#she's just a teen girl with a lust for blood

[bambiesfics]

𝐄. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♥️’𝐬 𝐌*𝐥𝐟𝐬 ╰₊✧ ﾟ

Part One - [FIND PART TWO HERE]

ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: You’re a yummy, soft around the edges older lady, with a post-partum body that jiggles in the most delicious ways. Ellie simply can’t get ahold of herself, every time she sees you, her pupils turn into pretty pink hearts, and her clit thumps in rhythm with her beating heart.

ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is re-upload of my series fic, part 2 & 3 are already written!

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓, when Ellie Williams realized for the first time, how much of a sick little whore she was for older women, especially with children.

Her jaw went slack when she walked by your house in the warm weather, lustfully staring at how the crease of your ass was spilling out from under your denim cut off shorts. You were too busy wiping chocolate off your toddler's face to notice the young brunette ogling you like a pervert.

Her steps faltered and then eventually just slowed to a complete stop. A wanton chance to stand there and stare at you. Ellie’s heart was thumping fast, but her clit was thumping faster. You were so womanly, so plush and pretty. Gosh, Ellie was so enamored with the tubby meat of your ass, and those yummy thighs of yours, to notice that her vanilla scoop ice cream had slowly melted atop her tight fist, and the sugary drippings splattered onto the toe-box of her converse sneakers.

When you finally stood up from where you were bent over your toddler, after haven given the aforementioned teen girl, a free, front-row show to ogle at your asscheeks. You’d realized that the same adorable young girl with auburn hair, had been staring at you. You naturally assumed it was heatstroke that made her all stiff like that. So you invited her inside. But reality set in when you noticed that no matter what you were doing, whether it was getting her a glass of water, or placing the back of your hand on her forehead to gauge her temperature, Ellie's eyes always found their way back down to your puffy nipples or your buttcheeks.

She continuously ran her tongue along her bottom lip as she manspread. Or rubbed her palms down her thighs just slow enough for you to catch the pride flag bracelet dangling from her wrist. And in less than a second your thoughts had flitted from ‘Oh…’ to ‘OH!’

You tried to push it into the back of your mind. Because, surely that didn’t mean anything. Ellie was just a nice young lady whose head was stuck in the clouds, the bracelet and the wandering green eyes, they didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to…fuck you, did it? She’s too young to be so ambitious anyway, to be so wantonly lustful. No not this sweet, slightly spaced out, teenage girl. That’s what you wished to believe, so you rolled off the lustful thoughts, and instead offered her some lunch. A baloney and lettuce sandwhich with the crust cut off. Just how you assumed every kid liked it, It was the motherly thing to do.

“Wanna taste you sooo bad” she muttered as you came up close to place her lunch next to her. In an instant a deep pink blush bloomed wildly on Ellie’s face, her eyes widened in embarrassment and the blood vessels in her eyes became more pronounced. “I-I meant I wanna taste your sandwiches. L-L-like the one you just gave me…..I’m really sorry.” She turned her head to the side “Fuck. me.” The cherry cheeked girl had whispered the last part so low you almost missed it.

Ellie was so fucking humiliated, but she couldn’t help it. All she could do was trip and stumble over her words, and apologize each time her sinful lips accidentally verbalized every vivid fantasy she had, without her brain’s consent. Your curvy, post-partum body was doing sick things to her cunt. Cause damn, all she wanted was to stuff her face under your puffy pussy, tell you to drop your full weight on her head and then beg you to suffocate her.

Ellie got her wish, because after she embarrassed herself, you invited her to watch a few cartoons with your tot. Cartoons transitioned to action thrillers when your toddler got sleepy. And thrillers turned into you riding her tongue as she nipped her pink lips at your thumping, swollen clit. Suckling it into her mouth as she rubbed her own pussy through her jeans. Ellie brought both hands to grab the fatty dough of your ass and forced you to grind on her face, ride her nose until your heart's content. She even licked downwards until she reached your pucker, tonguing your furled tight rim. She’d always wanted to rim a girl, and fuck, today she just might. Before Ellie could continue poking the tip of her tongue into your asshole, you lifted yourself off her face and hovered your pussy above her lips as you came, watching your hole drip out sticky strings of your arousal onto her chin. Ellie held out her tongue to catch it.

And then you—.

“—Ellie!”

“Ellie!”

Your voice ripped right through her fantasy. “I think it’s starting to get late, you should go home now.” You said as you held her shoulder, worried about the ditzy girl.

Ellie’s eyes faltered momentarily, disappointed at the realization she had just gotten too deep into her fantasy again. Of course some random lady with a kid and likely a husband wasn’t going to let her fuck on the first day they met.

She pushed herself off from your counter and readjusted the front of her pants, trying to accommodate her swollen clit.

She hadn’t been this ravenously attracted to a girl in years. She already knew she was going to finger herself at the thought of you and your ass suffocating her deliriously, tonight.

Ellie shuffled outside, hands stuffed in the front of her pockets playing with the little Hawaiian tooth pick you put on her baloney sandwich.

The sun was low, and the horizon of its setting was a warm orange. The air cooled the nape of her neck. All she could think about was you.

Ellie had completely forgotten about how the point of her walk through your neighbour, was to go pick up her date from the next park over.

-Fin-

[morganwrites12672]

It's Always Been This Way

Dean Winchester x Singer!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Dean have always liked each other. . . Just never at the same time. What happens whenever they fall for each other while working a case?

Rating: PG-13

A/N: I hate the beginning but whatever. Requests are open!

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It's always been this way.

For as long as Y/n and Dean could remember, they had great friends. That was it. Just friends. At various points in their lives, they had had crushes on the other. It had never worked out though. Neither one was willing to admit it.

It was inevitable that they had liked each other (and shit luck that it was never at the same time). Y/n was a Singer, Bobby's only child. She had grown up around Dean and Sam. The three were constantly around each other due to their father's jobs. Bobby refused to outright leave her, and he could only justify it if she was with Sam and Dean.

They aren't kids anymore. Dean's 25. Y/n's 24. Both of them are adults.

It was a solo hunt for Dean whenever he ran into her. Sam was at Stanford and John was working his own case. He ran into Macy as she was leaving the witnesses house. It had been years since he had seen her. She had stopped staying at her father's much. The two had no reason to try and see each other otherwise.

Dean's eyebrows raised in shock as they made eye contact. She was in her Feds threads. Her jaw practically dropped. She couldn't believe who she was seeing.

She tried to walk past him but Dean stopped her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Same thing as you," She replied, her eyes taking him in. "I'm working a case."

He tilted his head a bit as he looked down at her. They were both so different. Dean thought that she looked different, good different. His eyes lingered on the way her skirt hugged her waist. He cleared his throat, looking back up at her eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Alone?" He questioned, wondering if Bobby, or maybe another hunter, was helping her. It was one of the more dangerous cases. It looked like a Vampire. Victims had their throats ripped out, bodies drained of blood.

"Yes, alone."

Y/n wondered why he seemed. . . Concerned, maybe? She could tell based on how his eyebrows knit together. She didn't see a problem with it. She had been trained her entire life practically. She didn't lack experience. She had been raised like Dean. Not much of a childhood, but damn good at hunting the things that go bump in the night.

That was practically the end of that conversation. They exchanged a few more words, just checking up on each other before departing.

It had been decided that they would work the case together. After a few nights of staying up all night together, she had to admit, a bit of a crush had formed. Not like it had ever left really. God, she had been head over heels for Dean as an older teen. He had been too blinded by his lust for practically every girl who walked by him to notice.

If only she knew that it wasn't always a one sided crush. Dean had wanted to ask her out several times in the past. He had always assumed she would say no and never gathered the courage. The one girl who made him a little bit nervous. He don't want to risk the friendship.

Y/n yawned as she glanced at the red letters glowing in the dark: 4:37. God, it was late. She looked down at the careless notes she had scribbled in her notebook. She wasn't much closer to figuring out a plan. She glanced over at Dean, admiring how he looked in the lamp light. Her little crush hadn't stopped growing.

It might only be one vampire, but it wasn't simple. This creature didn't stay in the same place every night. The pattern was practically unrecognizable. Dean had suggested lurking at bars, hoping to see something suspicious. Y/n didn't like the plan but soon realized it was the only option.

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The air reeked of stake cigarettes and cheap beer. The lights in the bar were low as her eyes scanned the people in it. They finally knew what the vamp looked like. They just needed to find him.

This case has been hell so far. Three more people had died since the duo had started investigating. It was all going to shit very fast. If they didn't catch the culprit soon, they would need to call in another hunter.

Y/n glanced across the bar at Dean. As she looked back to the- what the hell? She quickly noticed something. He was here, the vampire. She didn't have time to call Dean as she followed him out the door. She tried to be subtle but there weren't any other people on the street.

As the vampire walked down the alley, she double checked that the vial of dead man's blood was still hidden, tucked into her jeans. She really should have called Dean. She pulled out her phone to text him, only taking her eyes off the vamp for a second whenever she heard a hiss.

Her phone clattered to the ground as the vampire attempted to bite her. She mumbled a curse and dodged. She didn't have her machete with her. She had been planning to use the dead man's blood and then dash back to the car. All she had with her was the gun in the waistband of her jeans and the knife tucked in her boot.

She rushed at the vampire, landing a solid punch that sent his head snapping back. He was quick to retaliate, slamming her into the wall. He had his hand around her throat whenever she kneed him in the groin. She managed to get away, raising her fists again in the alley.

The vampire threw a punch her way, she blocked. God-damnit. She forgot how much these fights hurt. Both of her hands were busy deflecting the vampires hits. She needed an opportunity to grab the dead man's blood. Before she could, the vampire hit her square in the nose. She groaned, feeling blood trickle.

She landed a solid kick to the vampires back as she dodged another hit.

"You bitch!" The vampire hissed at her. "I should have killed you the second you walked into that bar. You think I wouldn't recognize a hunter?" The vampire sneered at her.

"At least I don't rip the throats of innocent people out," She snapped back.

As the vampire rushed at her, knocking her to the ground, she grabbed the vial of dead man's blood. She was seconds away from injecting it whenever the vampire knocked it away. A wave of fear ran down her spine. She was trapped.

"Not so tough now, are you?" The vampire sneered as he cut his wrist. He grabbed her jaw. She tried to fight against him. Before she could be turned, the vampires head fell on her body.

She looked up and saw Dean. He looked pissed.

"You ran after the vamp, on your own!" He exclaimed, helping her up. "Son of a bitch. And you didn't even bother to bring your machete."

She rolled her eyes as she stood, wiping the blood from her nose with her sleeve. "I had it handled!"

"No, you didn't," He snapped back, his voice low. "You should have taken me with you."

Y/n sighed as they walked back to Dean's '67 Chevy Impala. She didn't regret what she had done. It had gotten the case solved. It had saved lives. Sure, she had made a stupid risk. That didn't matter. It had all worked out.

"I did fine," She grumbled as she slid into the passenger seat.

"No, you fucking didn't!" Dean said as he started the Impala.

"Why do you care so much?" She snapped. She was a tad bit grumpy. She had been beaten up by a vampire. Every bit of her body seemed to hurt. She would surely have bruises in the morning.

