#the lord’s prayer he can top me

[hanniedream]

[kitten4sannie]

ateez and corruption kinks… that’s it I just had to let that out into the void

communion

pairing: priest! yunho x nun! reader (fem)

summary: priest jeong wishes to share another communion with the most beloved member of the monastery.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: for the love of god (lol) if sacrilegious smut isn’t your thing do NOT read this,, however if it IS wellll i got something good for you <3, wine drinking, but like, in an unconventional way lmao, nasty perverted dom! yuyu, subby cock hungry! reader (can we blame her tho?), implied sex slave training, oral (giving/receiving), deepthroating, finger sucking, cum eating, implied toy usage (the toy is um….well…a religious object…)

a/n: oh nonnie idt you realize what you’ve unleashed with that ask ^^ there’s nothing i love more than corruption 🖤 physical, emotional, psychological ughhhh,,, anyways writers block and some shitty real life stuff have been taking turns beating me up the past couple months so i thought this might be a good escape for me :3 i hope you enjoy <33

p.s: i’ll be posting two more fics with a corruption theme very soonnn,, one features perverted bsf wooyoung and the other involves frat boy sannie 🫶🏼

song rec: take me to church - hozier (i mean come on….)

No matter how dark the communal church grew in the late hours of the night, the bright light of the moon still shone through the fragmented mosaic glass, now casting a myriad of gleaming crosses across your face and body as you sat on your knees upon the altar. You raised your hands up to begin worshipping your Lord in the way you were taught by Father Jeong, gingerly opening his robes to unveil the point of your focus.

Yunho lifted up a ceremonial bell and rung it once, his robes pooling around his feet, watching as your thighs squeezed tightly together underneath your heavy garments, your shaky exhale fanning over his exposed, twitching cock, finding the unyielding look of pure lust inside your eyes to be so beautiful he could shed a tear. Over the many, many communions you’ve shared together, it seemed that the bell reminded you of your loyalty to him and to your shared savior, of the pleasure you shared all in the name of God.

He pushed your veil off to expose your hair, before he placed his large hands on either side of your head, his long, slender fingers wrapping securely around it. “And, what do we say now, Sister L/N?” he asked softly, as though he were testing you, dragging his tongue over his top set of teeth, letting out a few heavy breaths.

“O’ Lord, for which I am about to receive, is truly your most precious Body and your life-giving blood, which, I pray, makes me worthy to receive for the remission of all my sins and for everlasting life,” you recited your prayer like many times before, the wetness between your thighs everlasting, watching Father Jeong let go of your head for a second to pick up a chalice of wine from the ceremony table behind him.

Yunho held the gold chalice just above his waist, growing that much harder as the dark liquid began to pour down his long, curved length, spilling off of his sticky tip and dripping into your open mouth. “The Blood of Christ…” He watched you swallow it all down, like the obedient servant you were. Something this sinful simply had to be holy, didn’t it? He swallowed down the abundant saliva that filled his mouth. “Ahh?” he voiced, like he was waiting for you to say something.

“Amen,” you sighed out, licking the remnants of wine and pre-cum from your lips, your trembling fingers clasping around his bare hips.

“Amen.”

Yunho then thrusted forward until he hit the back of your parched throat, eagerly dragging you back and forth along his sizable cock, using you like the faithful cocksleeve you were, the repetitive sounds of squelching, gagging, and muffled moaning sending delightful shivers down his spine, much like the sacred hymns did to him every morning during mass. “Sister L/N, your throat has molded to the shape of my cock, has it not? Bonding with me all these long nights, over and over, it’s like you were made for me, and only me. Tell me, Sister, does taking the Body of Christ down your throat make you feel closer to God?”

You let out a stunted, pleased moan, blinking a few tears out of your dazed, half closed eyes, watching as a blurry version of Father Jeong brought his rosary up to his lips to kiss it. Due to being trained so consistently, you knew to relax your jaw and throat in order to take all of him without fail, your gag reflex nonexistent, simply drooling all over his long, heavy cock instead, much to Yunho’s delight.

“Oh, God, let His will be done….” He hunched over slightly, in order to pound himself into the back of your throat over and over, thick strands of pre-cum and saliva dripping from your chin and landing onto your previously pristine garments, his fingers closing in around your bulging throat to feel himself moving inside it. It was simply too much for the priest to handle. “So…nnngh–sovereign, so pure, this divinity…” Yunho expressed between heavy pants, suddenly pulling out until his twitching cockhead rested against your splayed out tongue. “Sister L/N, you must show me something heavenly so that I may fill you with the Holy Spirit. Be quick, for I am at my limit…”

Licking the beads of pre-cum from his slit, you began to lift up the layers of your tunic until your bare cunt glistened underneath the moonlight that was casted over you like a spotlight, the edges of your skin glowing as though you were a real life angel, one that was sent down from above to tempt Yunho, especially now that he could see you in your most vulnerable state. “Father Jeong, please see what I’ve done for you. I’ve kept myself full…so that I may take you inside properly…”

It was then that Father Jeong fell to his knees before you, looking up at the slick heaven in between your thighs, before leaning in to lap up the abundant wetness from your lips, his hot tongue practically melting against your cunt as he ate you out like a starved man, spreading your open with his ringed thumbs. Maintaining steady eye contact with you, he slowly pulled the hood of your clit back to expose your weak point, wrapping his plush lips around it as he began to suck and lick until he had you trembling above him, your nails digging into the dense wood of the pews. “Cum before me,” he commanded, dragging his tongue along your fluttering slit up to your throbbing clit until you let out a beautifully broken cry.

You spread your trembling thighs open just enough to allow what was filling you up the entire time to slowly come sliding out, both you and the priest letting out a similar gasp once it did. A thick, slick-covered silver cross landed inside Yunho’s open palm. He watched diligently as you lifted it up to his mouth, not even having to say anything as he sucked it clean. Without exchanging words, Yunho stood back and squeezed his throbbing cock, just as you lowered yourself back down onto your knees with a loving smile, watching with pride as he began to shudder, long spurts of his hot cum landing onto your tongue and disappearing down your throat.

“What a thing of beauty….” The priest swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “You never fail to bring me close to our Savior, my dear,” he praised, reaching down to rub the remaining remnants of his seed over your swollen lips and onto your tongue with his thumb, pulling it away from your mouth and licking the last of his saltiness off of his digit himself.

“It’s all for the greater good,” you softly replied, slowly standing up and hiking up your now soiled garments, so that you could bend over the pew, spreading yourself wide, opening the gates of your heaven and giving Yunho access like every blissful night before. “Now, please allow me to bring you even closer.”

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tags: @beomgyuspeach @breadpuddingboys @lucid-galaxys-world @mitchii @bvidzsoo @londonbridges01 @khjoongie98 @kyeos4ng @ane102 @jintastic-yuyu @laqueama-hwa

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[2-dsimp]

Hear me out... Yan priest with a non believer reader....like just imagine....Yan priest"you don't believe in heaven huh...then I'll take you to heaven...then continued to 💥 her....

Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI🔞 Fem reader! Throatpie, coercion, corruption, dubcon, religious aspects, creampie, cum shower, slight humiliation, degradation, praise, overstimulation, Zebad turning you into a true believer

—————/—————/—————-/————/———

Zebad sighs in contentment as he watches you collapse onto the altar, his wet slick and cum covered shaft slipping out of your overused cunt with a wet pop. He takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own softening member hardening with avengeance as he sees the marks and bruises he so graciously bestowed upon your skin. Before he quickly flips you over, ripping off your top with a gentle smile.

"Mmm, my lost Dove~ did this prayer session help to enlighten you by chance?"

The Priest hums with a twisted expression on his face confronting the non believer gasping for breath within his holy sanctum. Right before the lords eyes of the marble statue which stood tall above them and judged with a solemn stare.

He reached out a hand to firmly grasp onto your hair, his rock hard cock hovering near your lips. While he smacks his meat against your face, before nudging the tip of his leaking fat tip against your lips smearing it with your collective love juices from prior rounds.

"Oh how precious you are my dear, your pretty head looks as if it’s all empty inside. Allow me to fill it with something meaningful"

The Priest coos lovingly before he shoves his penis into your mouth, forcing it down your throat. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't care. This was meant to teach you a lesson on how not to turn your back on the gracious blessings. That the lord could bestow to you if you’d just let your heart open fully to the wonders of the teachings he gives…

In all honesty Zebad was bullshitting about his preaching for a god he didn’t even have half a mind to remember the name of. He couldn’t care less about said god nor did he fathom entertaining the prestige beliefs of his pious church brethren. Why would he spend time trying to convert you into worshiping the lord when he could make you revere him as your sole savior.

"That's it, Love suck just like how we’ve practiced. Being such a good girl for me"

He purrs continuing to thrust into your mouth, his balls rubbing against your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. Grinning with satisfaction as he feels your fingers wrap around his thick length, your mouth still wrapped around it like a newborn. The corrupt holy official could feel his cock twitching with impatience, eager for your attention. He starts to buck his shaft inside your salivating mouth, relishing in the moist heat of your tongue sliding back and forth on his foreskin.

Yes, he’d make you utterly reliant on him for the rest of your days. Spend his sweet time training you, molding you into his perfect believer who’d only get on their knees and revere him as both your lover and guiding light to damnation. He alone would encompass the entirety of your mind, body, and soul.

"You’re gonna learn to accept me as your lover and savior and become an obedient bitch for me yes?"

Zebad coaxes with an sugarcoated timbre whilst he continues to rock his pelvis against your face, his body wracked with pleasure as he feels himself getting close to cumming again. He can ascertain how much your esophagus was tightening around his dick, making his balls twitch from the sensation. Of how he knows that you're so eager to please him.

"Oh what a delectable sheep you are, my darling~ so docile and compliant for me."

The Priest pants as he finally drives his shaft to the hilt, smacking his balls up against your drooling face. He lingers there for a moment, enjoying the tightness of your throat around him as you gag. He can feel his cum building up inside of him, and he knows that he's getting close to the edge.*

"Fuck, Dove, go on and take it! Take your lord and saviors cum like the good believer I know you are."

He starts to flood your taste buds with the peculiar taste of his gummy sperm, making you gag even more. The amount is too much for you to handle, so he spills the rest of his cum all over your tits and face in white beady rivulets. He grins with satisfaction as he watches his cum dripping down your body.

