your stories. Fandom politics, or even just fandom trends, can have a huge influence on your relationship with the characters that originally inspired you.

However, what other people are doing with them doesn't need to have any bearing on what you choose to do with them if you don't want it to. Responding to fandom trends in your writing can be satisfying, but maintaining a degree of separation between wider fandom and the stories that really matter to you is crucial, I think. That being said...

9. Collaboration feeds creativity

Some beautiful moments have been born from throwing an idea back and forth with my fellow fans. Simple things can rapidly snowball into territory you would never usually set foot in, and expanding your creative horizons like that can only ever be a good thing! Being open with your ideas in fandom spaces is always a bit of a worry, but the reward for extending that trust far outweighs the risk in my experience.

Additionally, I think we get caught up in the idea of absolute originality, but if you're active in fandom, you're always taking inspiration from your fellow creatives. Freely crediting the people who have inspired me has only ever brought wonderful things my way, and I've even gone on to develop collaborative relationships with some of them. Fandom is more fun with other people!

10. But ultimately, writing is lonely work

No matter how many friendships you forge, you still have to retreat into solitude to write the damn story eventually. Writing doesn't lend itself to active human connection as much as art or music. You can chat to someone while drawing or play an instrument alongside another person, but when you're writing, you have to go it alone.

And the worst part? Even when you eventually share your story with the world, no one will ever care about it as much as you do. Writing is such a deeply lonely experience most of the time, I think — which is why it's so important to hold onto all the things that make it worthwhile.

And that's that! I have been stewing on all of these thoughts privately, but I wanted to share them in case they're of value to someone. I tried to keep it as measured as possible, but I acknowledge that I'm in a bit of a bitter headspace about fandom in light of the Discourse TM and subsequent harassment over Christmas.

I don't think it will stop me writing stories for this fandom, but I do think it will make me more guarded in my interactions with the wider community, and I think that's a shame. I joined this fandom as a fan first and a creator second, and I'm deeply sad to feel like some of the parts I used to enjoy most are no longer accessible to me.

This experience has certainly got me thinking more critically about the trend of fandom creators seemingly becoming more distant as they gain popularity. The word "arrogant" is often thrown around, but I think it's much more likely that taking a less active role in fandom spaces isn't as much a choice as it is a necessary measure for the sake of wellbeing and even safety.

Fascinating in a sort of sick way.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Shows of 2024 💖✨

Welcome to Babyangelsky's 2024 Wrap Up! To commemorate my second year of watching QL dramas, and my first year of actually talking on my blog, I've compiled a series of lists to celebrate all the QL things I loved this year!

Please feel free to take my categories and make lists of your own and tag me in them if you do!

💜 All the lists can be found here! 💜

We've arrived at my final list! If you've read all of my lists, some of them, or only this one, thank you! I've really enjoyed looking back and talking about everything I loved this year.

May we receive even more QL blessings in 2025 💖

♡ Love Sea

There are many shows that I loved this year and many favorites among them, but this one is my very favorite. This is my show. I could not begin to tell you how excited I was when we learned that we'd be getting a new FortPeat project and that we were going to get to see them act together again. I love them both so much that I was always going to love this show because of them regardless of what it ended up being.

But what it ended up being was a really damn good show. I don't care what anyone says. It was so much more than just amazing chemistry and love scenes. I was writing about this show weekly. It had me talking about the acting and styling, keeping track of colors, doing scene breakdowns and character analysis, coming up with clown theories, the whole nine.

Love Sea is that girl. For me.

♡ I Saw You in My Dream

This show gave us the softest, sweetest love, mutual horniness, joyous sex, casual affection, supportive parents, and then without even trying, it also healed everyone's religious trauma in the kindest and gentlest way possible. It was wonderful and refreshing and healing to see queer characters have a warm, loving relationship with their faith and have it be something that gave them comfort and that they could share.

Seeing Ai just casually sitting in a cathedral to find some peace meant so much to me. I'm so happy and grateful that this show exists.

♡ Unknown

I want this show injected directly into my veins because, babes, everything about it is like heroin to me. It's not just a favorite of the year, it's a favorite of all time. It's quiet in this intense way that I really enjoy, which is a quality shared by a few other entries on this list. I love when a show can make me feel everything and god, did this make me feel everything.

I've already talked about how phenomenal the acting is in my favorite performances list but it's impossible to praise this show without also talking about the lighting and cinematography and colors and chemistry because it's all beautiful. It's a goddamn masterpiece.

♡ Knock Knock Boys

I genuinely love when a show takes me by surprise. I hadn't even fully decided whether I was going to watch it or not before it aired and I don't quite remember what convinced me to give it a chance, but I'm so glad that I did.

You look at it and think all you're gonna get from it is a fun silly time. And you do get a fun silly time! Then you go a little deeper and you realize what you actually have is a series about learning to communicate within relationships and outside of them, making peace with yourself, navigating love and sex, and figuring out what you really want in life, all tied up in this giant sparkly sex positive bow. It's an absolute gem.

♡ We Are

We Are is the epitome of what I like to call a cotton candy show: it's sweet, fluffy, and fun. There aren't really any stakes, there's not a whole lot going on. It's just a little treat there to give you a good time.

And boy howdy did it air when I needed it most. I had a very, very rough summer and every episode of this show felt like I was getting a hug. It was so cozy and comforting. It was a love letter to friendship and it has my entire heart.

♡ Our Youth

At the time of writing this series still has three episodes left before it ends and even though a lot can go wrong in three episodes, I'm still confident in saying that this is one of my favorite shows of the year. In fact, this may be my favorite Japanese BL. Full stop.

There is just something so...entrancing about it. That quiet intensity I mentioned earlier. I love how it uses silence and light, I love that every piece of dialogue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, I especially love what Kamimura Kenshin has done and continues to with his portrayal of Haruki. I just love everything about this drama. Everything.

♡ Two Worlds

I was so damn excited for this show from the moment I first saw the pilot. It was one of my most anticipated dramas of the year and not only is it my favorite MaxNat project to date, it was my first time ever writing about colors!

The killer chemistry and truly beautiful love scenes were all but a given and the fantasy element was a trip, but writing about the colors was what really made this for me. The sleeper color demon in my brain (which sneaks in when you attend @respectthepetty Colors College) had me looking at the stitching on clothing and the exact shades used in any given plaid pattern to try and make sense of the random and ever-changing use of colors in this show and I had the time of my life doing it.

♡ Love for Love's Sake

We had this show for a grand total of TWO WEEKS. Isn't that insane?Just two weeks and it gave us these beautiful characters who tore us all open in the best way and left us gasping for air and infinitely glad that this show was made and that we got to watch it. That was my experience, at least.

To me this is a show about learning to heal and to love yourself through loving somebody else. There are as many interpretations of it as there are people who watched it--as it should be--and mine ultimately comes down to this: Myung Ha's best friend loved him so much and wanted so dearly for him to be happy that he created a reality where Myung Ha got the love and sense of belonging that he always deserved, and it was beautiful.

♡ Wandee Goodday

What's even better than being blessed with the gift that is bunny boy Great Sapol? Sex positivity! Condoms! Advocating for sexual health! The bunny boy being the greenest flag in all the land! Ace rep! Ace rep with a happy ending! BL Mother of the Year Cher! The first GMMTV wedding since same sex marriage was legalized in Thailand! Horny gym massages! Therapy! Title Kirati finally being a good boy in a BL!

And on and on and on! In my heart and in my soul, I'm a good time girl and this show was SUCH a good time. It was a delightful little treat from beginning to end.

♡ The Loyal Pin

You know a show is special when just hearing the intro music makes you feel happy and comforted and giddy with anticipation. This is a beautiful show. It feels like the dessert table at a fancy, expensive wedding.

Everything is well done. Everything. The acting and the story are incredible, the cinematography is stunning, the styling is gorgeous, the OST fucks. It's just so damn good from top to bottom that it's become my favorite GL ever. I love it dearly.

♡ My Stand-In

Characters like Ming who are the human embodiment of lead paint and the stories they feature in aren't for everyone, but they sure are for me. Especially when those stories are led by great actors like Up and Poom who can have me in my feelings with the tiniest shift in their expressions.

They had me so in my feelings, in fact, that I arranged my watch schedule so I would always have a fluffy show to decompress with after every episode. It was that intense and if I loved it as much as I did, it was became Up and Poom were that good. I love a sweet love story but I also love a story about people who are DEEPLY deranged about each other.

♡ The On1y One

Even though I did not watch the finale of this show and will not watch it until such time as a second season has been announced, filmed, and is ready to premiere, it was still one of my favorites of the year. I just can't be mad at it.

It had everything that I love. Quiet intensity and great acting and dialogue and EXPRESSIONS and Benjamin Tsang's face and yearning and tiny little moments that live in my mind rent-free. I just wish it was complete because I love these characters so much and want to see them happy.

♡ Century of Love

I was raised on telenovelas. I've been watching them my whole life. So of course I'm always going to have a soft spot for BLs that scratch that lakorn/telenovela itch in my brain and that's exactly what this show did!

It gave us soulmates! Reincarnation! The red string of fate! Magic rocks! Wet dreams after a 124 year dry spell! Questionable CGI! Goddess-approved yaoi! And holding all of it together was Daou and Offroad's phenomenal chemistry. I fucking love this show!

♡ 4 Minutes

There are few things I love more in this BL watching life than letting Dr. Sammon take me on a wild ride, and boy was this a WILD FUCKING RIDE. I didn't come up with a single theory or do anything but cheer Tonkla on the entire time it was airing, I just experienced it.

Every episode was a feast for the eyes, whether it was the acting or the cinematography or the music or, as was usually the case, a stunning combination of all those things. We had to wait so long for this one and even though I wish it was longer, it was entirely worth the wait.

♡ See Your Love

Another one that has yet to finish airing but that's so lovely in every way that it has already found itself among the ranks of my favorite Taiwanese BLs ever. No surprise considering the team that made it also made another one of my faves.

And it really is lovely, unhinged assassination attempts and all. The love between the mains is a phenomenal combination of healing and horny and the story gives its characters--especially its deaf protagonist--so much humanity and treats them with care and respect. Not to mention that it features some of the best BL parents I've ever seen.

♡ High School Frenemy

When I tell you I was so prepared for this to be a series that I ended up dropping after a few weeks. The only reason I even watched it initially was for Mark Pakin and then something happened and I ended up liveblogging all sixteen episodes and loving it so incandescently that it became one of my favorite shows of the year.

And it was alllll because of Sky and Nani and that phenomenal chemistry that came out of nowhere and hit me--and all of us--with a steel chair. Watching Saint and Shin say the most UNHINGED ROMANTIC SHIT TO EACH OTHER was truly one of the highlights of my year. The character writing was great, the acting was great, the friendships were top tier. Truly the biggest surprise of 2024.

If the "more than friends less than lovers" shirt was a show, it would be this show.

♡ Sugar Dog Life

What a darling little treat of a show. It's so cozy and comfy and sweet. I'm always going to be a sucker for "food as a love language" shows and I enjoyed watching these two fall in love over meals so much.

As an aside, I spent almost the entire time slightly tormented because I couldn't figure out who Tanaka Koki reminded me of but I'm very happy to say that I figured it out: Sea Dechchart.

♡ Jack and Joker

For me, it's impossible not to love something that was so clearly made with all the passion, joy, and love in the world and that is exactly the energy that Yin and War brought to this project and I adored it.

This show made me feel the entire spectrum of human emotion every single week. I was never not excited for the next episode, even when it made me sad. It was fun and chaotic and beautiful to look at and I'm so happy that it exists.

♡ First Note of Love

This series is just...so gentle. Even though loss is a central theme in the story, it's never portrayed in a looming, haunting way. Matt's presence is always felt but in a way that's very human and beautiful.

At its core, this story is about all the ways love and grief are intertwined and giving yourself a second chance and letting love back in and allowing yourself to feel and I love it so dearly. So dearly.

♡ Dead Friend Forever

This is the show that finally got me to talk on my blog. I had such a great time being a clown and coming up with theories and reading other people's theories and spending entirely too much time looking at the minute details of that creepy damn mask.

It was a wild ride from start to finish and I enjoyed every minute of it. And it gave me TaBarcode, which was a gift I will cherish always even if thinking about them makes me want to listen to Rollin' in the Deep by Adele.

[da-rulah]

I hope you are having a wonderful day.

I humbly request some jealous cardi spice ♡

Thank you lovely! My day is going well, I've done nothing today other than write this filth.

So, listen... An idea came to me with this one... and I ran with it. I bloody love jealous tropes, as you may know if you've read Day 5 of Rituale Septem... But this one gets a little... sacrilegious.

Darling, this became feral. And I'm not sorry.

18+ MDNI! Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader.

TW/ Jealous themes (ofc), ex-boyfriend returns, mentions of past life in a christian church, violence, blood, fingering, rough sex, references to Satan and the Devil, possessiveness, breeding kink, ownership kink, creampie.

