#SAVE ME WHITE BOY (LAMB) SAVE ME

[ballad-of-the-lamb]

stuff drawn between things

#stream doodles #but not really i'm just using the tag to store my abandoned art #seasonal depression kicking my ass <- hates april #need narilamb motivation. #SAVE ME WHITE BOY (LAMB) SAVE ME

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cult of Love

pairing: cult leader!hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.1k

warning/s: brain washing, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation, loss of virginity, corruption, hyunjin calls reader 'pretty', 'my lamb' and 'good girl', choking, power play, pain kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, breeding kink (wow lmk if i missed some)

a/n: this is just some dirty smut i had so much fun writing! hope you enjoy and if you did please reblog!🩷

~check out my: Masterlist♡

Being part of a big community that devotes all their time to serve only one person was not how you imagined you'd be living ever.

But here you are, after everyone in your life abandoned you, after everything stopped making sense, after everything you ever loved started hating you, after you almost fell off the edge.

He was the one who found you and the one who saved your lost, aching soul. A beacon of shining light, a man so beautiful that you weren't even sure he was real.

That was two years ago, when you were at your lowest, and now you are the happiest you've ever been in your entire life.

Your brain is re-wired only to know your leader, your god, Hyunjin. Only to obey his commands, heed by his word, worship him. And you are happy to do so, after all, he saved your life. He knows what's best for you, more than you do. He loves you, you know that anything he does to you and anything he makes you do he does so out of love.

That's what you were taught and what you believe. So, when you're finally invited to his huge tent, you couldn't be more excited.

One of his guards brought you a red rose the day before and you knew, as well as eveyone did, you are the next chosen one.

You can't sleep all night, wondering what's in store for you. What is your leader Hyunjin gonna ask of you, make you do? You really have no idea, but you're ready to do anything he says.

Come the morning, some of the other girls and boys helped you prepare. They've gotten commands to help you wash and shave, which made you feel a little bit nervous. With that you know you'll probably be naked in front of him at one point and you hope he likes what he sees.

You put on a beautiful white dress, one that Hyunjin sent for you through his guards. There's a flower crown on your head, courtesy of the girls and boys helping you get ready.

Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears when the guards come to pick you up and lead you to your leader's tent. On the way there, people clap for you and congratulate you.

Briefly you wonder, where the other women and men disappeared to after being invited into his tent but you bury that thought in favor of happier thoughts. Like how you can serve your god.

As soon as you walk in with the guards, you don't dare to look up so you don't seem disrespectful.

"Leave us."- his sweet voice rings in your ears. The guards bow shortly and leave, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

"Kneel, pretty."- he says and you do so, falling to your knees immediately, your eyes trained on the ground. Footsteps shuffle closer towards you and your heart jumps up into your throat.

"Look at me."- he says, his voice a little bit lower than before. You look up and are met with his godlike features that you missed seeing since he doesn't come out of his tent often. You're in awe every time you catch a glimpse of him, now even more when you're so close to him.

He places his finger on your chin, lifting it up a little. Your lips part as you continue looking at him. His finger slides slowly on your jaw down to your neck where he wraps his hand around you but doesn't squeeze.

Your eyes flutter at the action, hands folding behind your back in an act of submission towards your leader.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"- he asks.

"Yes, yes I will."- you answer immediately.

"You will do what?"- he smirks.

"I will be a good girl for you."- you repeat his words.

"Good."- he says, unwrapping his fingers from you and leaning back. "I wonder why I haven't brought you here earlier. You're really pretty."- he adds, leaning down to look at you more closely.

His eyes are dark and deep and you find yourself drowning in them, feeling weak and submissive just from the way he looks at you.

"T-thank you, Sir."- your voice wavers.

"Hyunjin will suffice. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."- he smirks again, running his thumb on your lower lip.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- saying his name like that feels blasphemous and you feel like you should be punished just for uttering it so easily. But he ordered you to call him by his name and that's what you're gonna do.

Hyunjin looms over you, his hands on your shoulders, slowly pushing the straps of your dress down. Your chest rises and falls together with your rapid breathing, his touch feels electric on your skin.

He keeps pushing your dress down until your ample breasts pop out for him to admire.

"So pretty."- he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your hardening nipple ever so slightly, teasing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, as he smiles at you.

"You've never been touched, right?"

"No, never."- you say, shaking your head innocently.

"That better be the truth, my lamb. You're mine to corrupt."- he smiles even wider and you shiver.

"It's the truth, Hyunjin."- you whisper his name, it still feels too holy to just roll of your tongue like that.

He smirks and starts undressing right in front of you, while you still kneel on the floor, breasts exposed. You can't believe he's doing that already, you feel like you haven't earned to look at his perfect body yet.

But there he is, in all his glory, his semi hard cock right in front of your face and your mouth waters, arousal pools between your legs.

"Worship my cock, pretty."- he's smirking at you, half-lidded eyes tracking your every breath, every twitch, every shiver.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you whisper and lean in closer. Your hand comes up to the base of his cock, tongue poking out of your lips to give his head a few experimental licks.

He chuckles at you, his hand coming down to caress your head gently.

"You're like a little kitten."- he says condescendingly but to you anything he says is a compliment.

"Put your mouth around it."- he instructs and you do so, enveloping his head with your lips.

"Show me how good you want to be for me. Suck."- Hyunjin commands and you do just what he says. You start lightly sucking on his head, darting your tongue out to play with his slit experimentally and the most beautiful low grunt comes out of his mouth.

You're encouraged by that so you take more of him in your mouth, and his fingers entangle in your hair, holding you more tightly.

Pretty sounds keep coming out of his mouth as you take more and more of him, his cock growing harder in your wet mouth. You're proud of yourself, so proud that you're making your god feel this good, that your own arousal drips down your inner thigh. You press your legs together and Hyunjin notices.

You're too lost in the pleasure of pleasing him that you don't notice the smirk growing on his face, nor the hand that holds your head holding you even tighter now, but still careful of the pretty flower crown that adorns you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and without warning pushes his cock in deeper into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag as tears gather in your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin.

"You gag so sweetly."- he smirks holding your head down and fucking your face lightly. Your heart starts beating faster as you fold your hands behind your back again letting Hyunjin use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks and you shut your eyes tight as he picks up speed. There's nothing you can do but try to breathe through your nose and let him have his way with you.

"Look at me!"- he orders, pulling on your hair and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his cock as you open your eyes and try to look at him, vision blurred by your tears.

"I love seeing you like this. So pretty when you're ruined for me."- he says and you moan around him again.

"But we're just getting started, my lamb."- he pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly and you cough a little, trying to regain your senses.

"Get up."- Hyunjin orders and you do so.

Hyunjin's hands are back on your dress as he slides it down your body. You've got nothing under it, just how he wanted you to come to him.

Suddenly, you feel self conscious, being naked like this in front of someone you considered your only god. Your hands fold over your body in an attempt to cover up.

"Are you trying to cover yourself up from me?"- Hyunjin asks, and you look at him, shivering under his gaze.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."- you swallow, letting your hands fall on your sides.

"It's okay my little lamb."- Hyunjin coos at you, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "It's your first time, I know you're just being shy. But you don't have to be afraid, I know what you need. I know what's best for you."- he whispers the last sentence, as he comes closer to you.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you repeat the same two words like you're under some kind of spell, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his touch.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you know what's best for me."- you say as he leans in even closer, his breath on your lips.

The hand that was on your cheek is now holding the back of your neck, as his other hand slides down over your breast and side to your lower back. Hyunjin pulls you into his body and you feel how hot his skin is against yours. It makes your senses buzz as he presses his plump lips on yours.

He cradles your head with his big hand, tilting it back and holding you in place as he devours your lips with his. You moan against him, parting your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in.

Your eyes roll back and you shut them tightly as he pushes his tongue as deep as he can and starts exploring your mouth, tasting you and making sure you never forget the taste of him.

You're not sure if you're allowed to touch him so you keep your hands on your sides, fingertips digging into your own hips because you need to hold on to something. Hyunjin's stealing away your breath with his kiss, you feel dizzy, like you're floating. He finally releases you when he's almost out of breath and you gasp as he looks at you wildly, biting on his lower lip.

"Want you on the bed. Now."- he growls and you almost trip over the carpet in an attempt to lay down as fast as you can.

"Easy, pretty. Don't damage my goods."- Hyunjin smirks as he grabs onto your arm and steadies you.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"Just lay down."- he orders a little more gently, trying to soothe you and also calm himself down. He's not one to yell or hurt his object of affection unless it's punishment and it's absolutely needed. And he doesn't want to scare you, not with how unhinged he gets when he's turned on.

You lay down as he instructed you, his bed is comfortable and the sheets seem to be made of satin or something similar. You've never touched something as soft as that fabric and it soothes your fast-beating heart just a little.

"Show me that sweet pussy, my lamb."- Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits on the bed.

You gasp a little, taken aback by the command but you obey nonetheless, spreading your legs as wide as you can to show Hyunjin what belongs to him.

He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he leans in closer between your legs.

"Beautiful."- he says, eyeing it and you feel so vunerable and exposed, even a little humiliated but you try to remind yourself it's your leader Hyunjin, you're his and your body is his, and he has the right to look at you however he wants.

"It looks like a pretty rose."- he adds, smirking and you swallow, you heart almost leaping out of your chest as arousal gushes out of you.

"T-thank you, Hyunjin."- you say quietly, lips trembling in anticipation.

Hyunjin leans in even closer, breath fanning over your wetness and your pussy clenches around nothing. He smirks, he's teasing you and he knows he can do that as long as he wants and you don't get to say no or protest it, you just have to take it.

You wouldn't dare go against him, you believe in him too much to do something bad.

So you keep still as his finger makes contact with your clit. He circles it a little, before sliding it down over your folds, teasingly dipping the pad of his finger inside your dripping hole.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart and you feel an ache in your pelvis, an ache telling you to move and chase his fingers, beg for more, anything he'll give you. But you know better than that.

Hyunjin gathers some of your wetness with his fingers and brings them to your lips.

"Taste yourself."- he says and you put your tongue out and start licking at his fingers, eyes never leaving his. He looks at you as if he's going to devour you and you wouldn't mind if he did.

He moves his hand away from your lips and leans down. You think he'll kiss your lips so you close your eyes and wait for him but then you feel his tongue on your nipple.

"Ah!"- you moan as your eyes snap open and you look at him. Hyunjin smirks, his tongue playing with your nipple, moving it up and down, left and right. You're already shaking, so sensitive as you've never been touched like this before.

Hyunjin puts his hand on your other breast, giving it a squeeze before pinching your nipple. He grips your breast again as he takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.

The sight and the feeling together is too much so you shut your eyes tightly, head falling back as you start whimpering and arching into him.

A shot of pain runs through you and your eyes open, only for your mind to register that Hyunjin bit on your nipple.

"Don't look away from me."- he grins, tongue darting out to lick at your tender nipple.

"I'm s-sorry."- you whimper, body twitching under him.

He moves to your other breast, giving it equal attention and when you think he's done, he's not. He just keeps playing with your nipples until they're swollen and tender and you can't take anymore. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you whimper. Hyunjin releases your nipple from his lips and comes up closer to your face.

"Why are you crying, my lamb?"- he asks, knuckles brushing gently on your cheek.

"It hurts."- you whisper, another tear threatening to fall down but Hyunjin wipes it off.

"I promise it'll feel good, pretty. You know I love you, hm? You trust me, don't you?"- he coos at you again, caressing your face and you can't help feeling small when he talks to you like that. Feeling like, to thank him you need to submit to him, be good for him, do what he orders, trust everything he says.

"I trust you, Hyunjin. I would never dream of doubting my leader."- you say.

"Good girl."- he grins. "Now, keep watching me."- Hyunjin whispers as he leans down between your legs, his face close to where you need him the most.

He teases you with kisses to your inner thigh, all the way towards your core, still avoiding it and pressing kisses all around it. You shiver, keeping your eyes on his every move as he commanded you. He looks back at you, eyes unwavering as he presses a kiss to your clit.

You bite on your lip and stay still while Hyunjin starts playing with your clit, giving it teasing kisses and little licks at first before he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking and licking faster. Your legs tremble and you accidentally moan too loudly, arm coming up so you can bite on it.

"Don't do that, pretty. Let me hear your pleasure."- Hyunjin immediately grabs your arm and moves it away from your lips.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."- your lips tremble, eyes watering a little. You don't want to keep making mistakes like that and look dumb in front of Hyunjin, you want to be good for him and worthy of his love.

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. You're still learning, my little lamb. Just let me guide you, okay?"- he soothes you with his sweet voice, hands gently caressing your thighs.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you chant again, determined to follow every command, obey every order he gives you.

Hyunjin leans back down between your legs, this time his tongue slides between your folds.

You gasp at the action, hands gripping the pretty satin sheets under you. Hyunjin smirks as he grips your ass, thumbs on either sides of your core, slowly pulling you apart, opening you up for him.

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of lust.

"Such a sweet pussy. Desperate to be stuffed, hm?"- he asks but gives you no time to answer as he dives in, pushing his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

You're moaning and whining, your legs trembling, knuckles turning white where you grip at the sheets. Nothing ever felt as good as this in your life, Hyunjin is pleasing you so well, swallowing all your juices.