"God, can't you see? I care about you!" He said as he drove out of the bars parking lot. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

She could have screamed. "Oh," Was all she said for a minute. The tension in the car could have been cut with a knife. She swallowed thickly. "You could have just asked me out." She said in a reading tone.

Dean let out a slightly tense laugh, "Would you have said yes?"

"Obviously!" She replied. She thought it was obvious that she liked him. Apparently not.

Dean cleared his throat. The rest of the drive to the motel was silent. She listened to the Metallica quietly playing in the background. The night sky was dark and gloomy as they drove. What would happen between them?

As the car was parked, she couldn't get out of the car far enough. Dean walked into her motel room with her. It was where they had both done most of the research. There were still various notebooks and newspaper clippings strewn about.

"So. . . Do you have any plans tomorrow?" Dean asked.

Y/n quickly turned around, "I don't."

Dean gave her a cocky smile, "Then it's a date."

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment and reblog!

[blueberryarchive]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 & 𝒍𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒓

♰pairing; preacher!jk x reader x cowboy!jm

♰word count; 4.6k

♰genre; smut, horror, angst

♰tw; dead dove do not eat, drowning, heavy non-con, dacryphilia, oral, penetration, mentions of blood, depiction of religion, gruesome details of death, physical and verbal violence (jk has a serious rage problem), alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of jk wanting to have sex as a teen.

prev//next

"Love. Sweetheart, stay with me a lil' longer, please. Fuck, Jeon, she's dying on me." Jimin bellowed, a halo of violet light outlining his silhouette as dry cornfields passed by the sides of the truck, your body bouncing with the truck's turmoil from side to side.

You looked down and saw your numb leg, the dark hole of burnt skin that Park soaked with a misty liquor. His awake and worried eyes, the dried blood of your lusts on his lips, the new blood that the wound vomited out, covering his hands, becoming thicker and purer.

Your shoulders slumped, your head resting on the back window of the truck. The two men were fighting, but that was just as the murmur of crickets and moths.

The sky was infinite, domed with stars, all subtly arranged in the perfect position. You saw among the sequins of God, all your dresses and the damn heels in which you had to squeeze your growing body. How Miss Texas' adorable smile became a pathetic white plate without emotion.

And oh, you knew that the fall of a star was inevitable, but not even the flame began to die when you were already sunken between the rocks and the soft grass caressing the last spark, your first tears of acceptance. And in the grass, you dozed, feeling sorry for your own useless body, the plastic crowns, the gold, and the memories of the applause.

"No! Stay." A slap brought you back to the hard floor of a barn. The unknown man grabbed your cheeks and choked you with a long, bitter drink of homemade liquor.

The little light came in from a window in the wooden ceiling, the heat emanating from the hay and wool piled in the corner, leaving a strong smell, you groaned before vomiting to the side.

"Fuck, Jungkook. She's not a fucking animal, you're going to make her faint." Jimin pushed his partner. Jungkook swallowed hard. His pale, neat face was dirty with crimson droplets.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Park?" Jungkook pushed him back, and neither of them could believe it, neither the action nor the power in the voice.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Letting in a bunch of rapist shit-smoking hippies without a fucking cent to pay for their stay."

And then you thought about the rifle the father was carrying, about Sage and the others. A gasp from deep in your chest, the sob reminding you of your pain.

The rifle was pointed at you with anger pooling in his neck that didn't let him breathe. You screamed as you tried to stand up but it was useless, your wounded leg was your cross. Jimin moved as quickly as possible to cover your mouth, squeezing until it hurt.

"What did you do with the others?" Park's voice trembled, and his partner's eyes showed an open, bloody wound that would not close until a couple of demons ran away.

"I shot the boy in the shoulder, the two girls took the car and drove to California. I made them promise not to come back."

"You're a fucking psychopath." Your scream is muffled by the cowboy's fingers.

The rifle flew away in the hay, and the impatient sheep threw themselves to one side when they knew that it was not food they brought but danger.

"Jeon, stop!"

Jungkook was taller and heavier than his partner, so it wasn't difficult to lunge at you, grab your hair, and compress your chin until he felt every tooth. He was sweating with the smell of incense and wine, his thin lips spit in your face.

"It's because of people like you that I want to leave the church and buy a damn truck, pick up every son of a bitch on Route 66 who raises his dirty thumb on the side of the road, and bathe them in acid until they dissolve alive."

You didn't say anything, because you were pure meat in front of him, a mere animal for slaughter if you moved too close…

Two hot tears fell to Jungkook's fingers, and it was as if a flower had opened in his hand. A strange tickling in his throat left him passive, mute. He removed his hat with the respect the pained lady deserved.

"You're the Bell Ranch kid."

"Please tell me you didn't start shooting people in my house." Jimin interrupted, pacing back and forth impatiently.

"Jimin, she's the Bell Ranch kid-"

"I know, it doesn't matter now. You shot her and she's bleeding herself to death, Christ."

"I told you it was just a shot, they'll probably think it was to scare a coyote."

The cowboy crouched down and tucked his head between his legs, the alcohol rising into his veins.

"You're such an idiot, you know?" The father continued, filling the silence.

"What did you just say?"

"You really believe that these people come to enjoy rural life, to feed your chickens and fuck in the mountains."

"I needed the money," Jimin muttered stressed.

"The fuck you needed that money for?"

"To get the hell out of this place." He roared, standing again in front of Jungkook. "I'm sick and tired of Rivermouth and its moribund, corrupt town. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about having to see the fucking faces of the same people at Bee's diner again."

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at him, seeing him as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.

"But everyone loves you, you're like a star here."

Jimin laughed, glassy eyes threatening to ooze saline waters.

"Do you know who else was a star in this town? Your dad, little church boy."

"Jimin." He warned you saw how his fists showed through his knuckles.

"And the star decided to have a summer camp for all the children, ended up in a human grill, and everyone thought that your dad fucked children."

It was so fast that you couldn't see Jimin's body fall to the ground, the dust hiding the blows that reverberated from Jimin's skull. The cowboy didn't lift his arms, instead, he let his friend vent until he saw Jimin's silver fang painted red.

Jungkook gasped like a barbarian, his arms trembled before he delivered the next punch and fell next to Jimin, overwhelming moans coming from his chest, stale tears, and babbling that only Jimin understood, but he didn't move.

Jimin closed his eyes, thinking about teenage Jungkook who was trying to get close to the burned body of his father, which Jimin never let him talk about or touch, for the funeral he locked him in his room even after protests and threats. He didn't know if he wanted to protect him, if because he was older than him, he thought about taking the role that that monument of a man had left behind.

He was as attractive as his son, charismatic, and an all-around good man. But his statue began to crack when some young people arrived at the church, a couple who convinced him that he did not need the God for whom he so praised and knelt down. But he was the deity, who with his wings would go far.

He had this idea of encouraging the little ones next to him, elevating them. He closed the doors of the old church, while singing with the children and bathed the edges of the windows in kerosene.

The screams were hellish, no one heard them. No one cried more than the little boy who saw his sister burning on the ground, no one screamed more than the girl whose dress melted into her skin, and no one trusted her father more than the youngest son of Father John I.

Jungkook's younger brother hung from his father's clothes, watching his friends burn with a sense of purpose, that this had to happen for his own good.

And like Icarus, the sun kissed his father's body without Jungkook realizing the changes until very late: the sarcastic laughter in the middle of reading, his constant absence, the misplaced and ambitious gaze.

His mother fell into the abyss. Died sitting in a rocking chair when her body seemed to disintegrate more and more every day. A rosary in hand, a tiresome prayer that licked away her sorrows.

"Come on, we have to think about what we're going to do with her," Jimin murmured, wiping away the trickle that ran down his nose. Jungkook gave him his hand and stood up. Both men hugged each other until the minor stopped sobbing.

The father looked in your direction, determined. You could feel the black socket of his eyes fire just once and not miss.

"We have to chain her before she runs away."

Jimin nodded. There was no time to lose.

A latent pain spread through Jungkook's head until a crown of pure anguish decorated his hair. Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the phone rang incessantly on the other line.

One of the things that bothered him about Billie, was the way time seemed to run smoothly and leisurely through her fingers. It took her forever to analyze things, to choose what she was going to eat, even if it would always be chicken pot pie; and in this case, answer the phone.

The telephone booth where he was was dirty, it smelled of urine, and the windows were clouded with dust. He was still wearing his black shirt and pants, his collar pristine white, his old man's ring on his right hand being moved anxiously.

He couldn't believe what he would do in his free time instead of being with the girl he had decided to marry. But a letter arrived at his office at the church that afternoon, one of the children playing in the park had been sent with it. The letter was a simple piece of paper wrapped and tied with an improvised wildflower as a cord.

I'll be busy tonight. The sheep must be tamed and sheared. J.

When he read the words, he almost dropped the paper on the floor and sent the boy out with a dollar in his hand so that he would promise not to tell anyone.

He spent the entire mass having trouble speaking, gave averted glances, and cleared his throat like a sick man. The drops of sweat clinging to his chest, it was hell.

"Hello?"

"Billie, it's John, sweetheart."

"Why are you not here?" His chest sank as he heard the sweet voice of his girl. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

"I must..." his voice trailed off. The last time he lied was so long ago.

It's not that religion made him feel guilty for telling a lie, sometimes a father must lie to people's faces with such solemnity that the devotee can only let themselves fall into the invisible hands of God and lie down on hope for a miracle.

"I have to take care of one Park's ewe. Poor little one it's havin' some trouble, and he doesn't want her to be alone until his show ends." Terrible, one of the worst lies he's ever made.

Silence.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Billie purred, almost in a plea. He sighed, he could see her pink varnished nail tangled in the phone cord eagerly. Trying not to wake her dad's ears with such questions.

Jungkook had her on the edge because he hadn't even kissed her. He knew he was cruel for that. It's not that he has officially offered either, but sometimes a man doesn't lie through words, but by taking her home, by looking into her eyes for a longer time when he gives her the host, by helping her learn to touch herself inside the confessional.

"It's better not to, pet. I'm sure it'll be an allnighter, the thing'll be crying for hours and I know how sensitive you are with animals."

"It's true, you know me so well, Jungkook."

He smiled. "I know, darling." He clears his throat before continuing. "But tomorrow you can come to the parish, and we will feed the pigeons in the morning. How 'bout that?"

One more lie, this time it was not the hands of God but the calloused and bloody hands of the young father. But she just giggled.

"Goodnight, Billie. Say hi to your mother for me."

"'Night, Johnnie. I love you."

A lump in his throat, and he thanked God because after saying that, she closed the call. His tongue turned to lead to say those three words back. He knew he did, he wanted to protect Billie more than anything and make her happy, but there was no need to say it, right?

Jungkook's shirt was unbuttoned, the shaking in his breathing causing an unusual tremor in the sound of the farm. It was a windy night, there wasn't much moonlight, so Jungkook lit several kerosene lamps on the banks.

The wooden tub was arranged in the center, the horses and chickens raising their heads every time Jungkook grunted, bringing more hot water. The sweat falling down his temples and over his broad chest, the steam had him suffocated in that silence, and you showed no signs of waking up at any time.

He approached the hay in the corner where the sheep surrounded your body curled up like a fetus, you slept with bloody clothes and matted hair. Your breathing is as soft as the wool around you, both hands and feet tied with rope.