"Mmm, you look so beautiful covered in my cum perhaps I should make you walk around in it all day. And make it test of your faith towards me wouldn’t you say?”

Zebad goads, his voice low and seductive. Paired along with a devilish smile that was present on his face full of infatuation and obsession for his poor little sheep that wandered helplessly into his clutches.

[hornydonutpost]

lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom,

deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPRENATES ME WITH HIS BABIES. My prayers for you be like no lube, no protection from the condom or the lord, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord's prayer, YOU sir can OBLITERATE me and uses no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking,

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[zylusmusings]

The young dragon is still alive.

The red he sees on his hands is possibly even redder than the crimson of his own eyes - God, it’s so much blood… and Sylus isn’t even a stranger to violence and blood but he swears he has never seen this much blood. Perhaps, everything is magnified now since it was her that was bleeding. She could get a paper cut, and he’d wage a war against the trees in the Amazon for causing such a grievance against his beloved. 

But this.. this is too much blood, still. Calm and collected Sylus, one has never witnessed him shaken, is now found trembling as he stares at the carmine pool surrounding them both. The smell of iron is nauseating, even for him and he feels the taste of bile threatening the back of his throat. He heaves, mouth agape in small pants while he scrambles to make sense of the situation. 

“Sw..Sweetie.. This is not right, c’mon. You have to… stop this.” He feels small, suddenly. Useless, as shaking hands continue to practically beg the wound on her chest to stop bleeding. The most powerful man of N109 zone deemed completely inadequate at this current moment. There was nothing he could do to stop the profuse bleeding, nothing he could do to save her - and he knew this deep down. 

The same young dragon who was so confused and vulnerable, whose frustration only grew as his horns continued to do the same. So shameful of his fate and destiny, yet knowing there was simply nothing he could do to change it. The same sentiments of ignominy - this time however, he feels like he’s deserving of the humiliation. Waited years upon years for her return, only for her to be dying in his arms. His beloved was going to leave him, and prayers of desperation for their roles to be reversed escapes his cracked lips.. For her to drill the claymore into the depths of his chest, again and again. Then, again and again. The only fathomable passage was for him to die and her to live for thousands and millions more years before she dies a natural painless death, after a fulfilling and happy long life - not this. 

“I don’t know what to do, I’m sorry. I am sorry, I don’t know what to do.” He apologises repeatedly, his tears dampening the hair at the top of her head as his body curls atop hers, his last desperate attempt to shield and protect her, but it’s no use. Nothing can save her. He knows that, too. This dragon is afraid and desperate.

A silent sob escapes his agape mouth, the sight of her choking on her own blood as she fights for her final breaths has him begging the Lord to shower him with mercy. He’d bear the punishment and atone for all of the sins both him and all of mankind has ever committed, if it meant that this world that his beloved would walk on was free of any atom of darkness. Let it be a safe place for her to roam and live unreservedly - because that would have been what she deserved, not this. “It should’ve been me. I’m sorry, it should’ve been me.”

And as her hand falls limp, this dragon roars in pain. 

[novaursa]

Ashes of the Faithful

- Summary: After Faith of the Seven has sent an assassin to kill you, Maegor declares war against the gods.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This story is part of Fire and Blood series, and it happens right after Fragile Hope. The masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog.

- Rating: Mature 16+

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

The flickering light of torches casts an eerie glow over the Great Hall, illuminating the black banners emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. The air buzzes with the voices of lords and ladies gathered to celebrate Maegor’s victories and his long-sought return to the Iron Throne. A bitter smile plays across your lips as you shift your hand to rest protectively over your stomach, feeling the soft, burgeoning weight there—the promise of Maegor’s heir. After years of separation, of exile and whispered prayers in the cold halls of Dragonstone, you’ve finally returned to his side, bound by his unbreakable will. Maegor’s unwavering gaze follows you as you rise to mingle with the guests, his expression one of fierce pride and possessiveness.

The evening wears on, and you share fleeting glances with your husband from across the hall, silently marveling at the sheer force he exudes even from a distance. Though your union remains contested by the Faith, and many openly despise him, none would dare deny the power Maegor wields. The hall quiets as he rises to make a toast, raising a goblet of wine.

"To House Targaryen, unbroken and bound by blood and fire," he declares, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that commands attention. "And to my queen, who carries our future within her.”

The guests raise their goblets, voices mingling in a chorus, though you can see the apprehension in some eyes, the covert glances exchanged by certain highborn lords and pious knights, wary of the Faith's condemnation.

As the applause fades, you make your way toward the shadows for a brief respite from the crowd, grateful for a moment to gather your breath. But in the next heartbeat, the chill of steel presses against your throat, and you realize—too late—what is happening. The assailant’s voice is a venomous hiss in your ear, dripping with fervent conviction.

“Your unholy union will end here, for the gods do not suffer blasphemy.”

You struggle, reaching instinctively to shield the precious life growing within you, but the assassin’s grip is unyielding. A muffled shout erupts somewhere in the hall, and the clash of steel on steel fills the air. In the chaos, you’re suddenly yanked backward as Maegor’s knights descend upon the attacker. The glint of Maegor’s own sword, Blackfyre, catches the torchlight as he strides forward, his face a mask of pure, unrestrained fury.

His voice is a low snarl. “Who sent you?”

The assassin glares defiantly, his eyes bright with fanatical zeal as he spits, "The Faith will never bless your bastard line."

The words are met with the brutal swipe of Maegor’s fist, sending the man sprawling. Maegor’s rage is unmistakable, a tempest waiting to be unleashed. He barely spares a glance for the blood pooling beneath the assassin as his gaze shifts to you, his voice softening, though the raw intensity remains.

"Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, reaching a trembling hand toward him. "Our child… I feared…"

He clasps your hand in his, grounding you with the weight of his presence. “No one will dare harm you again,” he promises, his tone as unyielding as iron. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a rare display of tenderness that only you are allowed to see, and in his eyes, you catch a glimpse of the lengths he would go to keep that vow.

The assassin, barely conscious, is dragged upright by Maegor’s guards. Without hesitation, Maegor approaches, towering over the man like an avenging shadow. “Tell me the names of those who sent you,” he demands.

When the man remains silent, defiance flickering in his gaze, Maegor lifts his sword. Blackfyre’s blade gleams ominously in the torchlight, and his words are laced with icy finality. “If the Faith dares to send another of your kind, I will burn their septs to the ground. And you will be the first to watch.”

A ripple of fear passes through the onlookers, their expressions a mix of awe and terror as they watch their king take vengeance. Maegor turns to you, his voice softer. "Return to your chambers, Y/N. I will handle this."

Though you hesitate, knowing the bloodshed to come, you nod. "I trust you, my king," you whisper, pressing a hand to his cheek before leaving.

In your chambers, guarded on all sides, you try to steady your breathing. The shadows outside flicker, signaling the torches carried by men as they move through the halls. Soon, shouts echo from the square below, where you know Maegor has gathered his court to witness the assassin’s fate, a display meant to instill fear in any who would challenge his claim—or threaten his family.

As you sit, the quiet hum of life within you reassures you. Whatever comes, you and your child are shielded by the relentless force of Maegor’s love, a love bound in fire and forged through blood.

Hours later, he returns, smelling faintly of smoke and steel, his eyes softening when they meet yours. "It is done," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and conviction.

You reach for him, pulling him close, and whisper, "Thank you, Maegor. For us… and for our child."

He presses his lips to your forehead, a rare, almost reverent gesture. "No one will take you from me, Y/N. Not the Faith, not the realm. None can come between us."

And in that moment, beneath the pale moonlight, you believe him.

The dawn breaks in a haze of gray clouds, but for you, the morning feels no less ominous. You watch from a high window in Maegor’s hall as Balerion, the Black Dread, spreads his wings wide across the sky, casting an enormous shadow over the land. Maegor’s resolve is unshakable, and he has vowed that the Faith will answer for their transgressions. He has given orders, brief and absolute, his voice carrying the weight of his fury. None could miss the look in his eyes—the wildfire rage that demanded to be sated.

As he prepares to mount Balerion, he approaches you, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and relentless, seem to devour you.

“This realm has mocked me for the last time, Y/N,” he says, his tone simmering with a quiet rage that sends a chill through you. “They do not know loyalty or respect; they only know fear. I will make them remember it.”

You rest a hand over your belly protectively, feeling the faint stir within you, as if the child growing there senses the dread. “And the Starry Sept?” you ask quietly, knowing all too well what its destruction would mean, not only for the Faith but also for the Hightower family—his late wife’s kin.

His lips twist into a cruel smile. “That den of false gods and hypocrites? It shall be the first to burn. None will dare to insult my queen again.”

You nod, feeling an odd mixture of fear and awe as you stand beside him. The Maegor before you is no longer just a man—he is a storm incarnate, a maelstrom of fury bound to a creature of fire and shadow. “They will see Balerion’s flame from miles away,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

He leans in, his hand settling over yours on your stomach, where his heir grows. “I do this for you and for our child. So you will live without fear. So our child will not know a world that questions his right.”

You swallow, feeling the intensity of his words and knowing that, in his twisted way, Maegor does love you deeply—perhaps as much as he can love anything. “Come back to me,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his. “Return to us, Maegor.”

He gives you a rare, almost tender smile, before pulling away, the steel in his eyes returning. “Wait for me, Y/N,” he says, his voice firm. “By the time the moon rises, the Faith will feel the fire of House Targaryen.”

With that, he mounts Balerion, and you watch as they rise into the sky, becoming a dark silhouette against the dawn. The moment they disappear over the horizon, you turn back into the hall, nerves tingling with the knowledge of the destruction to come.

The Starry Sept in Oldtown stands proud as it always has, a beacon of the Faith’s ancient power. Its towering walls, adorned with stars and golden trimmings, seem almost untouched by the passage of time, a testament to its sanctity. The Faith Militant, dressed in their glinting silver armor, stand guard outside, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

And then, a shadow falls over Oldtown.

The people in the streets look up, gasping, children screaming as they behold the black shape in the sky, his massive wings blotting out the sun. The bells of the Starry Sept toll, signaling a warning, but it is already too late. Balerion lands with a bone-rattling impact, his claws digging into the earth just outside the grand doors of the sept. Dust and debris fly as the ground trembles beneath his weight. The Faith Militant immediately raise their shields and swords, but they are little more than ants to the dragon that towers over them.

