#so its only angelic divinity that he has to hold onto but even he has to face up to the fact that the angel route is a lost cause for him

[nobodymitskigabriel]

So the thing about Gabe to me is that he doesn’t quite fit in the categorically of Angel Who Is Eventually Humanized the way that Castiel or Anna do. He is more down to earth than the other angels but specifically in the way that GODS are, not humans. Like, even if he's not literally Loki, Gabriel is functionally an earthen deity for the millenia he spent dicking around and killing people. Other gods are literally the crowd he runs in, and he's an asshole because gods are assholes (and he specifically decided to be one of the more extreme asshole gods). Even though his sensibilities can be very human-like, even if he generally likes humans and wants them to stick around, there was always some level of divinity to his cruelty. So even if he did ultimately choose humanity I feel like putting him in with the angels who actually know what it's like to be human misses this part of his character.

[ddejavvu]

hi! I have a request for Criminal Minds…

It’s Dom!Spencer x fem or afab reader where they’re fucking and reader is sooooo gone that she’s not even catching Spencer’s degradations and praises anymore and just says stuff like ,,you’re so pretty,, or sucks his fingers without a single CARE in the world.

IM GOING TO HELL IM SORRY 😭 also, if you happen to do this, can I be “🏹” anon? apologies if you don’t do emoji anons, ignore this if you don’t. Thanks anyway! Love your writing I’m your biggest fan <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

warning for ooc spence: i get you dom!spencer fans and this one's for you <3 but the man had to ashamedly whisper the word 'bitch' while reading it off of evidence from a crime scene so i don't think this one is really in character 💔💔💔 hopefully it's good though <3

Everything about Spencer is divine. The hair that hands in caramel-colored waves around your face, tips tickling your skin and only offering more stimulation to an already overwhelming experience. His lips, pink and plump that suckle ravenously at your neck, leaving stinging patches in their wake that won't heal for days. His cock, impressively thick and moderately long, stretching your drooling cunt and bumping rapidly against a spot so deep inside of you you're not sure you knew it existed. His fingers, long, slender, and veined, laying heavy on your tongue and putting pressure on its base so that you gag. Drool spills out around his digits as your body shakes from the force of his thrusts, and the gentle, soothing hum of his voice is with you only in sound, not in meaning.

You're too far gone to recognize the words spilling from his lips as he fucks you, terms like 'slut', 'dirty', 'filthy', and 'dumb' that, on a normal day, would send you into a stammering, blushing mess of denial and excuses. But now you're basking in his saccharine tone, letting his words wash over you and evaporate before your fucked-out brain has time to process them.

"Everyone thinks you're a genius," Spencer croons, sucking hard at a spot against your throat as he jams his fingers onto your tongue, "They say I'm lucky to have found you, 'cause you can keep up with me. But I know the truth, angel." He holds your hip in place with a single calloused hand, "You go dumb on my cock. That's all it takes, isn't it? Just a few. short. minutes." He punctuates his accusations with particularly rough thrusts, "And I've got you braindead on my dick."

"Is that true, baby?" He asks, kissing his way up your jaw and tracing the curve with the stiff tip of his tongue. You're whimpering around the three fingers he's stuffed in your mouth, lips desperately milking them like you would his cock. He curls them on your tongue, pressing down so your speech is garbled, "Answer me, honey. You go stupid for me, don't you?"

"Love you," You manage to blabber, drool spilling from your lips as you speak around his fingers. You're a spluttering mess, spit pooled in your mouth that coats Spencer's digits and seeps down your chin. You suckle at him like a man starved, and the pressure actually starts to hurt between the wayward lapping of your tongue at the pads of his fingers, "Love you- Spence, love you."

He feels your cunt clench around his dick, your body seemingly in tune with the single goal of sucking him dry. He muffles a groan into the crook of your neck, wondering if you'll ever remember the filthy way he's speaking to you now.

The words are harsh, but they're used endearingly, and he hums them into your neck with a kiss, like it's a compliment, "Dumb slut."

[pearlessance]

Her Love Endures - Idle Threats [vi]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel steals a morning with an angel he doesn't deserve. She confesses all.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, added backstory to progress the plot, loss, canon typical violence

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The first two days go smoothly, though you’re uncharacteristically quiet. You follow the map southeast, sticking to the forest and away from the interstate as much as possible. You only stumble across a handful of infected—most of which you take down silently with your bow, leaving Joel impressed with your unshakeable aim. Once, when you notice a stalker long before it notices you, Joel raises his rifle as you dismount and creep up behind it. He trains his scope on its head, ready to pull the trigger the moment he thinks you may be in danger. 

But he never has to. And he watches, filled to the brim with reverence, as you scramble silently through the brush, take the stalker by the throat, and sink your serrated sawback knife deep into its skull.

As you return to your horse, threat averted, Joel feels something warm stir inside him. Because your shoulders are pulled back, and there’s a cruel and death-like shimmer in your eyes and blood splattered across your cheek, making you look like some sort of divine creature of slaughter…but then you look up at him. And your eyes soften, and your smile lights up your face as you say, “There’s a piece of your hair sticking out by your ear. Like, straight out. How’s it doing that? Defying gravity.”

It’s the innocence in your voice that does it to him, he thinks. You may be the best runner Jackson has, may have a sniper’s eye and a knife-sharp tongue, but beneath it all you’re just a little girl. Amused by the smallest, most childish of things. Untainted but deadly, lethal but pure. And he wants you to hold onto that softness for as long you can. He can see it’s been diminished, parts of it snuffed out by loss and grief and disappointment, but Joel vows to protect the parts he can for as long as he’s able. He hopes he never has to miss the sound of your laughter.

He doesn’t even try to fix his hair.

The winter snow has become nothing but slush and mud, and you’ve used your jacket more as a pillow at night than for warmth. The two of you take watch in rotation. The first night Joel insisted you sleep first, but then you’d fixed him with a dark stare and reminded him of your agreement; your run, your rules.

He complies, but he doesn’t sleep much. It’s far more fascinating to him to watch you on the other side of the fire, bow in hand, arrow half-knocked. The moonlight reflects in your hair, and Joel wants so badly to hold you but knows to keep his distance. Knows that you still harbor some of that anger you have towards him for not respecting your wishes of solitude, knows to give you space, to wait until you approach him. 

You don’t sleep much, either. Half of the night you’re writing in that leatherbound journal while he keeps watch. Sometimes you don’t write at all and read over old entries instead. His curiosity gets the better of him once, and Joel asks, “You writin’ about the clickers we killed today?”

Without even looking up from the journal propped against your knees, you say, “Nope. I’m writing hardcore sex scenes.” It makes him chuckle. “Nothing funny about it, Joel. You’re the star of the show.”

And for a second he wonders if you might be telling the truth, until you burst into a fit of girlish laughter at the look on his face. Joel thinks it’s his favorite sound, those giggles of yours. Still, he shakes his head with a smile on his face and says, “Brat.”

He doesn’t press for more after that. He’s given you the chance to talk about it, and you evaded him completely, so he decides he can live with the mystery for now. 

On the fourth night it rains. It’s dark by the time you find shelter, and it comes in the form of a barn out in the middle of nowhere. Joel hasn’t seen an old vehicle or a stoplight in miles, and part of him knows a watch rotation is a little unnecessary but you insist anyway. He tries to find comfort in the stale and brittle hay that blankets the cold floor but fails to. He spends most of the night thinking of you, thinking of God. Joel can’t shake the feeling of filth that covers him, a grime that has nothing to do with the lack of soap he’s had access to since leaving Jackson, and everything to do with his morals.

Because even now, several days later, Joel is so angry with Maria that he could kill her. She should never have sent you out here. The thought shouldn’t have ever crossed her mind. Putting you in the watchtowers, on the walls, hell—even on patrol…that’s one thing. Sending you this far out, though? And alone? Joel would die before he ever let Ellie out here alone. But even though Maria is good at putting on a concerned front…Joel sees right fucking through her. Knows it was a planned conversation she had with you. He knows, too, without ever being there that Maria told you all about Miley and her operable tumor before she ever broached the subject of this run.

It’s calculated. Cold. Cruel. 

Maria might not think of it that way. You might not think of it that way. But Joel sees it for what it is. Sees that she ‘loves you like you’re her own’ not for who you are but instead for what you’re capable of. Maria recognizes your potential and your selflessness and uses it to her own advantage. 

Joel only wishes you could see it, too. And he thinks maybe you did at one point when you stormed into the dining hall and screamed in her face. But it must’ve been for only a moment, because here you are again…doing whatever Maria needs you to. No questions asked.

A part of him hates her, but how truly different are the two? Maybe Joel sees Maria for what she is because they’re both doing the same things to you. He might not be sending you on suicide missions for pregnancy cravings or medical supplies…but he does take advantage of you. 

And the worst part, the part he hates to admit…is that he enjoys it. Never in all his life has Joel found pleasure in anything the way he has in you. In your soft skin, your soft sounds…it does something to him spiritually. The way you fight him so hard only to give in and do as he says inevitably…it makes him weak in the knees just to think about it. The way you trust him so wholly, trust him to keep you safe, to make you feel good, to take care of you …it fills him with this deep, dark desire. 

He’s long since given up trying to resist you, forbidden fruit tasted and swallowed and consumed. There’s no going back from that. And he knew it at the first bite. What he didn’t expect, though, was to be offered seconds, thirds, a fucking feast of you…if only he’d convince himself to sit at the table.

But doing so will damn him, he knows. And though Joel’s got little faith in God left in him, he worries that the moment he ravaged you was the moment he became undeserving of you.

For the first time, you fall asleep moments after Joel takes watch. Maybe it’s the sound of the rain or maybe it’s just exhaustion. You use his coat as a blanket and yours as a pillow, and he watches in awe and admiration as you finally rest. Your hands are beneath your head, and a piece of your hair has fallen into your face, and you’re so fucking beautiful it makes him ache.

As if he ever deserved you in the first place, Joel thinks.

It stops raining an hour before sunrise. And he notices there’s a glass pane in the ceiling that he hadn’t seen in the dark. The sun’s rays leak through it, highlighting the dust particles in the air, illuminating the space on the ground where you lay on your side. 

He doesn’t believe in God, Joel tells himself.

And if he did, he would scream and shout and try to strike him down for punishing you like this. For surrounding you with people who are supposed to love you who don’t know how to love you, for embodying Judas in the form of a bratty twenty year old little girl, for making your greatest sin the sin of disobedience. For cursing you with his presence, for cursing you with this looming, haunted old man who you will never be rid of. For giving Joel this perfect gift he’ll never deserve but now can never surrender.

He doesn’t believe in God, and if he did he knows he should be crawling to the altar and begging on his knees for forgiveness for all he’s done. Begging mercy not for his sake but for yours. Pleading to give you peace, solace, safety. To give you warmth like sunlight and love like absolution and to give you someone who feels like home. To give you everything you’ve given him.

But Joel doesn’t believe in God. He sets his rifle down and crawls to you instead.

Space. He knows you need space. But he needs you and he’s such a selfish man. Joel swipes the hair from your face, watches you stir in your sleep, sighs in tandem with you when he presses a kiss to your forehead. He inhales deeply, lying on his side, letting his thumb stroke your cheekbone languidly.

Your eyes open slowly, blinking once, twice. And he half expects you to make some snarky remark about how bad a job he’s doing keeping watch, but all you do is rest your hand on top of his and scoot closer, pressing your body to his. 

Joel kisses your cheek, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. By the time he makes it to your lips, they’re pulled up into a sleepy smile, and he can’t resist the urge to drink you in. Your mouth is warm and soft and fits perfectly against his. His hand on the side of your face slips to the back of your neck, thumb caressing your pulse. You feel more alive right now than Joel has ever felt himself, and he has the sudden, striking thought that belief in God has nothing to do with what he’s been taught and everything to do with the sanctity he holds in his hands in this very moment.

His fingertips wander down your back, between your shoulder blades, over each disc of your spine, the divot in the small of your back, over the denim of your jeans, down between your legs. Joel lifts you slightly, crushes your center hard against his, and feels himself unravel at your closeness.

You start to rut against him, hips canting over his erection, the friction of your jeans on his the only sound apart from the breaths you breathe into his mouth, breathing life, sweet, golden life, into his aching bones. Your tongue is slow in its pursuit of memorization, lazy and perfect but still so unbearably needy.

Joel won’t make you suffer. Not today. He wedges his hand between your bodies, unbuttons your jeans with a single, swift movement of his thumb, and reaches beneath the fabric. He finds home in a second, movements rehearsed and ritualistic. Your clit throbs beneath the pads of his fingers as he circles it slowly, pointedly.

The smallest noise, like a moan at the back of your throat, invades his mouth. Joel smiles to himself, knowing that if he reached just a little lower he’d find that telling wetness, knowing that you’ve needed this but just too stubborn to ask for it.

So stuck in your own head, your own ways. Never letting anyone else take care of you, because you know they can’t. 

Until now. Until Joel. 

He pulls his mouth away from yours long enough to catch his breath, to admire the art of your face as he strums faster between your legs. You say his name a little like a prayer, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, his name in your mouth. He thinks he’ll never grow tired of it for as long as he lives. He presses a wet kiss just beneath your ear, delighting in the rush of goosebumps left in the wake of his lips.

He finally shifts his fingers down through your slit and pushes his middle finger in deep. You let out a pretty sounding gasp, and Joel runs the tip of his nose up your throat with a quiet laugh. 

“Shh,” he says. “S’alright, little girl. I’ve got you.” Joel pushes you onto your back, allowing him easier access. He adds another, his ring finger this time, and even though your jeans constrict movement and dig into the back of his wrist, the sounds you make as he begins to pump them slowly in and out of you are worth it.