You looked like a lost princess. A princess who devoured every man in her land, and now she rests peacefully to reduce her satiety. Your dry mouth and the remains of Jimin's blood fell to your neckline, making Jungkook's face boil, because he couldn't believe that his friend had fallen for such banalities. It made him want to take the same lamp in his fingers and drop it on top of your delicate body.

His boot touched your low heels, but nothing. He crouched down until he had his hand close to your shoulder, your skin tender under the shaking flames, curved and soft under the dress you were wearing.

You were disgusting, angelic, so terribly at peace in your state.

Of course, upon his arrival at Jimin's house, the first thing he did was open your suitcase and touch all your belongings. Because, in the end, a woman is her belongings: she is the compact blush that she has worn since she was 19, she is the old leather necklace with the worn-out heart pendant and the empty perfume bottle.

Women feel this need to keep things that don't work or lose their value over time. Something that may have to do with how Jungkook sees them, how it's the opposite for him. How his father and his uncles also saw the women in his life. The brighter, the better.

Women, instead, have their daughters' teeth in their jewelry like yellowish nacre and love the same man from their fifteenth until the memories fade with their bodies.

Jungkook knew you would like something to remind you of home, where you truly belong. Not California, not New York, not even Austin; but Rivermouth, with its disproportionate mountains, the storm clouds filling the sky at all hours, and the same faces transferring from parents to children to grandchildren.

A place where nothing changed and that was the good thing. Even though things might end up bad.

He was sure your body was not leaving that barn, he had come to that decision the same day he saw you.

To recompensate, he decided to find you the most beautiful dress among your belongings, a delicate bow with which he would decorate your neck and a vermilion lipstick.

His hand squeezed your shoulder until you stood up screaming, his hand went straight to your mouth.

"Don't fucking do that, please." The way you looked around made Jungkook understand that you didn't remember anything, it was sad to see the weight lift your pupils towards his and still try to find an explanation. "You need to shower, your stench is making me sick."

He grabbed your bound wrists and dragged you to the edge of the hot water, a round, yellowish sponge and sulfur soap placed on a stool.

"Don't make a noise, you'll wake up Sweet Pea," Jungkook murmured behind you, the heat of his breath on your back.

Sweet Pea was a sheep separated from the others, sleeping between a bed made of hay and old coats. Her bloated stomach writhed with each ragged breath. She suffered with her mouth open and her woolly paws shivering with every squirm of the babies in her belly, she slept painfully.

"Raise your arms." The man behind you whispered, a sharp Swiss army knife cutting through the fabric of your dress like butter. The cold of his hands removing your dress let a gasp leave your lips. "Easy, there."

His tall, sweaty body leaned into your hands, his eyes evading yours, swallowing hard. Your breasts fell light and exquisite, your exposed stomach curved until it reached the plain of your pussy and Jungkook felt like the edge of his knife would slip from his hands as he finished tearing your clothes.

"Let's see the wound." He cleared his throat, sitting on the bench where he had a clean pair of gauze. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" You interrupted, raising your foot to the top of his knee.

"Have some respect. I'm not one of your little friends."

You rolled your eyes as the slender fingers removed the knot from the dirty yellowed gauze. You hissed, leaning your body forward. As a result, you placed your hands on top of Jungkook's jet-black hair, tightening the strands under your fingers in the last turn of the gauze. Jungkook took a deep breath, his fingers trembling gently as he examined the bruised hole.

"At least the blood stopped."

"Do you plan to heal my wound until I starve to death here?"

Jungkook was already getting tired of your words, of that shrill accent, and your lips always a little parted as if waiting for them to fill your mouth with-

"I plan to heal your wounds until I find a grave big enough to put you and all your things in." Your alert eyes made him laugh. He loved seeing the terror in them. Made you look more adorable.

He grabbed the clear liquor from among the hay and wet a piece of cotton. Your left leg was shaking from the effort, and you were weak, surely Jimin was stupid enough to not leave you something to eat before going to enjoy his fame.

"You're crying." Jungkook saw the tears falling to your breasts, you were quick to remove the ones that were flowing with your tied hands. Inhaling and sobbing like a little girl trying to be brave. You were terrified.

God and men knew why the statues of virgins were always portrayed as suffering. He wanted to run his fingers over your face, lick every salty tear, and say more chilling things to you to make you cry even more.

His hand rested on his lap and patted a couple of times.

"I know it hurts, stop being so stubborn."

You left your buttocks on his lap and placed both arms on your chest, covering your breasts. You were a mess, and you hated that you were crying, rivulets falling to the sockets of your collarbones. Jungkook focused on it, feeling thirsty as he cleaned the wound.

A hand rested on your bare waist to keep you from falling, calloused fingers unconsciously caressing the soft skin. Your back rose and fell with each whimper.

"I was kiddin', kid. For God's sake." He frowned, yet you continued. He grabbed the bottle again and grabbed your chin with his thumbs, long gulps of sheer force passing down your throat. "There ya' go. Stop the whining, now."

You coughed as you felt the alcohol melt your stomach with its heat.

"I hate you both. I wish I was dead."

"Me too, pumpkin."

The next step was to get into the bathtub. You closed your eyes as the heat engulfed your body, the steam cleaning your pits after crying your fill. You moaned softly as you snuggled into the soggy sheet.

On the other side was the father, sitting with both legs open while he slowly scrubbed the sponge with the soap. His hungry eyes were behind the whitish walls of hot steam.

"You're a virgin. Right, Father John?" Your light, sharp tongue asked, moving you closer to the edge of the tub.

His gaze went to yours, bold, fed up. He dropped the soap and poured water on your face and hair with an empty can of chickpeas. The slippery hair was easy to clench in his fist, the sponge in his hand rubbing circles on your back.

You pursed your lips as you felt the pressure you caused on him. Well, it looks like it was true.

"Don't you have a little girlfriend? It must be so lonely in this fucking town."

"I'll make you cry harder if you keep talking bullshit."

The foam was sliding down to your breasts, Jungkook tried to be as stoic as possible cleaning the area.

There was something quite submissive about him that brought out your worst thoughts. The worst part was that the alcohol made you dangerously flirtatious and you couldn't keep yourself in check. Not even when your life hung on it.

Between his long, slender fingers, over his broad back, and his soft, deadly voice.

You couldn't take it any longer as you moved closer to his body, the exact curve between his ear and his neck, and inhaled deeply. His hand under the water cleaning between your legs. You could feel his breathing become sharper.

"She gave it to you, right?" You sniffed closer. "You wear it to go see her, but now you have to bathe some shitty hippie you humiliated once in your teens."

"Shut up."

"Unlike your cowboy friend, you are a gentleman. You don't fuck 'em, then leave with your dick wet."

Jungkook chuckled. Silence.

He put the sponge on the bench and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

"I think we're done." He smiled.

Your eyebrows furrowed as he kicked off his shoes and stepped into the tub next to you. A heavy hand rested on your face and you could only feel the water entering your lungs, the beat of your screams turning into bubbles among the grayish water.

Out. A gasp, your heart beating a mile an hour searching for air between the hardness of Jungkook's palm.

In. Your body arched, bound hands clawing at Jungkook's arm. The impenetrable darkness consumed you, the sound pressure of the water, the metallic taste in your throat.

Out.

Your purple face, swollen eyes, crimson lips.

"Breathe, breathe." His voice was soft, and his fingers went to your hair to support your weak body. You heard a metallic clinking sound, your eyes burning from the soap in the water. "Open your mouth."

His fingers separated your teeth to make way for his cock, the pulse of his veins massaging your lips. Jungkook hissed loudly, throwing his head back.

"Atta, girl. Open more, I know bitches like you can dislocate their fuckin' jaws."

Your eyelashes fluttered, looking for a way to look into his eyes and ask for mercy. But your eyes burned terribly and the saliva fell in streams from your mouth every time his cock came out and came back in with more force. You could only squeeze his wet pants and clumsily try to shake his thigh to make him realize you were choking.

"Mm."

"Don't trytta "mm" me. This is what you wanted."

For the first time, his cock came completely out of your mouth, drool falling into the water.

His arm supported your body and lifted your top out of the water, revealing how shiny and smooth your ass looked presented to him. The bottle of liquor was right next to you. You heard Jungkook take a gulp and how his forearm chained your neck so you could drink with him. For a few seconds, you resisted until you could do nothing but open your mouth or choke on alcohol.

"Shh, don't cry again." His fingers massaged your wet hair, his face pressed to yours as he slid his cock between your ass cheeks. "Such a crybaby. You're the one popping my cherry tonight, little buckle bunny. Ain't ya' happy?"

"I'm scared, please let me go." Your voice tore through your throat with torture, phlegm building up in your nose.

"No, can't." His cock found your entrance, the sting of the soap lubricating you, and the growl that came from Jungkook's chest made your body tense. "You need me, remember? If it was because of Park, you would have been dead a long time ago."

"I'm scared, please-"

"Shhh."

The lamps were going out little by little, leaving the shadows of Jungkook's body to engulf yours.

When your pussy began to make way and pulse around his cock, he felt sorry for not having done it sooner, for not having taken the first five dollars he stole from his father when he was fifteen and find a whore to fuck, for not having let Mandy, the daughter of his math teacher, suck him last year of school; of not having taken all the divine women in his church and instead of giving them the host, putting his cock in their mouth.

He thought about each and every one of them. He thought about Billie and the confessional, and fuck! How delicious it felt to have all your blood go to one place, leaving you dizzy and stupid like a farm animal in heat.

"Why don't we-" he moaned with tight lips, wetting his face to concentrate. "Why don't we pray, it'll make you feel better, make you less tight."

The lamps went out, leaving only one in the corner outlining Jungkook's profile. From his long oval nose, and swollen lips, from the dying steam.

So what if you said yes? If you intertwined your fingers while that monster attacked you. So what if you closed your eyes and tilted your head to Jungkook's lips to hear his spasmodic voice tell you to repeat after him.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee," he whispered, and you repeated, drowning in tears.

"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." You continued.

"Keep going."

The water began to splash out of the tub with each crash against your ass, his arm hugged your waist and your chest. Soft, wet kisses from your ear to your back.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” You squealed as Jungkook trembled, his moans creating an ethereal song in the barn.

Between his babbling, he mentioned God, you, and all the curses he could think of. It was the birth of a Mephistopheles among the hay and the horses.

"Now and at the hour of our death. Amen." You sighed as you felt your body fall into the water on top of Jungkook's. Your head on his heaving chest, the pulsing pain inside you withering.

Jungkook's heart sounded like the pastures where your memories lie. The warmth of his hand holding you closer to him.

You were angry with yourself because your chest began to hurt and oh, how stupid you were, how stupid your mother had been for having raised you among pretty things and so many compliments.

"I brought you strawberry jam and milk for the night. Tomorrow I'll bring better things." He muttered, hot and his voice raspy.

And oh, how dumb you were for wanting him to wear the same perfume again when he came back.