Maegor, seated upon Balerion’s back, calls out, his voice echoing like thunder through the city. “I am Maegor Targaryen, your rightful king! And I declare the Faith Militant enemies of the realm!”

There is a murmur of defiance from the knights below, and one of the septons dares to raise his voice. “You blaspheme, Maegor! The gods themselves deny your union. You will face judgment!”

Maegor lets out a short, humorless laugh, glancing down at the man with disdain. “Then let your gods protect you from my wrath.” He raises his arm, signaling to Balerion.

With a rumbling growl that reverberates through the stone walls, Balerion opens his jaws, and a torrent of fire bursts forth, consuming the sept’s doors in an instant. The flame spreads with terrifying speed, licking up the stone walls and turning them to blackened, smoking ruin. The Faith Militant try to flee, but Balerion’s fire is relentless, consuming them as they run, their silver armor melting, the flesh beneath charring to bone.

The people of Oldtown watch in horror from the streets and rooftops, their faces pale, their voices strangled with fear. Maegor’s voice rises above the roar of the flames, clear and unyielding.

“This is what happens to those who defy the Crown,” he shouts, his voice filled with the fury of a man wronged for too long. “To those who think they can take my queen from me.”

The sept’s grand structure crumbles as the fire sears through wood, stone, and glass alike. The stained glass windows, depicting scenes of saints and the Seven, shatter in the intense heat, raining shards upon the Faith Militant and those unfortunate enough to be nearby. Balerion’s fire leaves no sanctuary, no corner of the sept untouched. Statues of the gods melt under the flames, the Seven themselves reduced to ash and rubble, as if even they cannot withstand Maegor’s wrath.

From his perch atop Balerion, Maegor watches with an unsettling satisfaction. His expression is grim, merciless, as he surveys the destruction below. The High Septon himself, garbed in his white and gold robes, flees the Starry Sept, clutching a holy tome to his chest as though it might shield him from the flames. Maegor’s gaze locks onto him, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

“You, who claim to be closest to the gods, will not escape their punishment,” Maegor calls, his voice carrying across the square.

The High Septon falls to his knees, raising his trembling hands in a plea. “Spare me, Your Grace! I have served the gods faithfully—I am but their humble servant!”

Maegor’s face hardens, the glint in his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Your Faith sent assassins after my queen, my child,” he growls. “You will burn for that.”

With another signal, Balerion releases another torrent of fire, engulfing the High Septon in a scorching blaze. His screams echo through Oldtown, a terrible symphony of agony that seems to reach even the highest towers of the Hightower itself. The onlookers, paralyzed by fear, watch as the flames consume the last remnants of the Starry Sept and those who served within it. The High Septon’s cries fall silent, leaving only the crackling of fire and the distant sobbing of townsfolk horrified by the display of power.

As the Starry Sept collapses in a smoldering heap, Maegor directs Balerion to soar higher, circling the ruined city below. His gaze sweeps over the Hightower, a place where he once lived when he took a wife from among their daughters—a wife who dared to defy his queen, to question the place of Y/N at his side. Her blood, like that of the septons below, was shed without hesitation. Maegor has always ensured that no voice rises above his own, not even those of the gods.

But now, his voice rings out again across Oldtown, a decree that none can ignore.

“Let it be known throughout the realm,” he declares, “that the Faith Militant and any who align themselves with the false righteousness of the gods shall face the same fate. No man, no god, no Septon shall question the rule of House Targaryen or my right to claim my queen.”

The words echo in the silence, seared into the minds of all who listen, the weight of them settling upon the city like a brand. And then, with a final glance down at the burning ruin below, Maegor commands Balerion to rise, leaving a trail of smoke and ash in their wake.

Hours later, Maegor returns to the capital, his armor and cloak singed, his face streaked with soot but unbowed. You wait for him at the entrance, heart pounding, watching as he dismounts Balerion and strides toward you, his gaze hard and impenetrable. Yet, as he nears, that hardness softens, if only slightly, as his eyes meet yours.

Without a word, you reach for him, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the heat still radiating from his armor. “You’ve done it, then,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but protective. “No one will dare threaten you again. They have seen what becomes of those who defy us.”

You meet his gaze, searching for the man beneath the rage, the one who has risked everything for you, who will stop at nothing to secure the life of the child growing within you. “And the Faith? Will they stop?”

His jaw tightens, and his voice lowers, almost gentle but carrying a fierce undercurrent. “If they don’t, I will burn every sept in the Seven Kingdoms until not a single one remains.” His hand slips to your belly, resting there possessively. “They will never again come close to you or our child.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his promise, the depth of his wrath. Maegor may be feared, hated even, but in his own brutal, unyielding way, he is yours, and he will keep you safe no matter the cost.

He steps back, exhaling, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tonight, let the realm know that House Targaryen’s fire is boundless,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a murmur. “I will destroy all who oppose us. And in time, they will kneel, knowing they have no choice.”

In that moment, you feel a surge of fierce pride, not only in Maegor’s power but in his loyalty, however ruthless. With him, you will carve a place in this unforgiving world for your child, even if it must be forged in flame and blood.

“Then let them see,” you reply, matching his intensity, feeling the strength of his determination coursing through you. “We will stand together, and the realm will learn to fear us.”

Maegor’s hand tightens over yours, a silent vow exchanged between the two of you. And as he pulls you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, you know that whatever comes next, you will face it together—bound by blood, fire, and an unbreakable loyalty that no god or mortal can shatter.

[mossyivy]

An answered prayer || K. Wagner x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Content Warning: Christmas stuff, fluff and a sprinkle of jealous Kurt

Words: 1.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request, I believe? Might have Lost a name on accident, oopsies... Enjoy <3 And Happy Holidays!!!

Christmas, what a wonderful time of year. The fire's lit, holiday music playing as the rest of the team enjoys the annual party and secret Santa exchange. Holding his own gift from his dear sister in his lap. Trying to focus on anything but the sight he's transfixed on.

He's supposed to be blue, feeling the sharp green of envy pulling at the edges of his being as he stares down their leader. Grinning wide as he hands over your gift. Watching you rip away at the shiny silver wrapping paper across the common room, hearing you loudly gasp.

Probably something practical and thoughtful... Typical Scott.

And now you're gushing over some stupid cable-knit sweater as you put it to your front. Pulling Scott into a tight embrace as he, albeit awkwardly, hugs you back with a tight smile. Kurt can feel his brows pin together, tail flicking against his own calves in irritation. He knows he has no real right to be jealous. You're not his. Not officially, at least.

You're aware of each other's feelings and have been on a few dates even. But with his duties to the council in Genosha, he hardly gets to see you unless it's fairly important or the occasional time off. Which, obviously, he hates, holding a candle for you for the longest time now.

Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to the fire, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the dancing flames in the fireplace as everyone buzzes around him. The sound of the party makes it hard to think of anything but your smile crossing his mind.

Sighing, he stands from the couch, heading outside into the cold. Standing out on the back step of the mansion. Looking across the beautiful blanket of fresh white snow just fallen earlier that morning. The inky night sky filled with stars for once over the trees.

That feeling of jealousy still not leaving him. Heart beating against his chest as he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes as his hands pressed together, a huff of cloudy air escaping him as he softly prayed to himself.

"Heavenly Father, give me the strength to resist the temptation of jealousy. Help me to trust in Your plan and to find contentment in Your provision... She knows not what she does to me, and I know a devil like me isn't supposed to ask for anything... But all I want is her... Bless my friends, bless my dear family, and please, Lord, bless mein Schatz. Amen."

The door creaks open behind him, yellow eyes cutting through the darkness as he looks back to see you standing at the door, arm behind your back with that sweet smile he's come to love.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask softly, a half smile coming to his lips as he shakes his head, waving you to come outside.

Coming out, you close the door gently, stepping over to him with a quiet kind of grace. Silence filling the air as you both look out into the night sky. So close together, you can feel Kurt's body heat from just being next to him.

It's now or never...

Clearing your throat, you meet his eyes, moving your arm from behind your back. A cute little bag with two kids building a snowman together hanging off your fingers. Blue, sparkling tissue paper billowing from the top with a tiny tag hanging from the handle.

"Merry Christmas..." He looks a little dumbfounded, looking down at the bag before taking it in his palms.

"My sister, she... gave me a gift already?" You chuckle with a nod.

"I know, I got Remy for the Secret Santa. Gave him this really nice deck of cards I found when we had a mission overseas a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you something too... Special people deserve special gifts." He thanked God in that moment; it was dark out, and you'd see his entire face turn purple as he blushed.

"I... didn't get you anything." You just shrug, not honestly caring about it in the long run.

"My gift can be the look on your face when you open yours. Come on." You nudge the side of the bag, making him look it over. Taking note of how you crossed out "from" on the attached card and wrote "love" instead. Making his stomach do an involuntary flip. Moving the tissue paper away, he pulls out a flat square box, glancing up at you with a small scoff.

"This isn't going to be dozens of tiny boxes, is it?" You tap his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

"Just open it!" He smiles, pulling the lid away. Face falling as the dim light catches the shiny silver circle pendant. A piece of ivory in the middle with their initials engraved together. He feels his chest tighten, looking up into your eyes in shock.

"I thought it would look good next to your rosary... And you always talk about how we don't get enough time together... Now I can be with you all the time in some way." His eyes fall back to the box, quickly pulling out the necklace and inspecting it closer.

"This... This is beautiful. And so thoughtful..."

"Well, it's just something I thought you needed... Plus, I... I've been wanting to talk to you about something." His eyes shoot back up to you. Looking into your eyes with a hint of disbelief.

"About what?"

"Us." His eyes widen, mouth opening like a fish as you close the gap, pressing your hand to his cheek with an affectionate stroke of your thumb.

"You mean so much to me, Kurt, and it's been killing me to not... Be with you. I miss you constantly and can't stop thinking about you all the time." His free hand drifts over yours on his cheek with a content sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you either... I don't want you to think that it's necessary for us to be together if we're—" You silence him, kissing him with a tender touch he's never felt before. His head tilts, pressing into you, hand traveling to snake his arm around your waist. Pulling you even closer to his warm frame with a fondness he could only hold for you.

Lips separate, the shared warmth between you almost suffocating to a degree.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, mein Schatz... Merry Christmas." Leaning back in, your lips connect briefly before there's a bang at the door, making you both nearly jump out of your skin.