You almost feel too ashamed that you have your god do something like that to you, but that makes you feel even more determined to please him too and give him whatever he asks of you.

Hyunjin is relentless, his tongue is never tiring, even when your moans grow higher in pitch and you feel something swirl in your stomach. It travels down as you keep shaking, legs almost closing around Hyunjin's head and he fucks your pussy with his tongue even faster and you can't hold it in anymore.

"P-please!"- you beg, you don't even know what for but Hyunjin doesn't stop or slow down, and you let go as you moan his name repeatedly, your juices painting his tongue, lips and chin.

"You did so well, my lamb."- he says, a little breathless.

"T-thank you. Hyunjin."- you whimper as he dives back in to play with your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast, teeth grazing at it and you mewl, legs falling open again.

It's a lot, almost too much, but you want to take it, you want him to keep playing with you as long as he wants. Your legs are shaking as he keeps making out with your pussy and you explode on his face again. And then again. And again until you've lost count.

Tears keep streaming down your cheek and you don't even register Hyunjin's face in front of yours until he gently wipes your tears away.

"H-Hyunjin."- you cry out.

"Shh. It's okay, my lamb. You're doing so good for me."- he praises you, fingers running up and down your soaking wet pussy, tortured after all the orgasms he ripped from you.

"I want to be- be good for you."- you whimper as he dips his fingertips into you.

"You do?"- he smirks sickly at you and you nod fervently.

"Then you can take two fingers immediately."- he says and slowly starts pushing into you.

You moan, your back arching instinctively as you grab at the sheets again. Hyunjin's fingers are slender but long and you feel the shape of his knuckles as he pushes them in deep, all the way to the ring that adorns his finger, the coldness of it making you shiver.

He starts moving them slowly as your lips fall open into a silent moan and you stare into his eyes, completely mesmerized by him.

"Feels good, pretty?"- Hyunjin asks. The orgasms you had before helped open you up and lubricate you so you weren't in any pain as he keeps stretching you slowly.

"So good, Hyunjin."- you whimper, your eyes fluttering but staying open. You don't want to accidentally shut them or look away from your leader.

He starts moving them faster as he comes closer to you, peppering your face in kisses, catching your tears with his lips. He kisses your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your lips while he keeps plunging his fingers faster and harder into you.

The contrast of his gentle kisses and the way his fingers are abusing your pussy make you feel incredibly hot. Your mind and body buzzes, you don't know anything but Hyunjin in that moment and you feel a pressure build up, a pressure you've never felt before.

"Let go."- Hyunjin orders when he sees you struggling. And you obey, you let go and squirt all over the bed and his hand just as he pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck. That's my good girl."- he smirks and pushes his fingers into you abruptly again.

"Ah!"- you almost scream out as he starts fucking you fast again, your pussy screaming with overstimulation. You want to close your legs, beg him to stop but at the same time you never want him to stop.

"You can take one more finger, right my lamb?"- Hyunjin hovers over you. You look up at him with your hooded and wet eyes and nod.

"Words, pretty."- he warns you, his free hand coming up around your throat.

"Yes, I can take it! Please!"- you cry out, spreading your legs even more.

Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and then pushes three of them back in and the stretch has your eyes rolling back. You seek to ground yourself somehow so you grab his bicep, the one that belongs to the hand holding your neck and he squeezes a little.

"H-h-Hyunjin..."- you whimper as Hyunjin fucks you with such force that it has your whole body rocking together with the bed.

"Tell me pretty..."- he smirks. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

Your mind is gone, all you know is Hyunjin and the need to submit to him completely, to give into him even if he kills you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes please! Yes!"- you keep chanting as your pussy clenches around his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness so sinful.

"Squirt for me again and I'll think about it."- he smiles crazy at you but to you he looks beautiful and perfect and you have to obey him. So you let go and squirt again, even more than you did before, your heart beating so fast you're scared it'll actually leap out of your chest.

"Fuck!"- Hyunjin looks crazed, hand coming down to slap your pussy. You whine loudly in pain and surprise, feeling so sensitive after everything he did to you. "I need to breed this sweet pussy now. You want that, hm?"

"Yes, I do!"- you whine again as he grabs his cock, sliding his hard tip on your pussy, pressing it into your clit.

"Beg for it!"- he grabs at your neck again, the tip of his cock between your folds, slowly opening you up.

"Please breed me, Hyunjin!"- you beg, and his eyes roll back before he looks at you wildly and starts pushing in.

Your pussy opens up like a flower to take him, you're so tight and warm, so pliant for him like you were made just for this.

His hand squeezes around your neck as he keeps stretching you with his cock, and you feel a sudden rush of fear with your air being cut off like that, the little sting between your legs, the question if you'll even be able to take all of him.

Your nails dig into his arm and he looks at you so darkly, like he's in a trance and you shiver as the tip of his cock pushes up to your cervix.

"Trust me my little lamb. I'd never hurt you."- he squeezes more and you almost start panicking as little spots appear in front of your eyes.

But you trust him and he starts moving slowly and then he finally releases your neck. You gasp for air, your head is spinning as Hyunjin almost pulls out only for him to push back into you forcefully, knocking the breath out of you again.

"H-Hyunjin! I-it hurts!"- you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes again as he pounds into you.

"It'll feel better. Don't worry, pretty."- he whispers and captures your lips in his, shutting you up.

His tongue forces your lips open, exploring your mouth again, his hands have a bruising hold on your hips.

"Unless you want me to stop completely."- he smirks as he suddenly moves away from you.

"N-no, please don't stop!"- you beg, desperate for him. You want him closer to you, as close as it's possible and you ignore the fear bubbling inside you with the way he's looking at you.

"No? You want me to fuck this tight pussy until she can't take anymore, hm?"- he grins, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and flicking them in time with his thrusts.

"Yes, please Hyunjin! Please!"- you grab at his arm again and he chuckles darkly, speeding up as his hips slap into you so hard that the bed starts rattling. His cock is ripping you apart but all the pain you felt turns into pleasure, and you can't contain your moans nor keep your eyes opened.

Hyunjin enjoys the view of you spread completely open for him, your hair like a halo around your head, the pretty flower crown ruined, leaving some of the flowers stuck in your hair, tears sliding down your cheeks, your pretty lips parted. He enjoys the power he holds over you, how pliant you are for him, how you'd do anything he asks of you. You just might be his favorite, he thinks as he grips your hips harder, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your eyes snap open and meet with his, there's something animalistic in them and fear runs through you again making your pussy clench around him.

"Are you gonna come for me again, pretty?"- he smirks.

"Y-yeah... I'm... I-" - you can't even form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's fucking you, his hands now roaming all over your body, one of them coming up to wrap around your neck again.

"Can you even talk?"- he chuckles as you lean into his hand, ready to let him choke you to death if that's what he wants.

"Ah!"- you moan when he hits that sweet spot inside you.

"Going a little dumb on my cock, aren't you my lamb?"- he growls as he fucks into you harder, his tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you insane until you explode all over his cock.

"Mm yes!"- you answer him, your ears ringing and your whole body tense.

"Gonna breed you now."- Hyunjin squeezes your neck, your air cut off again as his hips pound into you. Your lips fall open, eyes wide as you stare at his dark ones, filled with lust and something else lurking behind it.

His hand is bruising on your neck and you panic, feeling like you're slipping away even though the way his cock is ravaging you makes you come on him again and that's the last straw Hyunjin needed before his cock twitches inside you and he paints your walls with his warm come.

He finally releases your neck, you cough and gasp, grabbing at it, your whole body shaking as your wide eyes stare up at Hyunjin.

"You took that so well, my little lamb."- he says as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty.

"T-thank you."- you voice is hoarse and you almost don't recognize it. Hyunjin reaches to touch your face and you flinch for some reason, which makes him frown.

"Are you afraid of me, pretty?"- he asks, his face serious and seemingly devoid of any emotions. You swallow and lean your face towards his hand.

"No, I'm not."- you say, trying to convince him and yourself even though your heart is beating fast.

"Why did you flinch?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It wont happen again."

"It better not. I told you I would never hurt you. Only if you misbehave, then I have to punish you. But you know that everything I do is for your good, right lamb?"- Hyunjin smirks again, caressing your cheek.

"Yes, I know Hyunjin."- you nod.

"Good. Because I'm going to keep you here. You will serve me every day from now on. You will be my wife and bear my children."- he grins, getting up from the bed.

"Really?!"- you ask as you sit up, excited that you out of all people were chosen to serve Hyunjin, to become his wife and give him children.

"Yes. Are you happy about that?"- he hovers over you, hand holding your chin.

"Very happy. And honored."- you nod fervently.

"My little lamb. You know I love you, right?"- Hyunjin asks and there's something gentle shining in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I... I love you too, Hyunjin."- you answer, your lips trembling.

"I know you do."- he smirks again, caressing your head. "Go to sleep now. I have some things to take care of."

"You're not gonna sleep with me?"- you whimper, eyes already watering at the thought of not being next to your leader and soon-to-be husband.

"I'll join you later, my pretty. Don't be sad."- he coos, laying you down and tucking you in.

"Okay."- you say, your eyes closing. After all, you were beyond exhausted and it didn't take long for you to slip away into dreamland.

Hyunjin stands over you for a few moments, eyes scanning your sleeping face, dried tears on your cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and bruises around your neck.

He grins, you're so obedient and innocent, so eager to please him. Everyone else disobeyed him and questioned him but not you. You are so sweet, so good for him. He's going to have so much fun with you and he can't wait to show you just how dark he can be.

#skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut

[thotpuppy]

ThotPuppy's Historical-themed Sterek Fic Recs

I know lots of folks have already done one of these! BUT! This is one of my favorite tropes, so... here are some of my faves! As a note, these largely range from ~vaguely medieval~ to incredibly well-researched SPECIFIC 'Medieval' to ~general regency ish~ to VERY Regency to various points in between. I am also aware of some as of yet unwritten but ~coming soon/eventually~ Pirate, Wild West, 1920s, and of course Medieval pieces coming out, so I MAY have to post an updated version in a year or so lol

Also... have one that's not here? PLEASE send it to me! Especially Medieval Fantasy. It's my FAVORITE and I KNOW there are more that I don't have/don't have saved and I'm very interested!

Golden Boy by trilliath Rated E, Complete, 127k+

A Most (Im)Proper Proposal by Welsh_Woman Rated E, Complete, 200k+

Entente by Siria Rated E, Complete, 44k+

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse Rated E, Complete, 115k+

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 Rated E, Complete, 23k+

The Consort's Tourney by Lalaith_Quetzalli Rated T, Complete, 12k+

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation Rated M, Complete, 57k+

Propriety and Pursuit by JenyaKeefe Rated E, Complete, 27k+

The Wrong Hale by Dextrous_Sinistrous Rated E, Complete, 77k+

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena Rated E, Complete, 65k+

The Marriage Contract by Palendrome Rated E, Complete, 12k+

The Omega Servant and the Alpha King by EmeraldTrident Rated E, Complete, 2.4k+

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex Rated E, Complete, 109k+

I Made a Vow Out to the Dark by WhoGeek Rated T, Complete, 22k+

I'm Not Asking Questions, I'm Taking My Chances by keldjinfae Rated E, Complete, 80k+

Here are a few that I haven't had a chance to read yet, but the mere concepts have me in a chokehold:

Kingdoms Fall by Gia279 Rated M, Complete, 74k+

A Pauper's Prince (Revised) by Welsh_Woman Rated E, Complete, 83k+

A Wolf's Heart by Palendrome Rated E, Complete, 22k

Tangled Crowns by Halevetica Not Rated, WIP, 37k+

A Winter's Knight by changez Rated E, Complete, 5.5k+

I Won't Be Alone For The Rest Of My Life by blackorchids Rated G, Complete, 1.4k+

And lastly, would I really be that bitch if I didn't rec my own?

Triskelion Reign: the Shepherd, the Lamb, and the Wolf Rated E, WIP, 47k+

Tagging authors (i know of on here) so they know we out here loving and appreciating them! @Athenadark , @outtoshatter, @halevetica, @changez4sterek, @lalaithquetzallicaresi, you all write lovely works and I appreciate your efforts <3

#sterek #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #eternalsterek #sterek is eternal #my fic rec #thotpuppy recs #medieval fantasy #regency #historical #like my dudes this rec list covers like 1100 through 1820 #it is ALL over the place #maybe a wee bit lacking in true rennaissance?? #imo it makes up for it with some of the “ren faire” level aus #but i do not say that as a negative i live for it #ALSO its very eurocentric which makes me kinda want to write that feudal japan inspired fic even more akdgjakdjg #it's the weeb in me im sorry

[rookiesbookies]

Reader making a deal with demon!König or Price in exchange in becoming their bride to which reader enthusiastically accepts just leaving demon!König/Price bewildered

Hello hello my brave reader! Sorry this took a couple days, I wanted to make sure it was good! Also I made it a bonus and gave you a two for one deal! Two fics in one ask!

I decided to do both boys because I could see them both doing this and Im going to put them under the cut!

Also here’s the source I used to come up with ideas for them as demons, I love this idea so much!

Masterlist pinned as always!