[creedslove]

*ABOUT JOEL*

I know Halloween is gone, BUT... I only can think about:

Stablished relationship

Trick or treat, Joel father of Sarah and adoptive dad of Ellie (reader and Joel adopted her)

Joel goes as cowboy

Reader as cheerleader

After trick or treat, party at Maria and Tommy's

Some stupid dude dressed as quarterback hits on reader and Joel tries to interfere but Tommy doesn't let him be violent

As it happens, reader says that's she's married and leaves the dude without believing and goes to kiss Joel in a VERY sexy way

Reader and Joel get REALLY worked up and go have a quicky in the bathroom and the guy listens to it by coincidence, and when he sees reader and Joel leaving, says to Tommy: "I wish I was that guy"

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I fucking love your mind ❤️

• the girls had been driving Joel mad through the whole week, they couldn't even wait for Halloween, the small but happy Miller household was completely overwhelmed by talks of costumes, trick or treating and Halloween adventures

• the girl weren't little kids anymore, you and Joel knew there were only a couple of years left before they would gladly exchange an evening with the family for some lame teen Halloween party and god forbid sexy costumes

• Joel suffered from severe anxiety just to imagine his precious girls leaving home in revealing clothes, after all, he was a man who suffered from anticipation

• so in the end, as much as you all were tired of all the chat about that one specific thing, you were also happy they were so into trick or treating

• which went great, and as soon as they were tucked in bed - pretending to sleep to pig out on all the candy they got, while you and Joel pretended not to know so you could go out - you both got ready for Tommy's party

• Joel isn't a costume man, but he saw you in your cheerleader costume, that man was at a loss of words, if it were up to him, he would take you right then and there, not allowing you to leave the room

• but you reminded him the girls were home, and you wouldn't be able to make a lot of noise, so you promised Joel you could both go to your old apartment, the one you lived in before moving in; it was empty and it had a bed, enough for what Joel wanted to do with you

• and at that promise Joel agreed to dress up, so the best you two could put up, was a cowboy, which did not disappoint, Joel looked so fucking good

• and that man desired you all the time, you could see the lust in his eyes, loving how much he wanted you throughout the party, whenever you glanced at Joel, he was eating you up in his mind

• things were fun until some random guy dressed as a quarterback approached you; he immediately began making jokes about Halloween couple costumes and how you and him should be a couple, which made you roll your eyes at him

• you dressed like that for Joel and Joel only, knowing you would have that exact effect you did on him, but any other unwanted attention you made yourself clear about not wanting it at all

• but the guy was insisting and Joel spotted a man getting all cozy towards his girl, he felt his blood boiling and the moment he tried walking towards you both, Tommy held his brother's arm and asked him not to make a scene

• Joel grunted annoyed, he didn't like that scene at all, but was so surprised to see you swaying your hips and walking towards him once more, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and giving Joel a deep kiss

• your man couldn't resist you, he had been trying to hold himself back so bad during the night, but it was tough, it was so fucking tough. All he did was wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer to him, kissing you as deeply and intently as he could, his grip was tight around you

• he dragged you to the bathroom and locked the door, being unable to wait for your time alone and making you scream and moan for him, as much as he tried to muffle your sounds

• outside, the quarterback stared at Tommy who embarrassedly shrugged, not knowing how to explain what was going on

• you and Joel exited the bathroom all red and flushed, both of you chuckling and giggling and you couldn't wait to get out of there and spent the rest of the night with your man

____

(to me that's Joel Miller dressed as a cowboy and no one can convince me otherwise)

[flowersintheimpala69]

sam growing old without dean. sam never being able to share with anyone what really happened to him because nobody will understand no one could ever understand besides dean and dean is dead. sam sleep talks in Enochian sometimes when he has a dream about lucifer and his wife just thinks it's a funny quirk that he sleep talks gibberish and sam can't tell her that it's because he was tortured for 180 years by the literal devil. he tries going to therapy but it's weird because he can't talk about what being addicted to demon blood is like and he can't talk about the horrible sensation of the devil sinking his hot cock into him and searing his insides and he can't talk about watching his brother die over and over again and he can't talk about how he hates himself because he's tainted and there's demon blood in him because that's WEIRD. and he can't talk about how he loved his brother like no brother ever should and how he spent most of his teen years lusting after him and watching him fuck girls through cracked doorways or how he spent most of his adult life longing for his touch and his kiss and his love because sure that's not as weird as werewolves and vampires but it's still weird. he can't explain to his wife why sometimes he spaces out while cooking eggs and then the eggs are all burnt and then he starts crying and can't stop because he can't do anything right and he can't explain why he keeps an impala in the garage that they never use and he can't explain why he sometimes can't get hard when she palms his dick and he can't explain why he's never allowed pie in their house because it makes him too sad.

he has so much to say and it's all stuck in his throat and he should be happy he finally has a home and a family and a normal job but it's not home not really because dean was home and he misses him.

[zayne-li]

Fic Masterlist

Eye of the Blizzard (Tumblr link to chapter 1. Check AO3 for the rest!)

Rating: Teen (so far)

Length: 7 Chapters, 10k words

That girl, from his childhood. The one who stood out in his memories like a warm pastry, like a bright, inescapable light. The one who smiled and laughed, even when he didn’t, who saw the emotions he felt before he knew himself.

“Why are you crying?” She asked one day, finding him on the steps of her grandmother’s house, arms wrapped around his boney knees, head buried in his elbow, his cheeks red. She was bent sideways, almost falling over, balanced on one foot, just to try and catch his eye.

5 Fun Facts about the Prostate! (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3.8k

"... I don't know. I do know it's a pleasure point in the male body." 

"Zayne, you are not about to give me an anatomy lesson right now."

Exclusive Tutorial (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 2k words

I grin at him and lean in for a soft kiss. “Did you know that you whimper when you come?” I ask against his lips, pulling him closer by his hips. His softening cock droops between us, and I admire for a moment the lewd image of him exposed, messy, his tie undone and his face red. 

“I do not.” Zayne scoffs, and I allow him to finally stand, backing off enough to let him tuck himself into his pants, though I mourn the sight. 

“You do. You just did.” I fold my arms, and he gives me a withering look. 

Battle Lust (Tumblr link)

Rating: Mature (No actual smut, but he’s thinking about it)

Length: 1.9k

“I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now.” That’s her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There’s blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all. 

In and out of dreams 

Rating: Teen (TW for brief thoughts of suicide)

Length: 1k

The Foreseer is unknowable, he is wise to the secrets of the universe, to the futures and fates of the people in this world around him. Except for his own. Every bit of his life, his future and past are a jumbled mess of moments that he is unable to make sense of. 

Drabbles

This is just Zayne getting another handjob. 

Rating: Explicit

Length: About 400?

"Y-you're going to kill me." Zayne gasps, his lax mouth turning up into a small smile as he huffs and puffs. "I'm suing for medical malpractice." 

Kitten Zayne!! (Someone please write this for real for me, I'll love you forever)

Rating: Teen

Length: 200-ish words

"Ah... Right. So that's why everyone's been looking at me funny all afternoon. I forgot."

(also if you’re interested in this type of thing, I have made two different Zayne bots on janitor.ai, feel free to have fun messing around with them)

[essaytime]

I think the main thing that absolutely infuriates me about the "Romeo and Juliet were just dumb, horny teens" take is this implication that because they were so young, their relationship had to boil down to them being dramatic and inventing some great romance to moan about, or lust and hormones. As a teenager, it makes me want to tear the speaker apart with my bare hands. Interchangeably with stabbing, maybe.

When you look at the text, you can clearly see that there is some emotional connection between Juliet and Romeo. Their first conversation is literally a sonnet - which already indicates some sort of understanding and mutuality, and it's also beautiful poetry. They are the only characters in the entire play that they are really fully comfortable talking to. The adults are caught up in the feud, Nurse loves Juliet, but cannot understand her (and makes a dirty joke at her expense in Act I, which for a person Juliet's age would be awfully unpleasant), Romeo's friends, though I Iove them, don't get his sensitivity - Mercutio laughing at it and Benvolio worried by it - which Juliet, in turn, appreciates. They speak of each other with respect and admiration, quite unusually in Verona, where all is conflict and even Juliet's own father insults her: look at the sonnet, the balcony scene, Romeo comparing his sweetheart to the sun or a jewel (in contrast to his earlier quotes about Rosaline, which are literally a compilation of clichés stacked on top of one another). Even when Juliet awaits their wedding night, in a speech clearly centered on sexual matters, there is a visible softness and affection with which she treats Romeo ("cut him out in little stars"...). She waits for the night because it's him, not "I want to sleep with someone because I want to sleep with someone". The two genuinely care about each other, and are fond of each other. Of course, we can wonder if this love would last if they were given an opportunity to grow older, but when the play takes place, this love is there, and it's beautiful.

(Off-topic, I'd also like to note that this is an Elizabethan play that takes place in even earlier times, presumably late medieval - early renaissance Italy. They wouldn't live in the modern world where you can date many different people and settle well into your thirties or fourties. The average marriage age for girls in Shakespeare's time was about twenty, in fifteenth century Florence it was eighteen. Both of them were from wealthy families, so they'd likely be expected - even if Juliet's parents did not force her into a marriage with Paris - to marry earlier, for financial and political purposes. There couldn't be a "growing older" like we imagine it. Even their hypothetical different relationships would be early relationships for today's standards)

And it makes my blood boil when the visible genuine bond between these two is reduced to just "dumb kids being horny". The motive behind these words being partly, of course, the high-school-acquired All Required Reading is Nonsense edginess, but also a deeper issue - the inability to comprehend the fact that teenage love is also often real love.

Being capable of having deep and meaningful romantic relationships does not come baked into your birthday cake when you turn eighteen or attached to your first ever bill. Not every single feeling a teenager might harbour is at its core shallow lust and wanting to get laid. Of course, there's lots of cases of shortsighted infatuation where the pair really have nothing in common! I could name at least a few examples I have seen personally. But still, on every street and every corner of the world, and often a few metres from these pointless infatuations, teens fall in love because there's something more to it. Because they find they have a lot in common, because they get along well with each other, because they are able to see the good in the other person - their kindness, their intelligence, their enthusiasm, you name it. "Teens" including the younger teens, from thirteen to fifteen. And this love is a deep emotional bond. Sure, in most cases it will not last until death (and to be honest, relationships not working out is not really a teenage-specific phenomenon and a sign that young love of all is inherently doomed and it has to die so the curse of growing up is fulfilled), but it doesn't make it less of a love when it still remains, and it includes all the things love is about. Young couples go on dates, and have fun. They confide in each other. They support each other through hard times, they show care, they sometimes make sacrifices for their loved one's good. As any person in love does, at any age.

When I fell in love four months ago, I did not fall in love because I wanted to sleep with someone so bad. In fact, I do not want to - not for the next several years. I realise it's something I might want someday, but it's not today; and above all, I'm way too young. If anything, what I want is to kiss someone, or run my fingers through his hair, or read with his head in my lap - but it's not something I'd go out of my way and date a random person to get, come on. I fell in love because he is actually the first boy that reminds me of myself so much, the first I can understand so well. Because I also have a penchant for history and writing, I also tend to use formal and flowery language in very informal situations, I also enjoy people's attention (though I seem to worry more about being a potential inconvenience than he does), I also believe that we should judge people as individuals, because there's too much nuance in one person to make proper statements about large groups - and I find in him so many things that I can relate to, though of course I can't say I know him well enough to speak much for sure. Besides, he's simply a wonderful person, not flawless, of course, but he has a good heart. He is always kind, and well-mannered, and intelligent, and you can laugh with him. I think he would care if something bad happened, no matter if he says that he wouldn't. I think I know him well enough to say this at least. And if he loved me back (a thing I consider unlikely for now, but not entirely impossible), would we stay together forever? Heaven alone knows! Maybe not! It is up to the higher power. But even if we broke up, that wouldn't erase the fact that I loved him, and I would have done a lot for him, and we were able to have meaningful conversations. Just because a love isn't forever, doesn't mean it was never there.