It's Gambit at the door with a grin on his face, Rogue behind him with a soft giggle as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Quickly you turn away from their prying eyes, feeling your face heat up as the thick Cajun drawl pours through the glass.

"Dinner's on the table, lovebirds! Time's ticking' before Cyclops has that aneurysm if you two don't move." He laughs before walking back towards the dining room, arm around Rogue as they disappear. You sigh, rubbing your cheeks to make the heat go away, Kurt only smiling wider as he slips his present box back in the bag. Holding up the necklace, he gives it one last look before turning your face back to look at his.

"Could you help me put this on so I can show my gift to everyone, mein Schatz?"

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

[l3viat8an]

no lube, no protection, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the shower, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord’s prayer, he can top me <3

THIS IS A COPYPASTA BTW

[artytaeh]

hello. hi! 🌷 do i have your attention now? nice. ♡

because let me tell you something, reader; if you were to date theodore nott, your spot— yours and theo's, the corner of hogwarts that belongs to you, where he doesn't take any other girl and you better not take any other boy, is the astronomy tower.

♡ : SMOKING UNDER THE STARS, as the smoke joins the fog and few clouds seen in the night sky, is a time of the day that theodore enthusiastically awaits— from the moment he wakes up, to the time he falls asleep, tolerating classes with the hope of night arriving at a faster pace. sometimes, theo even uses those classes to sleep; a slumber over the wooden surface of those desks, all for the sake of being able to be fully awake for a few more hours, later when he's with you.

initially, theodore feels somewhat guilty to indulge a new bad habit of yours; constantly fighting with his conscience and that selfishness of his, because theodore longs for the companionship— for a woman that embraces his whole being. not just the attractive part, not just the pleasant lust; to have someone accepting his problems that have those nasty, bad habits as a coping mechanism, a consequence.

when you share a cigarette with him, theodore doesn't know whether he finds it terribly attractive (the sight of your lipstick lingering on the cigarette, where he puts his lips too, an indirect kiss [how childish of him, to think that!]) or if theodore nott should melt in front of you.

a drag from that cigarette you share, is perceived as a gentle try to take a weight from his shoulders. someone willing to listen. to know, to show interest about what breaks his heart, even though theodore is a challenging person to get any kind of personal information from.

theo runs up those stairs as if the dark lord himself was chasing him— he runs with a huge grin on his face, like a bloody child in christmas' morning; however, theodore takes a deep breath, brushes his long fingers through his hair, regains his stoic posture; as if he had taken his sweet time getting there.

as if that hand of his doesn't twitch in excitement to open this damn door, that is keeping you and him at a room of distance.

and when you smile at him, waving with your lighter in hand, one that he has put on stickers and silly doodles for each smoking session together?

theodore nott accepts the fate of his broken heart; pieces melting like butter in a pan, mushing together with hope as glue, daring to slowly put the pieces back together— if someone is capable of mending theo's heart and belief of being a lost cause, it's you.

and all you had to do was listen and smile at him.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : STARGAZING WITH THEODORE NOTT is a must; an unofficial date of yours, even before you started dating. at first, blankets are brought to lay on top of them; because the night wasn't chilly yet. however, when winter approaches hogwarts with snowy days and cold nights, the chance to share a blanket isn't wasted by theo— who nonchalantly wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing the blanket with him, so your backs and arms are warm with the soft, warm fabric. this nonchalance, this smooth movements of theodore; they're all a facade, because his mind races with prayers that you're not able to hear his heart beating so loudly inside his ribcage.

theodore used to think that winter is a bothersome season; having to wear more layers of clothes, waking up in the middle of the night from the cold breeze (blaise has this irritating habit of leaving windows open to ventilate the bedroom) or because he, unconsciously, kicked the sheets away only to wake up freezing cold.

now, winter is a prayer, is a pleading to the gods or whoever deity brings the snow, the cold, the fog, the rain, the cold wind: "Dio mio, per favore, rendilo freddo come l'Antartide, così posso coccolare la mia ragazza con una scusa!" (God of mine, please, make it as cold as Antarctica, so I can cuddle my girl with an excuse!)

he brings a blanket. why not two? you'd ask one fateful night; theo was thankful for his wit, for that quick tongue of his, because the excuse he found was believable enough.

apparently, mattheo riddle is easily cold; and impolite, too, since he steals some of theodore's rightful blankets to warm himself up.

huh, who'd say that about the dark lord's son. thankfully, hopefully, this white lie will never reach mattheo's ears.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : DEEP CONVERSATIONS ABOUT everything and anything, shouldn't be a surprise for you either. after all, despite his group of friends being constituted by a doberman willing to fight any moving student, a womanizer with a pretty face, mama's boy from the quidditch team and nepo baby gone wrong— theodore nott is an intelligent young man.

and truthfully, as much as theo adores his friends and having a laugh with them... nothing beats these conversations between you two. where theodore has asked you about your philosophy; what do you believe? in your perspective, deities exist? what happens after you die? how are your dreams like? where would you go, if you could go to anywhere in the world? after hogwarts, what will you do— he wants to know your idealistic and realistic plans!

the more he learns about you, the deeper he falls for you, he thinks.

even when you tell him about some silly fear of yours. despite that embarrassment moment that you retold him, making the two of you laugh and almost cough amidst the smoke. those little quirks, even things you'd be ashamed to tell anyone else, your deepest, most secret thoughts...

theodore nott loves them all.

his blue eyes, unfeeling and void of any happiness, soften at the sight of you. theo perceives you as the most perfect being in the world— his Dea.

Dea mia, he calls you in his own thoughts. theodore discovers that he admires your flaws, more than he ever tolerated anyone else's— qualities and good traits can be shared among many people.

but flaws? thoughts, ideologies, habits? that makes you, well, you.

that's what makes his Dea different from other girls of your house. that mole that you find silly, that insecurity that you wished to remove from your body, that habit of yours when you're nervous or when you have to lie— those are so charming to him.

it's charming because it's you, theodore admits to himself one day, when he's smoking alone, already missing you by his side. such a realization makes him sigh.

wasn't love the most terrifying emotion, for a boy who only knew pain and devastation?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : HOWEVER, YOU MUST KNOW THAT when something is wrong— be it a stressful day for theodore, a letter from his father, a wave of depression, a fight between you two; he'll be there. on the spot you share, that little secret of yours: the astronomy tower.

he'll be there; be it because he finds a shade of comfort to be there where you've spent time with him once, or because some silly part of him hopes that you'll notice his missing presence, that somehow, you'll read his thoughts and know that he needs you.

even if theodore is angry with you, he'll wait there. unconsciously, of course! i doubt that theo himself rationalizes this habit, of seeking refuge on the place that "belongs" to you and him, as a way to await for the moment where you'll find him, to talk things over.

even if he'll be smoking his lungs out of stress, out of anger, out of sadness, out of hope that maybe if he smokes enough, he'll drop dead with his sorrow.

depending on what he's feeling and the reason why he's there, waiting for you . . .

theo hugs you tightly. of course, such a thing requires a closer relationship with him; even as a friend, theodore will find comfort on you. to have your body inside his arms, to feel your warmth, your scent; suddenly, that hopelessness inside his heart, that void, is filled with love for you. theodore nott doesn't cry; it's weak to do so. what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel— so if he buries his face on your shoulder and you feel your clothes getting wet from tears... well, that might be your imagination. for the sake of his sanity and peace, please, don't comment about it. just hug him back. theo doesn't feel the kindness of comfort ever since his mother died.

theo averts his gaze, taking a drag of his cigarette before opening his heart. this would be a consequence of a stressful day. usually where anger for himself and hatred towards his father subsides to melancholy. an anguished cry of his heart, where theo isn't sure if he's allowed to pity himself or to scream at the world for what he lacked, what he deserved to have during his childhood and teenage years. he'll take to you, eventually— maybe after a cigarette or two. because theodore knows that whatever you talk there, won't leave those four walls. that's how much he trusts you.

theo leans against the window frame, smoking, pretending as if he didn't see you entering the tower and walking towards him. letting you lead the conversation, introducing the topic of that fight between the two of you. as intelligent and witty as he is, theodore couldn't start a sincere conversation about feelings, honesty and vulnerability even if his life depends on it.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

BUT PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING, don't bring another boy there. not to the astronomy tower— to yours and theo's secret place, a silent agreement between you two, that this is a spot, a moment, a deal that is special and exclusive to the other.

after all, before theo can feel sadness, anger will consume him like a vicious virus. fury boils on his blood, spreads through his veins, as jealousy burns on that aching (and fragile) heart of theodore nott's at the sight of his ragazza with someone else.

the silent threat of someone being on his rightful place— oh, that drives him insane.

so, like a child, like an immature and impulsive guy, theodore returns the favor: bringing another girl there. anyone, really; the first one that falls to his feet.

and he'll kiss her there, too. theo's lips show no mercy, roughly kissing that girl that he barely remembers the name, imagining that it's you on his lap— as if he's taking revenge on you for breaking his heart, diminishing the value that theo thought he had. out of spite, he'll bite that girl's lip; making it hurt, almost bleed, when his mind cruelly invades his thoughts with the image of you and that bastard smiling in the astronomy tower.

a place that should be reserved for him.

soon, theo regrets this. as awful as it sounds, he's not particularly worried about that girl's feelings— he's worried about yours. theodore panics at the idea of you finding out, as if he hadn't done this to get some sick sense of revenge, of having his feelings avenged in some kind of way.

and you betrayed this silent agreement first!

nevermind that. theo is terrified that if you find out he did this, then any chance he build up with you, with such effort and daydreams, is crushed by his stupid, impulsive hot-headed behavior of his.

theo genuinely despises the idea of having another woman by his side, on that window frame, touching his pack of cigarettes; lighting them up with a lighter that isn't yours. engage conversation with someone that isn't you, on those nights spent talking and smoking together.

it doesn't matter if you find out or not— theodore shows up at your door, with flowers on his hands; picked by himself, stolen from professor pomfrey's garden. his abandonment issues, the terror of the idea of being alone as he was before he had a glimpse of you, makes the prideful slytherin beg.

and he does. no more games. no more longing gazes that wonder if the feelings are mutual or not.

he wants to be yours. please, be mine. his blue eyes gaze into yours, seeking for the truth of your soul, pleading for a sign that you were meant to be. sii la mia ragazza, non riesco a respirare quando non sei vicino. soffocherò senza di te.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

the next time you enter the astronomy tower, you'd find that the place had a different tranquility to it. something like little lamps, with a blanket on the floor— facing the window, where the stars shine so bright, as if the universe required such a beautiful starry sky for you and theo only; nevermind the students who are already sleeping, exhausted from the day full of classes.

theo didn't have the time to buy you something; at his command, there were only food and snacks in the castle's kitchen, warm blankets, pillows and two willing best friends to help.