Pretty, sweet sounding moans that he wants to swallow up. So he does—kisses you deep, licks into your mouth, bites your bottom lip between his teeth. The heel of his palm puts pressure on your swollen clit, and he can feel you squeezing around his fingers already, legs trembling with each slow, punishing thrust of his hand.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I..I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “S’okay, go ahead.” All it takes is one more deep press against that sweet spot inside you before you’re gripping his flannel, knuckles blanched. It’s fast and needy and desperate but somehow one of the softest most gentle moments he’s had with you. And Joel knows he’ll always hold this close, knows just how remarkable and holy this time with you is.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as you come down, trying to catch your breath. And when you look up at him, he recognizes the longing in your eyes, knows that this religious moment has only scratched the surface of your desire, knows just how hungry you are because he is, too. 

And so Joel crawls between your legs. He unlaces your boots and sets them aside, peels the too-tight denim down, takes the pretty lilac panties with them, and gets rid of those, too. He sits there on his knees for you, calloused fingers stroking lazy patterns up and down your bare thighs. You watch him in silence as he admires you. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he says.

Your breathing picks up a little as he shifts backward, just enough so he can lean over and kiss your clit. You taste heady and sweet and delicious, and he thinks he could live off of just the essence of you and be satisfied for all eternity.

His tongue moves intentionally, savoringly, because this is a selfish act. Joel supposes everything he does with you is selfish in one way or another, but this is purely for him. His cock throbs painfully behind the metal of his zipper as he palms the inside of your thighs and spreads your legs wide. He licks up your wet slit, smearing the taste of you over his lips, down his chin.

A cracked, sleep-addled moan leaves you as you arch your back, pressing yourself against his mouth. Your hands find their way to his hair, holding him in place right where you want him. And Joel lets you without protest, lets you lose yourself in this moment in the same way he has.

Joel slides two fingers back into you easily, encountering no resistance thanks to the mixture of your slick and his spit. He twists and curls them up, pumping hard against that spot again, sucking your throbbing clit between his lips and circling it with a pointed tongue.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck— Joel.”

A little faster, a little harder. You’re squeezing tight around his fingers, needy little girl sucking him in deep, and Joel shows no signs of stopping even as you start to shake. He wants it, wants to taste you in his mouth, wants to push you over the edge so you can be here, here, with him, where you have cast him forever. Wants you to know what it is to want, to hunger, to be ravenous with a singular source of relief.

You’re about to come, and he knows it, but he pulls away. You let out a soft whimper at the loss of contact but then he’s unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down his hips just enough to pull his cock out. He squeezes it once in his fist and a blinding wave of pleasure shoots through him. Joel lines himself up between your legs and pushes in with a long, contented sigh.

Here, inside you, is the only place he’s ever felt adored, cherished, loved, divine. 

Because your eyes are wide and sleepy and beautiful. You look at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you and not some God-given curse. And it’s this he craves, the intimacy you share at this exact moment, where he knows he could ask anything of you—anything—and you’d give it willingly, freely. And fuck he just wants to keep you safe but maybe that means from him, too.

The thought is awful and comes to him unbidden. Your brows furrow as he rocks into you, cock reaching depths you’d never known existed. You place your hand on his jaw, lean up, and press your lips to his. You breathe his name and say, “I’m sorry I was mad. I forgive you. I’m yours.”

His. His, his, his, his. All his. His table, his fruit, his fault.

But his all the same.

He fucks into you deep, hips grinding against yours, his dark pubic hair rubbing against your sensitive clit. Joel takes your face in his hand, cradling your chin, thumb tracing the outline of your lips. His breath is labored and sweat beads at the back of his neck. He’s not going to last long. Not when you look at him like that, not when you look at him like you love him. 

He reaches between your bodies with his free hand and circles your clit. Sinks his thumb into your sweet mouth when you let out a salacious moan. He can feel your pussy flutter around him, knows you’re nearly there, knows he’s destined to follow you. “Come with me, baby, come with me,” he says softly.

Your breathing stills for a moment, and then you’re trembling, shaking in his hands, sucking his thumb deeper into your mouth.

His own release trickles in slowly at first, building in his spine, and then it slams into him with no remorse as he fills you up, cock pulsing inside you. “Oh, fuck, yeahhh—that’s it. That’s it, little girl—mmm—you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Such a good girl for me, huh? Pretty little baby…there we go.”

He fucks you through it, thrusting into you real slow even when you’re breathing has slowed and he’s spilled every drop he has to offer. His thumb is coated in your saliva when he pulls it out of your mouth to kiss you, leaving a wet smear on your cheek. And when he leans back, wincing as he pulls out of you, you look up at him with straw tangled in your hair and say with a pretty smile, “Good morning to you, too.”

It is, he thinks. Joel can feel the good day ahead, can feel the weight of your irritation lift from his shoulders at the sight of your grin. “C’mon,” he says. He holds a hand out for you, pulling you up with him. 

While you dress and stretch and run your fingers through your hair, Joel feeds the horses and gathers your things. He picks up your bow and your backpack and brings it to you, and in ten minutes you’re both saddled and on your way.

The storm has passed and the sun is shining brightly, and Joel forces his mare to trot just a little slower than yours so he can appreciate the view. He thinks you’re beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with your age; elegant, graceful, timeless. Even before the world ended he would have noticed you, would have felt that same magnetic pull.

You glance briefly over your shoulder at him and ask, “What do you think could be in there?”

He has no idea. Can’t even wrap his head around the thought, really. “Hard to say. Twenty-five years is a long time for something to go untouched.”

“I’ve never been inside of a hospital,” you say. “I’ve seen pictures in those medical books in the library back in Jackson, but this will be the first I’ll ever actually see in person. What’s it like?”

“Confusing,” Joel answers. “They’re usually pretty big. Lots of floors and rooms, all set up differently.”

“Tommy told me they had special rooms for surgeries and stuff.”

“Operating rooms,” he explains. “They were away from everything else so they could be kept sterile. Doctors had to wash their hands in a specific way before doing a surgery, used all new tools every time, left them unopened until it was time to use them.”

“That seems excessive.”

He chuckles at that. “Was a different time back then,” he says. “We were more afraid of germs than fungus.”

You remain silent for several seconds, and Joel wonders if he’s somehow said something to upset you. But then you ask, “Do you think things would be different if they were afraid of fungus back then? Maybe they would’ve found a cure before it got too bad or something.”

There’s something like longing in your voice, and it makes Joel’s chest constrict. He wishes you would’ve been able to experience the world before it went bad, wishes you’d gotten a single day to not live in fear. “I don’t know,” he tells you. “Maybe.”

“If you could go back to before the outbreak, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

Joel sighs as he contemplates his answer. It doesn’t come to him very easily—because all he’d want is to find Sarah and be with her. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter what they’d do. He would just want to be together, to hear her laugh one more time, to see her smile or roll her eyes or blink. 

It’s still foreign to speak about it, still painful, but it’s you and so Joel decides to tell the truth.

“I, uhm…I had a daughter,” he says slowly, testing the waters. He half expects you to turn and look at him, sporting some kind of surprise on your face. But he’s thankful when you don’t because it makes the words flow a little easier. “She loved soccer,” Joel continues. “Played in a little league team at her school, called themselves the Defenders. Her jersey number was fourteen, and she was the best player they had—and I’m not just sayin’ that. She loved it.” 

Pressure builds behind his eyes. Joel swallows hard. 

“One day, Tommy and I were shopping for her birthday at Scheels —you don’t…uhm, it was this big sports store up by Dallas. Had all kinds of stuff. Anyway, I couldn’t afford much at the time. Tommy and I were gonna go half and half on a new skateboard for her—she liked doin’ that too. We were heading up to check out and saw this set of soccer goals that’d been marked down all because the box had been open. Never been used, never put together, nothin’ at all wrong with ‘em. We were able to get the goals and the skateboard, and Tommy an’ I spent all afternoon setting them up in the backyard while she was at school.”

It’s a fond memory. One he sometimes dreams about. They’d bought a case of beer on the way home, played music through the speakers of Tommy’s truck, and sung along to every song that played and laughed at the stupidest things. It was just a few short months before the outbreak. The last birthday Sarah would ever have.

“She loved them,” he tells you. “I knew she would. We spent all day in the backyard, the three of us. Played with that goddamn soccer ball until it was so dark out you couldn’t see a foot in front of your face. Even grilled out for dinner, so we didn’t have to go inside. It’s all she wanted to do for the rest of the summer. She was out there for so long I had to…to make her start wearing sunscreen every day,” he says with a low chuckle. “And when school started up again I had to limit it to soccer practice on weekends only.” 

Joel knows he has yet to answer your question, but it’s so nice to talk about her that it just pours out of him unchecked. You don’t seem to mind. There’s a small smile on your face and a misty look in your eye as if he’s painting a mental picture for you. 

“Anyway,” he says. “I guess…I guess if I could go back to before, I’d just want to go back there. To hear her laugh and see her smile, to cook burgers for everyone and eat them on the deck. I’d go back and relive that day so I can appreciate it a little more.”

“It sounds nice,” you say. “I bet I would’ve liked her.”

He thinks you would’ve, too. Thinks Sarah would’ve loved you, would’ve picked up on that bratty tone of voice you sometimes have, and adopted it into her vernacular. The two of you have the same sarcastic tendencies, and Joel wonders why it’s taken this long to recognize it. “Yeah. You would’ve,” he says quietly. 

“What happened to her mom?”

The question is phrased so bluntly that it gives him pause. But it’s not malicious in any capacity, and so Joel doesn’t mind answering this one, either. “Just…saw things a little differently, I guess,” he says. “We became parents real young. Not everyone is cut out for it.”

You nod slowly in contemplation. “You had Tommy though, right? You two seem really close.”

“Yeah, we are. I mean, he’s my brother. Family. Been through everything together.” He watches your jaw feather. He wonders what he said to make you clench your teeth. Joel gives you a moment of silence to say something, to spill your guts even half as much as he has today. But you say nothing, and so Joel asks, “Are you and Maria close?”

It makes you roll your eyes, a sound of irritation slipping past your lips. There’s something cruel on the tip of your tongue. He can see it as you fight the urge to let it free. Joel wishes you would if for nothing else than to give him a clue as to what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours. Instead, you say, “We’ve known each other a long time. A lot of history.”

He nods at the open expanse of land before you. “Ain’t got nothin’ but time to fill, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks flush, and Joel thinks it’s even prettier than the sight of you bathed in sunlight. “I met Maria before Jackson was like it is today,” you explain. “It was just a handful of people and a couple of abandoned houses back then. But she saw it for what it could be, ya know? Saw how much potential there was. Maria’s real good at that…seeing things that aren’t there.” 

Joel wonders what that means. Wonders if you’re talking about Maria seeing things in you that aren’t there. But before he has the chance to formulate the question in his mind, you’ve moved past it. 

“Me and my…group—we were in bad shape. I was born in the Detroit QZ, but things started getting really bad between Fedra and the Fireflies when I was twelve. We left when the bombings started.”

It makes his chest ache. Twelve. Younger than Ellie.

“We didn’t really have anywhere to go, we were just sort of… wandering, I guess. She, uhm…one of my group members…she got hurt pretty bad. Wasn’t anyone’s fault, she just tripped and fell and ended up with a pretty nasty gash across her face. The wound wasn’t the problem but the infection…” 

Joel watches you shake your head, clearing memories best left behind. 

“It was a good thing we stumbled across Maria when we did. She helped us. Gave us food and water, a place to stay. But it was the medicine that made the difference. I owed her my life with no way to repay her. Maria didn’t ask for anything but I was old enough by then to know nothing comes for free. She suggested we stay a while, help them fortify the town, help build the greenhouse they were working on. Said we could leave whenever I felt we’d earned it. So, we stayed for a few more days. And when it was time to leave, my…group and I didn’t see eye to eye.”

He can hear the lie in your words, can sense there’s something you’re not telling him. It’s hard for him to imagine a twelve year old girl at the head of a group at the end of the world. But if anyone could do it, he supposed it would be you. And, really—it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, you’ll tell him when you’re ready. “Some of them wanted to stay?”

You nod in answer. “We came to a compromise. Said we’d just stay a couple more days. But then days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and before I knew it, I’d become Maria’s go-to runner. And my group, they’d made a home in Jackson. They saw what Maria did, knew it had the potential to be…well, to be what it is now, I guess. I don’t know. Things just…evolved from there. I started picking up things I didn’t need on my runs. Decorations, books. Started getting to know people, to remember their names. To grab stuff I knew they’d like. And the runs became more and more frequent, too—once we opened the bakery, the grocers, the bar. Eventually my runs became less about essentials and more about comfort as Jackson became more and more self-sufficient.”

“And Maria?”

“I…I trust her,” you say. “She’s looked after me a long time. She lost a son a year or two before she found us and one of my group members…I think she used them to—to fill that hole. Someone she and I were both really close to.”

It’s not lost on him that he’s done something similar with Ellie. It’s also not lost on him that you used the word were. He hates that he can read between the lines. Hates even more that you know loss as intimately as he does. 

But none of it hurts Joel half as much as when you say, “I think Maria tries to do the same with me sometimes, but I’m not as easy to love.”

Silence fills the air between you and there’s so much Joel wants to say but he’s never been good with words.

Up ahead, there’s a wilting billboard advertising a church. It reads, ‘God speaks through angels. Will you speak to an angel today? Left at exit 34,’ and Joel thinks God might be laughing at him. 

It doesn’t make sense to him. He’s spent all his time grappling with his morality because Joel shouldn’t want you as bad as he does but he just can’t help himself. You’re too tempting, too irresistible. And all the while you’ve spent your time believing you’re hard to love? His stomach turns. 

Will you speak to an angel today?

“I…” Joel pauses, tries to formulate his thoughts. To his relief, you give him as much time as he needs. “You’re not…that ain’t true.” He doesn’t know how to explain it.