Price:

The young lady sobbed, tightly holding onto her robe while etching a mysterious symbol on the floor with a small dagger. She stumbled upon it in a scholarly book about Demons, which she had acquired from a wandering trader through less-than-legal means. Keeping it hidden from the church, she diligently gathered the required items for this peculiar ritual.

Chanting in what sounded like Latin, although she couldn't quite identify it, she lit candles strategically placed around the symbol. Stepping back hastily, she knelt, bowing her head in tearful anticipation.

Out of the floor, a ball of black flames emerged, as dark as the night sky with white peaks resembling stars. The room was bathed in its eerie glow.

A commanding voice resonated, causing her to flinch and weakly tighten her grip on the robe. "Who dares summon a Prince of Hell?" The booming words filled the air.

“I do, your Majesty, it was me,” she said quietly.

The fire, though intense, didn't scorch anything as it reached out, gently lifting her head. Despite its heat, it left no trace or marks on her skin, creating a paradoxical mix of fear and fascination.

The fire boomed out a question of why in her face, making her let out a weak whimper.

“It’s the man I am to marry! The church arranged this marriage, he is a terrible man, your majesty, he has beaten me and robbed me of my dignity!” The fire got hotter, seemingly angry, “he is terrible to me, I have prayed and prayed but God has not come to save me! There have been no miracles, your majesty. I,” she began to stutter out as the tears continued to roll down her face, “I have become scared of what he will do to me. I will do anything to be free of him, anything for a miracle, even if it be unholy!”

The fire was silent.

“He attempted to defile me, forcefully,” she cried, reaching out to hold the fire lifting her chin to face it as she begged. “I will marry anyone, I will do anything to not marry him. Any man is better than him!”

The fire thundered, dissolving to show a tall, ethereal man who delicately lifted her chin. His beauty was striking, his pale skin almost angelic, belying his demonic nature. Horns emerged from his sleek hair, curving back like bone with sharp points. Draped in a fur waistcloth, his abs, covered in a thin, soft layer of skin, captivated her senses, igniting an unexpected desire.

"Anything?" he inquired, scrutinizing the girl in her silk nightgown and cotton robe. She tenderly wrapped her hand around his forearm. She would have licked sweat off his abs if he asked.

"Anything," she breathed, captivated by the enigmatic figure.

"Then you shall marry me instead, lamb." His grip on her chin made her nervous, and she timidly withdrew. His sharp eyes tracked her every movement as she placed her hand in his.

"I'll do it," she mumbled.

"Speak louder to your prince."

"Yes," she affirmed, her voice gaining strength. "I'll do it."

Konig:

Summoning the half incubus, half demon of envy Prince of Hell was far from the plans she had today.

It was a dare. She was dared to make a deal for overwhelming and eternal beauty. She was going to back out before she made it, she swore to herself. She didn’t need beauty, she was more than content with herself.

She cussed as she drew the shape into the floor with the crayola washable marker. It was her room. She wasn’t going to put it in a sharpie or carve it with a knife.

She placed and lit the candles as she mumbled the chant in what seemed like German. Her friend had read of this demon from a German folk story and of course they dared the friend who was single to summon him. Her friends outside the door giggling.

When the red flames with green tips erupted from her floor she opened her mouth to scream. But a large hand reached from behind her to cover her mouth. The flames dissolving as her eyes almost bulged from her head. He moved

“Why did you summon me, maus.” He commanded. She looked towards the door, he got real close to her ear and whispered, “they cannot hear me. They did not summon me.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

He removed his large hand from her face and she was finally able to get a good look at him. A large burly man, probably 8 feet tall easily, in heavy armor and fur. The metal black and fur a bright red.

“I wish for beauty,” she said softly.

“I am not a genie, Maus.” He snarked with a chuckle. “But I will make you a deal. If you tell me what you truly want.”

He stepped forward to her, kneeling so her leg went between his, his mask close to her face.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she said softly. “I want a mature and sweet man to love me and be with me, like I see all my friends with.”

She could feel his crotch hovering over her leg, good god it seemed heavy. She now understood how he was half incubus.

“Then you shall have it, if you give me what I want from you in return.” He spoke darkly, as if he was licking his lips under the hood and eyeing her over.

“Well what is it you want?” She asked shyly.

“You will wed me in exchange.”

…

“Ok.”

“Huh?”

“I said ok.” She shook his hand.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always, let me know in the comments if you want other boys done for this prompt or a part 2! (I say comments so I can easily pin askers if they dont submit it too the box)

I love you to my brave readers to submit asks and all the ones who interact! I love having interactions with you all! Hope you enjoy!

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #john price #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig x you #konig mw2 #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig smut #konig #john price x female reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod price #price mw2 #captain john price x female reader #captain johnathan price

[fatherenoch]

After today’s lengthy service, a young man stayed after to speak with me. I was quite ready to return to the rectory and rest, to prepare for the more blasphemous things I had planned for the evening, but he seemed timid and shy — always appealing. He said that he came too late for the baptisms, since he was made to keep working today. I told him what a shame that was, him being forced to work on such a day, and how I could make a special exception just for him. He looked so familiar, though I didn’t know him. Before I could ask, he told me he’d been coming to mass when he could, as if to prove himself. His big eyes almost pleaded, and I remembered him more completely upon seeing them grow so wide. Yes, he’d been lurking around, with little interest in the homilies but a clear interest in me. Perhaps he wanted the attention from an authority figure, perhaps more…

The church was growing darker, only lit by the candles still going, and only the two of us stood there, together by the altar. I took him to the font, where I told him to kneel. He obeyed me quickly, and I tilted his head up. Such a pretty little lamb… I could feel him shiver a bit at my touch when I anointed him. Due to so much improper use, the fragrant scent of the holy oils stirred up something in me as well. I could hardly get through the baptism with how badly I wanted to take his newly saved soul.

His face glistened with holy water, and some started to drop down onto his clothes. I told him he should change into one of the white garments, to get out of those dirty, wet rags, and I had him follow me to a smaller room to have him dress. I stepped out as he did, feigning modesty, but I sat before the keyhole to watch him, one hand sliding through the pockets of my cassock. Such a handsome young man, and I was fortunate to see him strip. I was surprised to see he had a pussy, but the sight only made me more desperate to fill him. As he finished dressing, I scrambled to get back up before he came to the door, still wanting to keep appearances of having some form of self-control.

When he opened the door, I asked him to come back out and to the altar with me. I told him that he would be getting a much more special baptism now, and for him to kneel again as I leaned against the altar. Though he was visibly confused, he once again obeyed. Some of the candles had gone out, so I couldn’t see his face as much as I would have liked. “Be good for me, little lamb. You know what you need to do, don’t you?” I said, unbuttoning my cassock just enough to pull out my cock. He nodded and took me in his mouth. I could tell he was inexperienced, but he put his whole being into it, taking me all the way down his throat, gagging, letting his face get covered in his own saliva. I grabbed the back of his head to push him further, making him gasp when I allowed him to pull away. Even in the dark, I saw him try to slip his hand underneath his robes, but pulled his head off when he did to slap his face with my cock.

“Naughty boy. You’re supposed to be good during your baptism.” I teased him, shoving myself back down his throat. Soon after, I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer, so I pulled away again to come on his face, saying as I stroked myself, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

He looked up at me, his face dirtied and eyes wet with tears from gagging. “Thank you, Father.”

#hierophilia #priest kink #happy easter hehe

[kisskissbanggang]

Disavowed - pt. 2

[5.5k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, Your Mind is Playing Tricks on You, Confrontations, Something Feels Off, Catholic Guilt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, I Swear This is a Halloween Series]

[a/n: finally time to get halloween cranked up to speed 💕 ty to @magicficwriting and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading 💗]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

It felt forbidden to be in a room full of people and be the only one to know that Christopher, Father Bang, was a disgusting hypocrite. 

The day of your realization had been Sunday, obviously. It was now Thursday, after school, and you were all crowded into the modest boardroom next door to the faculty lounge of Pinewood Falls Prep. The walls were probably supposed to be white, if it weren’t for decades of wear and cigarette smoke. Even if the smell didn’t persist, the resulting hue of curdled cream lingered.

“So that settles it. It is generous of you to step up, dear… Dear?”

An elbow gently dug into your own at the conference table. You were so distracted. 

Your gaze swung to your side to identify who just nudged you, when you recalled that Jisung was the one who so politely saved you a seat. Reverend Han, you had learned, was the other young man that helped Father James serve mass alongside Chris.

That creep.

Chris, that is. Not Jisung… although you had to admit that you weren’t exactly in love with how polite the deacon was. 

“Dear…?”

You finally snapped out of your brooding then, finding Sister Judith rolling her eyes at the front of the room.

“Poor lamb must be sleeping with her eyes open,” Father James chuckled. To your chagrin, Chris laughed along. You wanted to shout it out at the whole room right then, just what a liar and a fraud the deceptively handsome priest was.

“I was saying,” Sister Judith reiterated, “that I know there’s a litany of work left in the wake of Jacqueline’s sudden departure, but that it’s generous of you to volunteer and step up to take it on, dear.”

“I did…?” you murmured out loud, stricken with disbelief. Jisung patiently nodded to confirm it for you.

To say that Sister Judith’s assistant left suddenly was an understatement. When you arrived at work early on Monday morning, her desk behind yours, in front of the Sister’s office, was empty. Every notepad, pen, and paperclip was gone, as if no one had ever occupied the space in the first place. Sister Judith wouldn’t tell you why Jacqueline left, but you supposed it was none of your business. At the beginning of today’s meeting, Father James had simply said it was a shame, but you were surprised that no one at all seemed to particularly care that the young woman had vanished so abruptly.

“You won’t take on everything, of course,” Sister Judith clarified. “You’ll be taking care of Jacqueline’s filing duties and backing up the receptionist when Roberta is unavailable. That’s all.”

“What about the lunchtime study group in the library?” Jisung suddenly asked. “Jacqueline was running it.”

“You can take that on if you have the time, Reverend,” suggested Sister Judith.

Jisung slouched back in his chair, as though he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Oh, uh,” he scrambled shyly, “that’s no problem, I guess. I just don’t know if the kids will take a liking to me–”

“Not like Christopher, you mean,” Father James laughed heartily, clapping a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “They practically flock to him.”

Chris humbly waved him off. “I hardly have anything worthwhile to teach; it’s just gym,” he denied. “I make myself available; that’s all. You have plenty to teach! Make yourself available, Jisung, and they’ll flock to you, too.”

The staff all but fawned over the platitude. Your pen’s barrel creaked in your hand, you were so close to snapping it in half. That pretty boy golden child had everyone wrapped around his little finger and it made you livid.

You left the staff meeting in a daze, trying to figure out why on Earth Chris refused to acknowledge you with any ounce of recognition. The whole ordeal felt like he was taunting you, and it was on the verge of working. There was no way it wasn’t him that you’d slept with. You remembered far too much of the whole night.

Maybe it was because your pride was admittedly hurt. You weren’t typically one for one-night stands like the one you were positive you engaged in, but the idea had intrigued you enough to want it. Now it just felt like you were being punished, some cosmic joke at your expense because you acted on your desires for once and now you couldn’t get it out of your head.

Indeed, even though you’d gone to your interview and mass with only an inkling of what exactly had transpired on Friday night, that fuzzy recollection had since turned high definition and was currently blasting at full volume in a maddening loop in your head. You had tried a divey little bar in Briar Bay, only a thirty minute drive away. There were no bars in Pinewood Falls from what you could tell, so the short trip seemed worth it. The bar had been a dank hole in the wall, a cozy hangout popular with the boat crews and mussel farmers that worked the bay. You’d noticed Chris before he ever saw you. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar that night, obviously. Instead, you were drawn to this man sitting alone at a table in the corner, with the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You had left him alone and minded your own business at the bar…

Until a beer appeared in front of you before you could even start a tab. The bartender pointed at the sender.

Right at Chris.

Here, now, today, you were feeling self-conscious and self-righteous all at once while you grabbed your bag from where you’d stowed it in your desk, back in the main office. It had been a long day of school, and the weekly staff meeting made this one feel even longer. Chris had shared one single flash of recognition with you at mass on Sunday, but never again in the days since. He had to be too ashamed, you were positive. Grouchy was an understatement for how you were feeling. You were on edge. All week, you strained to make pointed eye contact with this man, see if you could catch him replicating that explicitly guilty glint in his eye that he had during church, and he was staunchly refusing.

Even over dinner, you drifted, like a wraith, into the dining room of the boarding house and barely paid attention to your perfectly charming and sweet housemates. Seungmin and one of your fellow boarders, Felix, had worked so hard on making a gorgeous dinner, but you were so plainly pissed to the point that you couldn’t properly taste food. The worst part, honestly, was that you weren’t solely thinking of outing this disgusting man.

You were plagued by how much you couldn’t stop thinking of your night together. Not only were you burdened with this miserable secret, but you were the only one who knew what this man looked like under his clothes, the way he acted in bed. He was horrendously attractive. He was regretfully skilled. Those juvenile little hickeys he left all over you took days to vanish. In fact, most of them finally faded just the previous morning–something you’d never experienced before. The longest a love bite had ever stuck around on your skin was maybe three, four days, but five felt like a ridiculously long time. It was only adding to the way you couldn’t get the picture of Chris’ bare chest or carved hips out of your head, couldn’t shake the feeling of his soft lips or his rough stubble. 