"Are. You. Mine?" artwork created by the incredibly talented @honimello!

Thank you so much, it's incredible and exactly how I pictured Copia's face in that scene...

If any artists are ever inspired by anything I write, please please do share it with me - I'd love to see what your mind's eye sees when reading my work. And this fandom is full of incredible talent. I love it here.

Frantic knocking on the door to Papa's quarters jolted you from the trance your book in hand had you in. Copia had been drifting off, his gloved fingers mindlessly playing with your hair as you read in his lap but he too startled to sit upright.

In a fumble of clumsy limbs, the two of you stood, Papa heading straight for the door to find Rain out of breath and panicked.

"Rain? What's the matter, mio amico?" Papa asked, waiting patiently for him to get his breath back. Clearly he had run as fast as he could to find Papa.

"Th-there's... a man... he's shouting about Sister ______ on the steps of the Ministry, Papa!" he explained frantically, waving his arm in the direction of the front doors.

Your eyes widened, Papa's head flinging around to look back at you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut. You know who it was... He'd found you.

"I-I'll go... I'll take care of it," you said, stepping around Copia and walking a little ways out into the hall when he grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

"What's going on?" he asked, "This sounds dangerous, why don't you let me..."

"He's not dangerous. He's just an idiot. I'll deal with it," you told him firmly. "Stay."

Copia let go of your arm and you continued to walk down the hall. He nodded in your direction at Rain, telling him to follow you and make sure you were in fact safe. Rain nodded and trotted behind you - you didn't mind him being your backup, but it was Copia you wanted to keep away from the situation.

As you got closer to the doors, you could hear the ramblings of the idiot on the Ministry steps, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"_________! Hey, I know you're in there! I know what they've done... They've stolen you away, told you lies and made you fall in love with the devil!"

You groaned to yourself, turning to Rain with an eye roll.

"Ex-boyfriends, eh?" you scoffed, before wrenching the door open and standing on the top step.

"Elijah, you sound like an idiot," you said, monotonous and feigning boredom.

"Oh, see? I knew you were here! Cavorting with heathens and the Devil! I need to take you home, _______. To bring you back to God!"

You knew your past in a Christian community would come back to bite you on the ass someday, but you'd hoped to be a little more prepared for it.

But no, here was your ex-boyfriend, now more religious than you'd ever known him when you were together, trying to... win you back? That was laughable.

"God only knows what you do within those walls... Filthy fornication, sacrifices to Satan..."

"That's rich, Elijah. I seem to remember you had no problem with fornication when we were together. But hey, one rule for you, another for the rest isn't it?" you laughed. Elijah saw read, stomping up the steps and standing on the one beneath you.

"I have seen the error of my ways, and I'm repenting every day for them, whore! You must do the same, come with me. Now!" he grabbed your arm, attempting to drag you down the steps and go back to the life you'd left behind many moons ago.

No way in hell were you going back there again.

You began kicking and yelling at him, flailing your arms as you panicked - he was strong, but Rain was behind you. No doubt he'd be jolted into action as he saw you being dragged away by this lunatic.

"I think you'd better let her go," a thickly-accented voice behind you stopped Elijah in his tracks, his head snapping around to look behind where you both were halfway down the steps.

Papa stood at the top, his hands behind his back and surrounded by three of his beefiest Ghouls - and Sodo. But Sodo was growling like the feral little raccoon he was.

"Or what, old man? You gonna take her from me?" Elijah challenged, pulling you against him with you back against his chest. He was scared, using you as a human shield. Pathetic. "She doesn't belong here, in this... this... vile place."

Copia laughed, stepping down the steps and holding a hand out to his side to keep his Ghouls at bay. He pried Elijah's hands off you, taking your hands in his and checking you were okay.

"Go wait up there with Rain, amore mio," he told you, his voice soft and his palm caressing your cheek to calm you. You nodded under his touch and headed back up to the top of the stairs, the Ghouls parting to let you stand behind them for safety. Rain came to your side, holding your hand.

Copia squared up to Elijah then, in a way you'd never seen him square up to anybody. He scared you, with how silent and yet, clearly livid he was.

"You're not taking her anywhere, stronzo." His voice was dark and commanding.

"Oh, I get it now..." Elijah began to laugh, cackling to himself as he doubled over at something so hilariously amusing to only him. "Are you... are you fucking him?" he asked you, pointing at Copia and dismissing him. "This weird, old guy? Really?"

You wanted to defend Copia, but the way he looked over his shoulder at you had you staying put and squeezing on Rain's hand.

"She's found her place here, able to live a life where she's not judged and vilified for living her fucking life. You people are all the same.. damning souls to Hell for the things you wish you allowed yourself to do. But oh no, they're sins, eh? You couldn't possibly..." Copia scoffed.

"I have sinned in the past, but I repented. I sinned plenty," Elijah's voice dropped so only Papa could hear, "I sinned with her..."

Copia's hands balled into fists at his side. Jealousy, no matter how warranted, flooded his veins like poison.

"I remember, too... I know what she likes, what she's into. Have you found that spot on her collarbone yet? She likes that..." Elijah was smirking, and you didn't like the look on his face as he whispered in Copia's ear. Copia remained still, fists clenched and staring straight ahead.

"I was her first, you know... Gave her her first orgasm, made her cum over and over... Can you do that, old man? One night with me again, and she'd forget your name if it was tattooed on her arm. She'll always be mine..."

A green mist descended in Copia's mind, and he couldn't help himself. He swung for Elijah, his fist connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack.

The Ghouls sprang into action when Elijah pounced on Copia, shoving him to the floor and trying to get a few punches in himself, but Copia was too strong for him. A man you thought would never hurt a fly, wouldn't be able to hold his own in a fight on account of his own awkwardness and his tender nature and yet... you were seeing a whole new, angry side to him. And it made your chest tighten, knowing he was fighting for you...

The Ghouls sprang into action, quickly restraining Elijah and dragging him to the parking lot around the side of the front building to the Ministry. You saw them throw him into the back of a van, two of them and Sodo joining him in the back whilst the remaining Ghoul got in the driver's seat.

You ran to Copia's side where he stood up, dusting himself off.

"Copia! Fucking hell, are you alright?" you asked, your hands pulling his face to look at you but he couldn't look you in the eye. Instead, he gripped your wrists in his and pulled you back up the steps, marching you back to his quarter's and ignoring Rain's protests he should go to the infirmary for the blood dripping from his forehead and lip.

You tried to slow him down, to tell him to stop and breathe but he ignored everything you said to him until he had you back in his living room, slamming the door behind him. He let you go, practically throwing you into the middle of the room as he stalked towards you with dark, hungry eyes.

'C-Copia... what did he say to you?" you asked him, terrified he was now angry at you for some lies Elijah may have told.

"You're mine, sí?" he asked, his voice deep and forced through grit teeth.

"W-what?" you asked; how could he ask that of you. He knew you were, body and soul.

"Are. You. Mine?" he asked, slowly. You took a step back.

"Of course I am!" you yelled, "Copia your head, your lip... Let me clean you up, okay? Just... Just take a breath, calm down," you told him, taking another step back as he took one towards you.

He ignored you, backing you up until your legs hit the couch behind you. He was in your space now, glowering down at you. The look in his eyes both terrified and excited you. With such a dark expression, the blood from his lip and forehead only served to add a menacing and yet, enticing air of danger to your predicament.

"Calm down? I am calm, amore mio. Why wouldn't I be calm, eh?" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Copia, please..." you lift your hand to caress his cheek, trying to check the damage to his lip and head but he catches your wrist in a tight grip, earning a gasp from you.

"I am a better man than him, sí?" he asked. You creased your brow in confusion for a minute, before remembering to answer him. Every millisecond of silence his grip on your wrist tightened.

"Y-yes, of course you are. Copia, you're scaring me..." Only half true, of course. He was absolutely a better man than Elijah ever was, and you were only... slightly scared in that moment.

"I love you more than he ever could, sí?" he asked.

"Y-you do, yes. And I love you, so much..." you told him, trying desperately to get him to just calm down, to snap out of whatever hex he was under.

"And..." he steps forward again, his foot between both yours as he presses his thigh between your legs. You can feel his hip against you, his groin pressing into your own hip bone. Was he... hard? "I fuck you better than he ever could, sí?"

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you stuttered an incoherent response. You hate to admit it but his anger was having an effect on you; his jealousy. Whatever Elijah had said to him, it must have riled him up enough to make him jealous in some way. And honestly, the thought of Copia being jealous should have had you angry at him, because how could he be jealous of that asshole?

But instead, it lit a furnace inside you. This incredibly powerful, wonderful man, who would rearrange the nine circles of Hell for you if only you asked, was jealous for you.

"Answer me," he growled, and you stammered again, unable to form a two words to string together. He took your silence as a no; severely misinterpreting the situation.

"Perhaps you need reminding, amore mio?" Copia grabbed your other arm and twisted you to the side, pushing you down to the couch with your back shoved into the corner. He knelt between your spread thighs, hands on the arm and backs of the couch and hovering above you.

"Ti scoperò finché non dimenticherai che quel tuo dio infernale ha mai fatto parte della tua vita, (I'll fuck you until you forget that that infernal God of yours was ever a part of your life)," he growled, his jealousy and anger at your past life bubbling away inside him. You didn't know enough Italian to know what he'd sad, but you recognised enough to know he was growling about God in your life? Whatever it was, it sent a flood of arousal to your core.

Before you knew it, his lips were pushed bruisingly hard against your own. You could taste the metallic pang of blood on your lips, but you had no room to care at that point. You let him consume you, his tongue working against your own with no contest as your gripped onto the lapels of his tattered jacket.

Copia's hands came to grip onto your habit either side of the buttons, and with one sharp tug he ripped it open, the buttons pinging off in different directions. he pulled again, lower, exposing your body to him where you lay.

You felt so desperate already, needy beneath him as you scrambled to push his jacket off him, then pulling on the knot of his blue neck tie and lifting that over his head with a brief separation of his punishing kiss.

Like he had to you, you pulled on either side of his shirt to try and rip it open, but you simply weren't strong enough. Copia chuckled, sitting up between your legs.

"My poor toppolina, let me help, hm?" he mocked, before ripping into his own shirt in one fell swoop. You ran your hands over his chest, marvelling at the structure of a well exercised man, his chest covered in an expanse of salt and pepper speckled chest hair. You traced the '666' over his heart, earning you a low growl from him.

"His mark, toppolina... You pledged yourself to Him now, sí? And to me..." You had, yes. Completely.

Before you could reply his lips were on yours again, licking and sucking at your bottom lip, biting down and earning a whimper from you. You bucked your hips against his thigh, already beginning to soak through the panties on display to him.

He noticed the damp patch, and his head twitched with a smirk. Without hesitation he was ripping them down your thighs and pulling them off your legs, exposing your glistening folds to him.

He swirled his gloved fingers through the mess a few times, before immediately sliding his ring and middle finger inside you. You took him with pleasure, back arching from the couch and a moan ripping from your throat.

"Tell me, amore mio, who makes you see stars every time he touches you, eh?" he taunted, hovering above you as you writhed, his fingers pumping and curling inside you bringing you so much bliss already.

"Y-you do, Copia... Fuck," you gasped when his thumb came to draw circles over your clit. "Don't stop, please..." you begged.

He had no intention of stopping, dragging you further and further towards a climax until finally, the gasp rising in your chest got stuck, and your orgasm burst inside you.

"C-Copia!" you stuttered a scream, hands flying to grip onto his wrist while his hand continued it's onslaught on your core until he was satisfied he'd got every ounce of pleasure from your orgasm as possible.

Your grip on him loosened as you came back down, and he took this as his chance to manhandle you, flipping you over onto your knees and bent over the corner of the couch lazily. When you gazed dreamily behind you, still hazy from your orgasm, you saw him unlacing the front of his tattered pants, pushing them down just enough to release his cock. He leant forward, gripping onto your hip with one hand and lining his length up with your folds with the other. He dragged the tip of his cock - an angry shade of red and leaking precum - through your juices.

"You're mine, amore mio," he growled through grit teeth, his bare chest pressed against the habit he'd bunched up around your hips, "I claim you as such."

In one swift motion, he slid home, filling you to the brim as his hips came into contact with your ass. He grunted when he bottomed out, the warmth of your inner walls sending a pleasurable shiver through his body.

Before long his hips were smacking into your ass over and over, his cock filling you deliciously while he angled himself to hit your g-spot over and over again. The slew of nonsense tumbling from your lips had him chuckling to himself between deep breaths as he exerted himself.

"So good you can't even talk, amore mio? Sí, no one can fuck you like I can, eh?" he taunted. "Say it. Say 'no one can fuck me like you can, Papa'!" he ordered.

"No one... can... fuck me... like you... Papa!" you cried, his titled coming out as a scream at a particularly hard thrust.