Because - what the "dumb kids" people don't seem to grasp - teenagers are also human beings with a functioning, even if not fully developed, brain, capable of having complex feelings and thoughts just like an adult. Note that Shakespeare's leads, at least Juliet, actually do that - hence the pre-wedding night monologue, the "deny thy father and refuse thy name", her statement (I don't know the English original of that one, to be honest) that she is too soft and loving towards Romeo already, but it's because she has such profound feelings for him she can't even pretend to be strict. It's noticeable that she has some emotional maturity, at least - she shows some critical thinking abilities, she understands the consequences of many actions, she is able to see that the feud is pointless and a name is just a name. She's a teenager, and someone in their teens is also a Homo sapiens specimen, not a being from a different planet. Teens think and feel. It might not be the same reality as the adult one, and they don't deal with emotions with such ease as an adult would, but that doesn't mean they are unable to truly love and care, to enjoy talking to someone and want the best for them, like grown-ups do - as developing an affection for someone that makes you happy is a very human thing, and I can guarantee you a thirteen or fourteen-year-old is a developed enough human being to experience it.

So, to sum it up, if I hear any "Romeo and Juliet were just dumb kids being horny" on my watch, the author of this statement will presumably be mercilessly killed, and then I'll do as Fulvia allegedly did to Cicero and stab something through their tongue, except instead of a hairpin, I'll probably use one of the darts my little brother got for Christmas. They are very sharp. We have several holes in the floor already.

[ver-slxt]

𝒞𝐻𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐸 𝒳 𝐿𝒰𝒞𝐼𝐹𝐸𝑅 𝐻𝒞 | ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི | 🌈🍎

…

some dirty some sweet ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

…

-> these hc contain smut, slight toddler-con, possessiveness, stalking, incest, obsessiveness, masochism, molestation, camera watching, so if you do not like any of these DO NOT READ! <-

…

•ever since charlie was little Lucifer was protective of her, like an other dad, until it became a creeping obsession with her ever move and behavior. if she mentioned something she liked to her friends, shed be given it the next day without warning. if she looked at something a little too long at the store, lucifer would be sure to buy it for her… definitely daddys little girl >-<

…

•when she started to grow older and hit puberty lucifers little obsession started to turn into a threat level possessive man. boys would go missing if they looked at HIS daughter a little too long for his liking. besides boys, when she started to develop he couldnt contain himself, she looked just like her mother. beautiful, slim, yet with noticeable physical features, excited him more. he started to act as if he was busy with the seven rings during her early and mid teen years because every time he was near her or even smelled her he became hard as a rock, then had to jack off with her panties he stashed away.

…

• by the time she was an adult he basically dreaded being near her. his boners would become so frequent and literally start to ache when he would even just check in on her during the day. the gifts became more intimate. a little more provocative clothing/lingerie (he would claim its the latest fashion in hell/the lust ring). one time he bought her a sex toy and lied when charlie saw it was from him, saying it was for his wife when charlie grew embarrassed by it.

…

• panty stealer, by far. his favorite are her pink panties with black lace and a red bow on the front (it reminds him of how he dresses, so he proudly shoots loads into the underwear often).

…

• rarely ever has sex with his wife anymore, its not the same. if he does eventually have sex with her, its quick and over with, or its hard and long (he thinks of charlie when hes super horny).

…

• when growing up he set up cameras in KeeKees collar, making sure she didnt get into harms way/trouble. but when she got older he used the camera to spy on her, invading her privacy. he even caught her undressing to go into the shower, ofc he downloaded it and saved it to his folder of his precious little girl..

…

• one time lucifer was spying on charlie with his hidden camera(s) and he caught her making out with vaggie. half of hell was destroyed that day. (no other words, he was big mad)..

…

• when the ‘hells greatest dad’ song was playing, he was genuinely trying to rope charlie back into his circle/leash, but alastor beat him too it, making them extremely tense enemies. during the lyric of the song, ‘who just so happens to be your blood’, he was so aggravated because how DARE his precious little girl like/believe that ‘awful’ radio demon.. (can you tell hes dramatic?)

…

• closest hes ever come to actually molesting her was a couple times when she was a little girl and helping her with showers/getting dressed, he would tease her/not give her her clothes so she could pout and beg him for her clothing to cover her body (he was so hard the entire time, and immediately busted a load before he got the zipper down).

…

…

…

thats my first HC run! if you have suggestions comment below! theyre highly helpful! and if you enjoyed the HC’s, reblog! it helps spread it around x3

[profanepurity]

I am here to knock on your door and peer inside for any Sister Diana and Bellamy info, because this is my fave AU now. I am very greedy and wish to know more (also Secondo being a girl dad, MY HEART)

Not only is Papa Emeritus Secondo a girl dad, but Bellamy also has two very evil satanic cardinals for uncles that watch very R-rated horror movies with her when they babysit. Don't worry, Copia always fast-forwards through the really bad parts, despite Terzo saying "she already knows about that stuff". Bellamy loves horror movies (and spending time with them), but C still got her that rat plushy for when she spends the night- which she named Lumaconi.

Lol so this response got super plot-driven, which is why it took ages to finish, I’m so sorry about that! This is going to focus mostly on how Secondo met Sister Diana when he was a Cardinal under Primo’s papacy, the ‘ghuleh’ that haunts the mortuary, and baby Bellamy. I really wish I could have rendered these, but I just didn't have the time unfortunately 😞

TW: This gets spicy. There are mentions of sex and suggestive imagery, but nothing explicit. Also TONS of angst. Mentions of death and blood. 

Thank you so much for your ask. Your support means the world to me! Enjoy 🖤

Diana was taken in as an orphan by the church as a young teen. Despite her unknown family history, she quickly grew accustomed to her new home at the ministry. She met Eliza when she began training to take her official vows. Their relationship started out as mentor and mentee but grew into a friendship once Diana had taken her final vows. Despite there being a bit of an age gap, they quickly became very close. Diana would often pull some of Eliza’s darkness out of her, encouraging her to “have some fun”, while Eliza was more the voice of reason. After Primo and Eliza married, you better believe Diana’s teasing was relentless, and even more so when Eliza was made Prime Mover. Though this came to bite Diana in the ass when she started eyeing Primo’s first younger brother, much to Eliza’s delight.

Primo seemed to ascend from a Cardinal to Papa in the blink of an eye, taking Eliza as his Prime Mover and promoting Secondo to a Cardinal. Secondo was of course no less lively decades ago than he is now. His reputation among the siblings of sin and even to a few outside followers/ connections with the church was nothing short of promicuous. While he continued to appreciate the pleasures of the flesh and substance, Secondo was perhaps lesser known to be quite active within the dark arts. His nose was either in a grimoire or a porn mag, no in between. 

Diana had taken her place overseeing the mortuary of the church, having a fascination with the dead and the dark powers that collect the soul as they are taken to Hell. When Secondo happened to find himself drifting towards the art of necromancy, the mortuary was the first place he looked for “research materials”. The first night Secondo met her, Sister Diana had been sewing a newly dead sibling back together after she had embalmed them and performed the ceremonial ritual to send off their soul. This hauntingly gorgeous sister, clad in a white, bat-like Cornette, with a cold gaze that would often unsettle other siblings of sin, lifted her eyes to him, and allowed the corners of her full lips to curl in a small, but controlled smile. There was no shyness or intimidation on her face by the sight of Cardinal Emeritus II, like so many siblings often had. She moved like a ghost around her table, silent, floating like a flower petal. You could say it was Asmodeus himself who brought them together, consuming them with the delightful sin of lust. 

Diana was charmed by his demanding presence and intense stare, and her odd serenity and striking beauty enamored Secondo. It was suppose to just be a one time thing. One night turned into two, and then a month later Secondo was having her sit on his lap while sipped on scotch, her hands resting on his chest as music served as pleasant background noise for them to enjoy eachother’s bodies tol. Then they were driving with the top down through the night lit streets of LA, and he got to see her hair whip around her face, free from her habit, as they went club to club; drinking, laughing, fucking. Next thing he knew Secondo awoke one morning to a spare toothbrush in his bathroom and spare clothing having found a permanent residence in his quarters. What shocked him more so was that he didn’t seem to mind.

At first, Secondo assumed these many shared nights were what caused him to find himself coming back to her time and time again. It was only natural, to bond with someone, it had been a year at this point after all. But what he would never admit to himself, was that the long, deep conversations he would find himself sharing with her within the private walls of his quarters, late at night, made him feel connected to someone else in a way he’d never been before. No, seeing the same lust within her for both carnal explorations and for knowlege of the dark arts that he shared himself was not at all attractive to him. Waking up to her presence in his bed, wearing his shirt, sharing his warmth vulnerably, showing her trust in him despite being reserved and isolate to nearly everyone else, did not melt his heart in the slightest. 

Sister Diana challenged him as an equal intellectually. Secondo knew of Diana’s unwavering nature, her own ambitions and independence, yet she allowed him to hold her. To lead her in a dance. To keep his hand on the small of her back as they walked. She willingly submitted her body to him, as he did to her too, behdind closed doors. 

He loved the way she would look at his younger brother Cardinal Emeritus III, not with carnal desire like some of the other siblings, but she would rather toy with him and match his own advances in a playful manner. Not once did Sister Diana look at anyone else like she looked at him, and only he would ever know that.

All that being said, Secondo has never, and may never be exclusive to anyone, as monogamy was never something he was drawn to in his life. Thankfully Diana felt the same way about her own sexuality. They silently understood this between eachother, despite never actually having a real conversation about it. Still, they would sit in the library for hours as they studied together. She would come up to the quarters of the high clergymen and massage his shoulders as he finished paper work. He would come down to the morgue to bring her coffee and food when she would be working nights. There was no denying their love for eachother.

Their meetings fell into a comfortable routine. So you can image how it confused Secondo when Sister Diana wasn’t in the mortuary at the time she usually was every other day. How it started to make his brow crease when he couldn’t find her anywhere else in the church. The Cardinal found her in the very last place he chose to look for her in. Perhaps if he had gone to her room first, things would have been different. Perhaps he wouldn’d have found her lifeless body, mutilated and pale, blood already beginning to dry upon her skin and the carpet as she layed on her bedroom floor. 

I briefly mention this scene in one of my one shots, “Child of Her Grave”, but of course I’m slightly changing how it goes already lol. But anyway, the family was in shambles to say the least.

Secondo had come to Primo in a daze. He didn’t know how long he stayed by her body, completely shell-shocked at the sight until he decided to knock on his brother’s door at 2 in the morning. The unlit halls of the church disguised her blood that now stained his cheek and clothing. He simply told Primo that Sister Diana had been killed, unable to utter anything more. 