One stupid hickey remained–angry and red and framed with teeth marks–right between your cleavage. More like a bite than anything.

This was going on far too long. 

It was Friday. Your housemates probably thought you were sick in the head. They’d been so cordial and polite, trying as much as they reasonably could to get you to open up and share a little, maybe unload some of the burden you were clearly carrying. The previous week, before you’d ever slept with Chris by accident, you were gladly chatting and helping with housework, staying up late to wash dishes with the boys and sip iced tea on the porch, wrapped up in sweaters when the breeze picked up.

You almost felt ill. More than the guilt, more than the shame, more than the way you were convinced everyone knew you were complicit in Father Chris’ sin, you hated that you wanted to be right. The way he ignored you was too practiced, too aloof. What hurt more than him not showing any guilt was him not even showing any hint of knowing you existed in any capacity outside of school. You tried like hell to keep your head down, get your work done, try to confront the pile of Jacqueline’s filing left unfinished.

It was the damned filing that did you in, ultimately. An approved stack of staff schedules now sat at the top of the pile, unearthed after you made some progress in your fastidious sorting and storing. Fr. Bang, Christopher was staring right at you, begging you to glance at the piece of paper. Planning: 2nd Period.

You wished you would move on and let it go, but you peeked at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter after 9 o’clock. There was plenty of time. 

You would do it.

No, you wouldn’t. You would work through the mountain of filing.

Yes, you would. You would confront this asshole once and for all and get him to admit that he recognized you, that he was disgusting and immoral.

The hallway was crushingly empty as you walked to the gym. Your shoes clicked loud on the aged linoleum floor. It was disarming, being this hyper-aware and critical of your own actions. Something resembling embarrassment clung to you like static.

Why were you so obsessed with doing this?

Walking into the gym, you almost chickened out when you found it empty, even though that was the entire point of catching him during his planning period in the first place. You scanned the basketball court and the stands extended from the wall, finding no sign of life and abashedly turning right back around to leave.

“Wait, I’m here!” rang out a voice behind you. “Can I help you with something?”

You warily turned back to face the voice, finding it to belong to no other than Father Chris. 

He smiled softly, kindly attempting to keep you from running off. “That’s right,” he nodded with recollection. Your gut twisted. “You’re the new office manager, right?”

That was it. This was your breaking point. “You’re kidding, right?” you scoffed. Chris’ eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I’m… what?” he asked. “Are you alright, dear?” He stepped closer, and flinched when you smacked away his outstretched hand.

“That’s rich!” you cackled. “How long are you going to keep lying? How long until you stop pretending you don't know me?”

Chris shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “What are you telling me? I’m afraid I don’t understand–”

“Seriously?!” you balked. “You’re going to act like we’ve never met?!”

“We met before?” the priest blinked at you, maybe even a little bashful. Flattered, even. “Maybe in a dream, but I don’t think so.”

You huffed so hard, so affronted by the response, that it could’ve been mistaken for smoke spilling out of you. “That is some nerve you have, asshole–”

“Hey,” Chris said sternly. “Calm down.”

And you did. God, you hated that you did. Worse yet, you weren’t even sure why you calmed down at all. The energy from your outburst was simply sapped out of you in its entirety.

“Do you want to talk?” Father Chris offered. “It seems you have a lot on your mind.”

Unsure what else to do, you indignantly folded your arms. “Fine. Yes. I’d like to talk.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay, I’ll be more than glad to. I have a meeting about a baptism here in ten minutes, but how about tonight? Somewhere we can have some privacy.”

“Oh? And where’s that?” you impatiently asked. If he suggested the Trawler, you’d scream right there and then.

“I live in Briar Bay for a couple more weeks,” he explained. As if you didn’t already know this. As if he didn’t tell you on Friday night. “How about Reflections? It’s a nice little cafe I like.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure. All the energy you originally had to pursue this issue was gone, vanished and leaving a vacuum in its wake that made it difficult to proceed. However, the idea of getting that confession was still too sweet.

“Fine,” you agreed, almost defiant, like you weren’t giving him exactly what he wanted. “Okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Not okay. 

The worst part of Briar Bay being a “short” 30-minute drive away meant that every five minutes, you were wondering what the hell you were hoping to achieve. What, Chris would admit what he did and you would be satisfied? You would simply leave? Were you going to turn him in and humiliate him, really punish him for being so terrible? What exactly did you want here?

And still you were thinking about how gorgeous he was in bed. This still weirded you out. You explicitly recalled hardly being able to remember anything during your interview with Sister Judith earlier that week, but days later and now you could perfectly recall the cute way he scrunched his eyes shut when he climaxed? That queasy feeling settled in your gut again. By the time you turned off the small highway into Briar Bay, you almost felt feverish. Nauseous and everything. You were nervous trying to pick out each business. The Trawler passed by on your left down the main road, but finally you caught it. Reflections was apparently a sweet little coffee shop at the end of the main street, the last business next to the main route down to the bay. And out front, sipping from a paper cup in a cardboard sleeve on the patio? 

Father Chris had the audacity to be the picture of serenity. His shitty powder blue truck was parked out front. He was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a sweater. A ball cap was pushed low over his brow, just like the week before. 

Fucking creep.

You nervously pinched at the hem of your top. In a move of pure desperation to hold any power you had left, you put on the exact outfit you’d been wearing Friday night last week. A crop top of reasonable length, a belted pair of cute jeans, some casual sneakers, and a cardigan because it was getting a bit chilly out. You weren’t totally sure what you were looking to get here, but maybe this would be the element that finally got that look of recollection you were so hungry for.

As you should’ve predicted, he wasn’t even outwardly excited to see you when you approached. Just a glance and a soft smile before he motioned to the chair across from him. You stiffly took a seat, when Chris pointed out toward the cliffs looking over the bay, up the hill from the cafe. “So you’re new, right? You just moved to town?”

He waited patiently until you silently nodded before continuing. “That’s Barrett Bluffs. There used to be a church there until it burnt down a hundred years ago. I just noticed that there’s actually a square patch of dirt up there. Maybe it really did burn down, except the story is it spontaneously combusted. The local kids used to dare each other to look over the edge.”

“Why?” you asked, attempting to remain nonplussed. 

Chris laughed into his drink. “I guess there’s a cave on the cliff face or something. The local legend is that a vengeful spirit lives in it. I dunno. Kids are wild.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, distant while your gaze was still fixed on the square patch of earth at the top of the bluff. “They’re pretty imaginative.”

“What’d you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. You snapped out of it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending you don’t remember me,” you simply stated.

Chris shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t? Would you like me to get you something? Their chai here is delicious.”

You felt like your face was about to crack into a thousand tiny pieces. Every single option ran through your mind at once, tripping over each other. Really, you could argue this some more, or just leave it alone… but you did neither of these things. Instead, you got out of your chair and simply walked back up the street. Chris hopped to his feet and jogged after you, finishing his drink in the process and tossing it in a garbage can.

“Where are you going?!” he frantically asked you.

He followed you all the way to the Trawler, where the bartender waved hello to you, driving you even more mad than you already were. You grabbed Chris by the elbow and practically threw him into the chair in the back corner. He watched, bewildered, as you pointed at the bar.

“I was there,” you heatedly explained, “you were here. You bought me a drink and I came over to sit down. You said you liked my perfume and I said I liked your cologne, and we had a great time, and you kissed me in the back parking lot out there in front of your truck before you offered to give me a ride back to your place!”

How you remembered all these finer, non-explicit details, you had no idea, but they were all clear as day all of a sudden. Chris, meanwhile, was beet red in the face. 

“Uh, er,” he floundered. 

And there it was.

That tiny, miniscule little flex of muscles in his face, his eyes widening a millimeter.

A fucking confession of guilt if you ever saw one, you were convinced.

Was this what it was like to go crazy?

Except he doubled down. Chris squared his shoulders and smiled that same humble smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. But for what it’s worth, I’m having a nice time. You pretty much tricked me into a date. Smart play, too, since it’s the only way I can enjoy one.”

One final option lay in front of you, one you were finally angry enough to use it. You bluntly yanked the neckline of your blouse down, exposing that one last hickey, the one that looked more like you were attacked by some animal. Chris’ eyebrows raised in surprise, his focus darting to where the mark was and away. 

“Still insisting I’m crazy? You're a real piece of work, Father,” you scowled. “Hope you're pleased with what you got.”

You let go of your top, grabbed your bag, and stormed out of the bar through the back door, the nearest entrance and into the small parking lot there just so you could get some fresh air. An uncomfortable heat surged up your back and radiated through your chest like a fever. You were nearly on the verge of furious tears. Squeezing between two pickups, you were so distracted that the rearview mirror of one of the vehicles smacked your shoulder. Fuck Chris. You would turn him in, maybe even before mass on Sunday–

Rushed footfalls on the gravel of the parking lot startled you, and you turned with only enough time to gasp when you found Chris there, his hands already cupping your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss. You barely had time to register all of this between the priest panting hot, desperate in your mouth, his cologne and aftershave making your olfactory senses tingle. His lips were still so soft. And then you remembered that this was disgusting.

The force of your slap against Chris’ cheek was more of a shove, getting him the hell off of you. You found yourself leaning back against the bumper of the truck you’d squeezed past, still holding your hand out to keep him back. 

Chris massaged his cheek and jaw where you’d hit him. He was still panting. “I hate this,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I hate this so fucking much.”

The cursing would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already plagued with memories of him cursing over and over again the previous week.

“What?” you rhetorically asked. “What do you hate, exactly? I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Would you knock it off?” Chris snapped at you. You leaned back against the bumper of the truck, as much as the metal surface would allow. “We both know I’m fucking lying, I’m lying through my goddamn teeth!” he brokenly ranted. “But what I want to know is how the hell do you remember so much?!”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked, uneasy.

Father Chris shook his head again. “No, because I barely remember anything. All I know is… is–”

“What?” you prodded. You stood up straight and took a tentative step closer. “What is it?”

“I want you, and I fucking hate it,” he spat. “I shouldn’t be tested like this. I don’t deserve this! I’m stronger than this.”

These were more admissions than you were even hoping to achieve. Yes, Chris remembered sleeping together. Yes, Chris was disgusting and immoral, and wanted more.

You didn’t feel triumphant. You didn’t feel victorious.

You felt smug. A craving erupted inside you, swallowing you whole.

You wanted to punish him. You wanted him to live in that fraught feeling of deplorable desire.

“Are you?” you questioned him. A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Are you stronger than that?”

Chris glared at you, brows furrowed as he digested the fact that you were blatantly mocking him now. It was difficult to assess his next move, but you didn’t have to wait long for another hint, because he simply took that option away and flatly answered you. Chris reached for you again, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you close so he could kiss you again.

And this time, you let him.

When you weren’t almost gagging on his tongue in your throat, you adored how pissed he looked just kissing you. By now, you were dealing with his hands, too, desperately grabbing and squeezing you. He even began kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin and nipping at you until you pushed him off again. You both caught your breath for a moment, but Chris nonetheless grabbed at your hips again.

“I’m not letting you mark me up again,” you scolded him.

He nodded obediently, despite already kissing your neck some more. “Sorry,” he panted against you, “I just, I need more– We’ll get in my truck, okay? And–”

“What,” you grinned, taking a chance to softly place intermittent kisses of your own on his throat. “You going to be a coward and hide me away at your place again?” From this vantage point, you could see he was wearing a small, golden crucifix just under his sweater. Cute. 

“Don’t want to?” he asked, fumbling in his pockets while he let you kiss him. “That’s fine, it’s dark enough, just in the truck is fine–”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning. “But you parked back at the–”

“What? No,” he interrupted. “It’s right here; come on.”

That made no sense. Chris’ wreck of a truck was back at Reflections–

But the metallic clatter of a keyring stopped your line of thinking in its tracks. Chris backed you up to the passenger side door and unlocked it before he scooped his hands under your ass, eagerly hoisting you up onto the bench seat. He was already working your belt until you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him into the truck with you. You refused to let him lead here. If he was questioning his fortitude, you’d make it exponentially worse. 

Chris wrestled with you a bit to get comfortable in the cab of his truck, ending up sitting in the passenger seat with you straddling his lap. He was incredibly hard between your legs. When you worked your hips down against his, the friction drew the deepest, most regretful moans out of him that you’d ever heard. His strong hands clutched at your hips until you finally unbuckled your belt yourself. He leapt at the opportunity, still kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, but now his starving touch drifted down from where it’d moved to your breast, down to slip under your panties and between your legs. You gasped and sighed in pleasure, his long fingers rubbing your sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness. 

“Fuck,” Chris gruffly cursed again, “you feel so good.”

“You still hate it?” you teased, almost laughing when he nodded pathetically.

“You’re so bad for me,” he whined. “I just want more.”

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Chris watched in the dim of his truck, only illuminated by a couple security lights behind the old bar as you knelt up so you could shimmy your jeans down, and off one leg. You sat back down on his lap, your damp heat resting back against him but going no further. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Well?” you grinned. “Go on. Make your decision.”

A hesitance sank in between both of you while he considered this, his eyes glazed over and shining. You didn’t blame him. Truth be told, you were surprised with yourself, too. You weren’t typically one for such intensity, but there was something about holding this much control that you were getting satisfaction from in an unexpected way. You scolded yourself for a moment for coming on too strong.