"Mine... you're all mine," he claimed, "Gonna fill you up, amore mio... Give you my seed to carry, make sure everyone sees you and knows you're claimed."

If his thrusts weren't already enough, his words were turning you on above and beyond anything he'd ever said to you before. Whilst you were your own person, and proudly so, you couldn't help the way hearing how possessive he was in this moment made you clench on his length.

"G-gonna... cum... Papa!" you yelled again, dangling on the edge, just a little too far from where you needed to be. He sensed you needed a nudge, his hand snaking around between the both of you and his fingertips rubbing over your sensitive clit once again.

"You'd like that hm? If Papa fucked you so hard, filled you so much with his seed everyone could see it? Everyone would know... They'd know I'd bred you so good, amore mio..." He was spewing utter filth, and it was having the desired effect on you...

"Papa..." you cried.

"Papa's here, amore... Papa's fucking you so good, eh? Fucking the damn antichrist into you!" he growled.

You lost control then, your cunt spasmed around him as you violently came around his length. He wrapped his arms around your chest, heaving you back against him with a hand gripping your chin. His hips continued to rut into you, fucking you through your orgasm as you gasped and reached for something, anything...

"That's it, eh? So good for me, cumming on Papa's cock like that... Just for me, hm?"

All you could do was whimper weakly as your body spasmed in his grasp. He held you so tightly against him, owning you, fucking into you over and over as he whispered filth into your ear you could barely pay attention to in your haze.

Before long, he was moaning wantonly in your ear and stuttering in his pace, a sure fire sign he was about to finish. With a little more clarity now, you figured you'd help him along.

"I-I'm yours, Papa..." you told him, "Devoted to you... Cum inside me, Papa. M-mark me... as yours..."

A fierce growl erupted from his chest, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tightened his grip, hips slowing but remaining powerful in a final few thrusts to prolong his climax. He filled you with his spend, so much you could hear the way it leaked from you with every last thrust he gave.

When he stilled, he buried himself deep and stayed put, tumbling onto the couch with you in his arms and holding you still so close to him. You stayed like that for a while, content being full of him and wrapped up in him all at the same time. Both of you needed a moment, just to catch your breath and come down from the immense high you'd experienced together.

After a while, Copia began to press kisses to your neck, little hisses in pain each time he did where his lip was bust and swollen. The blood on his head had dried but now the ache of the wound was starting to set in.

You turned your head back to him, assessing the damage finally and sighing.

"You should let me help with that," you told him softly. He nodded quietly, both of you now moving and separating from each other. Killing two birds with one stone, you decided a shower for the pair of you was the best idea, and so you both removed the remaining clothes you had on and stepped under the hot water together.

In a comfortable silence, you washed the blood and paints from his face, dabbing at the wounds while he took care of washing you too. You felt the stark contrast between the way he'd taken you earlier and the tenderness of this moment; in their own ways both made you feel wanted, loved, needed.

"Copia..." you whispered to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and stepping into him. "You know I'm yours, don't you?"

You hoped he really did, part of you was terrified he doubted your loyalty to him in any way at all.

"Of course, amore mio... And I'm yours," he told you, wrapping his arms around you too and enjoying the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. "Perdonami, I fear I was too rough, eh?" he chuckled insecurely.

"Not at all... I can't pretend it wasn't hot as hell to see a side of you so angry at the idea of me being with anyone else..." you smirked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, just above his '666' mark.

"That stronzo... I can't believe you dated that fucker," he scoffed, pushing your wet hair from your forehead.

"A past life, my love. I was under a spell back then..." you sighed. He hummed in thought.

"And now, you're under mine..." he smirked. You giggled happily as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a far sweeter, tender kiss.

[thousandyearphantombunker]

The Owl House Critical Post, scroll away now I don't know if I am being too harsh in this post but I wrote it anyway so if you don't wanna read something potentially upsetting this is a warning (to those who decide to read please tell me if I'm being too harsh)

I remember initially hating how the show handled its villains, they all felt like jokes, they never felt like threats or like they provided a meaningful challenges for the main cast, they never had any real depth or complexity. but i bit my tongue, I was told that I was basically a dumbass for complaining that Bump openly breaks a law that's supposed to be punishable by death so that Luz could fulfill her witchy fantasy and that he wasn't arrested. the show could've had him make the multiclass student thing be something underground- boom it lets luz live out her fantasy but doesn't ignore what was established about the setting and creates potential stakes if these underground classes ever got discovered! That already made me angry but the cult thing is what I wanted to complain about- i only had basic ass knowledge about cults and TOH fails at portraying that crap, most people in the EC can just quit and do so in a way that makes it feel like they're just quitting a job, it doesn't feel like they fear losing their friends or sense belonging and community, they don't feel like they're anything but jokes. Leaving a cult is scary, often times cults will send their followers into the real world and set them up to have bad experiences so they'll come running back, they'll hire thugs to scare them into staying or position them in away so that they suffer (sending them out without money or the skills to survive), they humiliate those who begin to ask questions so that they stay in line. guilt tripping, putting members against each other, cutting off contact with the rest of the world! The show only adds the whole 'forced to fight on a mountain' thing for flavor! Everytime it brings up actual stuff cults do it feels like it's more for flavor than actually writing this topic with sensitivity- look at how they treat Lilith! Imo It feels like the show insulting people for ever trusting belos, treating them like they're braindead and could've just realized fairly easily that he was evil. It's the most egregious with hunter who was basically fucking born into the EC. the show is also pretty black and white, which is curious for a show that gets praise for its portrayal of religious trauma. You think the show would be more grey. I did deeper research into cults and just got SO tired of people talking about how good the show was at conveying such a heavy topic. The titan reveal also doesn't help- Luz is told by an all powerful deity that she is the chosen one basically and is told that old man is evil and needs to go down- isn't that the same justification that belos uses for his actions- not saying belos should've gotten redemption or forgiveness but this feels wrong. He deserved to die don't get me wrong but using this justification feels gross. What's even worse is that the titan made Philip's life harder on purpose- ah yeah that brainwashed cult victim would totally change his mind especially if you make his life harder- yeah I would've preferred if belos was depicted in a flashback just having a bad time on the boiling isles and cherry picked those bad experiences to justify his actions. Also I hate that the show just writes belos off as greedy and glory seeking when it could've conveyed a message about how people can get absolutely get warped by religious dogma. I do wonder though if I'm being too harsh because TOH is for kids and I was told it would be hard to portray this stuff in a way kids could understand. I can come up with ways to make the breaking the law openly thing less egregious but I am struggling to think of ways the show could have handled the cult thing, I am aware that maybe I'm accidentally saying stuff that is kind of bad faith but this is my truth. I feel like TOH wasn't good at villains and it sure as hell didn't write cults well

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟐

summary : Jake cannot stop thinking about him. Jake cannot stop thinking about the first time he saw him. Jake cannot stop hating himself for what he is doing.

pairing : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

word count : 2.5k

contains : allusions to sex, emotional distress, religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts and yeah, basically the same warnings from part 1 haha.

a/n : Gif by @tay-swifts. Okay so rn for me it's 2:45 am so please ignore any incoherence or mistakes or if it's not as good as part 1. I hope yall don't hate me for not posting in so long, this is my attempt to go back into writing :)

“Seventy-nine. Down. Eighty. Down. Eighty-one. Down-” Maverick’s voice resonated inside the squad’s ear canal as he counted the number of push-ups they had done so far. This time they only had to do 100, but the heat and tiredness from all those previous hours spent in the air made the seemingly easy exercise a hellish torture. The concrete floor splattered with sweat drops falling from their foreheads was burning hot and their hands were begging to cease contact with the ground. All those physical stimuli did not possess enough power to distract Hangman from the million thoughts that flooded his mind ; the characteristic dullness of the exercise had sent him into a tortuous crisis full of some memories he didn’t want to relive and some others he wanted to relive so desperately that the realization that it was in fact impossible hurt him more than any wound acquired in the battlefield. 

After pushing his body back up from push-up number 92, he closed his eyes for a second and that was enough for a film-like reminiscence to start playing inside his head.

Speed. 100. 110. 120. 150. The tight grip to the steering wheel. Quick shallow breaths. Accelerated palpitations. Those were just some of the symptoms that showed his unnerved emotional state. Taking a right exit, he found himself entering the mysterious city of L.A ; coming from a Texan town, Los Angeles seemed like the capital of the unruly. Don't get him wrong, he has always been a menace himself, but big cities had always made him feel strangely small. 

He had no clue where he was going, but that's the thing about spontaneously bolting from base at 11 pm on a Friday. Hangman had no explicit motives to feel trapped within his routine; in fact, he thrived under strict organization (one of the many reasons why he decided to join the army), so what the hell was he doing? That was a question that was going to be left unanswered for now, so the next best thing was to find a distraction from the everlasting anger flooding his system.

He quickly realized that he had driven to a neighborhood full of pubs and bars decorated in colorful lights and full of people queuing to get in and have a drink or two, perhaps dance or make out too. His eyes also took in the many flags that hung from all of the buildings of the street; he recognized the gay flag but the rest, he could not tell what they represented. While staring at a pink, purple and blue one, he got blinded by a very powerful blue light, which made him stop abruptly. After it had dimmed down, he turned his head to identify where the light was coming from.

“Mon Ange” he mumbled to himself. His tired gaze revitalized at the hypnotic sight. If he had to be completely honest, he knew the reason why he fled the scene earlier that night. The truth was that he felt stuck, unable to move forward in life; something was missing but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was and the enigma was driving the pilot crazy. He was 35 and having an identity crisis, how lame was that? Looking at the people waiting to enter ‘Mon Ange’, he noticed that everyone was dressing so eccentrically, smiling so brightly and chatting so loudly; he was obviously not part of their community but, could a night in this place so out of character for him relax his mind enough to see things in a different light? He would get in, order a drink and head out, that’s it. Spending time in a place that was filled with strangers who did not have any type of expectations or preconceived ideas of him sounded nice enough to make the move.

The odor of alcohol and sweat flooded Jake’s nostrils as soon as he stepped in the club. The wide circle-shaped  room was packed to the brim but there was an upper floor with less people. The songs playing were not his style so he could not recognize the artists ; after scanning the place, he found the bartender. He got served pretty quickly and he could tell that his face card had made that happen. He did not find it in himself to order a fancy drink, so he settled for a beer. 

Looking for the bathroom, he stumbled with a semi-open door. Assuming it to be the toilet's entrance, he stepped into the dark room. He instinctively patted the wall in search of the switch, but there was not one to be found. Moans and other sounds Jake was no stranger to found their way to his ears, making him jump back and leave the room. Back in the hall, he was breathing unevenly, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“How ya doin’, handsome? Too crowded for a pretty thing like you?” A decently buff (but not bigger than him), hairy man was leaning “seductively” towards him as he spoke. Jake felt pure disgust and indignation pooling in the lower part of his stomach ; he could see how his presence in a place with such characteristics could lead up to certain conclusions but, approaching him like that was so out of line. The stranger’s gaze made him feel like a piece of meat and he was momentarily struck with the thought of whether he had ever made a girl feel similarly.

“Fuck off, asshole. Fuck around and find out.” Jake pushed him away so he could escape the situation he found himself in. His harsh frown warned the other man to stay away unless he wanted to leave the place with a black eye. After making it out of those suffocating halls, he decided to leave ; this whole idea had been pure foolery motivated by how lost he was feeling in life.  

Searching frantically for the exit door, his eyes landed on a couple shamelessly flirting and exchanging caresses of all kinds. The sparks in their eyes seemed genuine and that made the pilot sigh in a longing manner. Jake shook his head in order to try to slow down the speeding and confusing thoughts running though his mind. Suddenly, an entrancing voice started directing its words at him. He had been so focused on the couple by the bar that he didn’t process what the handsome- handsome?- stranger was trying to tell him. It couldn’t be anything good, based on his concerned facial expressions that Jake could barely make up because of the lighting of the room.

“Sorry, what?” he mumbled while finally setting his confused and dissociated gaze on the other man.

“I’m (Y/N), I saw you walking down the hallway back there and you seemed…” he hesitated, trying to find the best adjective to describe it. “distressed. Just wanted to make sure that you were ok. You’re not from around here, are you? And if I’m correct, you’re by yourself. This place can be overwhelming when you come for the first time”

Jake could feel the way his eyes widened at the words of the man standing in front of him. (Y/N)’s smile invited him to open up, to share the deepest and darkest parts of himself; but the pilot was no fool and quickly activated his protective shields again. He began to excuse himself after clearing his throat, lowering his voice an octave unconsciously “Thank man but I just entered because I had a problem with my car and it was the only place open at this time and I need to go back to my…”

“Calm down hahaha, I am not the police, don’t have to justify yourself. As to the car thing, the manager that runs this place knows a thing or two about cars. Is the dark green one yours?” Jake nodded, dumbstruck by the casual nature of this encounter “Fabio will help you for sure. If you want I can go look for him and you’ll be on your way in no time” Another grin took possession of the younger man’s lips.