Doesn’t know how to explain that you are, undoubtedly, the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Doesn’t know how to explain that the best thing in his life is something he would’ve killed a man for, were you his daughter. Even before the outbreak, he would’ve seen red, would’ve spilled blood if a man his age ever looked twice at Sarah. And even though this isn’t that, even though he knows it’s different…old habits die hard.

But he tries his best and doesn’t think too much about how it comes out stumbling and wrong. “I used to own a construction company,” he says. “Had a coupla’ guys on my crew I worked with all the time. Tommy had a friend in need of a job, and I didn’t know much about him but I trusted Tommy and so I hired him.”

You slow your horse just enough that the two of you are side by side. You’re listening intently, though your eyes are turned straight ahead.

Joel swallows hard and continues. “Name was Mike or Michael or something. Anyway, We had had a pretty hard day and Tommy and I had decided to split the check and buy everyone on our crew a beer after work. Mike said he couldn’t go cause his girlfriend was waiting for him outside to give him a ride home. And he seemed like a good guy, always showin’ up on time, never complained about anything, just did the job. So we told him to have her meet us at the bar so we could all get to know each other. But, uh...problem was his girlfriend wasn’t old enough to drink. Which should’ve been the first warning, considering Mike was a couple of years older than me at the time and an age difference like that wasn’t normal…’specially back then.”

It makes the corners of your mouth turn up. And Joel knows you’re holding back your laughter, can almost hear the smart remark you’d make. But to your credit, you remain silent. 

“But I gave him the benefit of the doubt, told him to bring her along anyway. Offered to buy her some bar food instead. ‘Cause they used to let you in the bar if you were under twenty one, they just wouldn’t serve you—” He waves a hand in front of him. “It doesn’t matter. Mike, he…he had to dumb it down for me. Had to explain it like I was a toddler because I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. He told me…he told me she couldn’t come because she was sixteen.”

A crease forms between your brows.

“Tommy didn’t know. No one knew. But I told him…told him he’d have to find a new job. Told him he couldn’t work for me, because all I could see at the time was my own daughter, ten years into the future, just got a driver's license and going to pick a grown fuckin’ man up from work because he’d manipulated her into…” He swallows, shakes his head to clear the image his words produce.

“This isn’t the same,” you say quietly. 

“No,” he answers. “It’s not. But, look, I didn’t even know that sixteen year old girl and I had only known Mike for a week. But I wanted to kill him. Because he knew better. He knew what he was doing was wrong and he did it anyway.”

“Joel…”

“Just—just listen to me for a minute, okay? Kids born after the outbreak, I know it’s different for you. I know you have no concept of…of what’s acceptable when it comes to stuff like this. But I do. I know it’s wrong, and it makes me no better than he was.”

You shake your head. “Stop it,” you say, voice stern. “Don’t do that to yourself. I’m not a kid, Joel. And you’re not a bad man.”

There’s so much certainty in your words, and Joel begins to wonder just how well you know him. Better than anyone else in Jackson aside from Tommy and Ellie, but you still don’t know. You don’t know about the raids he was a part of, the dealings and the killings he did in the Boston QZ, or about the way he left Tess in that Capitol Building, you don’t know about his blatant eradication of the fireflies, or the selfish decision he made that put an end to all hope of ever finding a cure when he pulled that trigger.

But that isn’t the point he’s trying to get across. 

So, he shakes off the tenderness in your voice and the way it makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest and says, “What I’m tryin’ to say is this: I know it’s wrong and I know this will be the thing that condemns me but I can’t stop. None of it matters when I’m with you. An’ I’ve tried to keep my distance, believe me. But, uh…here I am. So…don’t give me any of that shit about how you’re hard to love. I’m the last person who’d ever believe it. ”

He can feel your eyes on the side of his face, can feel the strain his near confession has created, but Joel can’t bring himself to look at you. Because he knows, he knows the moment he does and is smothered in that warmth you bring, the words will come spilling out and then there really won’t be any going back from this. There will be nothing left uncomplicated, nothing to unspool or untangle.

You ride in silence for several miles. It’s not an uncomfortable thing. As long as he can see you, as long as you’re within arms reach, he doesn’t panic. There’s no reason to, Joel thinks. 

An hour before sunset you come upon the Casper city limits. The hospital is less than a mile away when you steer your horse down a residential street and say, “We’ll rest for the night. Hole up in one of these houses. We’ll find a way inside in the morning.”

It’s a good plan, a solid one. One Joel would make himself. The two of you work together to ensure the abandoned house you chose is safe enough, and even though the night air has a bitter chill to it, you decide against a fire.

You feed the horses while Joel prepares food for the two of you, and by now you’ve got a routine so he prepares a makeshift bed while he waits for you to finish up. 

The two of you eat together, and you’re nibbling on a piece of the apple he cut into chunks for you when you say, “I lied to you. Earlier, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. And then again, “Yeah, I know.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you mean you know?”

Joel shrugs casually. “Not gonna force you to talk about anything you’re not ready to talk about.”

It seems to give you pause. You stare intently at the ripped spot in your tight jeans, right over your knee, and take a slow, contemplative bite of your apple.

And then you tell the truth.

“It wasn’t a group,” you say quietly. “It was just me and my little sister.” 

It makes his heart clench. Because he doesn’t need to ask why he’s never met her. The words linger for a moment, and Joel lets them. Questions form behind his teeth that he doesn’t allow himself to ask.

“She used to…uhm—she used to carry this book around. Had all kinds of stuff about flora and fauna. Mostly, though, it was stuff about bugs and moss. She loved stuff like that. Could tell the difference between butterflies at a glance, could tell you all about the migrating cycles of moths and where they would be at any given time of the year, knew what kinda moss you could eat and what would just taste like dirt.”

A small, sad smile pulls at your mouth, and Joel wonders if you’ve talked about her with anyone else. With the affectionate tone that flows from you, he doubts it.

“The book, it was this massive thing. Like that big encyclopedia we have back in Jackson, you know the one?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, I know it.”

“Well, sometimes she’d find a bug she didn’t recognize. Maybe a type of beetle or caterpillar or something or other. And she couldn’t just…she couldn’t wait. So a lot of times she’d be walking and reading at the same time.” Your face falls just slightly. “That’s how she tripped.”

“She was the one with the infection?”

You nod. “We used to laugh about it. You know, after we got to Jackson and had access to antibiotics. It was no one’s fault just…an accident. Still, she was my little sister, and I…I think I blamed myself for a while. Sounds silly now, but I don’t know. I was young.”

“Was?”

It makes you laugh, that carefree demeanor peaking through the gloom. He savors it. “You know what I mean.”

He does. Joel knows all too well what it’s like to be an older sibling. Knows that no matter how old he gets, he’ll always feel a sort of responsibility for his little brother.

“Anyway, she loved Jackson. Loved Maria, too. She was so personable. Sweet and kind and just… good. Ellie reminds me of her. And Jackson was so new back then it was just a handful of people, all curious to meet the newcomers. And they all took a liking to her right away. Not like…not like me. I was weary which made them weary. I didn’t want to stay.” 

Joel’s glad you did. Glad he was able to meet you, to experience this.

“She talked me into it, though,” you say with a sigh. “But we spent a lot of time on runs. Especially in the beginning. I think I missed it being just the two of us sometimes and even though she wanted to stay and help the town she never complained. It’s like she just knew what I needed without me ever having to ask.”

The look on your face grows somber. Your eyes lose focus. And Joel knows what’s coming next before you even say it.

“We were out on a run for copper. Trying to get the dam fixed up. I dont…I—uhm. I don’t know. I didn’t look. I just…”

Your voice breaks, and Joel abandons his post near the door. Abandons his rifle, too, to hold you instead. Your hands are trembling, something he didn’t notice before. But he sits beside you, places his warm hand on the small of your back, and waits for you to muster up the courage to speak again. 

“There was a stalker. In the brush. She was talking to me about this bug called a death's-head hawkmoth. And it felt like…it felt how it used to be. I was distracted, you know? Just listening to her ramble on and on about this fucking moth and then…and then she was screaming.” You wipe furiously at your cheeks. “I killed it quick but she was bitten either way and I had to…after. I had to…”

He pulls you close. Wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you into his lap. You’re cold and small and nothing like damnation in his hands. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, he wants to say. But he knows it’s not okay and it never will be. So instead, Joel just kisses your face and your hair and your knuckles and he promises to never let anything else hurt you. 

You’re still in his lap, head against his shoulder, when you find enough of yourself within your cloud of grief to speak again. “That’s why I don’t go on runs with other people,” you say. “I don’t want to be the reason for anyone else dying.”

Joel takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head up so you’ll look at him. The sun has set and it’s dark but he can still see you, thinks that perhaps he’s always been able to. Even before knowing your something. “Hey,” he says. “No. Look at me. That ain’t true.”

“But I should’ve seen it,” you say. “I should’ve been paying attention. I should’ve—!”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he says. And Joel knows it’s hypocritical, knows he’s telling you not to do what he’s done every day for the last twenty years. But he doesn’t want that for you, doesn’t want you to suffer if he can help it. So he tells you what no one’s ever told him. What he’s always wanted to hear but never had the courage to ask for. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could—I know you did. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You can’t go with me,” you say with a sniffle. “Tomorrow. Joel, you can’t. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose you.”

Pride swells inside his chest because even though he hadn’t had the guts to admit his need for you to Tommy, you have the guts to admit it to Joel. You set the truth right out in the open for all eyes to see. And even though it’s just the two of you, the horses, and the moon—Joel Miller thinks you might be the bravest person he’s ever met.

He loves that about you.

Wants to say it. Doesn’t have the guts to. He’s not the one with an abundance of bravery.

“You don’t get to do things alone anymore,” he says instead. “It’s too dangerous. I’m going.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice but you find yourself doing it anyway. “Joel, just listen to me, okay? When I had to tell everyone at Jackson what had happened to her I couldn’t stand the way they looked at me. Because I could fucking see what everyone was thinking. It should’ve been me.”

He shakes his head, feels panic climbing up his throat at the very idea. “No. No, you—”

“They knew it, I knew it—God, Maria never lets me forget it. It should’ve been me, Joel. And I can’t fucking do that shit again, do you hear me? I cannot face them. Maria, Tommy, fuck— Ellie. If I have to look them in the eye and explain how I made it and you didn’t?” You scoff. “Joel, I’d rather die. I can’t do that again. I won’t survive it.”

He holds your face in his hands. “Look at me, baby. Stop. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“But you don’t know—!”

“I do know,” he says. Because I’m cursed to live forever, to endure my sins, he doesn’t. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, little girl. Alright? I swear.”

And he means it. He really, truly means it.

You press your mouth to his, fingers tangled in the roots of his hair, and though you don’t say it Joel can taste the desperation, the love, on your tongue.

It was never supposed to go this far. Was never supposed to turn into this. All he’d wanted was to teach you a lesson, to scratch the itch of discipline your bratty ways bring out in him.

Yet he finds himself eternally grateful to have been born in a time where you exist. For the first time, he doesn’t think he was born thirty years too early and he doesn’t think you were born thirty years too late. For the first time, he accepts what is and what isn’t. For the first time, Joel Miller holds divinity in his hands and doesn’t think about how undeserving of it he is, he just pulls it closer. 

He thinks about how precious this is instead. About how extraordinary you are. About how he may never get to experience heaven but what is heaven compared to the way you look at him? What’s heaven compared to the way you feel? 

What’s heaven compared to home?

You drift off in his lap, and even in your sleep you cling to him like he’s something holy.

Joel loves you, he knows. 

And if the two of you survive tomorrow, he just might tell you so.

[part five] [part seven]

[hismourningflower]

"special day" ft kaeya + gorou x gn!reader literature content. fluff, maybe ooc, established relationships alexi’s notes. happy birthday to my dearest @yaminohimeyume ! thank you for being such a close friend to me, this is actually also your request you sent in - you have enough angst ma’am, you should have known i’d write you fluff instead !

I was scrolling and saw you asked for requests so, I went searching for two phrases so that I could decide what to ask... In the end I got two... either angst or fluff for Gorou, and if you feel like, for Kaeya <3

library waiting list. @soleillunne @lovingluxury @dumbificat @starryshinyskies @ryuryuryuyurboat @ainescribe @sangoqueenkoko

your lover is known for casually slacking off his work sometimes but regardless, KAEYA is a hardworking man. from taking up commissions from the other knights and running errands, or even training knights-to-be, the cavalry captain without his cavalry always has an excuse to be busy - or rather, appear busy. whether or not it be genuine work or an attempt at kicking his feet up during work hours, you're supportive and always there to ensure he's caring for himself.

this includes roping him home from the angel's share with the help of master diluc, the stench of wine heavy on his breath as he stumbles alongside the pair of you, his hands trying to shove your helping touch away as he urges "i'm married!" into the cool night air of mondstadt, much to both the amusement of yourself and diluc as you exchange glances.

it always includes you bringing his lunch to him, fresh from the good hunter - sara is quite fond of you, honestly - and all the times you've taken klee off his hands. that's the only time you can excuse him slacking off, in your eyes since by the archons, klee is a handful.

kaeya may or may not see your birthday and take it as a chance to squeeze himself out of the suffocating, stuffy air that is the knights of favonius headquarters. the empty vase on the kitchen table is filled with an array of your favourite flowers, colourful and basking in the golden light of the early morning sunrise that's casting its beauty onto the nation of freedom. they smell divine, sweet and floral accompanied with the breakfast that kaeya worked hard on; honestly a surprise that he knew how to navigate your shared kitchen enough to cook something.

the two of you spend the majority of the day wandering the bustling streets of mondstadt shopping, accompanied by the breeze so beautifully blessed by barbatos himself. one of kaeya's love languages may be acts of affirmation but his more commonly acted on love language is gifts. even if you try to shrug off his efforts throughout the day, kaeya is insistent on buying every little trinket and other that your eyes even so much as glitter at the sight of.

with the sunset as your witness, perched at the top of starsnatch cliff on a plaid picnic blanket, kaeya gives you your true gift - the one that had been purchased months in advance after he sought the help of jean. in his hands sits a small, plush velvet box that holds a necklace with a shivada jade gemstone cut so refined and glittering in the light of the sun dipping below the distant horizon. smiles adorn your faces as you make wishes on dandelion seeds, blowing them to be carried in the wind.