Her death occured on the same day that an incredibly important ritual needed to be performed. It had only been hours after Secondo told Papa Primo that he was now faced with having to tell his Prime Mover that her best friend had been murdured over night. 

The combination of seeing his brother struggling to process finding his lover’s body, and holding Eliza against him as sobs racked her body, was the most torturous thing Primo had ever experienced. But they were left with no time to process their grief.

The higher clergy, along with Sister Imperator, were adamant with Papa Primo that the ritual not be delayed simply because of one sibling’s funeral. But when Papa didn’t come when he was summoned for the ritual, several Bishops stormed his quarters in anger and frustration at the delay of the incredibly time-sensitive ceremony that still needed hours of prep work before dawn. Primo was considered one of the more patient Papas that was very difficult to truly anger, yet he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he killed one of the Bishops for daring to raise his voice while Eliza was shaking violently against his chest.

Her burial ceremony was quiet. Secondo sat by her grave afterward and refused to move. It broke Primo’s heart that he wasn’t able to attend with Eliza and his brother. He got there as soon as he could, heading straight to his cardinal. He had been aware of his relationship with Sister Diana, it had been obvious to Papa that the year they spent together has made his brother close to her, even if Secondo himself refused to admit it. He could only imagine his pain. Someone was standing over his brother- who he barely registered, thinking it was their father Nihil deciding to be present. Primo was not prepared to see the wrath of Satan in his brother’s eyes. He should have known then that Second Emeritus was planning something in his silent anguish, but Primo found a brief sense of relief knowing the Old One was with him when he couldn’t be.

The ritual had required Carinal Emeritus III and Cardinal Copia to be in attendance of course. The roles of the two satanic princes of the church had been flipped. Terzo was the one now wringing his hands and stuttering over his words. Both of them wanted to be with Secondo, but Copia sent him off before they left the offices of the higher clergymen. It was important that at least one of them was there.

Terzo felt his heart hammer in his chest as his legs carried him across the cemetery.Even when they were boys, Terzo had never seen Secondo cry. His brother was always so stoic. Secondo took everything in stride and grace, and demanded nothing but authority in every situation. But when he reached his destination, Terzo stared at a man that was just as lifeless as the bodies six feet under them. 

He was almost afraid to touch him. He didn’t want to upset his brother further, but Terzo couldn’t bring himself to leave either. The younger brother’s throat tightened and he stood rigid- but soon eased himself beside his superior dark Eminence, sitting on the painfully cold metal bench that faced her grave.

He held his breath for Secondo to snap and tell him to fuck off, he almost wanted him to, just to have a sign of normalcy from his brother. When that never came, he slipped his arms around him, and just press himself as close as he could, remaining silent. When there was still no reaction from Secondo, he laced his hand in his and squeezed.

 “Ti voglio bene...”

Terzo hated how his voice shook and cracked when he whispered it against Secondo’s shoulder. He needed to get a fucking grip- 

Weakly, Secondo finally squeezed Terzo’s hand back. Oh- Lucifer, he can’t cry. That’s all it took for Terzo to press his face against his brother’s shoulder and hug him tightly. 

Thunder raged in the distance when Terzo’s blinding white eye spotted one of Nihil’s ghouls walking over to Imperator at the top of the stairs to the church's entrance. The sight of dried blood on black fabric made violet lightning split the sky- before an explosive peal broke the silence.

To this day they still don’t know exactly which ghoul murdered her.

As soon as the moon had cast a blinding glow upon the cemetery did Seconod’s mourning cease. He has been mentally preparing to recite the words of the many grimoires he’d read with Sister Diana, realizing that the dark arts had brought them together for a specific purpose, in this moment, he would raise her from the earth. It needed to be done before the decay of her internal organs began. It was the most demanding casting Secondo had done at that point in his practice. But by the time the moon was at its peak in the sky, Diana rose from her grave, her skin sickly, bones snapping back into place and mending her body where it had been broken. Standing in a horrific sight from the hole she clawed herself out of. Her hand’s blacked and clawed, raw from scratching out of her own casket. Yet she smiled at him like the day he met her.

Now you can really imagine the family’s reaction, seeing the dead sister walking through the halls the following day of her funeral. Sister Imperator seemed especially stunned, for whatever reason. I’ll have to draw some of these reactions later lol.

Thankfully not much changed after that, as Diana kept to herself mostly, her returned presence was not immediately noticed by the rest of the church. The siblings would of course rumor that a ghost haunted the mortuary, with exposed bone and rotting flesh. None of this was true of course. Secondo only noticed she was colder to the touch now, and smelled more like the earth, but her beauty and mind were in tact. He knew why Lucifer brought them together that day with necromancy, and he was now more driven than ever to master the evil forces. 

Nonetheless, Cardinal Secondo and Sister Diana were very happy to be reunited. Bellamy was born just a little over a year after her mother’s resurrection, as physical proof of that rejoined love. 

Currently, in the timeline of this au, Bellamy is now seven years old and Second is now Papa Emeritus II. There will be more content to come with her, I know this response is getting stupidly long lol. For now, I’ll end it with this goof ass doodle of Bellamy’s dedication ceremony to Lucifer and Lilith, actually led by Papa Nihil, who shockingly volunteered to dedicate his granddaughter to the Lords of Hell at the altar. 

Primo better get a comfortable ass seat in hell for the shit he puts up with.

That’s all for now 💐🖤

[zmb1eslut]

Sneaky as a thief he runs on the night,

fast as his blood to keep secrets in the dark.

He didn't knew that rumors...

Rumors spread faster than that.

'Ingenuos for a trickster'

you might think.

'Not unusual for a virgin',

should I add,

but truth be told

it seems like Luke

might have turned into a man.

Teaching him the basics. ch. 0

loser!Luke Castellan.

It was hard not to notice, even at first glance. He had the smile, the confidence and the eloquence of an incognizant sinless guy. Without being pejorative, it was actually quite endearing to see... the way he rarely commented on any girl's feautures, how he skillfully avoided conversations, and how easy, and I mean easy, it was to tease him. He thought it was a secret that he had to keep unknown, but the cabin 10 could never be deceived by an act so poor.

When the youngest teens looked at him with their questions, and we were lucky to be around, we gifted him some firty glances and amused looks to play our part. And he always delivered his, like a smooth ass son of Hermes. He would look away, maybe even wink at one of us, and then kneel in front of the kiddos and say some bullshit conglomerate of words that wouldn't impress any public past the age of 14. Like... seriously not.

And in front of the grownups... he was too much of a gentleman to speak on the matter.

We didn't wanted to push him onto anything. Mainly because we loved the treat of an easy to fluster handsome champion around. But Luly just couldn't keep her hands to herself during a last minute costume designing night. Where they were missed, by the way, the Dionysus kids weren't easy to satisfy when it came to this.

The night ended up fine and we came back laughing under the stars while Chiron was ushing us to go away once and for all.

But there she was, lazily powdering her face when we went back to the cabin. And the smell of perfume could never hide from us the obvious sent of unrepressed lust.

We looked at her in the heaviest of silences, offended and impressed smiles forming on our faces. Her face was almost unreadable.

Luke.

The sweaty air smelled like precision, frustration, detachement and... aloe vera gel...

"Oh, god. He was so fucking boring".

[unhonestlymirror]

This movie is very American in terms of perception of death.

In Belarus, hanging out on cemeteries, talking to graves, and looking for them is considered to be normal. In Ukraine and Lithuania, too. (Lithuanins really like gothic style, btw.) Because every single one of us knows how it feels to lose your loved ones because of some "friendly neighbours with missiles" or other stuff. We are constantly dragged into wars and genocides after all. Taking care of graves and dead people makes us value life and living people more. It doesn't let us forget that life is the greatest treasure of all. Everything in life can be corrected except death.

Killing people or people being murdered doesn't make us excited. Even killing people who came to kill and rape us. It makes us terrified, then - exhausted. It makes us snap at random times, random places, and losing control over our emotions and behaviour. It leaves us with insomnia for years and health issues. It makes your heart hardened, you are not able to feel other people like you used to anymore. Nothing fun.

Therefore, seeing the movie encouraging mc perceiving death as something desirable is... very weird to me. I can totally see why anyone who has children will dislike this movie or will even pressure their goth kids more in the future. Goth is not about killing people for fun and then killing yourself for killing people and Love. Goth is about understanding and respecting death. I don't see any respect for death in this movie, that's a total disrespect and complete misunderstanding - and I'm not talking about the resurrection of Creature.

I also think about how Lisa is just like her father: she closes herself completely from anyone, she doesn't talk much, she's very passive. We don't know what her father had to go through after his wife's murder. We don’t know why he decided to marry that obsessed-with-ceramics woman. We just have two clearly traumatized people and Taffy, who's doing her best at making them a better family. Maybe whatever happened to her in the end may look poetic, but to me, it just looks deeply unfair - and it makes me remember the faces of those Ukrainians who lost their family members due to shelling but were "lucky" to stay alive.

Creature/Lisa is ummm... giving very much Edward Callen/Bella vibes. A grown-ass man who has no desire to prevent their loved one from making rash, terrible decisions (Edward, however, didn't have that much unexplainable blood lust, ba-dum-tss) and a traumatized teen girl who believes she found the love of her life. I can understand this desire to be protected by someone who is more mature, who understands you, who listens to everything you say - especially when you lost your mom and there is no one who could protect you - but in real life, such people are very often turn out to be red flags.

I love the picture, I love the motion, the dynamic, the costumes, the soundtrack, the actors' play, the writing and the plot. I just don't love whatever we don't see behind the scenes, I don't love the implications. It doesn't correlate with my life position as a pagan, a goth (in soul), and an Eastern European.

Once again, if your love requires killing people for fun and putting entire families into mourning, if your love is about not preventing your loved ones from objectively horrible decisions which can ruin their lives, if your love is about letting your loved one kill themself - then your love sucks.

Also, Laffy Taffy deserves the best.

[c0ffinshit]

Lust For Life (Robert Renfield x Reader) PART ONE

a/n: since yall liked my headcanons so much, i thought “why not” and decided to write this. after a while (aka like four days), i finally finish this fic wooooo! i hope yall like it!

word count: 1,264

warnings: blood, swearing, renfield is such a bottom lol, fake dating (if you squint )

New Orleans was a place I would not have thought to live in; hot and filled with crime, it's basically a waking nightmare. The worst part is seeing those teens crawling along the walls of the Whole Foods near my home. Their large, garish video cameras; records them as they walk into the building, shouting loudly about what they plan to do there. Honestly, I forget why I moved here in the first place. I had been a retail worker for a year, making ends meet. It was a cold night, and I had just gotten off work when I saw a man walking toward me. His hair was dark against his pale skin, and his suit was filled with holes and rips. His fingers were long and covered in a dark, smooth texture.

"Can I help you?" I ask politely.

It almost looked like he didn’t hear me. The man continues to slowly walk toward me.

"Hi-yes, please help me," he quickly said.

I noticed that the man looked even more different up close. He seemed very chipper but timid. His icy blue eyes felt as if he was looking right through me. He looked great, better than I expected.