Jake’s cheeks began to change colors into a pretty obvious red. He had created a lie that he could not follow with; how was he supposed to get out of that very uncomfortable moment? Fuck, fuck, fuck “I, eh…” It was not very often that Seresin ran out of things to say; his squad wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they were witnesses to this pathetic scene.

“Look I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here but it’s okay, alright? We don’t know each other so I cannot snitch to anyone about you being here; not that I would if we did know each other. Here” he looked in his black bag and took out a water bottle “I sneak these all the time, they’re expensive as fuck in here” a smirk accompanied the confession, giving Jake the sensation of being his partner in crime.

He took the drink and chugged it down in an instant “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me tonight, really appreciate it. I don’t think I’ll come round here any time soon but I owe you big-time”

“How about you tell me your name?” a playful but still innocent gaze stole Jake’s breath away. Fuck, how rude had he been? He hadn’t introduced himself back in the club and this person had gotten out of their way to help him. His southern heart shrinked at such an impolite act; this was definitely not meemaw approved but at the end of the day, none of this whole night was.

“Excuse me, Jake Seresin”

“Nice to meet you, Jake Seresin” he chuckled. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways, isn’t it? And don’t worry, you don’t actually owe me anything.”

“There must be something I can do. Where I’m from, you show your gratitude to the people who’ve helped you yknow”

“Here” as if it were the most natural thing, M/N took the blonde’s hand and wrote down his number. “If you’re ever in trouble again or you just want to chat, here’s my number. And don’t worry, no second intentions or anything included, just think you’re cool and could use a friend round here” he clarified after taking a look at Jake’s conflicted face. Despite the alarm in his head stating very loudly that he had to get out of there as soon as possible, he let the other man take his hand in his for a second too long. Jake was no shy person but the questionable tension in that moment crossed a very clear line that had been established many years ago and was irremovable now. Breaking their little bubble, Jake nervously searched for his car keys as he thanked M/N and wished him a great night.

While driving away, the rear-view mirror captured M/N’s image, framing his still figure in the small reflecting surface for Jake to stare at, making him ignore the clearly red light and almost crash with a grey truck whose driver shouted every single insult under the sun at him. But the lieutenant could not care any less, his worries laid elsewhere. What the fuck had happened tonight? He found himself desperately trying to make some sense of his decision-making process-

“HANGMAN” 

Startled at the mention of his name in such a shrill manner, Jake regained control of his body and mind which had traveled to the past for quite a while, for he could not recall when they had stopped training and had gotten inside, taking turns to shower in the base’s facilities. “The day you stop annoying me, Rooster, hell will freeze over” he grumpily murmured, but with no real meanness behind his words.

“You’ve been acting very strangely, Hangman, and not in your usual weird way” Bradley narrowed his eyes as if it would allow him to access Jake's deepest thoughts that were apparently holding him hostage. After Jake had rolled his eyes and dropped some sarcastic comments about his “stupid ass moustache”, he decided he would let it slide, for now. “Anyway, you’re comin’ tonight, aren’t you?”

“Nah, gotta do some paperwork and prepare for tomorrow’s session” he discarded the offer quickly.

“C’mon don’t be such a pussy, man” another of his coworkers commented from nearby.

The way he slammed the locker’s door provoked a loud bang that made everyone turn their heads to see what was going on in that part of the locker room “Who the fuck has said that shit? I ain’t gonna let you live, motherfucker” and just like a bull ready to kill, only seeing red, he started to search for the idiot who had decided to speak and make a comment he definitely did not need to hear at the moment “don't hide now, who.was.it?”

“Hey Jake, calm down man, it was just a joke, what the hell? “Rooster questioned, absolutely puzzled at his mate’s reaction; it was just common locker room jargon, they often teased each other or said something dumb about their dicks or something like that, and Jake would often reply with a laugh or an equally offensive response so, something was definitely wrong with the normally nonchalant Hangman.

Shrugging off the hand Roosted had placed on his shoulder to ground him, Jake picked his bag and stormed off huffing and cursing under his breath. After having reached his car, his forehead was pressed against the steering wheel and his eyes were shut closed; breath for 3 seconds, hold it in for 4 seconds and exhale for 7 seconds. This was a technique he learnt when he was young to repress any anxiety or panic attack that tried to break the controlled facade he showed his family, the church, his superiors and his friends. A frustrated groan escaped Jake’s sealed lips, a clear sign of all that pent up frustration.

His phone buzzing caught his attention and decided to take a look. The three messages appearing in the lock screen where all from the only person who could make him feel okay again but also, this person was the one who had triggered this chaos  he had so carefully repressed in order to create the perfect persona; a masculine, chill guy who walked through life as if he had everything under control, when in reality he was a 36 year old full of pain and doubts that the church, his family and the army had made sure to reinforce. 

Texts from M/N:

M/N : hey, you forgot your sweatshirt at my place

M/N : are you going to Mon Ange next saturday? I can hand it to you then. Yknow, that day’s theme is cowboys and I’d kill to see you even with just a fake cowboy hat 

M/N: you can teach me how the Two Step thing works ;) no pressure tho, as always <3

Jake S. : wouldn’t miss it for the world, get your boots ready.

This was like being stuck in a car with no brakes and Jake had decided to try and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Touch Me Please

Summary: Aftereffects can be painful to work through by yourself, and a little help from your partner can be a godsend.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Unwanted touch from a gross man, initial lack of communication, suggestions of a panic attack. Extended sequence of getting handsy in the shower. Possessive! Din.

I will never tire of writing shower scenes ❤️‍🔥. I love the thought of Mando's partner sometimes going undercover to flush out particularly oily bounties. And I really don't know what came over me for this one's ending...I have to blame my senselessness on the utter chokehold this man has on me hehe.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

"I had it handled."

Din gives no response to your annoyed statement, simply lowers himself on one knee to yank his vibroblade from deep in the throat of the male Twi'lek on the floor, whose body has just barely ceased twitching.

You angrily stalk towards him, wrenching your chain along in one hand, your own knife still humming loudly in the other. "Don't you tune me out, Mando," you warn, using his professional alias as much out of displeasure as necessity. "I. Had it. Handled. But no, you just HAD to have things done your way. And now he's dead and we have to make a run for it."

"Warm or cold, makes no difference," he says gruffly, still not looking at you. He's a little too focused on the prone body of the asset, and you briefly wonder what's bothering him.

He doesn't usually act so impulsively when you're undercover.

With an exasperated snort, you shake your head and turn your attention to your modified slave collar, pressing the hidden release so it falls away, leaving you unchained once more. "This was a waste."

"We got what we came for." He rises and hefts the dead man across his wide shoulders with breathtaking ease, indicating the doorway with a sharp jerk of his head. "Let's get out of here before too many of his lackeys come looking for him."

You sheathe your knife and pull his pulse rifle from its holster on his back. He doesn't object.

He can tell you might need to disintegrate a few lowlifes before it's safe to hold a conversation with you again.

Your escape goes smoothly, more so than the actual mission, ironically, and soon the two of you are standing in the ship's hold, watching the carbonite seal over your latest asset. Din is acutely aware of how close you are to him, all his senses on high alert as his religiously conditioned mind struggles to process how you can just STAND THERE so exposed. Your slave dancer disguise is perfect, as far as it can be called a disguise.

As much as the pair of you shares under cover of darkness, he's never really seen so much of your skin before, bared between little more than straps of leather and the drape of filmy netting. He has to remind himself repeatedly that you consider yourself dar'manda.

He wonders too, if you'd done jobs like this before your partnership. Not once did he see anything in your stride that betrayed your discomfort. Images flash through his head unbidden, of the way you moved before your new "master", of how you remained still and silent even as that crime lord TOUCHED you....

Din Djarin is a controlled man. So his admittedly violent and perhaps unnecessary reaction to seeing that filth's hands straying -- too close to areas of you that belong only to him -- has him slightly shaken, though he'd never say so.

Does he regret having buried his blade in that scum's neck for his sins, for trying to take what's his?

No.

He doesn't.

He finally emerges from his brooding at the sound of your voice beside him. "I'm not angry at you, Din." Everything from this mission has finally caught up with you, drowning the adrenaline in exhaustion. "I just wish you trusted me more. I know I don't look dangerous like this --" you gesture down your mostly unclad form, not seeing the Mandalorian's gaze subtly follow, "-- but I can take care of myself. I had to, for a long time. I was in control, not him."

"I know." His voice comes out cold; he's struggling to keep himself from unloading all his confusion and dismay on you at once. "I do trust you, Cyar'ika. I just...."

You wait, but it's like waiting for a stone wall to open up for you.

Nothing gives.

Normally you would gently cajole that stone wall into eventually breaking down, but you just don't have the capacity to do so at the moment.

"I'll be in the 'fresher if you need me," you sigh, turning away. "I need a shower and a change of clothes."

He says nothing, and you don't invite him along.

For the first time in a while, the silence that falls between you two is taut, barely stretched over spiking emotions that are too rampant to reach the air.

The feeling of hot water pounding into your skin clears your head as it always does, letting your patience recharge and your frustrations bleed away down the drain. Sense slowly begins to reclaim your thoughts, and you let your mind drift as you wash away the scent of smoke and spice, your fingertips trailing absently across your body as new questions rise of their own accord.

You can't understand why you feel disappointed.

The job went well. It doesn't matter in the wider scheme of things whether you were the one to acquire the asset or Din, not really. You both get paid the same.

Were you simply hoping for more of a reaction to your dancer outfit from your laconic partner?

Your hand slips in the water, brushes over your ribcage. It's one of your favorite places to find Din's hands lingering when the two of you are half-awake in bed, your skin sensitive enough there that the calluses on his fingertips still raise shivers from you every time.

But to your disgust, this time it isn't his hand you feel on your body, but the memory of a much different hand, one with overlong nails searching for something that isn't meant for it. A hand that's been dead for over an hour now, but the sensation is still there, and not only there, but trailing down your neck, slithering around your waist, loitering a moment too long atop your thigh, and you can't keep back the sound of horror that forces its way up your throat.

You feel disgusting and helpless with the mere idea of those hands crawling your body.

And all you know is you need it gone now.

Desperately.

So as the sensations continue to heighten unpleasantly, you do the only thing you can think of.

"...Din?"

His footsteps are swift, and he's in the 'fresher before you even need to call for him a second time. You can see his hulking dark form outlined through the frosted door panel.

"What's wrong?" He sounds concerned.

"I...." You pause and take a deep breath. "I need you, Din. Please."

He doesn't protest, doesn't question you. The lights go out and you hear the clack of the beskar as he strips and sets it aside. Scant moments later, he's under the water with you, solid and familiar and radiating heat, and you're suddenly so needy for his touch it's all you can do to keep from throwing yourself at him.

"What do you want from me?" he breathes, water dripping from his hair down to your face.

"You." Most times you're a playful flirt, but this time you have no room left for games. You just want him to remind you who you really belong to. There will be time for other things later. "I want to feel your hands on me, Din. I need to get the feeling of that miserable scum off of me. Touch me, please."

He pulls you into him, a tad more roughly than usual. "Where, Cyar'ika?"

You melt into the welcome haven of his chest, your hands immediately finding their way to some of the more distinctive scars that ridge his skin. "Anywhere you want, my Love."

He's ravenous in his compliance, all but devouring you with his touch, lips joining his hands as he focuses first on your throat and shoulders.

It's as if he's as desperate for the contact as you are, and suddenly his strange actions become clear to you, as his hands flawlessly overrun all of the places where the other man had been.

He took note of every single unwelcome caress, each one still burning in his mind's eye, each movement of foreign hands a wrong against you and him that cries out to be righted.

And so he follows that path diligently, his heated touch obliterating any claim that vermin tried to make on his sacred space, reconquering everything you offer him like the Mandalorians of old.

You're surrounded by him, blind in the dark and the steadily falling water, held flush against his body, your senses reduced to purely touch and hearing as he growls broken phrases in Mando'a into your skin.

"I've never seen you so territorial," you huff out in a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your lips, as his pause in their journey across the landscape of you.

"Why?" you ask the well-loved chamber of his mouth.

"For my actions. I let my jealousy rule me in the moment and I offended you." He lifts you in his arms, your back resting against the 'fresher wall and your arms wrapping around his neck. You settle into the new position with a happy hum, letting your hips kiss his and feeling his hands slide down the backs of your thighs in reply.

"But seeing that son of a Hutt with his hands all over you like that --" his forehead comes to rest against yours. "That did something to me I can't explain."

One of your hands finds its way into his hair as the other gently scratches across his muscular back, making him sigh.

"Thank you, Din."

You can FEEL the curious eyebrow raise.