( while lorenzo kept giving suggestions to further increase the romance of this surprise date between the two of you, looking more excited about it than theo himself— well, mattheo riddle lends more than a hand, to make sure that he'd stop hearing such nonsenses about you. every. single. day. from the moment when theo wakes up sighing because of you, eats as he steals glances at your table, rambles about you and dares to avert each topic to your existence. mattheo might sympathize with you— but god, theo is so in love with you, that mattheo's eye starts twitching at the mention of your name. )

it's for the best if you don't make him wait; in those five minutes that he spent waiting for you, theo fixed the blanket to be an inch straighter. two minutes in, and theodore considers changing the position of the blanket and those snacks perfectly pilled up, his mind playing tricks that this blanket is crooked.

and he stresses. as if he'd lose the love of his life because he couldn't put a blanket on a perfect straight position. thirty seconds later, he's fixing the places he put the lamps; checking with an attentive eye if they're symmetrical.

maybe he should have brought a ruler.

because there's nothing else he can fix, theo's critical eye stares at the snacks. some he likes, most of them food that he knows you like.

however, theo is panicking. what if you're suddenly allergic to a food he brought?

does he know how to deal with a person having an allergic reaction?

thankfully, this paranoia spiraling on that genius mind of his reaches its end— the door opens, and you enter the astronomy tower; eyes shining at the sight of that familiar room, now decorated. beautifully decorated. the cherry on top is theodore nott standing there: smiling at you, looking somewhat shy, because theo never really put such an effort for someone.

never cared this much. never loved this much. never craved the approval, never needed the praise from someone of his age.

you spend hours there. if theo was nervous at first, such anxiety dissipates into thin air— the familiarity of being alone with you here, in the astronomy tower, calming his senses, subsiding such a silly nervousness with the happiness of being with you.

you definitely cuddle. and if you two fall asleep there, in each other's arms, probably holding hands, warm between blankets and pillows— well, that's a secret shared between you two.

morning arrives with the interruption of such peaceful slumber; the sunrise bringing too much light for you both. of course, theo walks you to your dorm, even to your room if you let him; saying goodbye with a tender, soft kiss that displays the vulnerability of his stolen heart.

heart that is on your hands. heart that remains with you, as he walks away to his own dorm, already missing you. your scent. your voice. your touch, your warmth.

and even though you'd have to wake up in a few hours for breakfast at the great hall— well, theo still misses you, anyways.

unable to sleep, theo spends those three hours looking at the ceiling. a silly smile on his face, that makes mattheo riddle groan at the sight of this.

god. theodore nott would NOT shut the fuck up for a whole month.

౨ৎ you know where to find me, ♡ ͡

and i know where to look . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— by far, my weakest work. but it was written in fifteen minutes, so why not post it! as always, you're more than welcome to interact with me + send messages. tysm for the feedback!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[sky-is-the-limit]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom,

deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPRENATES ME WITH HIS BABIES. My prayers for you be like no lube, no protection from the condom or the lord, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord's prayer, YOU sir can OBLITERATE me and uses no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride.

[lunamoonbby]

Cult!141 x Fem!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT MDNI

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Dark Content, Manipulation, allusions to past abuse very brief not in depth, female reader, swearing, pregnancy, birth, poly relationships, smut, Cult AU, the use of lord in terms to worship, Price being referred to as Father

If you or a loved one is experiencing abuse, know that there is help, and please help anyone that you know to help them escape from that abuse.

⭐️Author's Note: The religion that the villagers follow is not defined, but it is NOT associated with Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or any other type of religion there is⭐️

CHAPTER 1: New Beginnings

Running, you couldn't stop running until you were sure that it was safe to stop. There was an opportunity for you to escape from your ex-boyfriend, and you took it, only taking with you whatever cash you had left, and to be honest, it wasn't that much, $100 can't do much in today's time but you'll figure it out, but it was better than nothing. So here you are running for what felt like days but had only been hours, it was rainy and cold, your soaking wet, the ground muddy and mud covering the ankles of your jeans, your shirt a bit torn a result from snagging on a couple of branches, and hair a mess with leaves sticking to your wet hair. You spot a distant light that looks to be 1-2 miles away. You decide to rest until you catch your breath, and then you'll start running again. After you caught your breath, you started running towards the light, and as the light got closer you saw that it was village and slowed to a walk.

As you approached the village, the inhabitants were giving you strange looks from shock to disgust, but you paid no mind, as you noticed a church, and you were only focused on heading to the church that was on top of the hill. As you reached the top of the hill, you noticed a large willow tree, and the church looked rundown but gave it that slight gothic touch. You walked towards the church and opened the door, "hello is anybody in here?" You walked in the church looking around. "Who goes there?" An unknown voice resonates through the inside of the church. "My name is y/n and I'm in need of assistance, I was hoping that the church would help me, I don't have much, I ran away from my abusive ex-boyfriend I just need a place to stay and then I'll leave to another village please I need your help" Price steps out and greets y/n, "hello y/n I'm Father Price, I'm the preacher of this village. I'm sorry to hear about your troubles, I know some people who are willing to help you. You are also in need of some clothing. I'll see what I can do with that. Now follow me. I'm sure you can use a meal, a warm shower, and a cozy bed."

You breathed a sigh of relief "thank you so much but before we go, I'd like to make a prayer, on how thankful I am that I found refuge and that I am now safe, if that's ok with you." Price smile at what y/n said, "a devoted follower. Of course, we can pray. Let's go to the altar so we can pray." Price leads y/n to the alter. When approaching the alter y/n sees a symbol there's a skull but the lower jaw is missing, and there's a sword with wings coming out of the sword, and on each side, there is a viny plant and to the back of it all there was a black spade, 'must be the religious symbol' y/n thought to herself. "Give me your hands so that our lord can hear your prayers better." Y/n held out her hands for Father Price to hold. Price then starts the prayer for y/n. After the prayer, Father Price asks, "Do you have any offerings for our lord?" Shocked y/n replies with defeat, "I only have $100, and I can't use it all. I need it to help me get back on my feet." Price gently cups y/n face with one hand and swipes his thumb left and right on y/n's lower lip, "my child you seem to be a very devoted follower of our lord, if you give him that offering, he will definitely bless you, your $100 would turn into $100,000 and you would definitely get back on your feet. My 2 friends they had nothing but $50 combined, and they offered their money, and now they both have their own tavern here in this very village."

Y/n contemplated it's the least she could do after all. Father Price did help her out in her time of need, "where can I put my offering?" She said while taking out her $100. "You can place it in the black obsidian bowl." She places her money in the bowl and says a thank you, "thank you, my child. I'm sure our Lord is thankful for that generous offer. Come let me take you to a nice spot that I know so we can get some food in you and a warm bed." Price then takes y/n's hand then leads her into the town and takes her to the tavern, when they both enter the tavern, the place goes quiet cause the people rarely see Father Price outside of the church and that he also has an outsider with him. "Well, well, well, who do you have there, Father Price?"

Taglist: let me know if you want to be added by commenting

@yourloverslost @tabbslouuformer @angelrissa

@freefallingup13

I hope you enjoyed it💖

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: You Better Not Let Him In [Yandere Wolfman x Reader]

Title: You Better Not Let Him In [Yandere Wolfman x Reader]

Synopsis: The door doesn't lock, and he still wants you to let him in.

For Horrorfest request: trying to hide from a wolfman but the door wont close

Word count: 600ish

notes: yandere, non-graphic mentions of violence, implications of possible sexual assault

“Oh, please.” The words bubble from your chapped lips like a prayer. A desperate one, the kind you would whisper like a mantra as a child, eyes squeezed shut, on those nights that you were suddenly sure you wouldn’t wake up. 

Now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep-I-pray-the-lord-my-soul-to-keep. 

If-I-should-die-before-I-wake-I-pray-the-lord-my-soul-to-take.

But there’s no use praying to the wolfman on the other side of the door.

No use at all. 

His breath is loud; you imagine how hot it must be against the door. What it must smell like: primal, like the rest of him. He pants in great short huffs from the running he did–the chasing, more like.

Chasing you from the hiking trail all the way into your little cabin (he burst through the front door, broke the lock clean off); down the hall, into what had been your bedroom for the past week.

Only there was no lock on the door–it won’t even close all the way, thanks to the faulty hinges. And there’s nothing heavy enough to put in front of it, nothing you’re strong enough to drag.

Nothing at all you could do but brace your shoulder against it, even though you saw the wolfman break the heavy lock on the thick front door of the cabin like it was nothing. 

So you know, without a hint of a doubt–

The only reason he’s not inside right now is because he’s waiting for you to open up, like a good little thing, like Red Riding Hood smiling brightly at grandmother before she gets oh-so-close enough to see the points of her sharp teeth. 

“Open the door,” he says, in a voice that is not very sweet. “Open the door, and let me in.”

There’s a sound against the wood. Scratching. A claw–his claw, he has no hands but paws with nails so sharp you’re sure they will gut you easily–dragging down the wood.

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is press your shoulder feebly against the door, knowing he’s on the other side, knowing all it would take is a shove to have you on the floor and the door swinging off its loose hinges.

How did he find you? How long had he followed you? It all falls into place, here, on the other side of the door. The unusual footprints around the cabin. The ripped up flowers left at your door, topped with a dead mouse. The sounds in the woods--the snapping, the breath you thought had been a fox or perhaps, a lumbering raccoon.

It was him, and now--

“Open the door,” he says to your silence. Louder and lower, and you catch the sound of spittle in it. He won’t be patient for much longer. You have to make a choice.

Your heart pounds so hard you can hear it. 

He can, too. 

“Open the door,” he says, for the final time. “Or I’ll–”

Huff-and-puff-and-blow-your-house-in.