Until Chris warily removed his hat and lifted his sweater off along with his undershirt, revealing his crucifix sitting on his bare collarbones. He set these on the driver seat beside you both, before his hands now wavered at his belt buckle. Father Chris quietly sucked in a breath, as if it were a long, drawn out gasp, astounded at his own actions when he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You could feel the velvety, smooth head of his erection up against you. He paused again.

You pressed your lips to his temple, a tender little reprieve in the middle of this regrettable tryst. “Did you make your decision?��

Chris could be felt nodding before his hands pushed your hips down against his own. You both groaned then, his gorgeous cock slowly stretching you around him. He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he gritted out. “Feel how you’re opening up for me, it’s so goddamn good–”

You loved the way blasphemy sounded coming from him while you adjusted to him inside you, enough that you immediately took over and began riding him, never giving him a chance to suggest it or try taking the lead. Again, if he was going to decide to be immoral, you were going to really throw that into perspective. 

Chris cried out loud in pleasure when you dropped your hips down onto him and began working his erection into your depths, trying to search out that good angle while the priest was lost in the moment. He was so fucking hot like this, whimpering under you while his thrusts met yours, with no one to blame but himself by this point.

Right?

There was one second where you began to doubt yourself, maybe wondering if you were taking this too far, but Chris interrupted you. Even though you were hellbent on not letting him take control, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist when he grabbed onto your thighs and helped you grind into him instead of riding him, helping you climb that high you were chasing. Worse yet, he pulled down the neckline of your blouse like you’d brazenly done back at the bar, except he went further by pulling your breast to his mouth. His tongue lewdly ran over the bite mark you never managed to get rid of, but he kept his teeth off of you, opting instead to wrap his lips around your hardened nipple, overstimulating you just long enough to coax an orgasm out of you. It hit you hard and suddenly, a sharp gasp punctuating that blissful release as you shuddered around his erection still grinding into you. Chris’ actions got a bit more desperate now, goaded on by how you swept your fingers through his hair before clutching on, reeling his head back onto the back of the bench seat and riding him harder, your rhythm relentless and pushing him closer and closer over the edge.

“It’s good, right?” you sweetly asked. “You gonna cum for me, Chris?”

“Fuck, hold on,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy before you gently pulled his hair again. “Gimme a second, we can’t–” he pleaded, all pouty and doe-eyed, “goddamn, hold on, I can’t–”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

But he did.

At least, you thought he did.

Because, as if nothing had happened at all, the next thing you knew you were waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours. It was his again. The way you seemed to know this instantaneously didn’t ring as odd to you when it probably should have, but there was far too much to be confused by going on at once. How did you even get here?

You blearily sat up, the crust in your eyes making it even more difficult to see, along with how dark it was. The bed was empty but you knew it was his. You tried to make out the rest of the room, get further confirmation of this fact you already knew, until you found your bag on the floor. Your phone was on the brink of death when you fished it out, but it was still able to report that it was five in the morning. 

The weird thing, at least in your mind, was that you were clothed and alone. You did just fuck Chris in the parking lot behind the Trawler, didn’t you?

… Didn’t you?

It felt like you did. But, even now, fully clothed in this veritable stranger’s bed…

It felt like it’d been a vivid dream. 

You slipped out of the bed, not even covered in a blanket. Your shoes were still on your feet. The room was a bit cold, enough to wake you up a bit faster. Judging by the view out the window, Chris lived in an upper floor unit, likely a private walk-up like many of the old houses in the area seemed to be updated into. This house was old indeed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as you warily walked out of the bedroom and found yourself in a small kitchen. A frayed cord hung from the ceiling. Following it upward, it was attached to an old attic door.

“I wouldn’t pull that if I were you,” came a voice, bringing you back to the oddity at hand. There was Chris, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. He almost looked sick, his cheeks pale. You were certain if you felt his forehead, it’d be clammy. A mug with three tea bag strings hanging out of it was clutched in his hand, shaking the smallest bit for you to see. “The attic door is broken,” he explained, not looking at you. “The super is supposed to take care of it.”

You looked up at the door again. It didn’t appear broken, but you left it alone.

Chris grimaced into his mug. “Did you and I… Did we hook up again?”

You nodded, a gesture you weren’t sure Chris saw but he nodded back nonetheless. 

“I shouldn’t be wanting this,” he frowned. 

You were at a loss of what to say. Instead, you comfortingly ran your fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the fact that neither of you were freaking out over not concretely remembering this was probably the least weird aspect of it all. You both had your own, much bigger concerns.

Chris took a sip of his tea. His hand twitched, making him sloppy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m better than this. I’m not supposed to want you.”

“I’m sorry,” you weakly attempted.

The young priest raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes were bagged and red, bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days. “No, you’re not.”

It wasn’t a denial. It was a diagnosis. 

And he was right. 

Chris betraying his vows and giving into you was the most potent adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. That was the case the first time, and it was the case now. 

And if he didn’t stop you, you’d make his life a living hell until he repented.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

[teecupangel]

Me and my time travel thing again, but it's Desmond landing in Ezio-Era Italy. And then he proceeds to try and avoid Brotherhood, except he ended up basing his fashion sense around how Ezio dresses... Long story short, it's a very confusing time for everyone because Desmond is as likely to respond to "Ezio" as he is not, and Templars have to live in paranoia of there being two of the same Auditore. The one to catch him? Is Maria. By using her mother voice when she sees him in a crowd

If Maria is the one to catch him, this would mean this would be around AC Brotherhood when she's... a bit better.

This means that Cesare Borgia has to live in paranoia of there being two Ezio Auditore who wants him dead. XD

This also means that Ezio's recruits are getting tips from Desmond and thinking it's Ezio so you'll have conversations like:

Ezio: You've gotten better. You don't lower your sword arm too low now. That's wonderful. Recruit: It's all thanks to you, mentore. I still remember your words of wisdom! 'Stop failing your hand like you're swatting flies! Think of your sword like a bigger hidden blade or something!' Ezio: ... what? Claudia (listening in): AND THAT HELPED???

Even Claudia got duped once, thinking Ezio was helping her with her target and she's all annoyed at Ezio because she can take care of herself. Ezio's just like

"IT WASN'T ME! OW! Stop hitting me, Claudia! I didn't use you to steal that bastardo's money! I don't even need his money! I'm rich! I JUST BOUGHT THE ENTIRE AQUEDUCT FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

And Ezio keeps getting sidetracked by merchants he had NEVER talked to, calling him and telling him how they have restocked their stocks, and Ezio is just confused because it's stuff like black powder that was definitely something he uses for his hidden gun, sure, but coal?? Lamb's blood??? Skunk oil???

And more importantly...

Datura??????

Then he hears guards shouting as they try to 'apprehend' him

"Be careful! He might hit us with blood again!" "He also throws smoke that smells awful! Don't get hit! My wife beat me half to death after she tried washing my uniform!"

And Ezio is confused, amused, and also a bit offended that these guards would honestly think that he would throw smoke bombs that smell.

In the end, Ezio finally 'catches' Desmond when he goes visit his mother for dinner and his not-exact double but close enough was there and, yeah the imposter was taller but those clothes really definitely look like clothes he would wear (and also looks a lot like the clothes he wore when he had the Armor of Altaïr but white instead of black).

This imposter was simply sitting in the dining room, eating dinner with his mother and he sees red.

Ezio: You have some nerves, you cazzo! Coming here and fooling my mother, pretending to be me! Desmond: I didn't! Maria: Ezio! Do you think I would be such a fool that I could not see the difference between Desmond and a son I pushed out of my vagina? Ezio: (cheeks reddening out of embarrassment) Mother! Desmond: Oh my god (covers face due to secondhand embarrassment) Ezio: Then why is he here?! Maria: I saw him on the roof two months ago and called him. Courtesan who has been in the room the entire time eating her dinner with them: She shouted "You'll get hurt jumping like that, Ezio, get off the rooftop and have dinner with us" and Desmond joined us for dinner. Ezio: You joined them for dinner?! Desmond: It was instinct! If Maria Auditore tells you to come down and have dinner, you come down and have dinner! Maria: (full-on passive-aggressive guilt-tripping) And, at least, Desmond is a sweet boy who joins his mother for dinner every night. Ezio: He's not your so- Wait, every night?! Maria: Maybe if my real son and daughter would join their dear mother for dinner, I would have introduced them to Desmond sooner. Ezio: Mother! We've told you, we've been busy saving Roma- Desmond: (desperately wishing he could just leave but can't because they still haven't had dessert yet)

#it got crack-y #if it feels like maria turned a bit of an asian mom im sorry #assassin's creed #ezio auditore #maria auditore #claudia auditore #ask and answer

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — A Lucky Blunder, part III

Masterlist

Summary: (Continuing part I & part II) Wyatt has saved August from being tortured interrogated and taken him under his protection. He soon discovers something to be gained from his gang's blundered revenge pursuit, though not what he would have expected. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, kidnapping/abduction, murder (by drowning) mentioned, dehumanization/classism, indentured servitude, skewed power dynamics, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper, fearful August running his mouth.

“Tea?” Wyatt refilled his own cup from the still-warm pot and passed it to August. He had no sooner let go than he had to catch the other boy’s shaking hands to help keep the cup upright. August turned crimson, fighting shy of eye contact while he huffed through his nose, trying to steady his hands. 

Finally, he tipped his head in a nod for Wyatt to release him. He kept his gaze fixed on the tea as he brought it to his lips. His knuckles were raw, fingernails dirty and chewed to the quick. He took paltry sips of the tea as if at any moment he might return to find it boiling. Or perhaps he expected to have it slapped away. 

Wyatt needed a cigarette. He moved slowly so his intentions were plain as he crossed the room to use the matches by the bedside instead of those in his pocket. He was keenly aware of August watching his every action out of the corner of his eye, no more relaxed with his would-be captor out of arm’s reach. Wyatt stayed away nonetheless while he smoked, letting his eyes trace the faded wallpaper as if it held his interest. It was starting to peel again in one corner. The previous owners had done a poor job laying it but it was better than the whole room being greying white-wash. 

He left the second half of the cigarette to burn out in the ashtray on the desk when he returned to his chair by the fire. August thanked him again when he relieved him of the empty cup and waited until Wyatt had sat back in his chair before he did the same, wincing as he did.

“How old are you?” 

“Eighteen.” He ran two fingertips along his brow, pushing his hair to one side. Some of the strands were still sweaty from the ordeal in the cellar. 

“Liar.” 

His eyes snapped back up to Wyatt’s, their earlier fire reignited. “And you?” 

“One and twenty,” Wyatt answered, unable to keep a smile from playing at his lips or his tone devoid of amusement. “Your turn again.”

August had gone red in the face, his boldness only a fleeting impulse. “Sixteen, sir.”

Now they both knew age had nothing to do with his continued use of honorifics. August plainly intended to employ any means that might gain him the slightest pardon. A habit when such subtleties typically weighed inequitably on one's survival.

“And you’re not guilty of the spying as they claim? You weren’t the one who ran and warned Keats?”

“No, sir.” 

Wyatt leaned forward and dropped a hand on August’s shoulder, earning an almost-imperceptible flinch. “Now, you wouldn’t dare tell a falsehood to the only one showing you kindness in this wolf’s den. Would you, little lamb?” 

The boy gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. “N-no. No, sir. I swear,” he said, shaking his head. “I swear to the Almighty Lord. It was the other boy—he-he started before me.” He held Wyatt’s eyes, though he was clutching fistfuls of the bedcover in his lap.

Wyatt let him hold his breath for a heartbeat longer. “All right, I can see that you’re in earnest.” The boy relaxed a fraction and then another when Wyatt released his shoulder. “But you’ll have to come up with something better than that nonsense for future. It’s no wonder they didn’t believe you, going on all pious like that.”

He furrowed his brow and bit the side of his chapped lip. “I swear…on the grave of my dearly departed mother?”

Wyatt cocked a brow. “You’ve met your mother then?” 

“I must have, however briefly, to have been born.” 

“Cheeky. But it’ll do.” 

The boy flushed at the slight approval. 

You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Midge always used to say. Wyatt stifled a smirk. Maybe this case of mistaken identity would prove fruitful after all.  

“How did you wind up in this situation, mixed up with Keats?” 

“I-I was in the workhouse long as I can remember,” he said carefully, watching Wyatt’s reaction. He kept his face impassive; he'd already guessed as much. The boy carried himself like someone accustomed to being treated as less than a whole citizen. “When I was ten, I was sent to work in a household in the country as a boot boy and then as a hall boy. I was there four years. Could have been an apprentice footman if I’d stayed…” 

Many were so desperate to leave the harrowing conditions of the workhouses, they undertook indentured servitude, or else they were funneled into it with no choice in the matter. Given his age at the time, the latter was more likely in August’s case. Wyatt nudged him back to the matter at hand, “Keats?”

“Ah. His Lordship passed on and the heir was…my service was gambled away. The game was fixed. He made certain to tell me that afterwards—Keats—he always would have won me.” 

“So he sought you out? You do look tremendously similar to the boy they believe you to be.” 