"For caring so much. For coming to my rescue when I need you -- every time. Next time," you add, mischief creeping back into your tone, "we can reverse the roles, if you'd rather. I can think of a lot of people who'd pay an exorbitant amount for a dancing Mandalorian. Think of that -- you, dressed in that get-up, but with the helmet still on, of course -- that would intrigue any crime lord, all right."

"You sound like you've imagined that more times than you should have," he chides teasingly.

Your only response is a soft laugh, though you do press yourself more insistently against him and give his hair a suggestive tug.

"Hmm. Someone's still not satisfied." He lets you slide from his embrace back to the floor, and you whine with disappointment, though to your relief all echoes of unwanted hands have dissipated.

Now you're just left hungry for more of HIM.

"Hush, Mesh'la, I'm not refusing you." The extra grit in his lowered voice suggests he wants more as well. His thumb brushes across your lips, rough and sensual. "I just think it would be more...pleasant to finish this in my quarters, don't you? Cold water and romance don't always go so well together if the heat runs out."

You nip at his thumb and smirk. "Thinking as always, Djarin."

"About you, at any rate." He falls quiet abruptly as he pulls away, as if abashed that such a flippant admission actually left his lips.

You laugh and duck back under the water. "Go. Get your hair dry and whatever else you need so I don't see your face. I'll get out when I hear you leave."

He starts to open the door, then suddenly thinks twice and is upon you once again, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips and his lips grazing your collarbone.

"You're beautiful," he grates out in a rush. "And I can't stop thinking about you in that costume. I just thought you should know that."

You sigh into his firm hold, a sinful idea taking delightful shape in your mind.

"How about I dance for you then, Din Djarin? Would you like to see that, ner'alor?"

The breath leaves his lungs all at once in a sharp exhale. "Yes, Mesh'la. Dance for me."

When he finally goes, you're left to finish your shower with an overwhelming ache for him and some very tempting plans turning over in your head.

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian; separated from one's heritage

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Pilot

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: The Delta is a commune in the middle of nowhere established by Santiago's mother. Since Divine Mother's passing in a rebellion a decade ago, Santiago, known as The Pope, and his half-God brethren Francisco, Benjamin and William have ran the commune. Now it is time for them to take a collective bride to breed, to bring the savior into the world.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

This is not meant to be a statement about religion, Christianity, or Catholicism, this is simply my take on a cult. I am a religious person. I understand that some of this may be very offensive to religious people so if you don't like thing like AHS Asylum or Black Mass, maybe consider not reading.

"Come on home, girl, he said with a smile You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile But try to understand, try to understand Try, try, try to understand That I'm a magic man." ~Magic Man, Heart.

"God dammit Benjamin, what the hell is wrong with you!”

Will smacked Ben upside the head as Frankie chided him.

Ben tried to defend himself. “Hey! You guys act like you don’t sleep with ‘em too, why are you blaming me?”

“You’re fucking a new woman every goddamn week, you have no fucking class, we’re not even supposed to be sleeping with these women,-”

Santiago’s voice, strong and comanding, broke through the bickering. “Gentlemen, please, this is not becoming behavior for Gods.”

With their leader’s command, the other three settled down, Frankie’s eyes casting away. “Sorry, Pope.”

Pushing himself off from the wall he had been leaning against, Santiago walked toward the group. “That can’t be all the options. There’s no way Benny’s made his way through every of age virgin in our compound, we have over 5 thousand people here.”

The men thought through the women they knew, the various families at the massive compound who could accomplish their task. She couldn’t just be a virgin, that was the thing.

They needed their Madonna.

Before her death, Santiago’s mother informed their group that the prophecy would not be fulfilled through Santiago, that he was not the promised savior. Instead, he was destined to lead after her passing and that Santiago, Francisco, William and Benjamin were all demi-Gods. This was a step up for the Millers and Francisco, who had spend their youths in the privileged position of foster brothers to Santiago and living under The Divine Mother’s roof and direct guidance. To Santiago, however, this was a humiliating demotion.

His childhood was never one of whimsy, growing up told that he was a God, that he was the second coming, that he was the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned… All that changed in his pre-teens. Suddenly, his mother was less pleased with him. His divinity was constantly dangled above his head. When his 20’s came and he failed to be what his mother wanted, she stripped him of his full God-hood.

So why, pray tell, were him and his fellow leaders and brethren searching for a virgin? Since Santiago had failed, they needed to father a new child. A new savior. Divine Mother’s instructions were clear; they were all to wed and breed a virgin from their compound. She was to live in their home as their wife for them to use not only whenever they wanted, but whenever they could. A sacred duty to be fruitful and multiple. It didn’t matter whose child grew in her, as long as there was a child. The world would be saved, and Santiago would earn his mothers favor from the heavens.

So, she couldn’t just be anyone. She needed to be a virgin, pure and holy. She needed to be beautiful, strong, faithful to their ways, faithful to the Divine Mother, faithful to the Pope, William, Benjamin, and Francisco.

“What about Marcus’s kid?’ Will asked, breaking their silence, causing everyone to turn to him.

Frank frowned. “You think the daughter of a traitor is the best option for the Madonna?” The sarcasm was clear. He didn’t like this plan as it was. He didn’t want strangers in their home, breaching security, putting his brothers at risk.

“That might actually be the solution to the problem.” He waited until Pope gestured for him to go on, not immediately shutting it down.

“The rebellion was when she was 12, the interrogations found she had no knowledge of her father’s plans. Ever since, she has been isolated. Lydia says she has caused no problems in the women’s home, been obedient but has no friends, no connections.”

“So you think she’s intact?”

“Santi, I doubt she’d had her first kiss.”

Since the rebellion 10 years ago, Will has set up measures to identify problems before they become something like that, and that meant keeping tabs on people. Single women lived in a few group homes throughout the compound. Each home had prefects that reported to house mothers, and house mothers that reported to Will. Anyone that was of any concern, Will checked in on, that included daughters of rebels.

“And she danced at the fire?” Pope asked, arms still crossed but listening.

Will nodded. “She did. No signs of disloyalty.”

Muttering, Frankie asked Ben if he’d slept with her in recent years.

He shook his head. “Nope. Forgot she existed.”

Frankie watched as Pope thought things through, his mouth shifting.  Frankie asked, “How are the other viable women going to take it if the daughter of a traitor is chosen above them?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ben said, defensive of Pope. His loyalty to Santiago went above everything. “If she’s the right person, she’s chosen divinely.”

Santiago held up a hand, stopping another argument. “A redemption. She has the option to purify herself from the sins of her father through the pain of childbirth.”

“Biblical precedent…” Will murmured in agreement.

“And if she fails to produce a child, then we can say we were deceived-”

“Like Eve deceived Adam. Damn, Pope, I think it’s a winner.”

Santiago smiled at his fellow leader, clasping his hands together. “Alright, let’s go visit her, make sure she’s suitable.”

*

You were dead. It was over. Lydia had cleared all the other women out of the dormitory room and told you that the Pope and the other divine leaders would be coming to speak privately to you and you assumed that you had slipped up somehow and it was the end for you. You didn’t know what you possibly could have done. You never ever spoke badly about anyone, none the less your beloved leaders! You adored them all, worshipped them as they deserved, as you had Divine Mother…

Had they decided you were too much of a liability after what your father had done? How was that possible, it had been a decade… why now…

You gasp. Fransisco… he was clairvoyant… had he seen into your dream? Had he seen what you saw oh-so often, the dreams that forced you awake crying?

You prepared yourself to grovel, to beg for mercy, to plead that these dreams of fire were not what you wanted, that they tormented you. Would you forever be labeled a traitor for what your father had done? Hadn’t you proved your loyalty to The Delta?

The door opened and you dropped to your knees, silent until spoken too. You can hear Benjamin whisper a damn. The floor creaks in front of where you knelt, arms prostrated out and for a moment, everything stood still. Warm hands were on your chin, guiding you up to see him.

He was so much more stunning up close. You’d heard tales from other girls of the men, of the way they bedded them, how it was glorious, the most holy form of worship to allow them inside you… You had taken note that you had not been allowed that honor, you had accepted it as the punishment for the sins of your birth, you never thought you’d be worthy of close contact, but right now… Pope was touching your face, your chin tucked between his thumb and forefinger; his eyes were so close to yours, his plump lips keep a soft smile. “Do not be afraid, darling girl. If we are correct, you may outshine us all.”

*

“But it is, of course, your choice.”

Your choice…

This phrase was preceded by the reminder that if you said no, there would be no savior.

There was no choice.

“I am a servant to my lords.”

Santiago smiled at that. “Excellent. Now, let’s begin the inspection.”

The what?

“Oh… is it… I swear I am a virgin, I’ve never been touched-”

“I know.” Francisco said. Oh, right. Clairvoyant. “We need to make sure you’re… healthy.”

“Oh. Yes, of course then.”

Francisco undressed you, his calm demeanor and soothing touch eased you as he slowly stripped you of your clothing. He pulled the loose shirt over your body as you raised your hands, the pail bra underneath had a lot of coverage (everything was meant to be practical) but you still felt exposed.

“Just down to her underwear, Francisco.” Will instructed as he watched. Will was a healer, that was his gift.

Francisco pulled down your pants slowly, and you feel eyes scaling you.

“Strip her down fully, Frank.” Ben tells Francisco, and you jolt when you feel his hands on the bare skin on your hips.

Francisco sighs, but Will puts his foot down. “She doesn’t need to be naked, this is invasive enough as it is”

Ben gave a short laugh. “More invasive than fucking her.”

“BEN!” All three of them shouted, discomfort and fears coursing through your body.

“Pope, she’s shaking.” Francisco asserts with his hands on your shoulders and you watch Pope give Ben a look.

“You behave, your brother knows what he’s doing.” He turns to Will, jerking his head at you. “Handle it.”

Will approaches you, his hands on your face. He holds you different than Pope, more firm, more all-encompassing. Will’s hands were larger, and he placed them at the side of your head, like he was holding you together. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s like a medical examination, okay?”

You nod within his grasp. “Okay.”

He smiled at you. “Good girl. I’m going to touch you, just stand there and take it. Trust me.”

You did. You’d follow him anywhere if he spoke like that. His hands move down your neck, slowly over your shoulders and down your arms, sending a chill through your body. He squeezed your hands. “Doing so good princess. Gonna check your backside now, can you straighten up for me?” You square your shoulders as he walks around, towering over you. You lock eyes with Ben; he looks hungry, like he’s ready to pounce but smiling at you with his boyish charm you can’t help wonder what that pounce would feel like. Ben had slept with almost every girl in your dormitory, and you’d been privy to all kinds of colorful descriptions as you overheard girls talking. Not to you. Never to you.

Will rubbed his hands together and breathed on them to aid the warmth before placing his fingertips at the top-most part of your back. Slowly, he dragged 8 fingers down, applying pressure, sending a tingling down your spine as his fingers traced it. “Excellent posture, just need to check a few things.” His hands went back up, fingers bracing at your sides as his thumbs searched certain spots, rubbing over aching parts of you with pressure, but not pain.

“Got a few knots.” Will comment’s, and you turn slight back towards him, suddenly scared.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no. Nothing to worry about. Just means you’re stressed. It hurt there sometimes?”

He continued massaging you, your next words coming out with a moan. “Yeah.”

“I know it does, sweet girl. Don’t you worry, I’ll help you take care of that. You will be my wife, after all.”

The thought brings a small smile to your face. The smile falters when his hands wrap around your front, William’s body pressed up against your back. His hands are pressing into your stomach, making their way up until he cups your breast, a small groan escaping his mouth that had somehow found its way into your hair.

“She likes that.” You here Ben say, drawing your attention, his grin made you swell with pride. You’d spoken with him before; Benjamin knew all the women. Still, he never chose you to bed and you had thought you weren’t appealing but now, now you see it. Now, as Ben began to touch himself over his pants as he watched his brother examine your body, you realize you were meant for a higher purpose. You were being saved, protected, put on a pedestal for this moment, to be the mother of their child, to be their Madonna.

Will continued him ministrations, soft grunts as he ground his hips into your ass. You can se his eyes are locked in with Pope. Pope, is watching the scene with hooded eyes and parted lips. With a soft but powerful moan, Will stilled behind you, panting a soft kiss on your neck before his fingertips trails your panty line. “Now, for the vaginal exam.”

All the pleasure you felt stops, your body freezing up again. “B-but, you said I wouldn’t-”

William turned you around to face him. “I have to check out your privates, gotta make sure you’re safe. It’s just me, it’s just external, don’t worry. We’ll face away.” He knelt down.

You were acutely aware your ass was still out for the other men when you heard Ben groan when your underwear is pulled down, the distinct sound of him summoning Francisco, who had been quiet so far, and the unzipping of pants.

“Goddamn…” He says, notching your legs so they spread and lifting one foot so it is resting on his bent knee. He touched your sensitive skin. “Pope, you gotta see this… the girls wet.”