“Please don’t,” you squeak out, sounding like the prey that you are. “I’ll–-I’ll open it.”

It takes longer than you expect to force your body to move away from the door. It doesn’t want to move. It knows what’s going to happen, even as your brain whirs and whirs and tries to guess. 

He could eat you. Tear you to pieces, gobble you down like dinner. He could–he could–but oh, you know, there are worse things than being eaten.

Worse things are what you think about when he pushes the door, which half-falls off the broken hinges, and stands in the now-empty frame. 

He smiles, and his teeth are very sharp. 

[hornydonutpost]

no lube , no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom,

deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPRENATES ME WITH HIS BABIES. My prayers for you be like no lube, no protection from the condom or the lord, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord's prayer, YOU sir can OBLITERATE me and uses no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking,

[mt-oe]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧…𝐃𝐖𝐌𝐀?—soul eater au mizu!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Firstly, thank you so much for always leaving funny and kind replies on my fics, and being so nice all the time <3 All of you motivate me so much and make me enjoy writing more ////

Second, I know this isn't a request, but it's my birthday today! I have no idea how to celebrate this year and what better way than to make a crossover with the first anime I've ever loved?

Truly, I'm so happy to be making something anyone can enjoy on my birthday. Thank you so much for appreciating my writing <3

Hope all of you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, mentions of weaponry, she/her he/him they/them for mizu, reader thinks mizu is a man

note/s: made mizu the weapon because of the scene where she said she was made of mixed metal

...

Ah...

It's so motherfucking hot.

Is Nevada...always like this?

Fuck.

"How much more?" you groaned out loud to yourself, collapsing on the seemingly never-ending staircase for the nth time that morning. Sweat was dripping down your forehead and back like bullets. You could feel your head pounding and spinning from the sweltering heat, too painful to even look up at the sun that was, quite literally, laughing at you.

But, you knew you couldn't give up right now. Not when the school of your dreams was just at the top, waiting for you. Your index finger hooked itself under your collar as you got up again and started making your way up again. "Ah damn it. Why the hell is the sun laughing?!" you yelled, voice hoarse from the drought in your throat. Step by step and complaint after complaint.

It took you a while—a long long loooooong while—but after a few more collapses and some prayers to Lord Shinra, you finally arrived. Wiping the sweat off of your face, you looked up and marveled at the grandeur of the building in front of you.

Death Weapon Meister Academy. DWMA for short.

The place where weapons and meisters from all-over the globe gather. A well-known institution dedicating itself to preventing the formation of another kishin through training students in combat and teaching to control their abilities as weapons. Entrusted and funded by countries all-over the globe, that's how much of a bigshot this place was.

Everyone on the goddamn planet knew about it. The school that the world's hero headed and where the world's heroes were formed. Anyone in their right mind dreamed of attending school here. Heck, this was your life long dream since you were a little kid. Luckily for you, you were born in a family with a lineage of meisters so admission was an easy process.

Thank you, dear ancestors. I hope all of you are resting well.

With a bated breath, you took a step forward, the wind cooling your body down as you looked around. This place was absolutely beautiful. Even more than what you had imagined or seen in pictures. The strong breeze blew against you, making the vastness of the place felt. Turning around, you gasp at the beautiful view of Death City.

'Guess this'll be my new home,' you thought with a small smile, taking in the scenery. The houses looked like little dollhouses from above, so cute and quaint. Despite being surrounded by the desert, the city did not look even the slightest amount of dead. In fact, it looked quite busy with all the people out on the streets.

You sighed dreamily, thinking about the life you'll be living from now own. All the lessons you'll learn, the friends you'll meet, what the dorms looked like, how the food tastes. You'd probably face a lot problems too.

But, first things first, you have to find a weapon.

That shouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, look around. Students were walking and mingling all around you and some of them were alone. There's probably lots of weapons that were in the same situation as you. Maybe you could ask them?

Stepping inside the building, you fully expected someone, maybe a student or a faculty member assisting the newcomers. But what you saw was the last thing you could have thought of. The moment you came in, by a table where some brochures were placed, you immediately found...a zombie?

You looked up at him, eyes wide open and shaken by his existence. The zombie stared—was he even staring? You couldn't even tell—back at you, a slightly serious but overall neutral expression on his purple face. 'Welcome Freshmen!' the sign above the door near him said. This was definitely a unique welcome. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn't find the words.

...

"Weapon or meister?"

HOLY SHIT IT TALKS.

Your body jolted at the sound of his voice before looking behind you to check if he was talking to you. You nodded before opening your mouth to reply, a string of stuttered incoherent words could be heard before you finally replied. "M-Meister," you replied nervously.

The figure nodded and handed you a brochure and a nameplate with the word 'meister' on it. "You can find a partner inside. If you don't, there's a dorm warming party in the evening." His blank eyes stared at you for a moment longer before he spoke again, "I'm Sid. A faculty member. Welcome to DWMA."

Attaching the tag on your shirt, you nodded at him with a slight smile. Seems like he was a good guy after all. "Thank you sir," you said, heading inside the room.

Inside, lots of students have gathered already. Some were just chatting amongst themselves and some where trying to convince others to be their partner. There were some who were arguing over who another person would choose. However, there were those who just sat somewhere, waiting for someone to approach them.

Similar to them, you sat down on a random chair, looking around at who could be your potential partner. You knew you couldn't choose just willy-nilly. The wavelength of your souls had to match and so does your personality. No one wants a partner that they couldn't get along with after all.

After a few more students entered, Sid closed the door before clearing his throat to gather everyone's attention. "I guess this should be everyone," he said, looking around and nodding. "I'll reintroduce myself. I'm Sid, a faculty member here in DWMA. All of you are gathered here to find your partner."

At the mention of 'partner', your heart began beating faster from excitement. The thought of finally finding someone whose soul matches yours, to go on adventures with and defeat bad guys with, thrilled you. "Once you're sure, head over to me to register. Registration ends a day before class starts."

With that, you pushed yourself up from your seat to begin interacting with others. Though it soon dawned on you that interacting wasn't the hard part nor was it finding someone who's personality was compatible with yours.

It was finding someone whose soul was on the same wavelength.

The first attempt you had tried was with a young woman who claimed to have lived in Nevada her whole life. Her weapon form was a baseball bat, and you would soon come to know that weapons that were incompatible with their meisters were immovable. Literally.

Upon transforming in your hands, an indescribably heavy weight suddenly pulled you down to the floor. With determination, you placed your hands on the handles and tried your best to lift her up to no avail. Both of you apologized to each other before going off to look for another person to try connecting with. In short, your souls didn't match. Incompatible.

You tried again, now with a morning star. Again. Incompatible.

Again. A 9mm pistol? Incompatible.

A butterfly knife? Incompatible.

A sabre? Incompatible.

A gauntlet? Incompatible.

A karambit? Incompatible.

A rapier? Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A sense of defeat washed over you as most people in the room soon found a partner, some even a trio. The event finally ended with you being one of the only people who wasn't able to find a partner. Your stomach twisted with disappointment though Sid tried to reassure you.

After receiving your monthly allowance, you headed to the dorms to finally get your room assignment. You knew it was childish to feel so down especially when the deadline for the registration was still a few days away, but you couldn't help yourself.

'What if I don't find one?' you thought to yourself, frowning as you watched your senior introduce the dorms to everyone. Worry was running through you, making it impossible for you to pay complete attention to what she was saying.

Going up the stairs, you were finally introduced to your room. Trying your best to cheer up, you thought maybe your roommate could be the weapon you were looking for. Or maybe you could be besties or something.

However, as soon as you reached your room, your senior suddenly stopped before you could enter. "Err...I know this is a bit difficult to understand, but as of the moment, you don't have a roommate yet," your senior, who you found out was named Tsugumi, said with a sheepish smile. "B-But don't worry! They said they already had someone in mind. Your roommate just..umm...didn't appear today."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. What do you mean you don't have a roommate yet? Was this some sort of joke? You haven't even made a friend yet nor have you found a weapon, and now your roommate was missing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking a bit nervous from your reaction. You tried your best to give her a smile, but the curve of your lips just wouldn't cooperate as easy as it usually did. "Yeah. I'm okay! Just a bit worried," you replied.

Tsugumi doesn't seem to be convinced but decided to let you be anyway. "I'm sure she's fine. I heard she was penalized for dueling with another student without faculty supervision. She'll probably be here by tomorrow. For the meantime, why don't you settle in?" she tried to reassure you, to which you nodded with a small smile of your own. "I will. Thank you."

After she left, you opened the door to your room before stepping in. Closing the door behind you, you sighed and made your way to the bed. The bed squeaked slightly under your weight, echoing throughout the room. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked around.

"The dorm warming party. If I don't find a partner or a roommate there, I'm speaking to the faculty," you whispered to yourself with a push of exhausted determination. You stood up again and gave yourself a little puff of air. For the meantime, you fixed your side of the room. At least you could pick which bed was more comfy.

---

Evening soon came by and most students in your dorm had gathered to celebrate the dorm warming party, though it was obviously turned into some weapon-meister finding event again, you didn't mind. You were just as desperate as the other students.

As everyone interacted with one another, you once again tried your best to find a weapon whose soul matched with yours.

You met a man, a karambit, who hailed from the same country as you so you got along quite well immediately. Having someone to talk to about familiar experiences especially in terms of culture and tradition comforted you despite your situation. Maybe the similarities you had could tie your soul's frequencies together?

After a few more chats, the two of you decided to try and see if your souls matched. However, upon his transformation, the familiar physical and emotional weight of rejection pulled you down. You, once again, couldn't lift him up. Incompatible.

Oh death, what was going on? Why can't you find someone to be your partner?

Apologizing to the man, you mingled with the other students, determination wavering but not depleted. No, you weren't going to let the night end without a weapon.

A flail? Incompatible.

A scythe? Incompatible.

A tanto? Incompatible.

A machete? Incompatible.

An M16? Incompatible.

A musket? Incompatible.

A double-crossguard long sword?

You didn't even know those existed but still...Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A deep disappointed sigh left your lips as you stepped out of the dorm to get some air. This was unbelievable. You've been trying all day! At this point, you were starting to doubt if you were ever going to find a partner.

Dear ancestors, I'm sorry if I disappoint you.