—

in hindsight, you had probably expected little to nothing from your workaholic partner as your birthday wrapped around. GOROU was hardworking, sure but sometimes you couldn't help but worry for his overall health. as his partner, it was your own hard work that kept the canine male on his feet during the trying times of the resistance.

little did you know, your hindsight would be incredibly wrong. gorou may focus solely on the resistance, his work as a general and the comrades around him however he is devoted to you, loyal to the one he recognises as his forever. with pointed ears and a wagging tail, gorou had already made plans months in advance with her excellency for your birthday - the hardest part was keeping it under wraps.

what can i say? the general of the watatsumi resistance is full of surprises, if people weren't already shocked from his prominent animalistic features and happy-go-lucky demeanour in a time of history being changed right before your very eyes, that is. the morning of your birthday, he'd already started your day before you had. gorou follows a strict regime daily and the man virtually exists only to follow schedules; he'll combust if he doesn't.

since gorou is always too busy to maintain his own health, you've always been the standing pillar at his side, ensuring he's fed and that he takes routine breaks out of his work to just breathe in the fresh air. this morning he wants to return all your kind acts, all the steaming plates of breakfast and packed bento boxes; always wrapped and made with the utmost of love.

the smell of food is the first thing you're greeted with when your eyes pry open, blinded by the spring inazuman sunshine that casts into the room through the open window, the curtains tied back and yet blowing gently in the warm breeze. gorou's humming is faint from the kitchen but you can make it out just enough to recognise that it's a song the soldiers take to singing around the campfire some nights.

after breakfast, gorou hands over his gift to you - one that albeit caused him a lot of pain that bared just for you, - a woven bracelet made of the fur of his tail. there's a sheepish smile on his face, cheeks dusted a light hue of pink as he rubs the back of his neck with a hand and admits just how painful it was to pluck fur from his own poor tail but despite the pain, the sentiment is there. he wants you to have a piece of him - literally - with you, especially when he goes to the battlefield with the chance of never returning to your side.

then the day takes its turn into the plans gorou has pre-emptively worked on to perfection, using this day as his chance to thank you for everything you have ever done for him as his lover. the beaches of yashiori island are plenty, your toes dipped in the sand and cool waves lapping at your ankles as you walk along the coast, hand in hand with your lover boy, so head over heels in love with you every time his eyes glance over to you and trail to that ginger bracelet clasped around your wrist.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | reblogs appreciated | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media. | divider by @/cafekitsune.

[collidescopeeyes]

super specific but any HCs for High Noon Viktor with his anti-villain good doctor tragedy and an f!reader angel seeking to help him escape Morde's clutches? 🫣 if you just wanna be fluffy or smutty that is A-OKAY. cowboy love...

I know you said headcanons but something about the high noon universe just Gets me. Like. Mankind brings down heaven by his own greed and picks over its corpse for profit, the Devil's are all here because Hell is too crowded these days, there's a TRAIN to HELL called the SULFUR RAIL, how insanely metal is that?? AND there's cowboys as well!!

High Noon!Viktor with an Angel!S/O

(Suggestive)

It's always warm in the depths of the engine room, the infernal heat of the Sulfur Rail blistering the very air. Still, it's your only way in without attracting the Mechanical Devil's attention, so you bear with the heat. There's few ways onto the Rail without a ticket–likely, the Mechanical Devil didn't think there was any angel left with the kind of grace left in them to bear the heat of hell itself. This service hatch is designed for Viktor’s automatons, clockwork stuffed with the soul of a sinner to make it tick, but you tuck your wings down and squeeze through. The worker's don't pay you any mind–the dead rarely do, even ones denied their rest such as them.

Viktor's study in the tail end of the engine car, all gilded silver and glamor, as if shining the bars of a cage can make it feel like home. You slide open the door, and he's where he always is–hunched over his desk, careful hands busy forging cogs and springs to hold a human soul. He doesn't look up as you slide the door closed behind you. “I don't appreciate interruptions,” he says tersely. “You may tell Mordekaiser that it will be ready when it is ready, and if he sends another messenger he should also provide a bag for me to send their heads back in.”

You lean over his shoulder. “Sounds like you could use a break.”

He fumbles the clockwork in surprise, eyes wide as he looks at you. “Angel,” he breathes, reaching out to cup your face. You press your cheek into his gloved palm, smiling.

“I missed you,” you say softly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his. His eyes flit over your face as if he's not truly sure you're there, bright eyes and pale lashes, before his eyes narrow.

“You know it's dangerous for you to be here,” he says, swiftly standing, his work forgotten on the desk. He grips your shoulders and if you didn't know him, he might even look ominous with how he looms over you, the intent look in his brass-bright eyes.

“No, it's dangerous for me to get here,” you correct easily. “But since I didn't get blasted out of the sky on the way, I figure I'm in the clear. Nobody ever comes to visit you, I hear, though if that's the attitude you take I ain't surprised.”

For a long moment, you simply lock eyes, your determination to his increasing exasperation. Then he sighs, sits back down, strips his gloves off and offers you his hands, scarred palms up. His skin is silvery with burns from the infernal metal and rough with the callous of machinery work, and the story of his life in the tips of his fingers. “Do as you will, Angel.”

You place your hands in his, wings flaring bright behind you as you gather your grace–thin and fading compared to ages past, but probably the closest thing this world still has to divinity since Heaven fell. At once, the shackles of his deal appear, burning red with infernal iron around his wrists. If it were any other devil, you might be able to find some loophole, some chink in the binding you could exploit–but this is Mordekaiser, and the runes burnt into his manacles are airtight. His very soul is bound to this train, to this work, by the contract he agreed to, for the last piece of a life's work he didn't realize he'd never get to use for anything but the Devil's bidding. No, the only way free for your love is by the might of Heaven–or as much as you can muster from scavenging its bones.

“What did you find this time, my love?” Viktor asks, watching your light sear into the shackles.

“Bars from the gate, bought on auction. Wings from a fallen angel, not-so-willingly given. Grace on tap from the distillery, and feathers from the fall,” you list. The grandest parts of heaven were already spoken for, shipped east to the cities or south to Hell–or warped into the infernal machine you stand upon. The shackles burn bright as the sun, humming with energy that rises in pitch and brightness until–the runes crackle with red light, and the glow fades as your grace subsides, finding no traction in his deal with which to stay. Your shoulders slump–disappointment is a familiar taste in your mouth, but that doesn't make it any less bitter.

Viktor turns his hands upwards to catch yours, clasping your hands. “It’s alright,” he says, voice soft. “I'm alright.”

“I'll get it,” you swear, voice low and full of promise. “I swear. I'll get you out of here.”

He pulls you in, and you go willingly, settling into his lap and letting him wrap you in his arms. “It is enough that I get to spend this time with you,” he murmurs into your hair. You lean back, wings flaring for balance, and reach for the clasps that hold his mask in place. He kisses you as soon as the gilded covering is put aside, and you never much felt at home in Heaven but you think this is what it was supposed to feel like. Like warmth and hope and love, like there isn't anywhere in all of creation you'd rather be. You card your hands through his hair, and he leaves burning kisses down your throat. His hands drift to your thighs, and you yelp as he stands suddenly, your wings flaring for balance as you cling to him. He doesn't go far, depositing you on bed in the corner.

“Vik–” you begin to say, only to pause as he sinks to his knees before you, hands warm on your thighs. Your skirts are rucked up and the picture he makes is a pretty enough one to make you flush, what feels like down to your wingtips.

“I have divinity in my bed, Angel,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses your thigh right above where your stockings end, gazing up at you from under those pretty eyelashes of his. “It's only right I worship, hm?”

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

now i'm thinking about how in lis1 we see christianity in the form of soft harmless characters like kate marsh, who is victimized by her faith that she holds onto so desperately, and by the evil nonbelievers who mistreat her for it, and lis2 is all about characters like lisbeth who use their faith to harm others or characters like Jake trying to actively escape it. in lis2 christianity is alternately a violent colonial force designed to shatter queer families/families of color and as the backdrop to acts of divine destruction, divine justice like Daniel's and as a watcher deliberately letting all this happen. i saw this post somewhere about how spn portrays christianity as this ominous omnipresent force in the american landscape and that's how it is for the diaz brothers, it's an uneasy potential explanation for Daniel's powers that turns into a tool of control, it's the cold stars from above, it's the crosses at graves during their most traumatic moments, it's the gap between Esteban's religious art and Lisbeth's even while depictingly seemingly the same god.

ntm that kate contains most of the explicitly christian elements of lis1, but in lis2 christianity seeps into episode after episode the way it does in real american life, constant to the point of virus, popping up in dialogue and imagery and conflict and plot structure, constant themes of belief and sacrifices and justice vs forgiveness. this could even extend how you interpret the endings of the game--the whole point of the supposedly superior "redemption" ending is being saved from sin, washed clean through suffering--so is parting ways, almost the idea of peace achieved through a sacrificial lamb, while lone wolf is the divine punishment for Daniel's hubris. blood brothers is the only ending that breaks from the mold by reveling in sin and refusing to accept a reward later for suffering now, creating a filthy greedy eden on earth instead, falling down south to a country us culture works very hard to demonize as some kind of criminal deviland and refuse to rise back up the coast into whatever cages have been set for them.

while lis1 has all sorts of theories about the supernatural events, ghosts and sci-fi stuff and weirdly appropriated Indigenous mythology, divine origins is one of the few constant explanation for Daniel's power that comes up again and again, as constant as or more than the general themes of superhero comic tropes. and the worst part is you can't prove a negative, you can't prove Daniel isn't divine, because we never get any other explanation for his power the way we never get any explanation for the other ability sets. if we still don't can't be sure Rachel or Max or whatever was behind The Storm, we can't prove god didn't send Daniel to lisbeth, only that said god would be very, very cruel if he had. he's a maybe-divinity trapped in a christian system that too often ignores or distorts its own teachings, or only clings onto the most hateful ones, and of course systems like that are designed to create specific kinds of bloody angels or specific kinds of holy sacrificial lambs, so it's up to Sean to decide which one his brother is going to grow up to be.

[cherubchoirs]

I know its absolutely impossible but what if angel Gabriel and Angel v1 meet?

ooohhh i love what-if scenarios like this...i'm going to be thinking about gabriel at a point where he knows about the machines, he's met and has fought against them as they've come into hell, but it's long before he meets v1 itself. for a start, he'd be greatly shaken by it, regardless of what point he's at - v1 is very clearly manmade, yet it is also unmistakably divine, not a human imitation of it but a true vessel of god's light...but almost far worse than that, i think gabriel would be acutely aware that its light feels. like his. what can he think, staring down a machine that burns with what seems to be his very own divine fire, except that this is the one that must have wholly devoured him? one that took everything he was? can humanity do that? could they have created something capable of consuming an angel and possessing their power, or is v1 something changed like the modified husks of hell? it would be sickening, horrifying, to believe he could be broken open by a machine and so thoroughly robbed, yet...there is no hostility in v1 toward him. and v1 would have its own thoughts on seeing gabriel like this.

v1 didn't know gabriel for very long as an angel - they met, his light was torn from him, and he lived a short time afterward before he fell. its relationship has largely been with a different gabriel from this, particularly by the time v1 has been resurrected itself, and seeing him like this brings up emotions it couldn't hold for him at the time. gabriel as an angel is buried in guilt, in regret, in fear of his own imperfection and bound up in an identity only as he relates to god. when he expresses anger, he expresses it on behalf of another; when he expresses fear, it's only because he dreads his usefulness coming to an end. gabriel as an angel is only that, an angel in a host of many that strives to be perfection for everyone else...and v1 remembers that, buried in long lost files, how gabriel initially had no idea who he was. but that was at a point when he had already lost everything, when he had no choice but to live with himself. gabriel here is still clinging to it, is still deeply connected to the self only as a vessel, and v1 knows that this gabriel looking upon it is terrified of its implications yet not necessarily for himself - he sees his light being used by something else to work outside of god's will, and that's all that tortures him. the idea that he fails and his power is then used improperly, making him fail again even in death.

so v1 would approach him gently, taking in some of his emotion and responding to it - he doesn't know the steps to take though, faltering as he feels in turn how the machine wishes no harm onto him. even holding affection for him. and what can he do, what can he say to or comprehend about a being like v1 now? that indecision could only worsen with v1 confirming his suspicions and yet claiming this was a willing gift, light imparted into it to save a failing system. gabriel, giving his own fire to reignite the life in a machine. but he would die. he knows it. his life and his connection with god, everything he is in that light...he would grow furious with nothing else viable, needing to tear apart the machine as it tells him again how this was his choice, that one day he would make all of his own decisions and he would be. free. it doesn't mean death, even as he rushes at v1 and is consumed in his own rage, they lied to him and his light is his to use, even when it's torn from him, even when he's told he has failed. there is life after failure, so much more life than he has now. and he screams, he can't stand to hear it because these doubts echo the ones in the back of his mind, the questions he could never bear to entertain when he saw lucifer fall so long ago. v1 tells him he's still alive, light ripped from his body and taken back centuries later, not for himself but for another that he loved. a machine that he chose and loved without being stricken dead. and for that machine, he defied the whole host of heaven and all the natural order to give his very soul away to it, without being stricken dead. they are together, he is whole. gabriel as the angel can't believe its words, he drowns them out desperately despite how they tug at a heart that has never truly believed in heaven, in god, and certainly not in the council.

and v1 knows he can't take it in. but all it wants to tell him is that he will be loved, he will feel love, and he will do it without permission, he will do it as he chooses. and he will be just as radiant as he ever was. and i think somewhere, despite all conscious rejection, it's the words gabriel needs to hear, that even as an angel he would cling to. to fall in love, wrongly, and to be rewarded for it. to be loved as gabriel, not as the archangel. it would quiet something in him, past the surface disgust they had forced onto him, the disgust and the hate that was never his. he loved sinners, why couldn't he love a machine too? what could be freer than that?