“But-” I wanted to protest that he had said it would only be him, but there was no point. Soon, you’d be married, and they be able to have you as much as they wanted.

“Holy shit, she’s dripping…” Pope marvels as the slick running down your thighs.

Will continues prodding at you, fingers running through your glistening folds. In the background was a sound you couldn’t quiet pinpoint, and something that sounded like kissing, but who would be kissing? There was only Ben and Francisco there. Will dips his finger slightly inside your hole, making you gasp.

“Careful.” Pope warned. “She needs to stay intact.”

“I know.” Will groans. “But she’s so fucking tight, Pope.”

A muffled but strong groan behind you, and Pope looks like he’s about to fall apart when he pulls away.

“William, Franisco, Ben. Go to Lydia, tell her the wedding will be at her next ovulation.”

The men reluctantly made their exit leaving Pope alone in the room with you. He pulled up your underwear and pants before helping you back into your shirt. “You are perfect.” He grabbed your face again, pinching your chin and guiding you to look up at him. “Pack only personal items. You’ll have new clothing, everything will be taken care of. From now on, as long as you are what we need you to be, whatever you need, you’ll have.”

He leans in and you open your mouth to him, beautifully alluring, gifting him your first kiss and the spark was ignited. He was everything now.

“My Madonna.”

WE'RE LIVE! So excited to do this, I was a little too excited, I didn't wait until january like i said lol. After this I'm gonna try and finish Blessed be the Fruit and Awakening before going forward which shouldnt be long

PLEEAASEEEE LMK YOU'RE THOTS AND THEORIES!!!!

Special thanks to my BELOVED @hon3yboy for encouraging me so fucking hard with this series!!! she is so wonderful and has written great work including WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR!!!!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

TAGLIST:

@hon3yboy @winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado

if I missed you LMK!!!!

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Drums of War

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word count: 7k+

Part 1

Warning: Violence, description of sexual assault, violence against women, the implication of violence against children, threats of violence, implication of sex and sexual activities

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited and poor attempt at medieval-world description

The knock on your door is heavy and urgent. You sit up on the bed and look around your room, it is plunged into the darkness that comes with a moonless night. Exhaling, you feel around the bedside for a candle, most of them are burnt out. With no choice, you wrap a robe around yourself and climb out of bed.

“Who’s it?”

“It’s me!” comes the muffled but familiar voice from the other side of the door

With rushed movements, you unlock the door and sigh in relief at the sight of Madeline with a lit-up candlestand.

“I received a message from the east. You need to go to the Queen with this?”

“What?”

“My cousin lives there, two nights ago, they saw ships landing there. Through the bay, they came, in the middle of the night. The Queen’s cousin has laid claim to the throne, he has the support of the enemies.”

“Wh–What?. Two nights ago, does the King know of it?” You ask her, ready to rush to the Queen.

“If they have attacked any of the provinces, or plundered any village, hopefully, yes.”

“Do you think the Spanish will help?” You ask Madeline, grasping her hand.

“If the Prince has made up his mind... They have brought some soldiers.”

“I must let the Queen know before she hears it from someone else.”

You put on something decent in a rush and take the candle stand from Madeline 

------

“Go back to your room, and do not let anyone know. Go now,”

Once you have made sure that Madeline has slipped away safely, you make your way to the Queen’s chamber. And of course, the royal guards are on your way.

“Please inform her, I must see her.”

“The Queen is resting, woman. You cannot barge into Her Highness’ chambers!” The knight hisses.

“This is an utmost delicate matter that I ought to bring to her attention, I must meet her—”

“Listen here.” He seizes your arm with a bruising force “Lowborns like you may have won the Queen’s favour, but you must never forget your place, or you shall lose your head!”

You glare at him, hissing with an edge in your voice, growing restless with each delayed moment  “I shall lose my head, anyway, Ser, if I do not get to see the Queen right now!”

“Listen you Blacksmith cunt!” the spray of spit on your face makes you cringe, and the ‘Knight’ mistakes it for fear and grabs you by the hair “Perhaps you forget—”

“Is this how all the Royal Knights treat ladies here or are you an exception Ser?” Ser Lorres unhands you quicker than you can gain your balance. 

A witness to the mistreatment of any of the Ladies-in-Waiting for the Queen is not good for Ser Lorres, or any royal knight for that matter. You staggerer back, trying to regulate your breathing and keep your simmering rage under reins when you bump against a solid torso.

“Lo-Lord Juan! Uh–Duke—”

“Don't bother. I believe the Queen would not be pleased to hear how you treat her Lady-in-Waiting.” 

Lord John makes a dismissive gesture while Lorres is already on his knees, the metal of his armour clanking unceremoniously against the floor. He is warm, you notice, and there is the district fragrance of spice mingled with the tinge of wine.

“Are you hurt, my Lady?”

It is bad news, he had most definitely heard you plead to see the Queen and a man of his stature must not have missed it.

“I am, I thank you for your kindness, My Lord.”

 You step away and turn to him, but you are close enough to notice he is tall, slightly taller than his brother perhaps, it is not for the plain sight until one has the kite’s eyes. For a moment, you think of coming up with an excuse, but you have no time, you instead, seize the opportunity in hand and turn to  Lorres, still on his knee.

“May I have an audience with the Queen, Ser Lorres?”

—---

“The bay, you said?” The Queen’s chamber is well-lit, while she pours herself some wine 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“My cousin has no real claim to the throne. His House has been exiled!”

“He has laid claim regardless, Your Grace. He has the Kingdom's rival supporting the claim.”

“Of course he has. The French would want a puppet of a King and perhaps some disgruntled Barons and Earls are ready to take up arms as well?”

“W-will we have a war then? Is it inevitable?”

“Not if the Crown Prince weds the Princess. As soon as possible.” She sighs, emptying her glass with a swig.

“What does Spain have to gain from this alliance?” You ask, feeling the trepidation.

“We share a common enemy, with the Kingdom’s port at its service, the Spanish ships shall have the upper hand if conflict breaks out, and an eye on the continent.” She explains

“But is it enough to marry our Princess? He is the Crown Prince of an Empire.”

“Power is earned, child, your birthright can take you only so far. Do you think, with Don Juan in the picture, his crown is safe? He needs an heir. My daughter is young and beautiful, and I have many children, she is my first-born.”

You frown at that, remembering Maddy’s words  “But, did he not pledge his loyalty to the Empire the day he was publicly accepted in the court?”

The Queen scoffs, “Loyalty to the Empire? There is no loyalty in a court, Girl. They want nothing but power. Don Juan has risen up from nothing. Ostracised since childhood, he has faced many attempted assassinations for a reason. He is feared, for a reason.  And here he stands, on the verge of Dukedom. Do you think the Spanish Crown sleeps on that? They need him, Spain knows that war is imminent, they need men like Juan.”

“So, he is a foe, then? " You ask. The answer, though, is quite.

“He is a threat until the Princess marries the Crown Prince and gives him an heir.”

“We need the Spanish, right now.”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a moment and turns towards you “Yes, we do. The threat of war looms nearer than a bastard’s possible claim on the Spanish throne. If they block the main route of supplies, people are going to starve here.”

“What shall be done then?”

“My cousin knows the routes, his father was the Earl of Esterwood for ages, and he will make this move. Fetch me my writing supplies, we must write to our friends. The Spanish came for a wedding, not war.”

“They brought some ships, as gifts.”

“The King shall be dealing with the Emperor, right now, we need the enemies surrounded in our land. I need to write to the West and the North, the South is vulnerable. Of course, they chose the East, eastern provinces have many sympathisers for my cousin’s banished House. The Duke of Reinckalf is our closest ally right now. And if we have the blessings, we would not need ships at all."

You nod and get to work.

—--

It is almost bewildering how a single night has changed the air around the palace. Once beaming with lights and chimes of wedding echoing, the palace is now preparing for a possible war, which can be avoided, if the Spanish agrees to send help. You have no clue though, neither the Prince nor his bastard brother has been seen since the break of dawn, you have slept a wink preparation for a battle is in full swing.

Hope flares in you, when you are sent by the Queen to serve refreshments to the men discussing battle plans. In her absence, you are her ears and eyes.

“The Emperor has been sent a letter. I have written personally to him.” The Spanish Prince sits in front of the King.

“I do not believe we have time to wait, now, My Prince.” Lord Juan speaks up. “The vessels landed on the shore two nights ago, this morning, a soldier has reported three villages plundered. They have the supplies, which tells us that they are preparing for a long conflict. He has the French support, through him, the French are going to test the King’s defences. It’s a gamble, especially after the news of the upcoming wedding is spreading like wildfire.”

“But the Prince’s life is not cheap, brother.” One of the princes speaks up with a sharpened tone.

“Of course, it isn’t. That is why I shall take the charge and lead the arms.”

“I appreciate your bravery, Juan but you cannot act without the permission of the Emperor.”

Don John looks into the Prince’s eyes, a distinct gleam under the light makes it seem like there is a slow-burning fire within dark orbs.

“I shall ride as a man of my own doings. I shall carry no Spanish banner under the sun, not until the Emperor sends a nod.”

The Crown Prince whispers something in Spanish with an edge in his voice, but Don John remains undeterred. He replies, betraying nothing of what might be unleashing in his mind. 

In this delicate moment, you wish you had learnt Spanish, but you were so tired of keeping up with the mannerisms that had to be taught to you from scratch ‘a lot of work’ you appointed governess had complained to the Queen. You always had your own ways, thankfully, the Queen liked that, and she still does.

At last, the Crown Prince sighs and Don John turns to the King

 “I shall be joining with my men and leading this battle along with your sons. I shall carry no Spanish banner. But I assure you of Spain’s support to your Kingdom, this is merely what traditions demand.”

“We shall forever be grateful, My Lord.”

“Please, Don John would do. Besides, my brother is to wed the Princess. Let us send a message, without murking up the diplomacy, we can do it, can we not?” He turns to the Crown Prince, who nods, despite the flicker of hesitance in his eyes.

The wedding is bound to happen, right?

For a brief moment, Don John’s eyes meet yours across the room, but the dark orbs are gone as swiftly as they caught your gaze, now moving towards the King as they engage in battle strategy.

“They should have come from the South, it was closer.” One of the men in the room comments.

“Yes, but the East has many who still harbour sympathy for his house.” the King responds.

“Tell me everything, my Lord. I must know the battlefield I am going into.” Don Juan urges.

—--

Your time in the chamber has been tedious but fruitful. You have all the right pieces of information for the Queen. As you bring her tea to her chamber, you provide the pieces that you have collected.

“I do not understand why he would want to lead the army to a battle that is not even his.”

“Should we worry, Your Grace?” You ask, frowning.

The Queen sighs, thinking “I need you to get to the Healer’s place and give him this letter. I need to know everything about the King’s court. And what do the masses think of this if they even know that the villages have been plundered? Are there any secret recruitments underway? This can decide much of the war, Girl. Visit the town’s brothel under disguise, if Katherine knows anything, she shall let you know—any new face, any discourse of concern. I need to know.”

“Is that how wars are won, My Queen?” You cannot help but ask.

She looks at you and ushers you closer, once closer, she stares into your eyes, her piercing stare sees you right through the deepest, darkest parts of your soul and reflects that in her orbs.  

“I see the fire in you, Girl. One day you are going to be much more relevant. I know you want that. So here is a piece of advice I will give. This is exactly how wars are won. Knowledge is power. Men who go to the battlefield depending on their swords are fools. Battles are won with strategies, not swords.”

You can only nod.

—----

The brothel is bustling with soldiers, merchants and nobles—drinking, laughing, and gambling with half-naked women on their laps.  With a dark hood protecting your identity and your hair braided tight you move past the roaring tables.

“Katherine of Waileswere.” You ask a barmaid who gestures towards the shut door.

Evading the drunk patrons, you walk towards the door, taking the shadows to be as discreet as possible. You knock on the door, but another girl answers the door instead of Katherine. The translucent cloth over her torse does little to cover her, but she does not seem concerned. 

“Is Katherine of Wailswere inside?” You ask her, the fluttering curtains hinder your view. However, the faint whispers along with giggling give you the answer. 

“She’s occupied at the moment.”

“This is urgent. I need to see her.”

“But the patron is a noble…” You do not care, walking right in.

“Noble from the court?” the girl opens her mouth the answer but you add anyway “Does not matter, I shall wait.” 

You will never admit but you regret the moment you say it because the moans and gasps of pleasure along with a peal of hushed, honeyed but deep laughter fill the room. The opaque curtains keep the section of the room hidden but only in sight. You cannot help the heat that warms your cheeks.

 The girl chuckles at you “As you wish, My Lady” she shrugs and walks into a quieter section in the chamber. 

For a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of a lean but athletic torso and a supple, feminine thigh against the deep red walls through the opaque curtains. You frown, but make no movement to come out of the shadows or take your hood off. Even though you are curious, you know better than to get caught here. 