Groaning, you made your way to the city. Maybe a bit of exploration would cheer you up. Step by step, you made your way down the stairs to the streets of Death City. The streets were a lot more quiet than it was earlier. Only a few shops were still open and it looked like they were getting ready to close too.

It didn't really matter to you though. You were just here to take a walk anyway.

As the night deepened, the streets soon grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon enough, you found yourself lost within the city's labyrinth-like streets. An eerie aura soon covered the dark streets, as if you were going to get kidnapped any mome—Hey no! Don't think like that! You're fine, you're fine! Perfectly fine haha.

Nervously, you hummed a small shaky tune to distract you from the spooky atmosphere, turning around to try and make your way back to the dorms. Suddenly, the wind blew incredibly cold, goosebumps ran down your skin. A feeling that someone was watching you suddenly loomed over you, making your stomach flip.

"N-No that can't be haha," you told yourself, rubbing your arms to try and get rid of the shakes in your system. "The city is safe. The city is safe. It's just my imagination. I'm just really upset and I'm imagi—"

crash!

"—ning..things.."

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the sudden loud sound, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears. That was definitely not your imagination. That sounded very real and that sounded like it happened right fucking behind you.

Hesitantly, you turned around slowly to take a look, hoping it was just a cat or something. But upon looking, the only thing you saw were sharp blue orbs staring at you. Glaring at you.

Oh shit.

Immediately, you sprinted forward, hoping to find someone or something that could help you. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and your legs ached as you continued to push yourself beyond the limits of your corporeal body.

This was absolutely the worst day of your life.

First, you couldn't find a weapon whose soul matched yours. Second, your roommate, who you had hoped to be friends with, didn't appear. And now, you were being chased by someone or something that you couldn't even see from how dark it was. Worse of all, you couldn't fight because you didn't have a FUCKING WEAPON!

You could hear the mysterious figure's footsteps following close behind you, chasing you down tirelessly through the dirty and smelly streets. Your knees trembled from fatigue, heartbeat echoing louder than your footsteps. But the person chasing you sounded so close, you couldn't stop now.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared, the sound no longer following you as you ran. A part of your brain sighed in relief at it's disappearance, but the other part felt more paranoid from its absence. The logical side of you knew that it didn't disappear. There was no way it would after chasing you for so long.

Your suspicions were confirmed as a new sound could be heard behind you from a distance. Footsteps significantly heavier than those chasing you before. Looking back as you ran, your eyes widened in fear as you saw red eyes staring at you hungrily from a distance. A big burly bald man, reaching past 6 feet, carrying a mace heading your way. To make things worse, as you ran forward, you were immediately stopped as the streets cut off into a dead end, leaving you with nowhere to go.

Turning around, you looked at the person chasing. Without a doubt, this man's soul was definitely a kishin egg. But fuck, you can't do shit. Not without a weapon.

A shaky breath left your lips as you looked up at the sky, slowly accepting that this was where you were going to die. A weaponless meister whose journey in DWMA barely began. Your eyes glazed with tears, both of frustration and fear, looking up at the moon that was...grinning?

"Oh why the hell are you smiling?" you muttered, glaring at it. Hearing the man's footsteps close to you, you turned to look at him fearfully. The man didn't smile, nor did he talk, his arms merely lifted his mace up as he approached your defeated figure.

Man...at least this dude had a weapon, you thought. Ears ringing, you closed your eyes and waited for your impeding death.

...

Why is it not hurting yet?

...

Any moment now?

"Are you going to keep standing there?" a strained voice asked. Immediately, you opened your eyes to see a tall figure, hair in a bun, blocking the mace with what seemed to be a katana. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, the figure had already turned to look down at you with a glare.

A soft gasp leaving your lips as you saw his eyes.

Blue. Like the ones from earlier.

The hypnotizing shade shaking you to the core, but at the same time hypnotizing your soul.

Realizing that you were frozen in place, your savior let out a loud "tsk" before looking back up at the kishin egg. As the enemy lifted his mace to swing it down, Mizu parried it with great force, a loud metallic crack resonating in the air as small bits of the sword flew. Upon seeing this opening, his hands grabbed your wrist, slipping away from the enemy and dragging you along the streets.

Static went through your mind as the two of you ran. Your eyes never leaving the mysterious new person's figure. It seems that there weapon from earlier wasn't a demon weapon as you expected, so you still didn't know if he was a meister, a weapon, or a regular person. You didn't even know if he was actually a good person.

Your savior wore what seemed to be a haori, tied close with an obi at his waist. His body seemed to be lean and his grip on your wrist was firm, but not enough to hurt you. A gasp left your lips as he suddenly pulled you into a corner, holding your body close to his. His heartbeat was so loud, you could feel it against your back.

"What are you—mmph!" He immediately covered your mouth with his hand, peeking around the corner to take a look at the enemy before immediately pulling back. Pulling you closer, a shiver went down your spine as you felt him lean down close to your ear, breath tickling your skin. "I'll distract him, you run. Got it?"

Breathing deeply, you tried your best to think, but the upcoming footsteps was making your anxiety rise, fogging your mind. With no other choice, you nodded. Taking your signal, your savior released the hand covering your mouth, putting the broken blade down on the ground.

Your eyes widened as you watched his hand transform into what seemed like a blade. Blue like his eyes with wave-like patterns, sharp edge telling you that this person was definitely already used to transforming.

The moment both of you felt the enemy's footsteps stop near your hiding spot, his untransformed hand immediately pushed you away before jumping in front of the enemy. Without another thought, you ran away, feet picking up the pace immediately.

A small part of your heart ached, feeling guilty for leaving the man behind after he had helped you. You felt horrible. Like something was wrong and you should go back to help him. The uncomfortable feeling running so deep you could feel it in your...soul?

You couldn't take it anymore. Before you could go on any further, your feet slowed down until they halted. The moment you did, you heard a loud crash by the street where you had come from, and that was all it took for you to run back.

On the ground, your savior laid, trying to pick himself up, but it was clear to you that he was hurt and exhausted. Your eyes darted for anything that could help you until they landed on the broken blade from earlier. Hurriedly, you picked it up, rushing parry the upcoming attack.

Anticipating the pain of the impact, your savior gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. But to her surprise, the sound of metal crashing against metal could be heard before metal shards flew in the air as you parried the attack with all your strength.

Her eyes widened in shock, hands immediately pushing herself up before his sharp blue eyes glared at you with such ferocity. But before he could tell you to run away once again, you threw the sword away and gripped his hand, preparing to pull him away.

The moment she felt your hand in hers, Mizu didn't know why, but her mind went blank.

The rage inside her quelled and her heart began beating faster. She was so used to fighting alone, to using her abilities as a weapon for herself, to closing herself off. But right now, it felt like she wanted to transform for you.

It felt safe. Like your souls were connected.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Mizu had transformed into a weapon in your hand. A small gasp leaving your lips as you felt her form shift into something different and her weight become lighter. You turned your head to look at her, eyes widening as you gasped.

In your hand was a katana. A beautiful one at that. The blade itself was a distinct shade of blue which reminded you of the sky before sunrise. A wave-like pattern adorned the hamon in an almost artistic sense. Despite the beauty of the blade, the cutting edge itself was extremely sharp. Almost scarily sharp.

The handle felt different to the usual Japanese swords you have seen around the school, having no cords wrapped around it. However, it appeared to be a slight cream-ish white with patterns on it, reminding you of handles made of ray skin. Around the handle, you couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at the menuki wrapped around it. It was...cute. Not something you'd expect from someone so intimidating.

"Keep your eyes on the enemy!" you heard his voice say, snapping you out of your trance. Immediately, you looked up before dodging another attack just in time. Your body shook with fear and the adrenaline rushing through it. You couldn't even feel your face with how scared you were. Before both of you could comprehend it, you were already running.

Fuck. You could feel your soul shaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu could feel the fear running through you too. She could feel how erratic your wavelength was becoming as she watched you flee the scene with her in your hand. But it was no use, the enemy was close behind both of you, hot on your trail.

Your feet continued to run as fast as you could until you found a small corner to hide in. Panting softly, you looked at the blade in your hands, biting your lip in shame. "I'm sorry," you whispered to him, curling up into a ball. "I...I'm scared."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. A part of her wanted to tell you off for being such a coward, but another part believed in you even if she didn't know why. Mizu sighed, looking down at her own feet, before looking off into the darkness. "I understand," he mumbled, making you look up.

He groaned to himself, unable to comprehend how compelled he felt to open up to you. Maybe she just didn't want to admit it, but deep inside her, she was scared too. "I...my soul is impure. Made by a kishin egg's and a good soul," he started, the sudden revelation making your eyes go wide.

"Not many meisters wanted to pair with a weapon whose soul was mixed with a sinners, and those who did...were incompatible." He looked up at you, before giving you a small smile. "That was until you," he chuckled, voice resembling a sigh. "It's fine if you're scared. We're both new to this after all."

You gulped thickly, looking at Mizu guiltily. His story tugging at your heart strings but at the same time calming you. No, you weren't going to let both of you die like this. You're not going to disappoint your savior who trusted you enough to let you hold him for the first time.

Gathering as much courage as you could, you shakily stood up, hand gripping the handle tighter. Her eyes widened as she watched your eyebrows knit together and your slightly swollen lips part as you took a deep breath. Her smile turned into something more genuine, more proud of you. "Look sharp, okay?" Pulse pounding loudly, you made your way out of your hiding spot, scanning the area until you made eye contact with the kishin egg.

The coward in you wanted to run, seeking the comfort of safety. But, you were a DWMA student weren't you? This was finally your chance to prove it.

The ground trembled as the enemy ran towards you, you swinging his mace aiming for your head. Dodging swiftly, you took the opportunity to stab the enemy's foot, making him keel and bend over in pain. With the new opening, you cut his hamstrings to render him unable to stand. All slashes done with ease, amazing you with how great of a weapon your savior was.

In attempt to save himself, the enemy prepared himself and parried your incoming attacks. But it was no use, with how light the katana in your hand was, you easily overwhelmed him, slashing his arm off before finally cutting his head off.

A loud thud could be heard as his body fell to the ground, head rolling to your feet, making you shudder. You watched as the enemy's remains turned to ashes, revealing a soul. A red soul. A kishin egg, as they called it.

You gasped as your savior suddenly pulled half his body out of the blade's sword and reached for the soul floating in front of you. His blue eyes narrowed at it, inspecting it before putting it into his mouth. Your eyes followed the outline of his throat as the red orb traveled down in what you could describe as an oddly smooth but very ever-so-slightly attractive manner.