[420thewritersroom]

Warhammer/Horus Heresy Kinktober 2024

Day 8: Blood Angels/Battlefield Sex/Blood Play

Summary: Fucking and sucking the savior of mankind

Day 8 bby! This time introducing my other warhammer OC, Theodoric, twin brother of Emelia and current Avatar of Isha. Watch him get hammered by a giant angel! Maybe one day I'll publish a (finished) piece introducing Theo.

TW: Blood Play, Public Sex, Belly Bulge

Retaking Venkrous has resulted in the purification of the planet from Nurgle's embrace and the lessened loss of soldiers in the process. In most cases, no one would have to lift even a dagger to fight back the corrupting forces of the enemy. All thanks to the creature named Theodoric, spreading their unique ability of purity, cleansing the rot that plagued the planet, and effectively destroying any and all Chaos creatures that even so much as breathed on him.

This is not always the case, however. Some situations require a firm, bolter-filled hand to ensure the path is clear for the half-breed to perform their duties uninterrupted. Theodoric is a valuable asset, a tool they cannot afford to lose. Thus, some battles must be waged, and some losses must be counted.

But there are other reasons for why they keep the boy around.

Dante gasps, unable to hold the moan in as he grinds the tiny man on his dick. His heavy breaths can be heard, modulated, through the helmet that concealed his face. Despite being able to hold Theodoric with one hand, he chooses to grab his waist with two, his gauntleted thumb brushing against his stomach, feeling the outline of his dick pressing against the insides of the small half-breed's belly.

He looked so divine. The way he softly moaned with each upward thrust, how those tiny hips rolled, trying to grind himself onto Dante to keep his length inside his small body. Theo lets out a satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering open as he smiles at the Angel.

"Feeling better?"

Even his voice was enough to send shivers down his spine, Dante's grip tightening slightly as he held the young man in place. He swallows dryly, taking a moment to recenter himself before replying with a simple nod. Theo leans forward, resting himself on his armored chest, bouncing his hips up and down as he rode the Chapter Master at a sensually slow pace. Slow for Dante, at least. He wanted to ram into the tiny body that sat lovingly in his lap, to have him screaming and begging for his cock, his cum, before finally begging him to stop. But Dante restrains himself, letting Theo ride him at his own pace and allowing himself to slow down with him.

If only he could allow himself to leisurely enjoy this moment. They weren't in the most private of places, Dante having carried Theodoric away from his brothers in the aftermath of the prior battle, just so he could satisfy himself here. They were far enough away from any prying eyes or ears that none could hear them, lest they followed the pair. The near-open field was beautiful to experience when Dante sought a secure location for them to have alone time. The green grass persevering against the corrupting growth, crystal-like roses, the Emperor's Grace, sprouting here and there as it contributed to the dissuasion of the Warp corruption that still plagued the planet. Dante had hoped to make a private request for the young half-breed's blood, its taste sweeter than any mortal blood he has ever tasted in the centuries he's been surviving.

But he couldn't ask for such a simple burden from the savior of Venkrous. Theo needed all the strength he needed to restore the planet in full, and selfishly devouring him would only slow their progress. Thus, where they found themselves now.

Dante makes a drawled moan, his hips jerking up sporadically as Theodoric picked up the pace. The two of them remained there in utter bliss, lost in each other's bodies, until Dante heard a tiny yelp from the little one.

"You're holding me too tight..." Theo whispers, still too engrossed in his own pleasure to show any actual signs of pain or dissatisfaction.

Dante hums in acknowledgment, lessening his grip on Theo, but he takes notice of the small creatures' stained robes. The white dress was form-fitting on Theo's androgynous body, now ruined after the black-haired man rubbed himself on Dante's armor.

Within the confines of his mask, Dante licks his aged, battle-scarred lips. He has deprived himself of blood for some time now, the tempting, sanguine essence taunting him as it soaks into his clothes, outlining the small cock and perky nipples veily concealed by the robes. Theodoric sighs, lazily rolling his hips again and clawing lines down his blood-stained armor. Brown eyes gaze upon the magnificent mask of Sanguinius, raising his hand to the helm, caressing the face.

"May I?" Theodoric softly asks.

Dante doesn't stop Theodoric from removing the mask, revealing his aged face and stringy silver hair. Theo looks on in shock before immediately switching to worry.

"Have you been depriving yourself of blood again?"

Dante jerks his hips forward, forcing a startled moan from the little one, "You do not need to worry about me, my lord. I'm fine."

"B-aah! But, you look," Theo bites his lip, lulling his eyes before straightening up, "You look sick." The darker-skinned man shoulders off the sleeves of his robes, revealing more of his body and, most importantly, his available neck.

"My lord-" Dante weakly attempts to protest, his thoughts cut off by a single finger gracing his lips. Small, soft, velvety. Dante can almost hear the blood flowing, whether it's his own blood pumping and running through his body or if his flaw allowed him to sense the essence of others. Regardless, the outcome was the same; the little one willingly offered a taste of his life.

"My lord, You need your strength," Dante forces words out of his mouth as his thrusts become more frantic and rough.

"My protector cannot go without sustenance. It pains me to see you like this-" Theodoric releases sharp gasps between straggled speech. Theo falls into the pit of ecstasy as he becomes devoid of thought, mind & body, submitting to the tantalizing feeling of being speared by the chapter master. He leans back, exposing his neck for Dante to see. A tempting offering, whether Theodoric meant to or not. The Blood Angel can feel himself drawing closer and closer to the edge, his own thoughts being clouded by the pink mist of pleasure.

"Bite me," Theodoric begs quietly before his speech melts into senseless muttering. Speech that Dante can recognize as the small lordling begging to cum, and for him to finish with him.

Dante is not only here to protect but to serve and to pleasure. And the little one is asking to be bitten. Dante hisses as he feels Theodoric hole tighten around him, the young half-breed screaming as he cums, his clothed cock further staining his white robes. He grows increasingly limp under Dante's grasp while the Asartes continued to use his body to seek his own release.

Dante's skin prickles, his thrusts becoming needy and erratic as he reaches his own orgasm. He leans forward, opening his mouth, revealing his sharp incisors as he bites into the half-breed, teeth piercing skin and drawing blood. The feeling of Theo trembling, the pained moan he exudes, yet the soft feeling of tiny fingers patting and combing through his hair pushes Dante to his limit as he spills himself inside the boy. Theo hums, body further electrified as he focuses on how Dante's large tongue laps at his essence, greedily slurping away and deepening the bite wounds so that he may taste more.

The lordling tasted sweet, the sweetest blood he'd ever tasted. It revitalized him unlike no other; his strength renewed at alarming rates. Dante pulls away, huffing as he analyzes the boy, ensuring he did not harm them beyond repair. His concern is unfounded; he'll return even if he should kill Theo. Theodoric panted softly, rubbing his swollen belly and smiling lazily. He lifts his hand, taking a seemingly considerable amount of effort, as he touches Dantes's cheek.

"You worry me more when you don't care for yourself."

"It is not my intent to, little one," Dante dryly replies as he lets out a last, satisfied huff. His balls emptied one final squirt of cum inside the half-breed.

"I know," Theo leans forward, tiredly resting against the Angel, "I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the Kinktober lists for anyone who wants to partake! Let's be extra horny this lovely October

[rishiimaa]

HII EVERYONE! This isn’t a fanfic between canon characters, this is mainly just my Oc’s that I have, I just wanted to show ya’ll this cause I really liked how it turned out, and this could also be a filler!

This oc fanfic contains: Angst no comfort 😞

This is gay by the way, if you’re you know scared of the gays. (lol)

Disclaimer: Cursing and sad 😕

WARNING!! THERE ARE MENTIONS OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS BUT IT DON’T SPECIFY

—————————————————————

Cold, drenched, and paralyzed, Seiya felt as though every part of him was at the brink of shattering. His heart pounded like a relentless drum, his eyes stung from the strain of not blinking, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and his shoulders were rigid with tension.

What could he possibly say? That it wasn’t true? Angels were bound by their truth, or so he believed—deceit was anathema to their existence.

“Don’t bullshit me, Seiya. Say something,” Sol demanded, his voice devoid of the usual emotion. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a stranger where once had been a familiar face.

“I—I… At first, it was true, but now—”

“So all of this was just a fucking lie?” Sol’s voice trembled, betraying the depth of his pain. It was a sound Seiya had never heard from him before—a heartbreaking crack that hinted at tears he was trying to hold back.

“That confession, the kisses… you telling me you love me—was it all just to trap my soul?” Sol’s eyes locked onto Seiya’s, but Seiya couldn’t meet them.

“No—! No, I would never do that. I do love you, more than anything! I would never commit such a sin just to be with someone!”

“Oh, so now it’s a sin?” Sol’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “Is that all you care about—your own salvation? Love is supposed to be more important than some divine rule, but it seems like you’ve always cared more about what’s right in the eyes of God than the people you love!”

Seiya took a shaky breath, trying to steady his fear and regret.

“Yes, I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry! But I’ve changed, and my perspective has evolved—”

Sol ripped the glowing amulet from around his neck and hurled it onto the sidewalk. His face contorted with raw, furious sadness, water mingling with tears that streamed down his cheeks.

“You can forget about any compromise… and us. Don’t ever come near me again.”

Seiya stood frozen, his legs seemingly rooted to the ground. He wanted to run after Sol, to beg for another chance, to explain how deeply sorry he was. But his body betrayed him, and he could only stand there, hollow-eyed and defeated.

What could he do? Chase after him and plead for forgiveness? It felt futile.

It was perhaps better to let Sol go.

Seiya picked up the amulet, his fingers tracing its cracked surface with a heavy heart. His voice, barely a whisper, was laden with sorrow.

“I hope you find happiness, Lilith,” Seiya murmured, his gaze lingering on the shattered amulet.

Lilith emerged from the shadows, her expression one of twisted amusement. “Pathetic, really. Humans are so weak. And you, even more so.”

“It’s infuriating that he believed your lies so easily,” Seiya said, his voice darkening as he glared at Lilith.

“Don’t speak of Sol that way. He has every right to be hurt,” Seiya said, anger flaring in his eyes.

“I lied. Lies break trust, and trust is fragile. I am to blame for this.” Seiya’s eyes met Lilith’s, revealing a depth of regret that seemed to sadden her even more.

“So, you’re just going to give up? Is this how a cherubim behaves? You’re dishonoring everything you claim to stand for—”

“This isn’t about God, Lilith. It’s about Sol and his happiness. And sadly, I’m not the one who can bring him that.”

Seiya unfolded his wings, turning his back to Lilith with a steely glare. “I hope you got what you wanted.”

Lilith staggered back, her shock palpable. This was not the outcome she had desired. She had expected Seiya to become enraged, to unravel in madness, proving himself a demon.

But this… this was the exact opposite. Her brother was acting as though his entire world had crumbled, and he seemed willing to let it go.

“Damn it… This is affecting me now,” Lilith said, her voice a rough whisper. Her own dark wings unfurled as she prepared to leave.

“I need to fix this before it truly starts to destroy me.”

________________________________________

HEEY WHOEVER READS THIS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3

[dnangelic]

Opens arms, offers hug.

' shou-kun ! ' the lively , ever-present flush on his cheeks turns a little redder just by recognizing the other . the niwa's smile blooms even brighter , brought to bliss by the mere standing offer of an embrace alone . no part of himself hesitates : even when it was fine for his heart to beat , he still wanted to start running . so he does towards the other , feet racing to meet shou's arms , laughter tossed light and ringing into the wind . ' --- are you ready ? '

his curse inflicts its every symptom , but the torrent of joy remains . the great phantom thief lifts his most precious love without any difficulty , warmly embracing them ; feathers bursting from his back . his company is tucked close in an embrace before great wings sends them off into the sky in a single instant : the skip of his own heart's beat . it felt only right that the two of them soared , and that every high-flying sense was demonstrated to the other , shared properly between them . he was positive that shou wouldn't be afraid , but what about flustered ?

' ... ha . surprised ? ' the jet-like ascent slows into a steady glide . the breezy zephyrs of high altitudes blow fresh and cool against their faces , cheeks nevertheless still warm . perhaps for someone with strange powers like shou , this sort of altitude was not unusual . but what about the company , then ? a fallen angel in flight , the moon above a full halo , the great world and all of its worries turned so small .

even as he flutters down onto a roof , he holds onto shou tight . soon embraces the other with the entirety of his body , head fitting into the nook of the other's shoulder , arms wrapping round in a complete clasp and touch . he's so close , he's sure the other could feel the pound in his chest . and even if not , then the shift of nocturnal violet back into daybreak red could serve as proof of its own .

after the thrill , a steady comfort . he lingers like this : nestled deeply into the other's touch , an exhale escaping him , eyes shut . his smile , a thing so often tormented and bent by various anxieties , could only now express a divine sense of peace . he doesn't mean to cling , and perhaps without entirely realizing it , he's let slip an apology . a quiet , timid sorry that took the place of other unspoken , bashful things : for example , just maybe , already unable to recall the last time he had been able to properly embrace anyone without monstrous fears and worries ...

he had been feeling a little lonely .