As a Lady-in-Waiting for the Queen, you have certain decorum to maintain, especially when you aspire to be a part of the court someday.

People will laugh at you if they come to know that. But you do not care. You have dared to dream and here you are, having the Queen’s favour. Your ambitions are beyond that, they always have been.

Lost in musings, you never notice Katherine walking out. She notices you before you realise.

“Do we have a guest here?” 

Her alluring voice matches with her tantalising and enchanting aura. You understand why men go mad over a night for her—lovers, husbands, nobles, merchants—anyone who can pay the hefty prize that comes with the moments of molten gold over her golden skin, and yet it is she who shall be called the whore, no those men. It’s a good thing that she works for the Queen, she is an excellent source of information and gossip.

“Katherine, I….” Your gaze shifts behind her as the man she has been with saunters out, and you realise you have been too quick to remove your hood.

His glistening body is something that pulls at the gaze. It is tanned to a beautiful bronze, radiant under the daylight filtering inside. He is lean but the hard lines of muscles give away his experience on the battlefield, along with the deep scars. One, in particular, stands out, mapping almost the whole of his stomach in a straight, deep-hued line—healed but not vanished. You wonder what awful things he has stood witness to before your eyes meet his, and you can tell, many.

Recognition flashes in those deep pools that you fear, can cage your soul before he raises a questioning eyebrow, brushing his tousled hair back with his fingers.

“My, my, what do we have here? A lady from the Queen’s chamber?”

You gulp, trying to gather your bearings, well aware of the possibly grave mistake you have made by exposing yourself to the gaze of a man whose intentions are still unclear.

“I-I have come with an invitation from the court for the evening’s events.” You hate the stutter that accompanies your lie and you’re afraid that a man like John sees right through you.

“And they send the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting? No soldier? This can be a dangerous place for a lady.”

His words confirm your fear.

“Katherine is well-acquainted with the court. This place is not for everyone.” You counter.

Lord John’s head tilts with a scoff and you cannot help but admire the way his hair, otherwise always set to perfection has turned damp with a few strands falling alluringly on his forehead.

“Every man is a monster when given the opportunity.” He says, fastening his pants and your gaze drops to the corner. You can practically feel his gaze on you.

To distract yourself, you turn to Katherine “From the…court.” You offer her the letter from the Queen, she understands and only nods. 

Suddenly, the door opens and a girl rushes in “The knights are here, they say they want to have a word with Katherine.” 

The urgency in her voice makes your blood run cold. You do not even realise it but your gaze gravitates towards Lord John, who easily reads the panic flushing through you by your eyes. You almost expect him to mock you—your lie has been exposed, after all. But instead, he quickly advances and pulls you towards the room.

“What are you—-”

“Here, you can escape through the window, quick!” 

His voice is hushed and urgent as he pushes you towards the low window—it is the ground floor, you do not even have to jump. Despite the questions running through your mind, you comply, quickly making an escape, just as you hear the room’s door burst open. 

You know you should leave, but you cannot bring yourself to. Instead, you put on the hood once more and wait behind a building. What feels like hours later, you watch the knights march past you angrily as you hide in the shadows.

They seem to have not been able to get what they want. You frown but as soon as you turn to find your way out of the place, you come face to face with the familiar tanned chest peeking behind the linen cloth.

“Just as I thought,” he comments as you look up and realise how tall he is. Towering over you with his amused but watchful gaze “Lady, if anyone sees you here, you will be in grave trouble.”

“I was worried.”

“About me?” 

“About Katherine.” You narrow your eyes, although while you say that, you realise that it might not be entirely true.

“Uh-huh? She is safe, they won’t dare challenge me, I must admit though, I expected the knights here to be braver.”

“They would not challenge a royal guest.” You begin to walk ahead, but he catches up with you.

“And I thought she received an invitation from the court itself.” The mockery is clear in his voice and the sharpness makes your cheeks heat up slightly, you have nothing to say “Do not sweat though, you little secret shall remain with me.” 

You glare at him “I do not understand… what do you want? You have no reason to fight yet you volunteered and now you helped me escape and saved Katherine.”

“What if I have a good heart?” His dark eyes gleam with the kind of sharp cynicism that lets you know that none of his words is true. 

“Everything has a price.”

You recall one of the most valuable pieces of advice the Queen has given you “So, what possibly could you want, Lord John?”

For a moment, you brace yourself for a biting retort with the way his face hardens but he catches you off guard once more with his response-

“Everything.”

—-----

You know that you should tell the Queen about your little encounter, and what Don John said. But you cannot bring yourself to. When you let the Queen know of what happened at Katherine’s Merriment House, you cut out the conversation with Don John, after your narrow escape from the Knights. Of course, Ser Lorres was the one heading— even though he is to serve the Queen.

“I gave him no orders, the King gave the orders?”

“It is apparently in his name, yes. However, Your Grace, forgive me, for asking why would he?” 

“Then one of his trusted advisors did. I have received some news regarding Earl of Walden’s increased participation.”

“Lord Beecham?”

“Why would he whore away his daughter then?” She asks sharply and you nod

“The King…So much burden to hold but all the wrong people to share it with. Listen here, child, can I trust you?”

“Yes, yes, My Queen, I serve you, and you alone.” You mean it, if not for her, you do not even want to imagine where you would have ended up.

“I cannot wait for a response from Katherine. You must ride away to Reinckalf immediately. Carry a letter of recognition and they will let you have an audience with the Duke. Hand my letter to no one but the Duke. I do not trust the Council and I want him to know that. Do you understand how important it is?”

You nod as she hands you over the letters.

“Guard it with your life, Girl.”

“I will.” You promise, clutching them tightly between your fingers.

—--

All his life, John has been called ‘Juan’ except for his mother who called him John with a tenderness he has never found again. What he found in the palace, was humiliation, betrayal and the twisted ways of the Empire’s palace. The Emperor did not acknowledge him as his bastard son then. But it was an open secret.

All his life, John has been ostracised—he has known shame and resentment, he is a ‘disgrace’, a ‘mistake’ and his mother was a ‘whore’. 

The mother who did everything to keep him fed and clothed. The mother who taught him to never bend his knee to this twisted world. The mother whom the Emperor used as he pleased and then cast her away. She was not from his land but worked in the palace—chambermaid of no social standing. 

He wonders, often, how she managed to give birth to him, how she managed to live so long. It was a miracle, that he lived, right in the snakes’ nest, he lived. Maybe he was sent to a battle at twelve for the very reason. But he lived then, and in every other battle he was a part of. One of the commanders even took him in as a squire, and he learnt the best ways to handle weapons—it was a privilege, he was not supposed to be as good as any prince, or noble and they never let him forget that. 

After his mother passed away, he left the palace, to travel, but deep down, he knew he simply wished to be as far as possible from the twisted place.

He thought he could escape—-his reality, his truth, the burden he carried since his birth, the burden he played no role in. John has been to places, to courts—travelling, serving as a sellsword all those years, meeting and knowing many, befriending a few, but trusting none.

John has been shaped into the man he is today, through his experience, but most of it has been a long, unending dance with death. At times, he wanted someone to succeed in putting a sword through his stubbornly beating heart, slice an artery and make him bleed till his heart ceased to beat. But alas! The bastard John lived on, grew better, quicker, cleverer.

But one day, he woke up, looked at the beautiful woman in his arms, some fellow soldiers lying around, naked, clothed, drunk, snoring after a decisive victory, and decided that he wanted to live after all. Death would come anyway, it was so certain. Life, so far, had been full of surprises—tumultuous, stern, exacting and thrilling surprises. 

By then, he was twenty and seven, he decided to return to Spain. He had acquired some recognition after these years, and the then commander was willing to take him into the Empire’s army.

The interesting thing about the arms is that despite the bias towards nobles, it provides opportunities, even to bastards like him, to rise. He led battles, aided in military treaties, and strategies and two summers later, he was leading the men in battles. The Empire needs men like him, John knows that, and he has learnt the game. 

John has always wanted to live, but not as a disgrace. He tried to rise to honour—that was all he had dreamt of, and being officially recognised by the Emperor as he stood at the cusp of thirty and two, was the closest to what he aspired to be.

But John has always been ambitious, for all he has suffered, right under his father’s nose, he always aimed for more than recognition and military leadership. He continued to strengthen his position in the court until Juan, the bastard, he became, Don Juan, 

When the Crown Prince’s marriage was fixed as a strategic alliance with a Kingdom a good sail away, he decided to join the men who would reach there first, in disguise to ensure that the wind was indeed in the Empire’s favour. To him, it was nothing more than responsibility, another step on the ladder. And it had been so until he wandered into the unassuming woods to bask in solitude and clear his head. 

Until he wandered near a creek, for his beloved stallion to quench its thirst, and there, he saw you—floating so carelessly through the streams, while two of your friends chatted a distance away. He wanted to be closer, but he stepped back, hiding behind the thicket, so he could watch you, and the way hair moved along, the manner you swam on your back, eyes closed under the tender autumn sun. John’s heart had been beating in a stubborn, steady rhythm for a while, but after a long time, he felt his heart pick its pace.

He thought he might never see you again, but there you were, in the Grand Feast, and he had the most striking gaze fixed on him—not out of malice, or the arrogance he had expected, but with pure curiosity—and this time, his heart skipped a beat.

And you have been on his mind ever since. As much as he frowns upon it, this is an undeniable truth that thrums with every beat of his heart. For now, he is aware that the Queen puts her trust in you–-the letter meant for Katherine in his hold tells him so.

—---------

“Deus adiuvet in proelio”

John bowed his head, letting the Bishop bless him and his sword before handing the naked steel back to him. 

—--

The world around you is a blur as your trusted horse rides through the forest. The cold gusts whip against you, like inhaling ice as the night rolls on, but you cannot stop to rest, you must reach Reinckalf before it is too late.

—-

“We ought to safeguard the route for supplies first, lest they capture the main route the capital shall perish. Have you sent the message to the provinces?” John enquires as he reaches his stallion—a black beauty, almost invisible in the dark.

“Yes, My Lord, their soldiers are on their way, some from the nearest provinces have joined us tonight.”

John nods.

“We must ride through the night.” He states before getting on his horse “Come on, boy.” He whispers to his trusted companion before tightening his hold on the reins.

As if his eyes developed a will of their own, his eyes turn towards the nearest tower, where some court ladies stand, most of them, to bid their loved ones a good fortune. A part of him hopes to see you among them. But he returns his gaze to the road ahead with a tinge of disappointment before squeezing his legs as his horse begins moving, followed by the rest of the men.

—--

The room is quiet, except for the crackling of the fireplace and the rustle of the Duke’s clothes as his eyes take in the contents of the letters the Queen has sent you all the way to this place. You have ridden through the night and dawn, finally reaching the gates of the Reinckalf.

As soon as he raises, you follow.

“My men shall meet the King’s army eastward. The maids shall lead you to a chamber, you are free to ride back to the capital, My lady. A battleground is no place for a Lady.”

“Yes, my Lord, I know so. But I have vowed to return to the Queen only with a pleasant word.” You bow before meeting his eyes.

The Duke stands as if studying you briefly before nodding  “As you wish.”

—-------

“The Eastern Provinces may sympathise with the fallen King, and since George, the Queen’s cousin, is the only male heir, they may refrain from sending their men to fight against him, at best.” The Earl of Easterwood states as he stands with John in his chamber. “If forces are joining, Esterwood castle walls can hold them for only so long. But since the army has arrived from the capital, we are relieved.”

“John eyes the layout along the table-sized map.” 

“How many of the barons fought with the previous King?”

“The previous earl was armed by more than a handful of them before they reluctantly surrendered.”

“And how many men do they have right now?”

“I’m afraid, we have no exact numbers, My Lord.”

John’s gaze is sharp as he glances up, but he says nothing and returns his focus to the map. “How many days will it take for the Northerners to reach?”

“If they are fast as they claim, two more days, My Lord.”

“But we have less time if George is marching forward.”

“They say the French have provided them with some of their best troops, two sakers.”

John sighs “I see. Prepare your men, put them on guard for the castle.” 

“At your command Lord Juan,” the Earl bows as John walks past him. 

—-----

“I believe that you are well-acquainted with the histories of this land?” The Duke asks as you ride beside him, two bannermen trotting ahead on their horses while his troops ride behind you two.

“I have, as a lady must, my lord.”

“Then you must have noticed that tis a cycle, my lady. A King is crowned, then comes another,  and another, cities burn, villages are plundered, hundreds die until an empire crumbles to ashes.”

“Then comes another.” You add in a hushed tone, speaking more or less to yourself. “But we must do our duty.” You conclude, raising your chin.

“People have walked through blood to reach the throne, My Lady. I have seen the Queen’s father rule over this Kingdom, and I am seeing her husband rule over this Kingdom—there is no duty—there is only blood.”

You eye him, wary, intrigued and confused “The Queen tells me that you are her friend.”