"(Y/N), you know this boy?” one of my coworkers yells.

"Um, yeah, I do. This man is my-" I pause, looking at him. "Boyfriend." I spit out.

Suddenly, the man entered my field of vision again. His hair followed above his ears, forming a shaggy comb-over on his head. He looked at me with a curious look in his eyes.

"Really? What’s his name?" he asks suspiciously. I look over at the man, looking for an answer.

I, of course, dodge the question. "Yes, we talk all the time. We’re best friends."

"I wouldn’t say that," the man mumbles in reply.

"Seriously? You call this poor boy your boyfriend, and you can’t even tell me his name." my coworker replied.

"Shut up, Jim." I replied, "I do know his name."

"Don’t you think you should say it then?"

A long pause. "C’mon. Can we not fight in front of your so-called boyfriend?" Jim looked past me, and I could feel the man’s eyes fall toward the ground.

"No, you’re right, Jim. This boy has intrigued me as she did all those months ago. Let me talk to him just a bit longer." I say.

"Aw, fine," he rolls his eyes. As I got closer, I noticed even more stains and holes on his shirt. His shoes seemed like they were too big for his feet. He seemed ancient.

"Listen, man, I am so sorry about that boyfriend thing. My coworker is so nosy sometimes and doesn’t know when to keep things to himself."

He turns around and looks at me. "It's fine; I can find help elsewhere. It’s no worry."

"You don’t get it. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help." I say, letting my bag fall to the ground. "What can I help you with?"

The man’s eyes slowly look at my body. "It is hard to explain-"

"Hit me. I’ve done some fucked-up shit before."

I tried to sound rigid when the “fucked up shit” in question was clean-up blood from a bloody nose I got yesterday.

He nods slowly. "Alright, follow me."

This is fucked. Here I am, following a man I just claimed was my boyfriend mere seconds ago, probably to a murder warehouse where I live out my final moments.

But I can’t help but want it. Wanting that danger and desire in my life. So, I followed him. His hands flex and tense as we walk to an alley a block from my job. Inside, he leads me to a man who appeared dead, covered in his blood. My body reminds me to keep up the edgy girl persona, but that all leave my body the moment; I see the blank expression on the body.

"JESUS CHRIST!" I yelp, covering my eyes.

The man is quick to hush me, covering my mouth. "Hey, it's okay. I didn’t kill this guy. I just found him."

He wipes his hands on his coat and holds my wrists gingerly. I drop my hands, briefly looking at the body again and at the strange man.

"Who are you?-" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Robert Montague Renfield, and everything is going to be fine-"

"THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF FINE ‘BERT!" I scream, my eyes trying to look away.

Renfield is quick to cover my mouth again. I want to scream even louder or maybe try and bite his hand. Nothing could’ve worked, though. We continue to stand like that until my breath slows. Renfield removes his hand, still worrying that I might scream again.

"Hush, you said you’d help. Please…" his eyes went soft, so vulnerable.

I nod my head. This is the scariest moment of my life.

"Okay… fine. I’ll do it." I say, giving in to defeat.

"Also, not that it matters, but it's Robert, not ‘Bert.’"

"That’s what I said, but okay. What do you want me to do?"

Renfield looks at the body and back at me, scanning me. His pupils dilate for a moment, looking at my face.

"You grab your feet. I’ll take the head."

I nod again and pick up my feet, picking up the corpse. People don’t exaggerate: dead weight is the heaviest. Renfield grabs the head by its hair and slowly moves it into the palms of his hands, covering the ears. He jerks his head, ushering me to move with him. I stumble along with him to what I assume is his car. Starting with the hair, we shove him into the trunk. Renfield takes one final look and closes the door.

"Thank you for helping me… I’m sorry I completely forgot to ask your name." Renfield lets out a long sigh. "It's been a long night."

I giggle. "It's fine, really. It's (Y/N)."

"(Y/N)..." he repeats. "What a beautiful name."

"Well, it's no Renfield." I laugh.

Renfield extends his hand to me. I look at it puzzlingly. I believe he wants me to shake his hand.

Suddenly, his eyes go wide. I look down to see that I’m sparkling under the moonlight. My body glitters as if I was a diamond.

"It's body glitter… like Twilight. Y’know sparkly vampires… Edward Cullen."

"Oh." Robert places his extended hand over his chest. "I thought you were really oily or something. I get what you mean."

"No, but I’ve always wanted to meet a vampire." I picture a strong and kind-hearted vampire man covered in blood. I wanted to meet a vampire and fall in love with a vampire.

"Well… I know a guy. I mean- he’s my boss, but I don’t think he’d mind." Robert mumbles.

My eyes go wide. Yes, finally! I will have time to live out my own Louis from Interview with a Vampire moment. Maybe I’ll become a vampire. That would rule!

"Yes, I think it’d be cool to meet him… if he’s available."

Renfield eyes me for a second, "Okay, do you want to drive, or shall I?"

"I’ll drive. It's alright. Now, gimme those car keys."

As he tosses me his car keys, I take note of what he has. A small, white cat keychain hangs off what looks to be an apartment key. Taking a closer look, I notice that if I move the keychain, the cat’s eyes look in my direction. Before getting too distracted, I hop in the car and turn on the engine, slowly backing out of the parking space.

[morganaseren]

Hi! I'd love to know more About We'll Lose the Grip in Waters Dark, the Poets must be out for Blood and the bodyguard au for the wip meme 👀

((I deeply apologize for how long this took me to get out. I work nights now at my apprenticeship, which means I'm on the weirdest sleep schedule... 😅))

Pairing: Leliana/Niamh Cousland

Rating: Teen

AU: We'll Lose Their Grip in Waters Dark Note: While this AU does deal with one of Niamh's worst worldstates, everything in regards to her relationship with Leliana will always be consensual. Honestly, Leliana goes out of her way to ensure Niamh's consent in whatever they do--not necessarily just in the bedroom.

In this scene, Leliana is lost in her thoughts while they're having sex. There's nothing especially explicit about the act itself, but I'm putting everything under a Read More due to length. There's also some mention of what Niamh's past was like before Leliana came into her life, but it's nothing graphic--a brief comment or two at best.

---

Leliana had remembered early on in their relationship how a simple hug had stunned Niamh into silence, words collapsing mid-sentence with the gesture. At once, Leliana had pulled back, wondering if she'd perhaps been too forward with her affection.

Upon Niamh's features, the surprise had been evident, of course, but Leliana also hadn't missed miss the flicker of quiet wonder and yearning in that gaze--perhaps from the simple knowledge that another person would ever seek to touch her with more than just lust in their hearts.

Past the depths of those bewitching eyes had been a soul so starved of such simple kindness, but beneath the oppressive environment of Kinloch Hold, Niamh had long conditioned herself never to ask for it, less it be misconstrued for more by the men and women who acted as both guard and executioner.

Her thrusts slowed then, unable to help the guilt that slowly crept into her. As Left Hand of the Divine, could she say she was any different from them? With an intelligence network that spanned nearly every corner of Thedas and the ability to command the death of any whom dared to seek harm against Justinia, Leliana was one of the most powerful women in the world. Did Niamh feel the need to chain herself to her out of fear that she'd be next?

"Leliana!"

And all at once, Leliana's worries faded at the simple call of her name. Her lover's usual soft-spoken voice had become high and tight with her arousal due in no small part to Leliana's ministrations.

Still, Niamh knew it was her there. Not some Templar or some faceless dignitary in the sea of contacts that Knight-Commander Gregoire had used her to curry favor with. Not the Left Hand. Not the terrifying spymaster or bard.

Just... Leliana.

And did Niamh not know her best?

"Leliana, please..." she begged again, voice breaking with the entreaty as blunt nails scrabbled helplessly against the back of her tunic. "I'm so close..."

"Shh... I have you," Leliana reassured, pressing her lips against the damp skin of the other woman's temple in apology for her distraction. "I have you," she repeated. "Just as you never need to hide your pleasure from me, you never need to beg from me either. I will always give you what you desire."

With silken heat still clinging to her fingers between the apex of Niamh's thighs, Leliana swiped her thumb in such a way that it immediately had the woman's body going taut beneath hers with a sharp gasp. Leliana couldn't help her own trembling as she felt velvet walls tightening and shuddering beneath her touch. She wound her arm behind Niamh, providing support as the mage's back arched instinctively with the rush of pleasure coursing through her. Leliana continued to work her fingers through wet folds albeit at a more languid pace, gently coaxing Niamh to the end of her release. It was only when her lover released the tightened grip around her shoulders and ceased shivering did Leliana finally pull out.

"Oh, good girl..." she rasped. She smiled when her words earned a lazy hum of delight at the praise. Leliana then peppered slow, tender kisses across Niamh's face, and the gentle laughter it caused was ever sweet music to her ears. "You did so well. Can you sit up for me? Ah. There we go. Good girl. I'm sure my desk can't make for a very comfortable surface after all that."

Leliana gently maneuvered Niamh's body to the side so that she could get her arms beneath her knees and shoulders more easily. With an effortless flex of muscles, she lifted her lover up and away from her desk. Carefully, she moved to seat them both into the chair behind her, settling Niamh atop her lap with the woman's calves draped over the lacquered arm.

"Are you alright?" she questioned, reaching out to adjust Niamh's robes, where it had settled awkwardly around her waist. Sheepishly, Leliana could admit that she'd been a tad too impatient to deal with the intricacy of the belts and knots there. As such, she had simply tugged and pulled at the fabric until her mouth and hands had unimpeded access to the treasure of soft flesh beneath. She could also see the marks dotting the area around Niamh's neck--all too visible now that enough time had passed--where Leliana had been unable to resist sampling the flawless temptation of skin before her. She was a delight in more ways than one, truly.

"I'm fine."

"You're certain it wasn't too much?" Her continued inquiries only drew a roll of those mist-grey eyes, but there was little missing the smile upon her lover's lips.

"You ask me that as if I didn't provide you ample incentive to take me here. Besides, your own attire didn't escape entirely unscathed either," Niamh remarked, reaching out to touch the vee of her tunic, where it had a more noticeable rip that split further down the middle. The lacing that held it together was now noticeably frayed, barely held in place by the eyelets that were threatening to split at the seams. "Hm. Leave this with me in the morning. Madame de Fer mentioned wanting to introduce me to her seamtress. I can ask if she'd be willing to mend this as well."

"As you wish," was Leliana's own response, unable to deny her, given how so rarely Niamh asked for anything. Granted, Leliana was somewhat distracted with the attention being given to her as Niamh gently adjusted the wide collar of her shirt. She quite enjoyed those small, exploratory touches. "Would you like anything from the kitchens?"

"Later perhaps." Niamh turned her head then to guide her arm back into the sleeve of her robes. "I don't think I can feel my legs ye--"

And then the other woman paused very abruptly, tensing in her lap.

Confused, Leliana's arms tightened instinctively around her, her senses immediately going on alert for anything that could have startled her lover. "Niamh?"

But the mage continued to stare ahead. "I... I think I've ruined your desk," she answered haltingly, disbelief evident in her voice.