“Mas—” August deflated a little at the misstep before correcting, “Mr. Keats has a type, sir.” 

Wyatt reached to lift a lock of August’s auburn hair between his fingers, it was beginning to curl into waves as it dried. “So I see.” 

August blinked up at him meekly. 

Quite the shift from the feral boy in the cellar. Wyatt wondered if he would be quiet or quick-witted or still volatile when he wasn’t threatened or in pain. What might he do if he were handed a shilling or a pound to do with what he wished? Perhaps in time, he could find out. 

“Tell me, what happened to Keats’ other boy then?”

“He—he’s dead, sir. Keats was—was finished with him…” He pulled the covers closer, shrinking into the armchair. “We’re just…strays, he says…born strays so we should d-die like strays, too—”

On one hand, he could relieve August of having to recount the specifics but on the other, he didn’t want to prematurely dam this flow of information about his rival. 

“—I was there. He begged but he didn’t fight. They didn’t even tie his hands—” He looked down at his own, lying in his lap, voice growing distant. “Just—just put in the bricks and then—and then—” 

“All right, all right.” 

August looked up, his eyes wide, almost like he was surprised to see Wyatt still sitting there. “In—in the water. I saw he was fighting—” He was panicking now, struggling against the tide of the memory. “In the water—he—he—I saw him—I saw—”

If he were any of the other boys, Wyatt would have given him a quick slap across the face to arrest whatever fit he was having. But August looked so delicate before him, cheeks hollower than they should be, though swelling on one side from being hit earlier. He was peaky where he should have been rosy, trembling like he couldn’t get warm, and had purple shadows akin to bruises beneath his wide eyes as though in a painful state of exhaustion. Wyatt put a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

He gripped Wyatt’s forearm with both hands, suddenly resurfacing to the present. “Please, sir, just keep me. I’ll be good and helpful and anything you wish. Keep me in the cellar for the others, I’ll take it well—”

“Jesus, lad—” 

“—Please, sir, just don’t put me out. I beg of you. He’ll—” A sob racked his thin frame, spurring a cough that sounded even rougher. A souvenir from the workhouse that some of the other boys shared. He lost his breath but pushed on hoarsely, “he’ll kill me, sir. Please, please, I know you’re the better man. If you won’t have me, just shoot me properly. Anything but—”

“August—”

“Please, sir,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die like that—” And then he was overcome, sobbing and begging incoherently as he clutched onto the older boy who held his life in his hands. Both knowing these were roles they’d found themselves in before. 

“Hush, all will be right,” Wyatt soothed. He pulled him out of the chair, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady on his feet. August leaned into the half-embrace, fingers moving to grip the lapels of Wyatt’s jacket. Wyatt moved them across the room to the window. 

It was on the back of the house, overlooking the muddy, little patch Midge pretended was a garden. A generously bowing fence boxed it off from the identical squares on either side and the alley before the next row of houses. 

The window latch was loose and stubborn at the same time. Wyatt had to use two hands to get it to release. He worried he was holding August too firmly to gain use of his right hand but the boy only made himself smaller, folding closer and quieting himself as he did. 

Finally, the window came open. It was a good size, which meant it let in a god-awful draft, but for now it was just right. August turned to look out, sniffling, his breath still ragged. 

The sun was set but the sky had yet to turn dark enough to reveal the stars. It wasn’t so much fresh air as it was cool air and more of it. The city smoked just as much as the rest of them, exhaling from chimneys, old coal-burning stoves, and countless cigarettes held out for her to taste on the streets, in the alleys, and leaning out windows. As the air and noise of the city filled the room, it felt for all the world like they stood outside instead of surrounded by four walls and covered by a roof. 

August let go of Wyatt’s jacket, slipping his fingers back inside the bedcovers and pulling them closer around his shoulders. Wyatt followed his lead and moved his arm onto his shoulders, less of an embrace and more of a casual stance he’d take with any of the others. He was surprised—and belated to make any catch—when August slid out of it, sinking to his knees in front of the window. 

Wyatt crouched beside the smaller boy, checking to see if his eyes were becoming unfocused. “Do you need to lie down?” Perhaps he should check if he was becoming fevered, the wound at his side— 

“No, sir.” He sniffled. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Is it too much? I can close—”

He shook his head. “No, sir. It’s—I’m afraid—afraid—of falling, sir.” 

His chest tightened. “August.” He lifted the boy’s chin with his fingers. His eyes shone, full of tears reflecting the light from the street and the bright rising moon above. “I’m not going to push you.” 

“I know, sir,” he whispered but a tear slid down his cheek and he had to bite his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. 

He moved his hand to his cheek and August leaned into the touch, making a soft sound in the back of his throat. Wyatt was surprised by how much he wanted to stop August crying, stop him hurting. How much he wanted August to believe the words coming out of his own mouth and not just say them to please. What it would take to earn this boy’s trust. What it would mean if he could. His heart raced as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun himself. “I’ll not shoot you either. No one’s going to hurt you. No one’s going to lay a finger on you.”

“I—” August’s voice cracked and he shook his head, doubling down on keeping his lips pressed together to keep from crying as more tears fell from his eyes.

“You’ll be safe here, August. I’ll make certain of it.” The weight of his words pressed against his chest but he drove on, emboldened by the way it felt, the way it sounded, to make these promises, and the way August looked at him as he did. “You have my word. I swear, I’ll keep you safe, little lamb.”

Next

@whumpy-writings @writer-reader-24 @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main  @maracujatangerine  @whumptakesthecake   @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash @peachy-panic @hold-him-down @poeticagony

#carewhumper #sympathetic whumper #dubious caretaker #defiant whumpee #scared whumpee #prisoner whump #captivity whump #whumpee afraid of caretaker #whumpee thinks caretaker is whumper #power dynamics #killing mention #drowning mention #indentured servitude #historical whump #hurt/comfort

[hiscleric]

WITH HONOR, WE HOUND: CHAPTER 2 SNIPPET—‘THE FEAST.’

hey y’all! i’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to rework my old byler fantasy au. so, i thought i could share with you a snippet from the unpublished/unfinished second chapter and get your opinions on it! i’d love to know if you think the premise is worth saving. feel free to leave me your thoughts!

enjoy reading! <3

“Sleep,” urged the Cursecaster suddenly, Thistle halting with a single tug. “You will need all of your energy once we arrive.”

Mike glanced toward the Cursecaster. With narrowed eyes, he tried to peer past the lenses covering the sorcerer's own; a futile attempt, as he could only make out the slight curve of his eyes. The knight nodded, the gentle command ringing in his ears before he slumped against Thistle’s warm neck and succumbed to sleep.

In the lands of his short slumber, Mike sat at a feast. He dreamt of roasted plums drenched in spiced wine and warm crusted rolls donned with sweet, hot butter, a speciality in the Dewmire kitchens since he was a boy; plate after plate of tender lamb loin coated in garlic and rosemary passed from hand to hand. Beside him, on his left, Dustin sipped at crisp apple ale and laughed between bites of stewed carrot and beetroot; on his right, Lucas picked at half a roasted pheasant, charred with sage-soaked butter, an occasional response passing through his wine stained lips.

Across from Mike sat the Commander, who held a gilded goblet against the seam of her mouth. She looked different in the light of the candles above; her flaming hair glowed in such a way that it was as if real fire sprouted from her head. In front of her sat a gold plate, piled high with shucks of aurochs shank drowned in steaming brown gravy–a serving of braised leeks covered in bubbling cheese paired with the course. The Commander sat with a fork to her side, yet her food remained untouched; instead, she seemed to feast on Mike’s pointed stare. Even in his dreams, he could not help but shrink under her one eye, piercing blue as if she knew each word before it passed his lips. Glancing toward the patch that covered the other provided no relief, either, for an eerily painted eye of its own laid in stark white against the leathers black; he could not escape her stare.

“Mike,” came her voice, hollow as the bones resting on Lucas’ plate, “time runs short. The days bleed. He is pleading with each breath; his moans haunt our very halls.” The Commander set down her goblet, and as Mike opened his lips to speak, she stabbed into the shanks with the tip of her knife. “You must make haste. Time runs short. The days bleed.” From the puncture left in the aurochs shank spewed thick, clotted blood, dribbling down the stack till it met the gilded plate in a crimson kiss; Mike’s stomach churned, seizing within till the little food he had allowed threatened to rise from his throat.

“What shall you have me do, Commander?” He pleaded, watching as the wine and ale drained from goblets and morphed into blood, filling Dustin’s glass till it spilled over upon Mike’s arm. The knight watched in horror as the stream of red trickled thick down his limb. “Tell me, please, I will do whatever–”

“Your answer lies with the stag. She shall lead you to the tide.” And her grimace turned to a knowing smile, her hand lifting her goblet back to her lips; she took three long swigs, her next words leaking through ruby red teeth, “You must trust him, Mike. Trust him.”

“Trust who?” He asked before he felt the rush up his throat, a loud cough splattering red across the feast in front of him; the blood dribbled in thick strands down his chin, flying off to stain the white of his tunic. His heart thudded loud in his ears, the traceable sounds of Dustin’s laugh and Lucas’ voice tinging each beat–the feast shifted in front of him, each lamb loin and aurochs shank changing into mangled corpses of winged reptiles with slit throats, their gurgled cries mingling with the metal stench of blood in the air. Flies danced atop the curves of their wings, buzzing by his ears and through his hair and past his eyes. “Trust who?” Mike asked again, speech warped by the hot blood pooling with the saliva in his mouth.

The Commander simply smiled, bringing a piece of meat to her bloodstained mouth.

#byler #will byers #byler fanfic #mike wheeler #byler fic #read on ao3 #ao3 #stranger things #hiscleric #fantasy au #ahhh idk just tell me what you think #if i rework it it will be shorter #IDKKKKK just tell me what u think pls thank you

[tsunael]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

Tagged by : @icehearts & @aethergazing Tagging : Girl you think I know 10 people??

1. Bayonetta <- Bayonetta

I just love her, okay. She's gorgeous, she's confident, she's a witch that fights with her hair and can run 80 mph in 5in pumps. Jokes aside, I just love that her sexuality is a thing that she owns and has fun with-- and it's never used against her maliciously. (I also love her parallels to Dante my other fave). I could go on more but basically... she's truly one of a kind.

2. Akihiko Sanada <- Persona 3

My long-time beau. I RP'd him for about 8 years and met a lot of good people through that blog so I'm a little biased in how sentimental I am over him and Mitsuru. I'd add her too but I'm doing my best to be diverse here. Anyway, I just love him-- he fits all of my standards. He represents the Emperor arcana: the 'father' type. He's a control freak, he drags his guilt around by the ankle, is fiercely protective, has a little jealous streak, and is a hot-headed idiot (who is actually very smart)... And DON'T say it's because he has white hair.

3. Garnet <- Final Fantasy IX

The older I get, the more IX means to me. She has been my favorite since I was little. Not to get personal but I find her relatable: she grew up sheltered but was expected to do great things, and I am sympathetic that her mother (once kind and loving, even though we don't see it) was turned against her by forces she couldn't control. She deals with her grief more realistically than most FF heroines-- she gives into depression and self doubt but she never becomes bitter and that's something I want for myself.

4. Yuna <- Final Fantasy X

My grandma and I played all the FFs together, but the one that really made an impression was X. Yuna is my love: thematically, symbolically, and aesthetically. My sacrificial lamb who would burn herself to keep others warm. She takes her notoriety and her father's burden with grace and never shies from it even when she loses her faith in the system designed to throw her to the wolves. Also every line she has has such gravitas behind it... beautiful writing, beautiful voice acting. My forever girl.

5. Nier <- NieR

My doomed boy. I don't want to go into spoilers because Nier is more of a niche game, but I love him so much (and dadnier, too.) The moral quandary this game has... the morally grey protagonists... I love a character who loves with all his heart and would give anything for the people he loves. The side-story where it's implied he even ***** ******* for some coin was... man.

6. Kim <- Xenogears

Trying not to spoil here either it's just vague. IYKYK.

I thought about putting Elhaym here but I feel like the Zeboim era has more characterization than the main lol. Anyway. I love how he has become so cynical about the world around him, yet he is still willing to save and create life, only to find he suffers from the same affliction. As a scientist, he embodies the question: 'What makes a God?' and 'What is does it mean to be human?'. I love his story and I wish there was more.

7. Rubedo Yuriev <- Xenosaga

He's an idiot, he's a tragic figure, he's learned, he's traumatized, and his relationship with MOMO is uhhhhhh complicated. Honestly maybe I should have put Yuriev here because he's such an interesting villain. The URTVs are all squashed together for me like one big delicious smoothie anyway so.

Anyway Rubedo, your dad stared into The Abyss and it stared back and now he's insane and his fear of God and his own mortality was so strong he would use his own flesh and blood to run (and it was honestly really sexy of him) but what he never seems to grasp is that you can't run from what you can't see and sooner or later it will catch up.

8. Misato Katsuragi <- Neon Genesis Evangelion

Hi I love women with daddy issues.

I love her with Kaji. She looks for her father in him, while he's searching for his mother, but Misato, try as she may, she will never be a mother to anyone--not to Kaji, and certainly not to Shinji. There's a ton you can read into nge characters but there's something to be said about the trauma our parents force us (willing or unwillingly) to inherit, and how we hurt others as a result of that.