' ... and thank you . '

[sarastuss]

SHE ALMOST MANAGES, : YET EVEN A MOTION SO SUBTLE, SO GENTLE CAN TAKE THE WARRIOR BY SURPRISE! his fingers hold onto her own, &. for a brief moment ; the dim glow is a hint more brighter, slightly widened by the contact. it doesn't sting, it doesn't burn, yet it feels like sparks. ... SUCH AN ACTION NOT HIDDEN, not when his gaze was ever so focused upon her, but so was her own on him. &. if that was not enough on its' own, everything is pushed even further. ... even a question, that should be something so easy to answer ; a simple query, yet golden heart feels the weight of it. WHY?

WHY INDEED, : A QUERY THAT HAS TAUNTED HER UPON THIS JOURNEY. &. the answer of course, known perhaps from the very start. yet every attempt to make something else of it, to shake it off, to claim it shouldn't be that. that the desire to protect, to be near, is the same for him as it is for others with a kind heart like hers. but it is not ; all of those only made it stronger. ... ( YOU CAN'T DENY IT. ) you have always known the truth, so why not say it outloud? ... he has not let go, but neither has she made a move. the soothing sensation of his thumb that traces over her warm skin both makes her feel at ease, &. CAUSES BLOOD TO FLOW FAST WITHIN HER VEINS ; leading to the heart that beats with answers against her chest. ... for a beat, silence controls the atmosphere, as the warrior of light searches for answers to speak. ( or rather, a path to walk beside the truth. ) YOU ARE STANDING FACE TO FACE TO IT, HERO ; truth right before her. ... the corners of her lips stretch a hint further, genuine joy mixing with certain solemness, longing. ❝ worry not, i am bound to find my battles. ❞ it is spoken with softness of an angelic tune, yet laced with mirth. she had her duty, &. would need to traverse ; EVER THE WEAPON, perhaps he is right. perhaps the initial thought, though made both genuine want &. need to protect the good, with selfish wants of her heart leads her further down this path ... this path she wants to follow, but doesn't know whether she should. silence for a brief pause, the expression upon divine features changing to a look of ... ❝ there are things i wish to protect. ❞ SUCH SINCERITY BARELY ABOVE A WHISPER SPOKEN OUT. meaning embedded to the answer, more than she intended, though it is true upon many fonts. she realizes this, gaze briefly flickers to their hands, ❝ for this realm too, will be subjected to war. ❞ a truth known by all, both taking away &. giving into her inital answer.

heart heavy against its cage of flesh and bones in the close of battle lost ; eregion now scorching and decaying under its own weight , wisdom lost beyond reach . old friends following down similar path , a part of his own self to find doom under sauron's control . the very first step onwards a war now unavoidable ― for darkness was no longer just a reminder dwelling in the corners of middle - earth . it was tangible , and it was there . whilst in initial isolation , hope faltered under the perception of the one supposed to keep it safe ; grief to reign within , casting shadows on all paths to be followed .

yet rings , of all damned things , proved to be of help ― forged in hope rather than expected malice , offering the safety of refuge when survivors needed the most ; and a fighting chance for an old friend . the decision to dwell was clear , settle in safe haven for conflict yet to come . and hers to stay set to sharpen his own .

but it was only when detached from copious attention that elrond allowed himself the privilege of breathing ; crumbling and made alive all at once as he stared a beat too long at the visage beside him . under the warmth of her touch , it was easier to see it further ― maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel for them all , even if it yet too faint to make out . even brief sting upon healing wound isn't enough to break the way blue stare hovers upon gold ones ; attention on traces to bring profound sense of harmony ― and voice to match , carrying simple answer enough for the creation of a subtle smile .

a sigh fell under the herald's breath , hand reaching for fingers against now undamaged skin ― warrior's grip firm between his own , focus never to leave her presence ; as if there to find any sparkle to belie her words . ❝ and i am thankful . but yet i must inquiry you on why ... ❞ fingers holding onto hers , thumb tracing gently against warm skin . ❝ for i fear imladris won't be appealing to those made of war . ❞

[kuroowo]

Worship

- True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Warning - Begging, degradation, worship, possessiveness, blood + injury (implied biting & nail punctures), p3netration, crying (implied), & restraint of movement

Note - Literally dreamt a similar scenario and I ain’t been the same since. Also I haven’t written in awhile, let alone smvt of any kind, so do forgive me for this style (I know it’s not my normal, but then again I’m not sure what’s my normal?)

WC - 546

Masterlist

“Please, please, please, please, please—”

A sob crawls its way up your throat. It pierces through the stifling air, heady in your lungs, sticky on your skin. Another follows right behind, and it clumps your lashes and arches your back, body folded and held against the smooth wood of the closet. You’re pressed and unmovable by the strength of his grip, obsidian claws nipping at your skin, thick fingers digging into your flesh — it’ll leave a mark. A bruise. Purple and blue and green and blooming across your nape and hips and waist for days.

The thought alone leaves you moaning unabashedly louder, whinier, clingier, “I want—, I need it. I need you. Need you in me, Sukuna, please!”

What depraved, shameless pleas they are. Sung from your lips like an angel’s choir, melodies of the highest caliber, suited only for a man, a curse, a monster, a god — him. For him, for Sukuna, a feast laid bare for his taking. So ravenous and willing, he could almost taste the sweetness of your warmth on his starving palate.

“Such a dirty, needy little thing.”, he debases. Arrogance bleeds into every letter uttered past his grin — feral at the edges, canines predatory in its glint as he soaks in your keening, your shudders, your desperate gaze, “Have you no pride?”

Heavy and wet, Sukuna drags his tongue on the flush of your nape and groans, carnal and unchaste, when the taste of your blood is flavoured by the debauchery of your scream. By the writhe of your trembling body, so tense, so pliant beneath his iron hold. By the clench of your empty cunt, arousal beading, trickling down his pulsing, twitching cocks.

“Sukuna— Sukuna...”, breathily, a little far away, his syllables are whispered. As if the core of your being knows only of his name and his existence alone.

Sukuna preens, reflexive to your piety, with an affectionate curl of his lips. The four-armed King decides it worthy of a reward as his hips return the favour with an unbridled thrust. Pure muscle mass forceful in pushing you higher against the cabinet, harder against the cherrywood door. An engorged cockhead catches against your throbbing clit and you could only gasp, choked and stuttered and utterly devoted, “I just need you.”

Adoration like never before beads at your fluttering lashes, rolls past the flush of your cheeks, and dyes red, red, red. It matches crimson on his canines, the little droplets staining his nails — Sukuna’s thinning composure frays and unravels. Every inch of his nerves feel like live wire. His very soul roars to life and you’ve never revered a sight more glorious, more sublime, more worthy of every ounce of divinity than him.

“That’s right.”, Sukuna sheaths it all in one slick plunge. It burns, it soothes, it has you bawling and it has him deeply deferential in his groan. Head thrown back, ruby eyes slip shut from the tightness, your heat. It's a coming home to him, a decadent pleasure searing its brand onto him, a heavenly experience Sukuna knows he’ll find in no other within this lifetime.

Perhaps even, for all the rest.

“Just me—”, the cabinet rattles violently, “Only me.”, the room spins and blends, “Your King.”, your world is reborn once more.

“Mine.”

[albakore]

Away From Home

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma/Tohma (fem!reader) (fic)

Synopsis: (office!au) Even your boss Zhongli has moments where self control goes out the window to make way for carnal desires.

Warnings: not sfw (18+) reverse harem, (an orgie?), semi public sex again, creampie, oral (giving), petnames (angel, princess, gem), squirting, umm? did i miss anything?, not proofread because im lazy if you catch any errors feel free to shoot me an ask,

A/N: This is a part two to Office Adventures but t's not necessary that you read it before this. I don't know if people were expecting a direct continuation of the last one but I took some creative liberty because I felt like that would be boring and instead created a whole new scenario, I hope you all enjoy it just the same!

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The sexual tension in the office since that (ahem) eventful meeting had been nothing short of palpable, as Lisa had been ever so kind to point out. Even Jean and Eula were starting to grow frustrated with the way Childe and Kaeya made it painstakingly obvious their lust for you, and as you explained to Jean apologetically, they just wouldn't seem to take your request to tone it down seriously. Though you couldn't deny that even you often found your mind wandering as you sat alone in your office, frequently coming to remember the way you wobbled out of the meeting room that day, cunt quivering and leaking cum.

Luck seemed to be on Jean's side however, because this week you found yourself away from the office on an important regional business conference accompanied by none other than the men themselves, leaving her alone in charge of the office for a few days. The adventure of being in a new place was always exciting; there was light in your eyes as your plane touched down just outside the city, the skyline stood shimmering off in the distance. Though, as Diluc so gracefully reminded you, this was not a vacation but a business trip and most of your time would be consumed by meetings and other work-related affairs.

"(Name)!" You heard someone call from behind you. You were walking back to the hotel after another boring day of drifting in and out of meetings with people you hardly knew and topics you hardly cared about.

"Hm?" Your head turned to see three familiar figures waving at you as they approached.

"Care to join us for dinner? It'll be our treat." Childe asked once they had caught up to you, falling into step beside you.

"Where are you guys going?" You asked. You silently took in the appearance of the boys beside you. You hadn't gotten a chance to see them all day since you greeted them at the complimentary hotel breakfast bar this morning, and you had to admit they cleaned up nicely. You admired the three's formal dress, remembering the way Zhongli had specifically lectured them on the importance of appearance at an event like this. You notes Thoma's expensive looking watch and Kaeya's tailored button-up shirt that was, of course, unbuttoned halfway now that the workday was over. Childe had his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, one hand holding the jacket the other shoved in his pocket.

"Mr. Zhongli found this fancy looking French restaurant a few blocks away, he wanted us to get there before we missed our reservation time." Thoma answered.

"Where is he?" You asked, taking note of his and Diluc's absence from the group.

"He and Diluc got caught up in some last minute business they had to attend to. It's times like these I don't envy the higher up positions of our company's cofounders." Kaeya answered you this time. "No matter how attractive the pay increase may seem, I can only handle so much overtime."

"You can say that again." Childe chuckled in agreeance, "I can't tell you how many times I've left the office only to come back in the morning and find Zhongli still hunched over some paperwork."

"Hey, guys, I think this is the place." Thoma motioned to the building you were approaching, and you immediately realized that 'fancy looking' was an understatement. "Will you be joining us, Lady (Name)?" Thoma questioned, extending his hand as an invitation to you.

"I don't see why not." You flashed him a smile before placing your hand in his, allowing him to tug you along. Kaeya opened the door for you, gesturing to allow you to step inside first. You were awestruck by the inside -- if you thought ‘fancy looking’ was an understatement for the outside, then the inside could be described as nothing short of grandiose. There were round tables covered in white cloth and fancy silverware, a fountain sat in the middle of the room behind the hostess desk and elegant trimmings lining the staircase off on the far side of the room. You quickly quelled your shocked expression as the hostess approached you.

"We have a reservation for six under the name Zhongli." Childe told her. "We'll have two more joining us later."

She checked her ledger and quickly crossed off the name. "Right this way, sir." She said to Childe with a polite smile. She led your group away from the main room, opening the door to a nicely decorated single-table room with a pleasant and romantic vibe, most likely accredited to the soft lighting.

“Thank you.” Childe told her as you four took your seats. One side of the table had booth-style seating and the other side had individual chairs. She closed the door with a click, and before you knew it you were sat in between Kaeya and Childe on the booth side, with Thoma directly across from you. You picked up a menu and began flipping through it to get a feel for what items might interest you. Before long, Childe’s hand had found its way onto your thigh. You looked down at it before looking back at him, a silent prompt for an explanation. “What?” He inquired mischievously, thumb rubbing your skin gently.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could your server opened the door with a brief knock. Childe’s hand stayed firmly in place as the server introduced themselves before asking if they could get you guys anything to drink. Thoma and Childe ordered regular fountain drinks, and requested two extra waters be brought out preemptively for Diluc and Zhongli whenever they should arrive.

“Ah yes may I have a glass of your finest red wine.” Kaeya asked with a smile once it came his time to order, earning a look from you. “What? It’s coming out of Diluc’s pocket not mine, might as well make good use of it.”

"And I'll have a..." You started, feeling Childe's hand inch upwards as the servers gaze remained fixed on you. "Just a r-regular glass of water please." You managed to force out while trying to ignore the growing feeling of need that Childe's attention was causing you. You smiled at the server as they stated that they'd be right back with your drinks.

Moments after the server left, Thoma's phone started buzzing. He answered it and paused for a few moments before he stepped away saying something about needing to meet Diluc and Zhongli in the lobby. That left you alone trapped in a booth with two mischievous gazes focused on you. "I must say, (Name)," Childe started, "you look absolutely stunning tonight. You really took Zhongli's 'Dress to Impress' speech to heart it seems." His flirty demeanor was predictable, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. His fingers were tracing patterns into the flesh of your inner thigh, head resting in his other hand as he studied you. You felt Kaeya's arm snake around your torso, hand coming to rest on your hip.

"He's right, you should wear this outfit more often." Kaeya whispered into your ear.

“You know, typically you’re supposed to wine and dine me before you-“ A knock resonated from the door, cutting you off and causing Kaeya to pull away from you but neither him nor Childe made any effort to remove their hands from where they were situated. The server entered with the table’s drinks on a tray, dishing them out to their respective spots on the table before asking if anybody was ready to order. Kaeya told them politely that we would wait for the rest of the group to join us first, and with that they turned and exited the room again.

You watched as Kaeya reached for his no doubt expensive wine, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied hum. "This wine is absolutely divine, it's not often I get the chance to indulge in such luxury. Would you like to try some, angel?" Kaeya asked you while his fingertips traced your hips.