Leliana blinked, letting the words settle over her before following Niamh's gaze to the object in question. Her desk had been unceremoniously cleared before she had laid Niamh atop it earlier. Before long, she had her lover's bare back against the wooden surface as they rocked against one another. At one point, however, she could remember feeling the faintest tingle along the nape of her neck during their coupling. It wasn't unlike how she could detect Niamh using her element of her choice out in the battlefield before the mage allowed lightning to strike.

It did in fact strike there as Leliana curiously eyed the fractal burns now etched across the wood grain, perfectly encompassing the shape of her lover's back in jagged asymmetry. She saw beauty in the chaos of its design, but she could also see the dismay settling into Niamh's features, and Leliana couldn't stand to leave her upset. She pressed her lips to the shoulder closest to her, still bare with Niamh's distraction.

"'Ruin?'" she repeated. "How could anything you touch possibly be less than sublime?" Leliana couldn't stop her smug grin. "If anything, I would consider it a compliment to my skills..."

And Leliana supposed such evidence would make working at her desk all the more enjoyable in the future.

Of course, her humor had earned her a grumble of discontent as Niamh hid her face against her neck. Leliana could feel the heat of the woman's blush against her skin, which charmed and amused her in equal measure, but she made no comment about it.

She settled her feet apart more firmly before rising in one fluid motion. Her smirk grew somewhat at the soft noise it elicited from Niamh, who was perhaps still surprised that she could lift her so easily.

"Come along, Mon Ciel Étoilée," she said, carrying her toward the side door of the office that opened into Leliana's personal quarters. "I do believe a warm bath is calling for us."

((I did not forget about your other prompts, friend! I promise! I just decided to separate them into two other parts since they were getting rather long! 😅 I hope you like this first one though!))

[babs-babbles]

Here's Evelynn's papa btw (old art)

Created from me reading my friends tweets about Eve and what if she had a sort of adoptive dad and us going back n forth about how she'd react to being raised up into her demon teen years

His name is Emiliano. A very handsome fellow that likes getting his nails done, doing makeup, spoiling his family and wearing crop tops. Very protective over Evelynn and dubs himself "best father in law" to the rest of the girls. Flirty and a bit of a worrywart. Can be overbearing sometimes but he means well. At the end of the day he's still just a cool dad.

Some facts about him!

- Eve could do no wrong in his eyes. He would let her get away with a lot of trouble, but taught her well later on how to be a proper succubus

- he's the type of supportive dad that makes sure to buy all his daughters merch and dedicates a lot of conversations to bragging about Evelynn and is her biggest fan

- He's a total dilf and knows it

- he's very dramatic and boisterous. Evelynn just mimicked that as she grew up and now with Naomi you have 3 overly dramatic and artistic demons with the occasional blood lust

- he writes poetry!

[yardofangels]

OMG HI!! So I just finished reading the latest chapter of your AO3 fic and I love love LOVE it!! I came to ur tumblr because I was hoping for more content and I saw ur post about Königs backstory and god his entire demeanor through the fic makes sense now!! I was wondering abt some stuff in his backstory though..

1. Why did he choose to enter the military instead of continuing math/science studies like his parents wanted him to?

2. He really seems to hate the people he worked with while in the military, so how did his ‘friendship’ with ghost and soap develop?

3. Would he ever introduce us to his family? (I know thanksgiving would be hell in his household 😭)

4. Do you think he’ll ever come to face his trauma? Like would he consider therapy or some other type of treatment?

5. (Bonus question) how do you write such good German 💀 I wanna write König fics but know absolutely nothing about German

Sorry for the onslaught of questions!! I just love this man so much fr

HELLO ANON !!!!!!! im so glad to hear that you're interested in König's backstory - it is such an important aspect of who he is (despite how much he would deny this fact if questioned) and as you said, really does dictate much of his behaviour in the fic.

i love getting questions!! there is no such thing as an onslaught of questions - just keep throwing them at me. often when im questioned it helps me add depth to the characters i write, inspires new ideas, etc. KEEP EM CUMMING !!!

okay. now to actually answering them

a huge part of it was to spite his family, actually. by his mid-teens, he would do just about anything to piss off his mother. yes, he loved his math and science, but it was something he could let go of. he never really felt a huge amount of passion for anything by the time he decided to join the military. his decision was also influenced by his lust for violence and underlying blood-thirst - he thought it would be a genius way to experiment with the anger that was bubbling away at the surface and see how he could release it. finally, he grew up with very few positive male role models. they were all hyper-masculine, aggressive, physicality-based. to him, the picture of a perfect man was a soldier, an army man. he thought it the most logical (and easy) pathway to guaranteed employment.

GREAAAT question. his friendship with ghost and soap started with Ghost. Ghost (in my au) was a few years older than König and had a bit more life experience than him. Ghost watched the way that the Austrian behaved for weeks; the silence, the angered glare, the punches thrown. he saw himself in König, and wanted to see what he could do to help, to prevent him from ending up where he did. it was a slow process to befriend König and earn his trust, but after weeks of quick comments, pats on the back, and quiet early mornings, Ghost finally got him to come around. and Soap? well, he's just an extension of Ghost. that's what he would say to anyone else, including Ghost, but internally, König actually quite liked Soap. his incessant comedy and positivity were both infuriating and admirable, especially in the face of what they were contending with at times. finally, he appreciated the fact that neither of them seemed to judge him for much. they were just interested in his well-being, something that seemingly the rest of the boys were not.

fuck no! he doesn't want his beautiful girl to be exposed to the horrors that plagued him as a child, giving her any insight into the person he used to be. aside from that, he went no contact with his mothers years ago, after she divorced his father. his father only gets a text message from König once a year, normally at Christmas or around his birthday. maybe one day he'd clue his dad into the woman in his life, but not for a good long while. not until he's certain that you're not going anywhere.

another big fat no. on one hand, he knows that something might be a bit off about him, but on the other, he doesn't think it important enough to go and get it checked out. on all the psychological assessments before he joined the military, he lied on every single question. gave the impression that he was fine, because he knew what they expected of his mental health. he thinks it would be a waste of time. he much prefers just pushing it to the back of his mind and taking his anger out elsewhere. if he believes he's fine and doesn't need help, wouldn't those pansies who just want to study him think that too?

HEEELLLPPPP please it is not that good - in fact, i got a lesson from a German reader in my ask box correcting me on my German which from now on i will be implementing. it was all just google translate and blind faith that the Germans wouldn't get me for it. go for the writing!!! just trust that they won't get you too!!!!!

[cottoncandy-cult]

After Story

Zack Foster x Reader

Tw in that there are some references to an abusive boyfriend that Zack "took care of" I know there seem to be a lot of Zack posts, most of them had been Wattpad requests made by people reading my Zack Foster Boyfriend Scenarios book over there.

Zack sighed as he stared out the broken window of the abandoned hospital, it had been 4 years since he escaped prison and narrowly avoided death at the hands of the government. Shortly after his escape there had been a series of killings that surprisingly he had not committed, due to this they weren't able to put as much focus on his case and so it didn't take long for him to fall off the radar. He had made a companion along the way at around 2 years in, she had sympathized with him and hid him away from the world in her own home. Though when he discovered she had an abusive boyfriend that peace didn't last long, one night he heard their fighting from his makeshift room in her basement. He had creeped up the steps and peeped gap of the door, the crack allowing him to see into the living room. His blood boiled at the sight of the male screaming curses and insults at the woman who saved him, but when that bastard began to choke her Zack had seen nothing but crimson.

Unfortunately, this would be hard to hide, he told her to just call the cops and blame him. As he planned to leave that night, and he didn't want to drag her into the dark world that he lived in, but that didn't quite work out. To his surprise she was relieved, even happy. That moment took him back to his own childhood, when he had ended the lives of the abusive makeshift orphanage owners, he understood her far more than he ever realized as he recognized her happiness at not only freedom but revenge for all that she suffered. And as she sat against the wall, bruised with a busted lip and hair a mess, he realized just how beautiful she was. Of course, as a teen he recognized lust but now that he was in his mid-twenties, he was able to recognize that this was different, he didn't just desire her body but her presence in general.

It was that night she chose to flee with him, taking a bag of essentials and all the money she had and could take off the male before they left. She had actually been a bit of a cosplayer, so this made things easier, she was quick to disguise herself and leaving Zack to cover their tracks at the home she had left to get some items. When she returned, she had been quick to dye her hair, a process that confused Zack until he realized that dying her hair would make it easier for them to survive. She had no scars or tattoos and looked fairly normal, so by dying her (H/c) black and buying a few extra boxes she would be able to blend in with others in the city and gather things as they'd need them. He had managed to make a few friends on the underground and he was able to get her high-quality false ID and Birth certificate, he had let her take over the planning as she was better at this than him. He knew how to survive, but she knew how to do so in silence.

Now here they sat, 3 cities away and hiding off in a medium sized county. She was looking for a job, planning on getting a quiet place just outside of town if everything worked out. She wanted to hide him away from the world, her dedication to him was unnerving at times but it was one of the things he quickly grew to love. He held the sleeping girl close, he tried to display his love as best he could when she was awake as he knew she was doing a lot for him much less both of them. He had mostly turned his killer skills to hunting when not hiding, allowing them to save their money for necessary things and buy more time to ensure things have calmed down before they started over here. She had an interview for a good job in a few days, he had never preyed before but now, if only for her sake, he prayed everything fell into place.  This woman understands and loves him unconditionally, and he in turn has begun to find himself obsessed with her.

The way she loved him was addicting, her willingness to do so many bad things but still having the ability to look at him with innocence and care. He didn't understand it, he tried to understand where all this compassion and willingness to sacrifice herself for him came from. His only conclusion was that she was just as obsessed with him as he had become with her, just as reckless and overwhelmingly obsessed as he was. And he loved that, it meant that she would be his without question. And though he would have hated the idea of belonging to someone when he was younger, now he couldn't help but take pleasure in the idea of being hers. She was his savior, his goddess and if he was ever to worship anyone unconditionally it would be her. And he knew she felt the same, she told him every day that he was her life. They had saved each other that night, and now they were bound together, and he'd be damned if that bond ever broke. His grip around the girl tightened as his eyes narrowed at the dark sky, the thought of someone trying to take her from him made his heart burn and pound with rage. "Zaaaaaack.... Ish too tight...." Her sleepy mumbles slowly calmed him as his grip loosened, his head hanging as he looked down at the drowsy girl.

"Sorry princess..." His quiet mumbles brought a smile to the girl's face, her body shifting lazily to curl more towards him as she snuggled into his chest. Though they were sat on an old mattress they preferred to sleep like this, Zack preferred it as it would make it easier for him to defend if anyone came rushing in while she simply liked to be held. "Just go back to sleep..." His forehead rested on the top of her head, his arms gently curling around her. Her soft hum brought a slight smile to his face, finally he felt sleep coming to take him, often he had issues sleeping due to his nightmares, but she always seemed to chase them away. He had begun to calm down and feel a bit better as he began to sleep semi regularly for once in his life. "You sleep too..." Her sleepy order made the male chuckle, his thumb stroking the top of one of her hands. "I am, don't worry." They sat in silence a few minutes; he could feel her body relax and as her breathing shifted, he knew she had fallen asleep. Only then did he begin to allow himself to fall into a quiet sleep, dreamless and free of his usual pain and anger.