“I assure you of my allegiance with the Queen. We have been friends since we were children.”

“I would not dare to question your loyalty, My Lord.” You assure him. Offending a man of his stature is the last thing on your mind.

“When we face the enemies tomorrow, My Lady, you shall see my loyalty anyway, and let the Queen know, that she has friends, true friends still.” He states as they continue through the trodden road.

—---

“John, will you tell us what is going in your head?” Borachio and Conrade follow John as they ride deeper into the woods.

“For now we are taking cover. I do not wish to be dead anywhere other than the battlefield.”

“So honourable and glorious.” Conrade comments with a chuckle

“You think I am honourable? Do you think I seek glory?” John scoffs, glancing at his friend. "They're all built on lies."

“Why are we here?” Borachio asks

“Because nothing matters in a war, only victory,” John responds as his stallion stops at a point. They can now see the enemy camp but are perfectly hidden from sight.

—--

It has been a long day for the soldier. Other than the village, they plundered on their way, and they had no rest or food.

 ‘Rest’ is not the way to describe how he and his friend barged into one of the many cottages. It was dark inside, but there was unmistakably a woman there. His friend threatened her with his dagger while he grabbed some fruits and bread.

He does not remember her face or know her name, but now, as he lays in the tent, guarding the cannon balls and some steel, her cries haunt him. His friend held her down by the neck while he tore her clothes and thrust inside her. And after he was done, his friend took his turn before he cut her throat and left the cottage to burn. 

He closes his eyes, feeling much lighter without the armour. Sleep is not far away either. He is tired and they have been travelling. Tomorrow may—

The sudden smell of smoke catches him off guard. He springs on his feet, frantically looking around. His eyes widen as he sees one of the tent walls in flames, nearing the containers for explosives and canon balls, placed along with a pile of others.

“N—!” 

But it is too late, as the tent explodes with a deafening boom, throwing the camp into a burning, bloody and miserable chaos. It gives way to many more explosions and fires like cards inevitably falling one after another.

And amidst the havoc, three men slip away into the woods, unnoticed. 

—------

“Good Lord! How did you know they have already reached?” The realisation and fear dawn upon Borachio as the adrenaline wears off while they ride through the woods.

“Before we reached here. Lord Beecham said that he had information regarding the route they had taken. He most obvious lie I have heard here. Lord Beecham is no friend of the King.”

“What is it to you? Why do you risk us, yourself for this?” 

John turns to Borachio, as their horses trot through the woodland “Because I want to.”

“You never walk on a whim.” Conrade pushes.

There is no trace of pride in his eyes for what he has done. He simply has done what was needed to be done to gain the upper hand.

“Then you know me.” That is all the explanation John provides them with as they ride back to the palace.

“Be prepared for tomorrow.” He breaks the stretched silence during their ride back once the horses are back in the stable.

—----

The early arrival of the George, backed by the French Army at Esterwood catches most off guard. 

The battle has been decided tomorrow, why not today?” The earl wonders aloud as he shows John potential battlegrounds.

“Because they are not prepared yet,” John replies before putting a paperweight over a shallow hill on the map.

“The Northerners are yet to arrive, we are short of men. If Esterwood falls, it shall be a blow to the Crown---a humiliation! George will win.”

“I understand, My Lord, and that is why, we take downhill.”

“What? You baffle me good Lord, why take such a disadvantageous position?”

“You have a great knowledge of the geography here?”

“I assure you, I do.”

“Then prepare your men and send them the message to meet us tomorrow at the uphill.”

“But that gives them momentum.”

“That is what I want. Here,” he raises the paperweight and points near the hill, “if I am not wrong, is a bog. I want the troops to start working on the spears”

—---

The sun rises with two royal sigils against each other on the battleground. 

“Take positions!”

John commands and the men behind him point their spears. 

“Archers! Take positions!”

He commands again and the archers positioned strategically ready themselves and their bows.

“Lord Commander, who gave you information about the troops?”

“I believe a handful of barons holds sympathy for the Pretender.” The older man sighs, eyeing the expanded enemy troops, holding up the sigil that once stood over the capital of the Kingdom.

“Where are the Northerners?” 

“On their way, I assure you. The enemies have reached long before the estimated time.”

John gives him a sharp glance before straightening up.

“Either way, we must fight. And we must win” 

With that, he puts on his helmet, and the heavy metal clanks against his armour as he positions his sword over his horse, the men on foot have already taken position around the bog. 

Finally, the Lord Commander raises his sword and the horns blow.

—--

From a vantage point of view, it might look like ants rushing down a slope, pointed and organised initially, until they reach the bottom and their horses fail. Like a pile of cards, they fall. And that is when the men around the bog charge with arrows raining down.

Spears, swords, blood, dirt and mud, all become one on the wet ground. Those who manage to escape the bog—-on foot or on horse, are met by John and other men on their horses. But that is not enough. With a command to charge them on foot, John gets off his stallion and charges towards the incoming enemies with his naked sword.

The epics and the ballads sing of such scenes as glorious, something heroic. The plays, the paintings, the history records—all paint them in golden light. 

In reality, there is nothing heroic, or glorious about battles—it is simply men trying to survive. And there is only one way to survive on a battlefield without humiliation–to fight, to keep fighting. John’s breaths come out as gasps as he pushes, cuts, punches and wrestles through the armoured men.

It is a brutal chaos. Fight and live, or fight until you die.

His sword clashes with another's, he is swift on his feet—he has fought worse. He stands his ground, swiftly using his shield to protect himself against the incoming blows before attacking again. His sword meets his rival’s shield thrice before another armoured man attracts. But John is swift to move away and take position again. Using this shield, he hits one on the head, destabilising him before taking off his metal helmet and hitting one with it. It gives him enough time to push him onto the ground and swiftly push his sword through the gap, the blood and the sounds of the flesh being pierced are drowned by the man's short-lived but blood-curdling scream before he falls limp while John blocks another hit from the other man with his shield. His hands shake under the attack but he refuses to budge.

So much within a span of a moment. His attention shifts to the other man’s raised sword before John blocks with his shield again before jumping back on his feet. He quickly attacks one of the approaching horses, cutting off the strap as the man on it falls on his current, bloodthirsty rival. Giving the fallen soldier no time to think, John takes his dagger and stabs the man in his eyes through the gap in his helmet before forcefully pulling off his helmet and stabbing him through the neck. He barely even looks into his eyes before pushing the body away and finally holding the man he has been fighting down, kicking his shield away and hitting him with his armoured head with his helmet until it bends. Finally, he takes off the helmet and hits his enemy’s bare and vulnerable head with his helmet with gritted teeth and lips curled up in a snarl until his face is marred with his rival’s blood and his rival, dead underneath him. 

But the battle is far from over and victory is not near enough. Back on his feet, John pushes and punches through armoured men, grabbing one in an armlock before hitting his head with the back of his sword. He throws him on the ground, where he is stomped over by the rest of the fighting soldiers and frightened horses.

Breathlessly, he fights through, until he hears horns at a distance. His eyes move to the source as relief washes over him at the sight of Reinkalf’s sigil along with the Kigdom’s. There is cheer, uproar and newfound vigour as the men fight.

“The Northern army!” Another man roars. 

From the other side rides down a large, imposing army from the north, scattering and completely overpowering the rest of the French troops. Their horses and swords cut through the enemy forces swiftly.

This indeed is his day.

John can’t help but think as a rare laugh bursts out of his bloodied mouth before he pushes against and attacks the enemy soldiers with newfound vigour.

It is a decided battle now, but his eyes search for George. As he fights through the men, reaching the middle, he misses a swordsman rising on his feet before it is too late, he is hurled on the ground, mud in his eyes and a heavy, armoured hand comes for for his jaw. John spits out blood, disoriented, half-blinded but swift enough to block another blow with his hands. His hand grabs a fallen helmet before he swings it on the man over his with full force. Breathless and bloody, he spits out again before snatching swinging the helmet again, and again, and again. Until the man falls beside him. Swiftly, John climbs over him and continues to hit him with the helmet until it breaks. Taking his dagger, he plunges it through the gap of the helmet.

Breathless and exhausted, he reluctantly takes off the armour protecting his torso—it is slowing him down. This man almost had him. He turns to swiftly block another incoming sword with his. Now much lighter and quicker, he easily manoeuvres through the battlefield. His sword slices through metal and flesh, leaving it dripping with warm blood.

 He can almost taste victory along with the mud and grass until he feels the sudden piercing of a dagger on the left of his torso. He growls and turns to the attacker.

He is not wearing the enemy’s armour.  

But he has no time to think through as the armoured man hits him with his shield, throwing him on the ground. John moves as fast as he can, rolling away deeper into the fighting ground spitting blood, and feeling the warm liquid flowing down from the side of his face.

The horns of victory blow, but it is all muffled by John, who finds his breath slowing as his vision dims.

*****

Phew! A long, boring chapter. But do not worry, things will pick up pace in the next.

[doumadono]

I have come to confess for sinful Sunday that I have heirophilia, and I have it bad, and as much as I love religious imagery, I also love the thought of demons who play as false priests or saviors. If there was anything I could ask for, more than anything, could we get some Sekido x fem reader where he degrades and yells at the reader to repent for their sinful lust even though he's obviously the one who's been fucking them while they prayed for mercy?

SINFUL SUNDAY

Warnings: non-con, hierophilia

A sense of unease settles upon you as you enter the church, greeted not by the familiar warmth of a congregation but by an eerie emptiness. The air carries only a faint hint of iron, and an unsettling stillness replaces the usual harmonious chorus of communal hymns. A glimpse near the entrance hints at something amiss – perhaps blood, though uncertainty veils your perception. The ordinary atmosphere, once brimming with the warmth of community and shared songs, now feels cold and distant, shrouded in an unspoken disquiet.

Abruptly, a towering presence advanced from the confessionary. "How may I assist you, my dear child?"

Your uncertainty lingers, but you muster a response, "I came for a confession, but… isn't the mass supposed to be happening now?"

The figure, a man with dark hair, smiles as he draws nearer. "We've adjusted the schedule. Nevertheless, I'm here to help. Follow me, my child."

A furrow forms on your brow as you observe him guiding you to a different section of the church, revealing the rectory where priests reside between masses.

As the door shuts behind you, a chilling shiver races up and down your spine - a premonition that danger lurks right behind your back.

Sekido, the false priest, clad in the vestiges of religious garb, becomes the harbinger of damnation. "You need to repent for your lust, I can smell it lingering on you, little sheep."

Torn garments leave you exposed, and you frantically attempt to shield yourself, using your hands and tightly pressing your thighs together in a desperate bid for modesty. "Please, Father, please let me go..."

Sekido's lips curl into a sly smirk in response to your pleas. "I am not a Father, but for you, my dear child, I can certainly play the role of a daddy."

He picks you up easily and throws you onto a tiny bed standing near the beautiful stained glass window.

Laying on the bed, you feel the sting of his firm hand on the meat of your ass, on and on, each spank punctuated by a low growl of Sekido. His commanding voice reverberates, demanding, "Confess your sins, woman! I insist on hearing your confessions!"

You plead with him, your voice a fragile murmur, "Please, please, release me…"

Sekido, in his relentless resolve, dismisses your entreaties, administering a more forceful spank to your exposed flesh, leaving a red mark in a shape of his hand there. "You're destined for damnation, the gates of heaven shall forever elude your grasp."

Tears stream down your face, a silent plea for mercy, as you desperately attempt to crawl away. The disconcerting sound of a zipper being undone reverberates through the air, accompanied by the subtle rustling of fabric, signaling the descent of his obsidian pants.

Before you realize it, the crimson, swollen tip of his dick teases against the tender entrance of your ass.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, a melody of anguish, as he thrusts into you unyieldingly, affording no respite for your senses to acclimate. The relentless intrusion establishes a vigorous, unrelenting rhythm, each forceful thrust sending tremors of intensity through your form as you cry and scream, suffocating on your own tears.

Sekido seizes a handful of your hair, yanking your head back, causing your back to arch in response to his forceful advance. As he pushes deep into you, his balls resting against your ass, he leans forward, his voice a sultry whisper against your ear, "You relish the intensity, don't you? I can see you do, your breath quickening like a bitch in heat. You like the demon's cock splitting you open, yeah, woman?"

The agony courses through you, pushing you to the brink of unconsciousness, while an unfamiliar heat simmers in the depths of your abdomen.

Sekido releases his climax inside you, a guttural groan escaping his lips, accompanied by a triumphant exclamation, "Yes! Yes! Take it, bitch, take it all!"

The scarlet-eyed demon departs, leaving you sprawled on the bed, your consciousness wavering, tears marking your face.

Sekido adjusts his trousers, offering gentle pats to the now reddened flesh on your ass. "You did well. Your next confession awaits this Sunday, remember to grace the damn chapel with your presence."

taglist: @aliorailrow