9. Dante <- Devil May Cry

He's so fucking stupid (affectionate). Dante Alighieri is rolling in his grave.

He's not only a boyloser but a boyfailure. He gets bullied by women and children and could probably suplex the earth. He loves his mom!!!

Anyway I love that he exudes a type of masculinity and machismo at first glance only to play the game and see he's a little fruity. I'm also a sucker for characters with duality themes that, when asked 'what makes us different?', the answer is because they chose to love-- which is not something you'd expect from a hack n slash game, inspired by resident evil in which you find new and exciting ways to kill things... yanno?

10. Kenzo Tenma <- Naoki Urasawa's Monster

I was running out of characters and was about to put Thancred or Squall but that's too many FFs so I tried to think of some anime that made an impression on me and Tenma came to me. We needed another Liam O'Brien rep here, clearly.

Anyway read/watch Monster if you haven't, it's an amazing mature series that barely feels like an anime.

Again, the themes of duality here-- who embraced life and who would rather take it? If Johan represents the inherent evil in the world, and man's propensity for it, then Tenma represents all that is good. He's just so tragic. The moment he finally stands up for himself he's punished for it, then when pushed to his limit, saves the life of a little boy only to be cursed for it. Even through everything he never gives up on people, and every life he touches is changed for the better. And that ending... oh man.

He's babygirl x100.

#tag game #thank you!! #xoxotext #i wrote this through several late nights so it's not very eloquent lmao

[violettesiren]

A little boy’s starched white collar. An insect traversing the curve.

Dusky pearls strung on a wire in my hair wound low in a bow at the cerebellum,

the brain’s wing-shaped center for balance. It’s April. There’s no balance here.

Not in the arch twisted from an ice storm- struck tree, the bluegrass grabbing my lace.

Scent of smoked meats mingling with the sugar-sweet confections just burst on the apples’ limbs.

Hands. Fingers. Ring of rough steel he bought for $35, whose ends don’t fuse but overlap

like an overbite—the symbolism isn’t lost on a woman like me:

There is a beginning and an end, April, and one of us will go before the other.

Bees as a species are already dying but we have tons. There, today,

we have a live bee for every lapel. A bride should have a veil, they said

and so I bought one. Paid and left it; like the skin of a fetal lamb

piled on the counter, it was too finely made and traditional to be mine.

The sun dims and it’s April again. I can see a fire station now from our bed.

Sirens come and go all night. On his left hand, the steel is gentle

as the shadows of emergencies cast on our wall a procession of soft, bright bursts.

As we pulled away in the long black car, our friend who would die the next year

tried to hand us a lit sparkler through the window. What happens to our questions when we die?

I wondered aloud on our wedding night about the origin of Daylight Saving Time,

and he told me. It’s dawn, dark, April. He blinks and apple blossoms fall all over my face.

What’s the name for the way we wake to sirens and each roll inward on the frame?

It wasn’t us this time, I mean. We’re still alive, sleeping in our bed,

candles cool and unlit. Small menace makes sweet the body

of April and that’s the meaning of bees. But the mind’s shape is simpler.

When I say he hammered the ring to make it fit, I mean the ring fits.

Anniversary by Gabrielle Bates

#Gabrielle Bates

[silver-wield]

Based from your former posts like super random old ones I guess you have watched shounen genre harems like code Geass. When you're aware of the tropes it's easy to shrug off what happened in between to just fan service or not. I guess I'm just bringing up people being adamant about cloud's reaction to aerith's dress. At least the favorable ones. I know of the real meaning of it, that he's confused, I watched Yamazaki about it and even he was surprised at the final production. I trust his reaction because it seems to me he didn't get "act all mesmerized to her dress" as a stage direction. But rather act confused would be more accurate. But that's not where I'm getting at. I'm getting at the parts in shounen harem or not harem really, where lets say the third party can go and kiss you and all that. Mc's going to blush, panic, or any reaction. This is technically romantic in the atmosphere. But does that mean it properly does that effect? Is he in love? Are these third party really doing anything? No. I could literally just compile kissing scenes from the third parties or any other reaction and then place in the part where the Mc straight on rejects the same girl like nothing happened. Like he never blushed, nothing, its cold. And so when I see defenders on reddit , twitter , or I don't know anymore saying that's supposed to be romantic! Any scene with her really. I just think of this phenomenon in Japanese media for boys and just smh that sure go ahead have deep thoughts on a fan service but it doesn't really mean anything. You could look at most mc in shounen for example ikki from air gear, he'd be putting himself out there in compromising positions with girls and they get a reaction out of him. Does that mean he has feelings/attracted to them? Nah, unless it's explicitly being showed , sayed, developed , wtvr actually substantial like it's supposed to be convincing okay? And not like your counting what is possibly counted / passably romantic because that's desperation (pssh like with aerith scenes). Just to push it out there as well, anybody thinking ff7 is inspired from shoujo tropes don't get FF is a male demographic game. If they do then they're probably doing that for a reason (perhaps to send of the illusion/ confusion part? Wink wink). One day you'll be seeing me out there putting out collage of the stuff I just mentioned and make people get it. Uncultured swines lmfao.

I've watched it a bit 🤣

Yeah, that whole red dress thing is one giant bit of fanservice. It's an optional result from the player's efforts. If it was canon you'd get the red dress no matter what you did, and there'd be links to it once the scene is over. Instead Cloud has the same line about Johnny and never pays any attention to Aerith no matter what she looks like. You'd think he'd be more attentive to her if he suddenly fell in love or whatever, but he's more focused on saving Tifa, and so is Aerith.

Aerith is dressed to impress Corneo. That's literally what the dress is for.

Cloud is literally confused and doesn't recognise Aerith in the red dress scene.

It's no different to when she offered a date. He just doesn't get it. Every time she tries to throw herself at him in any capacity he just doesn't understand what she's after.

And again in her resolution, he's confused. That's his emotional state around her. He doesn't understand what she's on about or why she says and does things towards him. And it's not him being oblivious about women. He's not a moron. He gets that Jessie is throwing herself at him and calls her desperate, so he's not some snow white pure innocent lamb. He understands he's attractive and women like him, he's just not interested in anyone but Tifa, and remains oblivious of her feelings because like him, she's buried them super deep in case it ruins their friendship. And he's under alien control but that's a whole other thing 🤣

And yeah, Yamazaki also confirmed Cloud was confused during the scene and in pretty much every other scene that Cloud appears with Aerith. He also scolded Cloud for being mean in scenes with Aerith. He said they're like siblings and Aerith annoys Cloud on purpose like a sister does to a brother.

If the mocap and the vas and the devs and everybody involved is telling you something then people should just shut up and accept it as a fact 🤷

#ship war #for the plot

[mikewheely]

im just sad because i feel like certain byler fans just want el to be the sacrificial lamb to save the world (after will acts as the key to figuring things out) and for everything to go back to normal so that mike and will can kiss and be an 80s gay couple. it sucks, because it completely disregards mike as a character, will as a character, and especially eleven as a character. and i'm sure some of that is from tunnel vision, but i also can't tell if some of it is internalized misogyny, hatred towards millie bobby brown, or just fetishization of two white, somewhat attractive lanky boys.

It could be any of those things, or all of those together. Honestly, it's actually sad. Just how they don't give a single flying fuck about the protagonist of the show and wants her dead so that Mike can be with Will. It doesn't matter what Mike feels, or whether he feels anything like that at all. Irrespective of his feelings, he needs to be in a romantic relationship with Will, so that their fantasies can come true. It really makes me question if these people really understand that there's no point of a relationship if the feeling is not mutual. And it's not even only romantic love, it also includes one's sexual orientation. Honestly, if I ever noticed that Mileven's feelings are not mutual I would have never been able to ship them or be happy with them, because all I need to know is the truth. And if the truth was that it's not mutual, I would have walked away a long time ago from this ship. But sadly, for them they just prepare some theories and reside within them and spread hate when things don't play out the way they wanted. And the thing that is the stupidest is how they would just play that "you're-homophobic" card if you say you don't ship Mike and Will. Like it's just so easy to put a label on someone and shut them up because you don't have anything better to say.

#mileven #mike wheeler #will byers

[dreamqueenkala]

ONCE UPON A TIME

Previous Chapter

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Playing memory....

It was dark. It was cold. It was an empty expanse surrounding me. Not me, per se, but my body. My vessel. My host. I couldn't think for myself, only register my surroundings as my vessel responded. I rested in whatever expanse I was shrouded in, water dripping the only sound to echo here. It was empty, so very empty. And that terrified me. In that moment of realization, I felt fear. Absolute trembling fear.

"H-Hello?" I called softly, suddenly able to find my voice. It echoed in the dark, for a very long time. I called out again, my voice louder and more firm. I received no response. I don't know how long I had been in this strange void. I don't know how long I was left in darkness. I don't know how long it's had been since I moved. I was scared. And tired. And alone.

Carter...

That was different. Another voice called out to me in the darkness, echoing around me and causing what I'd discovered to be water beneath my feet to ripple. I swallowed thickly as the darkness rippled, swirling like a rotten mist. My body jolted forward by the chest, and I was suddenly standing, barefoot in the water, bare chested with my blood soaked jeans on my hips. I shifted my feet around cautiously, gazing around with a skeptic gaze. An echoing familiar voice spoke out, not to me, but around me, humming as if to a lullaby.

"When full the moon above shines first,

The beast internal shall outward burst,

One by one, leads lamb to slaughter,

It stalks your breath but shuns clear water.

And should you yourself be cursed,

Armed with silver, end the first,

When moon is full before it's wane,

Rend the beast that cursed you slain,

No longer shall you face your blight

Or fear the dread of the full moon's light.

And if it's a bite with which you're faced,

Cleave limb from torso with great haste,

Per chance you'll save your cursed soul,

Before infection takes it's toll."

Where was I? I wondered, spinning in a slow circle to examine the space, trying to find the source of the voice.

"You're in the Lacuna."

I spun around again, my gaze falling on the figure of an old woman suddenly perched behind me. The water rippled beneath her form as she rested in an old Victorian chair, hands clasped in her lap. Her face was wrinkled with age and wisdom, thin lips pursed and eyes narrowed on me. Her blue eyes were filled with rage, the reflection of a fire burning in her pupils.

"The what?" My voice sounded off, echoing as if multiple versions of myself were talking all at once.

"The Lacuna. The space between dreams and reality." She hummed thoughtfully, her lips smacking as she tapped her frail, bony fingers on her knees.

"Why am I here?"

"I brought you here. You see, you're friends are in grave danger, dear boy."

My breath hitched in my throat, eyes flickering between hers as she sneered in my direction. Swallowing again, I took a step towards, curious as the mist around her moved slightly to form shadows and silhouettes. "W-What do you mean? How am I here?"

The chuckle she gave was sinister, filled with malice and discontent as she eyed my bloodied form. "Do you not remember? You were attacked by your dear friend, throat torn from your neck and lungs pierced. You're dying." Biting my lip, I glanced down again, reaching up to feel the thin white scars across my neck, shoulder, back and ribs. I could suddenly remember the pain I'd felt when I'd gained those wounds, the fire burning beneath my skin as those jagged teeth tore into my flesh like paper above a flame. Shivering, I lowered my hands, eyes back on the woman.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I have no other purpose now." She cooed, eyes closed as her head lolled lazily. "My son will surely die before daybreak and I cannot stop it. I have seen it, as you have seen things."

"Wha—my clairvoyance?" She nodded once, gesturing to her right as the visions I'd seen prior had swirled and formed in the mist.

"Your presence here was unexpected. An ink blot in the chaos that is destiny's written pages. You changed the timeline, altered the world around you simply by existing." Her words were dark, ethereal, sending shivers down my spine and allowing dread to clasp itself to my neck like a Vice, squeezing til I couldn't breathe. "Your presence is important here, dear boy. You're presence has kept them alive—all of them."

"So what do I do, then, if they're in danger?"

"You can save them still. Without you, they are destined to die. Gruesome, painful deaths await your friends at the hands of my beloved cursed son." Though her eyes held malice and rage, sorrow lingered in her tone and twisted at her lips, a snarl on her tongue not unlike the beasts that had attacked myself and my friends. Her fingers stretched and gestured to her left, the mist swirling again as the water rippled. I could hear the screams of agony, the cries of help, echoing in the distance as if miles away. From the water rose bloodied, mutilated figures, petrified expressions plastered on those who's faces remained.

"Nick."

His body lay on the floor, splayed awkwardly, with a silver bullet buried in his back, eyes as dark as his hair and empty of life.

"Abigail."

Her corpse rested on its side, neck ripped in half, her skull tossed haphazardly away. Her mouth was agape in a memory of her terrified scream, eyes wide with horror but void of the light of life.

"Ryan."

He lay on the floor, his skull bashed in, jaw and left eye an obliterated mass of viscera and gore, bloodied shotgun clattered to his side.

"Emma."

Her body was arched as if laden across the sharp rocks beneath her, spine snapped and neck slit. Blood coated her vacant expression and dripped from the back of her skull, body twisted.

"Jacob."

His legs were caught in an overhead snare, dangling a few feet above the ground. His abdomen was sliced to shreds, spine ripped from his lower half. His torso and head rested on the floor in a pool of his own blood, organs displayed like the decorations in a cornucopia, eyes soulless.