"Sure." You hummed back, reaching out to grab the glass but Kaeya stopped your hand. You looked at him quizzically, watching as he dipped two fingers into the glass and let the crimson liquid pool at his fingertips. He brought his fingers to your lips, waiting for you to part them. You did, but only ever so slightly, letting your tongue drag along his slender fingers with a hum of delight as you maintained eye contact with him. Once upon a time you may have been flustered by his actions, but ever since the incident in the meeting room you have become no stranger to these types of occurrences. You pulled away before pressing a kiss to the pads at the tip of his finger.

"Divine indeed, captain." You added teasingly, the nickname a reference to a costume he wore to a halloween party last year that had caught on and stuck around even months after. You watched his unreadable expression closely as you awaited his response. He grabbed your face, tugging you toward him so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips while he caressed your cheek gently. You felt Childe's hand inch upward yet again further and further before finally reaching your clothed sex. Your breath hitched as Kaeya deepened the kiss, Childe rubbing you through thin material at a teasingly slow pace. You shifted your hips, trying to gain more friction from his fingers.

Kaeya pulled back from the kiss to let you catch your breath. "You know, there is one thing that would make this wine taste better." He kissed along your jaw and down your neck, breath fanning your skin as he continued. "If I could pour it over your chest and lick it off of you, slowly, inch by inch while you squirmed under my touch. That would make this experience undeniably perfect." You felt a shiver run down your spine, hand intertwining with his hair. As if working in tandem with Kaeya, Childe took this opportunity to slip his fingers past the barrier of fabric, your slick making his fingers run smoothly over your folds. Your free hand extended over to Childe's lap so you could palm him through his pants, thumb caressing the imprint of his erection. He let a breathy moan right next to your ear, fingers slipping into your heat.

"This is our reserved room, correct?" Zhongli’s voice resonated from just outside the door before the door swung open. He stepped in, followed by Diluc and Thoma. Your eyes met with Zhongli's as you tried futilely to push the lustful duo off of you. You filled with embarrassment when you thought about how sleazy you must look with Kaeya's lips attached to your neck and Childe's fingers squelching in and out of you. "Thoma, switch with (name), please. Evidently these two are incapable of practicing self control."

"W-what?" You protested, stomach sinking at the thought of disappointing your boss.

"Seriously, you two wouldn't know good timing if it hit you in the face. Your hotel rooms are literally a few yards away from each other." Diluc scoffed, tossing his suit coat over the back of his chair before pulling it out and sitting in it.

Childe pulled away from you, frowning at Diluc's words. "If I'm not mistaken, it was you who was moaning her name last night while you were alone in the shower, no?"

"And if I'm not mistaken, I'm still your boss. Watch how you talk to me." Diluc shot back immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. You scooted out of the booth, over Childe's lap, effectively pulling away from the two.

"Sorry.." You fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt, still trying to recover from the embarrassment.

"You misunderstand me, gem, I'm not upset at you in the slightest." Zhongli smoothed over some of your hair comfortingly. "I specifically had a talk with these two about keeping things professional on this trip. This has nothing to do with you or your actions." You stared at him for a second before nodding. You took your place in between Zhongli and Diluc, directly across from where you had been previously sitting.

"How did your meetings go?" Zhongli asked you, tone much softer than the one he had just taken with Childe and Kaeya.

"They were boring for the most part, I managed to make a few connections though so that's good. What about you?" You responded, tuning out Diluc and Childe's bickering in the background.

"Stressful, I had many presentations to give, and only few bode over well."

"That's just how it goes." Thoma chimed in. "Tomorrow is a new day filled with new opportunity, I'm sure you'll do better."

"Stressful, eh? Fortunately for you, I know of the perfect way to relieve stress." Kaeya, ever the troublemaker, fixed his gaze on you pointedly for a few seconds to allow his point to get across. He just couldn't help himself when the ball was set up fo perfectly for him to spike it. You studied Zhongli's expression, his face remaining stoic as he processed Kaeya's innuendo.

"Unfortunately, the rules I set for you two apply to me as well. It would be wholly unfair to not hold myself to the same standard I hold my staff." Zhongli answered effortlessly. Seems like all these years of press conferences seemed to have really sharped his ability to form charismatic responses. Wait, 'unfortunately'?

"C'mon, Zhongli, (name)'s had eyes for us just as much as we've had eyes for them. You should see the look they get on their face when they're alone in their office." Childe laughed after ending his bickering session with Diluc. Your eyes went wide at that, having whole-heartedly believed you were being careful about when to indulge in your fantasies. "Besides, doesn't fucking them senseless sound like the perfect pick-me-up after a long day of meetings."

Zhongli seemed like he was still struggling to process his comment, resolve chipping with every second. He couldn't deny the nights he spent replaying the image of you bent over that table while he pleasured himself, and tonight was shaping up to be no different -- well, that would have been the case had he not attended this dinner. His eyes shifted over to you, inner turmoil apparent in them. Evidently, your response would be the deciding factor that pushed Zhongli to either side of the fence.

"He's not wrong." You shrugged, offering Zhongli a small smile. It was a simple sentence, only three words and yet… You watched his expression darken in that moment, his half hard erection already apparent in his pants.

"Thoma," you immediately noted the way his voice seemed to have dropped an octave. His gaze never once left yours.

"Yes boss?" Thoma responded almost instantly.

"Lock the door." Zhongli growled. Your heart skipped a beat, you felt heat rush straight to your core. The way Zhongli was looking at you made you feel bare even though not a single article of clothing had been removed from your form, at least not yet.

"The waitress is going to come back to place our order though." Diluc seemed to be the only voice of reason in this scenario. Thoma returned, scooting back into his spot in the booth, forcing Childe to be the one trapped in the middle this time. "That's gonna look awfully suspicious."

"Frankly, I can't seem to bring myself to care about that right now." Zhongli stood from his seat. He turned toward you, motioning for you to stand as well. "We'll tell them I had an important announcement that I didn't want getting interrupted or something." He lifted you at the hips and set you down on the table, placing himself in between your legs and pulling your core to meet his crotch. His lips caught yours, deep and breathtaking, as his hands roamed over your body. He tugged your shirt to untuck it until his fingers came into contact with the hem. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to allow him to discard your shirt.

You found yourself rocking against him as his lips worked down your neck and chest. A new pair of hands hooked themselves under your bra clasp. You looked back to see Childe's arm extended. He pushed the straps off your arms, allowing the bra to fall away and expose your breasts. The cool air made your nipple perk instantly. You felt Childe's hands tug you down gently, allowing your back to lay against the cool cloth. You looked over to see Diluc's hands full of your table's drinks as he set them off to the side to avoid any accidents. Thoma eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth while Kaeya's cold hand cupped the other.

Childe scooted the table away from him to provide him with the room to stand up. Your cheeks burned as you found yourself face to face with his still clothed erection. He chuckled at your expression, fingers caressing your cheek. He let his pointer finger trail delicately down your jaw to your chin, and then from your chin down your exposed neck. You shivered slightly at the way it tickled.

You felt someone tug down your skirt and your underwear, cool air rushing over your core. Zhongli had managed to free his member from his pants and was pumping himself outside of your field of vision. His other hand was pressed to your hip. He admired the way your chest heaved. Thoma and Kaeya littered your skin with bite marks and kisses. You watched intently as Childe followed in Zhongli's lead, freeing himself from his pants. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation, breath fanning the tip of Childe's dick with every exhale. Zhongli lined himself up with your entrance, you clenched your fists when you felt his tip push in. He sunk the rest of the way into you, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. He silently thanked Kaeya and Childe for prepping you so well before he had even arrived. Childe repeated this same process with your lips, slowly sinking into your mouth and relishing the feeling of your warm tongue wrapping around him.

The men both started thrusting at the same time but at very different paces. Childe was eager and less restrained, holding you steady while he fucked your face. He was also louder, not seeming to care if the staff or other patrons heard how good you were making him feel. Zhongli on the other hand was slower, drawing all the way out of you before slamming back into you. Though, after a few moments he seemed to compromise with himself and picked up the pace slightly, only drawing partially out of you, but still enough to let you feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each powerful thrust. You felt Diluc's familiar fingers come into contact with your clit, rubbing you in just the right way to make you clench around Zhongli and moan around Childe. Diluc left kisses all over your lower half, his long hair spilling over his shoulder and tickling your stomach.

The lewd sounds of slapping and kissing and sucking were all that could be heard in the room, along with Childe’s occasional unrestrained noises of pleasure. He moaned your name, head thrown back and mouth agape. His cheeks were flushed bright pink, and they only seemed to glow brighter the closer he got to cumming. Childe's pace became sloppy and erratic as he drew near to his own orgasm, thrusts becoming shallow as he chased euphoria. He pulled out right as he hit his high point so he could paint your chest with his cum. He moaned your name particularly loudly as he did, using his own hand to slowly lower himself down from his peak.

Kaeya pulled back and marveled at the marks he left on your skin, the imprints of his teeth visible in several spots. "My turn already?" He hummed, fingers tracing over the splotches and bruises on your skin. "A shame, I wasn't finished with my work of art yet." He stood up nonetheless as Childe fell back on the seat behind him, still trying to catch his breath. Kaeya quickly took his place, much to Thoma's disappointment. Kaeya's signature smirk hadn't left his face once while he admired the way your breasts glistened with a mixture of sweat and cum. He slowly undid the button to his pants, pushing them partially down his legs before moving to his underwear. You swear his cock bounced when it sprang free, tip flushed and absolutely beautiful. It seems this man truly didn't have an ugly bone in his body.

You felt Zhongli slowly coming undone inside you too, his cock twitching more and more every time he pushed himself into your smooth walls, even more so whenever Diluc's added stimulation made you clench around him. You felt yourself rock against his fingers, your own climax on the horizon. Zhongli gave one final thrust into you before you felt him spill his hot seed into you, his fingers digging into your hips in an attempt to ground himself. You moaned at the feeling of your walls being coated white. Kaeya took this as an opportunity to muffle you with his cock. He stuffed your mouth full of him, watching in a sort of satisfied sadistic fashion as you choked slightly on his length.

Zhongli pulled out of you after he finished cumming, panting heavily. You whined around Kaeya's cock at the loss of contact, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You squirmed your hips and mewled, hoping someone would get your wordless plea for some form of stimulation. Diluc, ever so observant, was the first one to pick up on your discomfort. "Aw, does my little princess want to be filled up again?" He asked tauntingly. "Do you want my cock inside of you?" His fingers continued to push you toward your orgasm. He chuckled at the way you jerked your hips into his touch, whines becoming louder still even with your mouth full of Kaeya's erection. As he felt your body start to tense, he withdrew his hand from your clit before you could cum. You pressed your thighs together while a groan left your lips, feeling frustrated tears well up in your eyes.

Diluc switched spots with Zhongli and unzipped his pants loud enough to get the anticipation in your stomach building rapidly. You heard fabric bunching and shuffling, and in turn took advantage of the adrenaline rush you were getting to eagerly please Kaeya. You hollowed your cheeks and allowed your tongue to work over him, lewd sucking noises escaping your lips. Kaeya groaned in response, his grip on your head tightening still as he bucked his hips into you frantically. You felt Zhongli's rough hands run over the skin of your breasts, centering on the nipples. You felt him wipe some of Childe's cum off you, and moments later the feeling of his fingers got replaced with his tongue as he sucked slightly on the soft flesh.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt Diluc's tip at your entrance, face contorting as you prepared for him to stretch you out just like Zhongli had. You paused as he pushed in -- not all the way, just an inch or so -- to truly revel in the feeling the he was providing you. He sunk in a little bit more to let you get used to the feeling of him in your tight sex, he was a little more girthy than Zhongli. Finally, he pushed into you until he bottomed out, filling your cunt to the brim with his member. A quiet groan escaping his lips; you would give anything to see the blissful look on his face right now.

You squirmed as he started to move. He went slowly at first, letting himself become coated in your slick to make his job easier. He took a few moments to find a good rhythm, one that was much different from Zhongli's. He was steady and consistent, pulling out an inch or two only to push back into you. He lifted one of your legs to give him a better angle, you let out a muffled moan as his tip kissed your sweet spot. Kaeya groaned again at the vibration of your voice. You felt Kaeya’s thumb press slightly against the center of your throat where he could feel himself thrusting in and out of you. You swallowed around him as he gave his last few thrusts before he was sent over the edge, cumming in spurts over your tongue. He let out a long moan that you wanted to keep on repeat forever.

You caught sight of Thoma eagerly awaiting his chance to feel your mouth around him. Kaeya pulled out slowly, stepping to the side (albeit a little bit grudgingly) to let Thoma have his turn. Thoma has already freed himself, precum leaking from the tip. He seemed a little nervous as he found himself finally aligned with your awaiting mouth. “Are you sure this is alright?” He asked, closely watching your face for signs of discomfort. His gentleness was refreshing after the way Kaeya and Childe so unceremoniously face-fucked you.

You giggled, kissing his tip causing his ears to flush red. “Mhm, of course. You’re so good for me~” His eyes went wide at your praise. You let your mouth hang open as an invitation for him to enter you, a high pitched whine escaping him almost immediately after sinking into you. He cupped your head gently, pulling out of you slowly before pushing back into you, truly appreciating the stimulation you were giving him.

Kaeya truly could never sit still with an opportunity so grand in front of him. His fingers found their way to toy with your clit, his cold fingers making you squirm under his touch. Childe, who was still on the couch, had gotten hard again and was pumping himself as he watch you slowly get your holes stuff full of cum. You moaned as Diluc’s dick hit your sweet spot again and again, Kaeya’s cold fingers causing your head to spin. You could feel your orgasm coming fast, and it felt like it was going to be an intense one. You arched your back off the table, whines becoming increasingly more frequent the more pressure built up. Diluc also seemed to be nearing his release, you could always tell by the way he moaned your name. A few more thrusts into you was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out, thighs quivering as you squirted all over Kaeya’s fingers and Diluc’s cock alike. Diluc followed a few seconds after, burying himself inside of you as he came hard, eyes intently watching the sight of you during and after your orgasm.