But wait...

...

I think we forgot an important detail here.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled in surprise, making the man jolt back into the sword before glaring at you. You stared at him, then to the wave pattern on the flat of the blade, then to him, then to the cutting edge, then back at him.

Mizu looked visibly confused as you lifted him up and continued to stare with awe and wonder, wondering why you were acting so weird. "I'm holding...a weapon," you breathed out, grin tugging up your lips. "I'm actually holding one. I'm holding you."

You couldn't believe it. In your hands was a weapon.

An actual fucking weapon. One that didn't slam against the ground when you tried to carry it. One whose soul matched with yours.

Finally.

A katana? Compatible.

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Admittedly, the situation made her feel weird, but the look of amazement in your eyes told her that although she wouldn't like to admit it, your soul actually felt at peace with hers just as hers was with yours.

As if the two of you were sharing a moment more intimate than it seemed.

Taking a step back, you watched as Mizu went back to his human form. You've watched students transform before, but seeing Mizu transform made your heart soar with joy. After all, you were watching your partner transform. Your weapon They were your weapon.

Yours.

His eyes stared down at you as you continued to look up at him in amazement. Eyes tracing his features, taking in every detail, the way his mouth moved as he spoke. The sound of him clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and to look at his expectant expression. "Mizu."

"P-Pardon?" you stuttered out sheepishly, pinching your arm lightly to make sure you weren't dreaming. "It's my name. You'll need it," he said with a nonchalant tone, turning to head back to the academy. Letting out a series of incoherent stutters, you walked right behind him. "I'll need it...?" you repeated, a smile of confusion and excitement tugging at your lips.

"Don't look so confused. You're my meister now, aren't you?"

[familiarscars]

Infamous Desire | Nicholas Chavez

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. nicholas chavez x female reader. ⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. With dreams becoming more and more real, you live in the impasse between succumbing to the infamous desire. ⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). dirty talk, somnophilia, knife play, explicit sex, murder, stalker, profanity.

With your palms together, you hear each word of his like music to your ears. He says “God, our Father, take away the sins of the world” as if he were not the bearer of most of them.

Light brown hair perfectly combed back, narrow gaze and broad shoulders over the dark cassock with red details over the cross. Father Charles was the definition of a heretic, frighteningly handsome and intoxicating beautiful, capable of warming parts hitherto unknown beneath the sacred vestments.

"May the Lord lead you safely to your homes, my brothers, I have heard that an evildoer is roaming Houston." Father Charles warns, closing his Bible and turning his attention to the faithful. "Pray, fast, keep evil far from your homes and avoid going out at dusk."

Leaving the only chapel in Houston empty, everyone followed the low sun due to the time and left after the end of Sunday mass, except you. Running her fingers over the dark wooden benches as she walked forward, her eyes never left the man standing at the pulpit, focused on the scriptures. From this point of view, his arms seemed larger, as if they were going to tear the tailored fabric at any moment.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, dreaming about him every night after prayer had become a routine, and it was common for the temperature to fluctuate between her legs.

"Is everything okay, sister?" Father Charles' voice cut through your thoughts that seemed to be drifting into dangerous territory.

''Yes, yes" You answered a little shakily, adjusting your skirt as a distraction "Do you need any more help to fix the church?"

Father Charles gave you that look and smiled, walking towards you, flames coming out of his pupils and shooting through your body like embers. Since his arrival at the parish, nothing seemed to have returned to its normal state.

"Always so dedicated, sister…" Charles said in a hoarse whisper, leaning down until he was at your height, he lifted your chin with his fingertips and your faces were so close that the warm air of his breath blew against your face. "You deserve the best reward that heaven has to offer you."

With his fingers moving away from the contact with your face, you felt him blush and smiled shyly as you shrugged your shoulders. "Would it be bold of me to ask what it would be, Father Charles?"

"That's not an answer I can give when my mission is to only apply punishments."

"Then maybe I deserve to be punished." You say frankly, forgetting that you are in front of a Catholic authority, obeying only the command of the unbearable heat between your thighs.

"Do you wish to confess, sister?" He asks before half-closing his eyes.

Closed in the four wooden walls of a confessional, your fingers lowered the veil that covered the top of your head, and from the side view you saw Father Charles sitting in the next room.

"Father, give me your blessing because I have sinned"

You say without taking your attention off his erect body. "Every night in my dreams my object of desire manages to persuade me, without any effort, I allow him to take me, to soil my body with his sweet profanity and give me the cup of sin to drink with him. It is becoming more and more recurrent, I am no longer able to separate illusion from reality and being close to him has been torture without remembering the images we experience every night."

"It doesn't seem that serious to me, sister" he began with a deep voice filling the confessional. "We cannot control our dreams, there is no need to consider it a sin to have carnal desires."

"Not even if the object of desire, is you?"

An anguished silence formed in seconds, from the side view you noticed Father Charles closing his fingers on his own thigh, shrinking the fabric of his cassock. You didn't know what that reaction meant more precisely, but a wave of regret for saying those words slowly emerged.

Six Hail Marys and twelve Our Fathers was your punishment, not exactly what you expected after revealing to your parish priest the unbridled delirium he caused in your head every night. Charles left the confessional in silence and, with the discouragement of having done the biggest mistake of your life, you returned to your room at the back of the church.

Cold water from the shower on your naked body, eyes closed, and nothing could contain the maddening agony of thinking about that man from the moment you woke up until the time you went to sleep. Like a volcano, he left a trail of overwhelming destruction with just his intoxicating presence and the woody scent of his skin.

Your fingers sailed to your nipples, twirling around them in circular motions, allowing your mind to take you as far as possible. Heat, tension, stiffness on the soft skin, that was the effect he had on you as if he were constantly electrocuting you with high voltage wires.

All the shame spread in his presence and you just wanted to feel him, you just wished that instead of your fingers entering, it were his. In your core, you made rotary movements until your clitoris stiffened from the spasm generated by your body. A moan escaped your lips, you're at the height of pleasure, didn't care about being heard by the other nuns in the room as you sank two more fingers inside yourself.

Between the strands of hair, you raised your head and noticed a presence watching you through the bathroom window, but you didn't move to stop when you realized that having someone on the other side made you even more excited.

A short scream tells you that you came on your fingers, and a last sigh of relief leaves your lips as you relax in the hot water. The sight of another body in the window is no longer there, and you raise your eyebrows, curiously wondering where the figure that was stalking you was.

After turning off the shower, you wrapped your body in a towel and with bare feet felt the cold floor on the way to the back door of the room. The night breeze attacked you with force, with a wind that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

You heard a grunting sound that seemed to come from the outskirts of the parish, and even though you were hesitant, you overcame your fear and followed wherever the noise was.

You covered your mouth with your hands to prevent your scream from echoing around the place as you saw Father Charles disemboweling a man's body in the middle of the lawn. His white clothes were stained with blood, his hair disheveled over his face, and he was panting like an animal as he finished taking the life of that being. Shock seemed not to be enough, your legs were frozen in place, and you forgot that your towel had slipped when you put your hands to your mouth in fright.

The dark and demonic gaze that had taken over Father Charles's body left the lifeless body and wandered towards you. Appetite leapt from his expression, as if the reclusive animal was finally free, thirsty for everything it needed to repel. He delighted in the fear on your face, and you tried to retreat as his steps advanced, but to no avail when he grabbed you by the throat and threw you against the church wall.

"Ask me, sister" he said softly, taking his hand from your throat to your hair, his face slowly nuzzled your neck and little by little you gave in as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Ask me why my body is covered in the blood of a guy I don't know."

"Because, Father Charles…" You gasped when he passed a rigid tip at your entrance.

"Because he was watching you from the same place where I usually jump to see you every night, sister."

"You…

"No… it wasn't just a dream, we gave in to our desires together, every damn night since I got here." He blew and sent shivers down your entire body, pressing your legs tighter around his waist. The object he was using, cold and firm, pierced you and elicited a shy moan. "There is no sin without punishment, sister. Prepare to meet the worst of the devil in me tonight."

The handle of Father Charles' knife moved back and forth against the liquid that was running between your legs. Hot, voracious and with the taste of blood, it was the kiss of the man destined for the holy life who synchronized his tongues at the same time as he passed his lips over my face and pressed his body against the wall.

Infamous desire inflamed your veins and you used your hips to grind against the tip of the knife with the slow and sensual rhythm of the kiss. Your moans were muffled by Charles' lips every time he sank the object deeper.

"That's it, darling," he exhaled in a hoarse voice. "There's no need to rush to finish this dance, I'll always come back the next morning."

Every night was real, he invaded your dreams and confused your reality with the kisses on your belly and the rotating movements he made against your clitoris. Responsible for all the orgasms that flooded your bed the previous morning, Father Charles escaped your fantasies and came true before your eyes.

Taking the soaked knife out of you, he heard the plea you made when you felt you were empty. With a mischievous smile, it didn't take long for him to fill you again with his hard and robust member, too strong for your tight entrance. Charles tore the walls of your pussy as he forced himself against you, and your moan as he dug his nails into your wounded back sounded even louder.

Your breathing synchronized, and he looked deep into your eyes as he thrust and lifted your body with each thrust. You closed your legs to squeeze him, and you had never heard a sound as intriguing as the moan of a man like him. Your body gave the first spasm and your eyes rolled back with the high concentration of pleasure in your vertebrae.

Charles gave you a relentless sequence of penetrations, slamming your back against the wall, rough and delirious, he didn't waste a single drop of your body, running his tongue over your face, neck and breasts, as if it were his fountain of youth.

With a long grunt, you came all over Charles and drew a restrained smile from him. He used his own fluid as lubricant to continue his thrusts. The pause made him sigh and with his fingers digging into the back of your neck he led you to kneel in front of him. His entire length was entering your mouth with difficulty.

You thought it was impossible for someone to have something so exaggerated, but he did. Your hand helped you by stimulating his erection and you worked on smearing it with your saliva, tasting it as it hit your throat. Charles writhed silently and made up for his lack of control by squeezing your hair between his fingers.

Your free hand massaged his balls without breaking eye contact with him. You felt your legs slip again just seeing Charles blush at how slowly he sucked your cock inside.

It was definitely not just a dream this time.