"Kaitlyn."

Body thrashed as if tossed much like a rag doll, her gaze was fixated above her, lips parted and blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth and eyes. Her stomach was torn into, intestines trailing from the gaping wound and blood coating the ground her corpse resided upon.

"Dylan."

His figure was splayed across a chair, arms torn from his body and tossed feet away. His throat was sliced into and his head tossed back, eyes vacant and mouth parted in a silent scream.

"Laura."

Her body rested beside the silhouette of an overturned car, skull obliterated and brain matter scattered over the asphalt. Her fingers were bloodied and broken, evidence that she'd fought back.

"Max."

Draped over the edge of a dock, his right arm dangling against the water, his head hung low and blood poured from his terrorized throat, eyes closed but scrunched from the memory of pain.

"Your friends will die without you. Time will rewrite itself as it was supposed to, and you will watch them all crumble." I whimpered and covered my ears, eyes screwed shut tightly. I didn't want to look or see, didn't want to live through something so terrible, so traumatizing. It was a horror unlike the pain I'd felt being torn into, lingering in my lungs and clawing at my heart, causing bile to bubble in my stomach.

"Or...you can still save them."

The nausea faded and the screams died, the images fading just as quickly. I lifted my head and gazed deep into her eyes, fingers twitching by my sides. "How?"

A sinister grin settled on her old, withered face, rotten yellow teeth bared and eyes wide with insanity. "Just a little bit of magic can change it all, grant you the power to write fate your way. It all depends on you, dear boy. If you're so willing to die for them, what else are you willing to venture forward with?"

I hesitated. Even I knew that this was terror in its own right, forming a deal with someone so vile in presence and words, yet I couldn't deny it right away. Was this really my only choice? To either make a deal and save my friends, or watch them all die? My heart clenched and my teeth gritted together.

I bit my lip and, with a heavy inhale, gave her my answer. Her cackle echoed as she faded from my vision, the expanse around me crumbling completely. The experience of falling rapidly overtook my senses, body caving in slightly as I drew nearer and nearer to purest darkness.

"Remember, dear boy..." Her voice cooed, slowly fading as I drifted into whatever future I was to craft. "All magic comes with a price."

File corrupted.

Deleting file...

Unable to delete file.

Proceeding...

#my stuff #fluff #fanfic #male oc #mxm #bxb #the quarry #the quarry fanfic #horror #psychological horror #violence #gore #drama #mature #romance #apocalypticnova

[eattherichplease]

(sorry but this has become a rant. I'm talking to myself pay no notice)

So.

People saying that Wednesday has a bad relationship with her mother and she's rude to her now and/or she hates her because she's going through a rebellious phase are completely right btw, meaning: that's what the show wants you to think, sure, that's the correct reading, that's what the writers intended indeed.

But that's not my point though! My point is: why? What I don't understand is: why.

Why do teenagers have to be portrayed as stupid/rebellious/reckless ignoramus, first of all? Jenna Ortega said something along the lines a while ago in an interview. She's tired of playing teenagers that are portrayed as just plain dumb. That's a bad trope. Is tired, is sad, and is false. Also, it has a very malicious, often overlooked intention: teenagers are often portrayed as dumb and rebellious so the parents watching the show in question can feel superior and vindicated; so they can say to themselves: "ah, teenagers, they are indeed dumb... why my own children, they are always saying these stupid things about gender and capitalism... so dumb and rebellious... but it will wear off eventually". And they feel good with themselves. Are we, the viewers, supposed to think that? Are we supposed to think: "Ah, Wednesday Addams, so rebellious, so fierce, so weird... you are just young and dumb, but it will wear off and you'll see the light, you'll fall in love with a nice guy and you'll stop being so crabby and you'll be nice to your mother". That's stupid. That feels lazy and wrong, mostly because:

Why is Wednesday Addams, of all people, going though a rebellious phase? First of all, she's FAR from a typical teenager/person (for teenagers are, indeed, people after all). She's an Addams! Secondly, and more importantly, what the hell is she rebelling against?? She has the best parents in the whole wide world! You need space? You got it. No hugs? Noted. Not feeling like communicating? We'll be here waiting, girl. You killed a kid? Don't you worry, saved your ass, got you covered, gonna send you to a top-class very expensive school with werewolves and shit, since you like Gothic literature so much. Wednesday rebelling against her parents makes NO NARRATIVE SENSE. That's the issue to me. Maybe I'm missing something?

What I'm getting at is this: Wednesday is portrayed as a rebellious teenager because that's what the writers of movies/shows default to when they don't know how to portray a teenager.

And it just doesn't work. It feels fake.

When Morticia gives Wednesday the obsidian amulet you'll think Wednesday will be happy. Instead she makes a sarcastic comment about spirits like wtf bitch? You love that shit? Who is writing you, babygirl? Why are they making you say dumb stuff? You love séances. They used obsidian for human sacrifices! You love that!

"I'll never be you mother, I'll never fall in love, I'll never have a family!"

Girl what!

For some unexplained reason, Wednesday has become the lost lamb that needs to find her way back into the flock. She's not an important part of the family, she's set apart. She's not neurodivergent, or queer, or extremely gifted, or zealous of her personal autonomy, or an artist... She's just being a brat, you see, and she'll get over it eventually, when she finds her True Love (which apparently implies going to a dance dressed like a princess with a psycho that proceeds to kill her therapist for fun and/or being courted by a guy who has an oil painting of her in his secret cabin to look at).

That's dumb.

They tried to make Wednesday Addams into a Disney princess going through puberty, hating boys and hating her mother, being slowly but painfully dragged into the world of heteropatriarchial normalcy.

That's why we are at a crossroads now.

Writers have realized we are not swallowing it. They made such a mess with the white-boys-Twilight-love-triangle that they have to drop the Straight Agenda completely. Jenna Ortega is marching through every TV show/podcast/whatever like a tornado, saying it over and over again, so it gets solidified, so it sticks.

From now on, then, we have two options:

They let Wednesday be queer with her werewolf girlfriend.

They send her to a convent. They make her renounce love and sex completely. They make her caste and pure, send her to the nunnery for bad girls that don't want penis. They will not say it that way, of course. They'll market it good, they will make it look pretty, using our language and stuff. They'll say: "Wednesday, the first asexual queen of TV" or some shit. But it will be a lie and it will be false. And they'll give her a male love interest eventually some way down the line.

So which way.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday #the addams family #media analysis #queer studies #this is me being normal about a piece of media btw #i have never been so involved in a fandom before #i should be reading or writing my fics #this is my free time but here i am #too much passion

[cto10121]

Twilight Meta Review—Chapter 3-4

In which Edward saves Bella from the van and reveals himself some more, Bella demands an explanation and Edward refuses it. They don’t speak for a month until Edward gets the jellies from Mike Newton, of all people, and decides f*ck it, Imma just fuck around and find out. Instalove, clearly. Spoilers, of course.

Chapter 3: Love At First Fight

I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn’t the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Edward Cullen. And that was very, very stupid. (p. 54)

Bella is so self-aware it���s not even funny. It’s actually kind of great. Remind me again why she is somehow an awful character? In any case, she does feel embarrassed at her obvious infatuation.

I was well aware that my league and his league were spheres that did not touch.

The class-boundaries theme begins its smooth cha-cha slide into consciousness, I see. Lion and the lamb, May-December romance. And of course, Bella is obviously working class white to Edward’s posh white. Classic.

I was sure I looked the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as the damsel in distress. (p. 55)

I’m going for novelty. Small town life is very much Like That. Bella is obviously conventionally attractive and sweet and that’s enough for most guys. In any case, I like how Bella is just so unimpressed and even annoyed at all the attention. She doesn’t fawn over just any guy who pays her attention, which is of course the point. Even Mike annoys her the moment he shows any romantic interest in her. All throughout the book she tries to set him up with Jessica instead.

There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat felt suddenly tight. I wasn’t used to being taken care of, and Charlie’s unspoken concern caught me by surprise. (p. 55)

I wish they had kept this in the movie instead of the staring contest between Edward and Bella, if only because Charlie is just…truly lovely. And once again, there is Bella’s neglect by her mother.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. (p. 56)

This whole van sequence is written a little confusingly, but it give some ambiguity as to exactly what happened. In the movie, it’s just…Edward leaps and stops the van, they stare at each other and he just…leaps out. Instead of an almost ghost-like Edward setting up a plausible scene and Bella very confusingly registering everything.

“Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way.” He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

“No.” I set my jaw.

Bella is so spineless, isn’t she? Just look at the way she just accepts her crush’s lies without argument. The anti hate dumb is really intense in this one. I’m blaming the movie writing on this.

The gold in his eyes blazed. “Please, Bella.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Trust me,” he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.

I could hear the sirens now. “Will you promise to explain everything to me later?”

“Fine,” he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

“Fine,” I repeated angrily.

Their first lovers’ tiff Their first argument is perhaps the only true one. Of course Edward isn’t going to reveal his vampirism to a human—it isn’t even his secret to tell. He is risking *Alan Rickman voice* the exposure of their world. But Bella has seen too much, alas, and notices too much. Beforehand she had noticed the change in Edward’s eye color and his strength. This is yet another piece in the mystery puzzle, which the movie adaptation just simply yeets out the window.

In any case, at the hospital Bella asks Edward directly for his promised explanation. It goes about as well as you’d think.

“I saved your life—I don’t owe you anything.”

I flinched back from the resentment in his voice. “You promised.”

“Bella, you hit your head, you don’t know what you are talking about.” His tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. “There is nothing wrong with my head.”

This is so much better and more interesting than the movie version it hurts. Bella is like a dog with a bone here and Edward is somehow unable to convince her of his lies. Hell, he almost doesn’t even try. Since we are shown that he is usually good at persuasion, it shows that his weak spot is Bella.

I’m guessing the film adaptation didn’t like Edward’s assholery here and so toned it way down, but his anger 1) fits his character and 2) is definitely not because of Bella. It’s all directed at himself, for his weakness in exposing himself and his family to danger—he admits it explicitly later on in the book. It’s also confirmed in Midnight Sun. Bella doesn’t know all this baggage, though, but she still picks up a very distorted version of the truth—that he regrets saving her.

We scowled at each other in silence. […] I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway. (p. 65)

A gentle but firm reminder that Bella has a temper. She internalizes it, however, as women are taught to do. Would have been nice for Stewart to have been directed to show that anger.

That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

Nothing like saving your life and behaving like an asshole to stir up the hormones.

Chapter 4: Bella and Edward Don’t Speak For A Month

Yep. A whole month.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. (p. 68)

Bella’s and Edward’s relationship is clearly moving too quickly. One awkward conversation, then a life-saving incident, then a full-on argument in which they don’t speak for a month. Instalove, clearly.

Yes, Bella is hot for him and is already dreaming about him like the simp she is, but that doesn’t mean she is just going to roll over at his say-so. And Edward is still clearly in fervent denial about his fascination with her. That won’t last, of course.

I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause—no one was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.

Bella knows she is in horny jail and deserves it. Look at her wearing the makeup of clownery with ironic ruefulness. Juliet Capulet somewhere is smiling in knowing recognition. I approve.

Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I could see he’d been worried that Edward’s daring rescue might have impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. (p. 71)

It’s a nice reversal, to be sure. In fact, that incident was definitely a one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of deal. Meyer is breaking a pretty bad trope-cliché with this one, and she deserves credit for that.

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head. […] And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

Edward-senpai noticed her!!!! And all thanks to Mike. Yes, Mike fucking Newton was literally the catalyst for Edward talking to Bella again. It’s Edward’s turn for the clown makeup.

I couldn’t believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me—just because he’d happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn’t allow him this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy. (p. 74)

Bella is so smart she anticipated her own anti hate dumb. What clairvoyance. Move over, Alice.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded.

“It’s better if we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.”

At least Edward apologized. That’s something. (Did he in the movie adaptation? I don’t remember). But of course Bella believes that Edward is regretting saving her, which of course angers him. And thus Fight #2.

I mean to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the doorjamb and dropped my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he’d already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.

“Thank you,” I said icily.

His eyes narrowed.

“You’re welcome,” he retorted.

Now KISS.

(Bonus: A Troll!Edward moment I love: Letting Tyler Crowley ask Bella to the prom by blocking Bella’s way.

In his rearview mirror, Edward’s eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he’d heard every word Tyler had said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal…one little bump wouldn’t hurt any of them, just the glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine.

Why couldn’t we have this in the movie adaptation instead of the horrible comic relief? Bella and Edward can be really hilarious together if you just let their personalities shine. Okay, now back to the show.)

“Bella, it’s not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant.” His voice was quiet as usual—velvet, muted.

Ooh, below the belt. And so untrue it’s clownish. But notice that he said if—also, he may still be trying to keep to his I-was-right-next-to-you fib. But Edward is in a lighter mood today and he has just asked Bella if she would like a ride to Seattle. Like the cuttease he is.

“It would be more…prudent for you not to be my friend,” he explained. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella.”

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn’t remember how to breathe. (p. 84)

Really? In front of my salad?

#twilight #twilight meta #cristina reads #cristina reviews #anti anti twilight #jealous!edward is always something #then again he has to listen to mike’s thoughts