Thoma’s cock twitched as he watched you make a mess over Diluc’s cock, his breathy moans of your name getting louder and louder. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to finish, not with the way your tongue traced his veins and your hand assisting him with whatever he couldn’t fit in your mouth. You felt the knot come undone and Thoma’s sweet cum flooded your mouth. He pulled out, gently wiping the spit from your face.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of heavy breathing as everyone came down from their highs. Zhongli was even nice enough to grab your water from where Diluc had set them off to the side and offer you some as he dabbed away some of your sweat with a napkin. Diluc finally pulled his now softened member out of you, admiring the way your cum-filled hole leaked. He had to fight the urge to fuck every last drop back into you.

A knock resonated from the door, causing everyone in the room to freeze. “Um, sorry to interrupt,” the servers voice sounded meekly from outside the door, “you guys reservation time is up…” You cringed at the idea of having to walk back to your hotel room in this state, legs still wobbly and cum all over you.

“I supposed to ‘important announcement’ excuse won’t work now..” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Zhongli sounded amused. “No need to fret, I’ll just pay them a generous tip to overlook this little.. endeavor.”

“You mean I’ll pay the tip.” Diluc cut in flatly. You all were lucky the company had the money to be avoiding scandals like this or else you’d all be done for. Maybe he could convince you to, uh, thank him for it later…

[4dtk]

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

[plush-rabbit]

The Perverse Angel and His Wicked Thoughts

Direct Continuation to Divinity in Impurity

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Please forgive me for the awful title. I just had no idea how/what else to title it

-

Simeon never knew what true anxiety felt like until he’s back standing in front of your door. His knees feel weak, his heart beating against his chest, echoing and shattering his ribs into sharp pieces that cut into his skin and make him choke on his own blood. His breath is shallow and when he knocks against the wood, you’re quirk to open the door with a smile on your face. You let him enter your room with a wave and a smile, quickly going in for a hug when he’s inside, letting the door click close behind the both of you.

Stepping inside of your room, he’s acutely aware of everything that goes on inside, the way that your scent is heavy in the air, consuming every object, how you walk so freely without a care, trusting him with your safety, knowing that he would never do anything so harmful and perverted to you. Blood is bitter on his tongue, his teeth piercing against the insides of his cheeks when he accidently bites a bit too hard. He hisses, a hand wavering to cup his cheek but he falters, repulsed by his bare hand. And yet, you’re quick to come to his aid, worry in your eyes and your lips parted asking if he’s okay. Your touch is warm, different from his own and he jumps at your contact, stepping around you to walk and sit on your bed. He can’t bear to feel your touch, not when he just did something so awful- so grotesque and perverted.

The bed dips under his weight, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip and his eyes are glued on your figure, sweat beading at his forehead as you walk towards. He sits on your bed, his hands shaky and when you question his nervousness, he waves it off. It’s nothing- really, don’t pressure him. Guilt has started to eat him, sinking its teeth into his skin and while he can’t look at you, you make no comment about it, sitting beside him, your legs seated under you.

You hand cups over his and he lets his head fall, his muscles tense as you call his name. His hand goes rigid, and while you hold the top of his hand, your fingers slip between the spaces of his and you hold tightly to his hand while he just sits there.

“Simeon,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze, “can you look at me?”

Something catches in his throat, his lungs devoid of air, deflating into nothing as he shakes his head. His lips are pulled thin, any breath that he tries to take is through his nose, a deep inhale that is shakily released through his parted lips. How could he ever look at you when he did what he did? How could he even allow you to hold his hand? It’s his own deviance that clutches around his chest and drags him further into the dark pool that is his sin.

“Is this about what you saw?” Your voice is gentle, concern and puzzlement laced into your words as your knee bumps against his. “Sim, I told you that it was okay.” He can hear the smile, reassuring that what he saw wasn’t anything bad but you don’t know what he did. His legs begin to bounce, shaking the bed and his lips grow dry. “You don’t have to feel guilty over it. I should have told you that I was changing or even locked the door.” A playful chuckle fills the room and when he remains unresponsive, your hand slowly uncurls and slips away.

His hand is left cold and empty, a foreign feeling that he does not welcome. Quickly, his other hand clasps over yours, trapping it against his wrist. He takes shaky breaths, his chest wavering with every inhale and exhale. With your hand under his, he shakes, and releases his hand from you, apologizing under his breath. Immediately, he misses the feel of your hand.

You take in a sharp inhale, your shoulders slumping and his heart drops. You’ve allowed him to enter your room, you held his hand and yet, he’s here, with his innocence tainted and forever blemished by his actions. “Simeon-”

“I- I’m so sorry.” He covers his face with his hands, and he recoils away from his touch. His teeth are gritted and he turns to you, his brows wrinkling his face and he wonders how pathetic he looks to you. “I- I’m so sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking and his stomach twists into tight knots.

Instead of disgust, you smile sadly at him, your hands coming out to hold the hand that he had used to masturbate to you. He wonders if you’d turn away from him, if you’d wipe your hand from his touch, if you knew what he had done.

The look that you give him is enough to make a storm of butterflies form in his stomach. “I already told you-”

Acid bubbles in his throat, burning and making it harder to breathe with every passing second. He doesn’t want to lose the friendship that he has with you, but he can’t live with himself if he doesn’t tell you. A prayer starts to form, a simple thought that is burst with judgement on him. Your words are distant and he isn’t sure what you’re saying, he can’t hear you but he can see and feel you. He can see your smile, how your eyes dart to the door and the soft feel of your hand. He feels as if he’s being choked, a tight grip around throat has tears brimming in his eyes. He wonders how much of himself is clouded from the eyes of God. He feels too much, his worry and guilt bubbling over that leaves him feeling exposed. “I masturbated to you.” There’s a pause in the room, your eyes blinking owlishly as you try to comprehend the words. “I- I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at the floor, leaning away from you but he still lets his hand be held in yours. Shock settles as the words have filled the room, slowly filling your mind. “I-” He deflates and stops talking.

Neither of you speak for some time, words clutched at your heart and his stuck on his throat. He wishes he could take back the words, but he can’t deny the sweet relief that he felt when he confessed. Your hand slowly pulls away and he wants to cry and collapse onto his knees, begging for forgiveness.

“You-” you start, pursing your lips together- “You masturbated to me?” He nods, believing that he is unworthy to even speak to you after what he did. “Before you came- Er, When you arrived the first time to my room?”

He supposes he deserves the questioning and the sick feeling that settles in his stomach. “When- When I saw you I had fled and when I arrived at my room, I- I had-” He fits back a sob. He’s never felt so dirty.

“Simmy,” your voice is calm, and your hands return to him. Hsi eyes are wide and without knowing what’s going on, you pull him close to your chest, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your hands curl over the back of his head, cradling him gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart; don’t cry.” Your kindness only makes him sob, his body shaking and his hands, as dirty as they are, clutch to the back of your shirt. “You- It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad or anything. I mean-” you shift under him and he fears that it’s discomfort and rejection, so he clutches tighter at you and pushes himself further into you. “Sh,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. Just relax, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, turning his head, his breath hot against your neck. “I- I was weak. Please forgive me.” You smell sweet, the overlapping of your cream invades his senses but underneath, he can smell you, your scent that calls out to him and it only makes him want to cling tighter to you. He doesn’t want to separate himself from your embrace even if it's something out of pity. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Simmy,” you say softly, rocking him gently in your arms. “You’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, I’m-” you let out a laugh, it’s short and humorless- “I’m actually a bit er- honoured? No, flattered.” His eyes widen and he pulls away from you, tears streak against his cheeks and he looks at you with wide eyes. Your body shifts under his gaze and you force yourself to look at him. “I think it’s kind of sweet actually. Well, not sweet, but hot?” You give him a smile, and while it doesn’t reach your eyes, he knows that it isn’t something bitter. “I kind of assumed you hadn’t felt anything to me and well, while masturbating isn’t a confirmation of feelings, I’m flattered that you find me attractive enough to jerk off at the thought of me.” You swallow nervously and you look away from him. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No!” He says, holding your hands in his. “I- How could I not find you attractive? I- You’re the only human- the only being who ever made me feel so- so-” his hand clutches over where his heart would rest, twisting the fabric in his hands- “so alive,” he breathes out. “When I’m with you, I feel as if I never want to be apart from you. I would be a fool to not find you attractive, to not see your beauty and want you as you are. Here I am, the angel that is meant to remain pure and yet I was tempted by someone-” his knuckles brush against your cheek, curving at your bone and gliding down until they reach the corners of your lips- “and I’d do it all over again if it meant that you would even have an ounce of happiness.” He lets his hand fall, smiling at you, with fondness. “I am nothing more than your angel.” He bows his head slightly, bringing your hand to his lips, letting your knuckles grace him with your touch.

“A knight in shining armor,” you muse, your hand falling under his chin and pushing gently to have him look at you. He meets your eyes with readiness to accept whatever it is you want, ready to follow your commands. While he has no contract that binds him to you, he’d do whatever you would want of him. You accepted him and his secret, the least he could do is bow before you.

Your smile twitches for a moment, faltering for a second and he frowns. His eyes never leave your face, watching your expression change, slowly morphing into a curious look that has him leaning his body close to yours. He watches as your tongue peeks to wet your lips, the soft, pink muscle teasing him and with his thoughts safe in your room and with you, he wonders how your tongue would feel in his mouth, how it would feel if it were against his body and curled around his burning skin.

“Simeon?” He gives a curt nod in your direction, listening and clinging to your every word. “Can you show me?” His blood runs cold at the immediate understandment of your words. His heart races, pumping his angelic blood through his body and with a heavy heart, he can feel the familiar and yet alien feeling of his member throb under the confines of his pants. “I wanna see how you touched yourself.”

Limbs bump into each other, your hands leaving a trail of goosebumps as you move against him. He isn’t sure how he's gotten to lay against your pillows with his pants past his thighs and his cock already half erect. His breath hangs heavy in the room, his chest taking deep slow breaths as he watches his own hand circle around his cock. He can feel your eyes on him, how you watch his every move with an unblinking gaze, entranced by the angel who remains partially dressed. His mouth is dry and he lets his hand take a shaky stroke against himself, letting out a whine at the feeling. It isn’t pleasurable but it isn’t horrible either. It’s just a touch. He wants to make it a show, but he’s so new to this, so inexperienced and while your human curiosity is taking over, leaning onto him, he can’t do much more than stare at his cock that beads with pearls.

“I- I need help,” he mutters. “It feels so new, so alien to touch myself. I’m-”

You cut his words off with a kiss, your body moving to rest above his, your weight pressing down on him. His cock hardens, pulsing in his hand and with a jerky motion, he proceeds to touch himself. Your tongue enters his mouth and he greedily sucks on it, pushing himself upwards to deepen the kiss, working his hand in a similar motion. The tight feeling in his stomach returns, quicker and tighter than before. Your hand glides to his chest, slipping under his shirt and thumbing around his nipple, humming into his mouth when he hardens under your touch. You pull away with spit covered lips, your eyes glazed over with honeyed lust, smiling down at him and kissing at neck, suckling softly, letting your teeth pinch at his skin.

The feels are all so new to him, and he’s moaning under you, whining and jerking his hips upwards. “Come on Simeon,” you whisper against his skin, “go a little bit faster, Let me see how you treated yourself when you jerked off to me.” You sit above him, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs under his bottom lip. “Am I the first person you’ve ever jerked off to?” he lets out a pained whimper, nodding his head to the best of his ability without shaking you off. “Use your words,” you advise, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his temple. “I want to hear all the perverted details.”

“Yes,” he croaks out, his leg bumping upwards as his high slowly approaches. “I-” his lips press into a thin line as he tries to muffle his moans- “I hadn’t touched myself before. I thought of you and your body, I thought about how you’d feel- how different your hands would feel compared to mine.”

“If you’re a good boy and finish, I’ll be sure to pleasure you.” Your smile is coquettish, your tone sultry as you grab his arm, and let the hand that had been clutching the covers curve over your chest. “When I called you, were you busy touching yourself?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, “I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to hear you call my name. Even now, I’m surprised that you’re doing so much for me, touching me and not- and not-” his voice tightens, tears brimming against his eyes- “not finding me repulsive. I- I- You were my first, The first that I had ever felt such feeling for. Please, I beg of you, kiss me again. I want to kiss you and make sure that this is all real and not some sick, perverse dream that I had come up with. That if I fall, if I lose my wings, at least I’ll have kissed you before that.” Tears fall, and he can feel the pressure building, so close to spilling over and the tight rope in his stomach threatening to snap.

“Oh Simeon,” you coo, your smile bittersweet. Your head shakes softly, your hands smoothing back his hair and cupping his face. “I’ll stand beside you no matter what, sweetheart. I could never turn away from you.” Your lips press against his and with your confession, he releases, moaning and moving his free hand to hold your back as he shakes under you.

His seed paints his hand and thighs in white ropes. Tears stain the kiss,and when you pull away, he whines, missing the contact. You move off of him and he wants to cry, moving to nuzzle into your chest. His hand sticks to the back of your shirt, sullying you in his seed as he cock lays between him and you, nestled against your sex. He shakes, the afterglow making him so sensitive to touch that even your hand playing with the ends of his hair has him and letting out shaky breaths. His chest feels light, full of air and your scent, his ears hearing your heart beat erratically- whatever facade you had about staying calm and playful as he pleasured himself was only that, a facade. You kiss the top of his head and promise that when he’s calmed down, you’ll fulfill your promise of touching him. He nods his head, trying to steady himself, desperate to feel your hands against his virgin cock.

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”