#but these were all the ones i could easily find

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 2

Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Part 1 here

You’re deep in sleep when a loud bang wakes you.

Bolting up with a gasp, your heart pounds in your chest for a few minutes. You’re not sure what the noise was- a door slamming shut, or maybe something falling in the apartment above you, but the echo of it in your head keeps you awake for a while, hating that your anxiety doesn’t let you sleep.

.

You go to another dry cleaners, you do your best to avoid going out. You go to work, and back home for a couple of weeks, worried that someone will find you and scold you for what you’ve done.

You think about being scolded by him, you doubt you’d be able to last a moment in his presence.

After you’d ensured the safe delivery of the coat, did you finally research the owner.

William Russo, his stoic, borderline angry expression staring back at you through your computer screen had only made you aroused all over again.

This, this was the Alpha with a scent so magnetic, you couldn’t resist it.

He was rich, a CEO, and you could only look around your threadbare apartment and sigh sadly, there was nothing you could offer him that would interest him.

So, you try to move on with your life, work hard so you can afford to buy alleviators for your next heat, and stay away from alphas that would no doubt hurt you.

The art museum was a big comfort. On a Friday evening, when it was at its emptiest, you’d go in, and stare at all the paintings. You’d study the brushstrokes till your eyes burned, items like Starry Night, and Street Light were beautiful works that always made you dare to dream of a life better than the one you were in. Today however, The Lovers was the one that kept you most occupied.

Two people, with white cloths over their heads as they lean into each other, kissing.  Hidden from each other’s sight, you wonder if the painting only holds its romance because of the seemingly anonymity of the subjects. If the mystery was removed, would there be more love, or less?

It was kind of how you felt right now, pained, searching for something that you weren’t familiar with. An alpha, to call your own.

None of the alphas you’d met had ever been right for you. There was an entitlement written into them, the belief that your station was lesser, so you were supposed to submit. Alphas constantly lived with that air of superiority surrounding them, and they were easily upset when you did not give them what they wanted. 

The alphas you dated were wrong to think that submission was something freely given, in reality, it had to be earned.

You wondered if the alpha on your mind would ask nicely.

Probably not. It was a good thing he existed only in your fantasies.

.

Your omega privilege means you get to stay a little after closing. You smile gratefully in the security guard’s direction when he comes to escort you out.

“We’ve got a new piece coming in tomorrow. You won’t be able to stay late anymore, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You smile in delight.

“Do you know which one it is?” You ask.

“Not really, not much of an art guy, but it’s a big deal, really expensive.”

You nod, enthusiastically.

“Well, I can’t wait.” You reply, wishing the beta a good night when you finally reach the exit, pulling your jacket tighter around you to protect from the cold.

.

Not for the first time in his life, he feels the loneliness. 

It’s only that he’s never felt it quite like this. Usually, people just didn’t want him, his mother gave him up when he was a baby, and he’d never really understood why. Through his life, people had assumed he’d present as a beta, because he’d been a scrawny kid. Things had only gotten worse when at ten, his alpha denomination had shown through.

Then, everyone had wanted a piece of him, an opportunity to say that they’d fought an alpha and won, uncaring of his age and size- the world had forced him to become ruthless very quickly.

He’d let the world’s rejection shape him, and he’d only realised that when he’d met Frank.

Frank had made him understand, that alphas were not supposed to be cruel, but rather the very definition of safety and security.

He'd tried his best to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him, and that had worked.

At least, it had, up until he'd smelled that stupid coat.

Now, it was like someone had taken a piece of him and ran off with it, ripped a carefully placed bandage off and left him with an open wound. He could feel the absence, like if it was a whole other person in the room.

He wanted his omega.

It was all he’d thought about now, as he pressed the coat to his nose every night, struggling to catch her fading scent, he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again when the scent fully faded.

He keeps going, maybe he even pushes himself harder, his work distracts him, helps him keep a clear head.

He’d even accepted a job to secure artwork for the museum, even though his specialty was protecting people, and Frank was usually the man that handled asset protection.

He’s following closely behind The Scream when he stops dead in his tracks.

One of his employees tosses him a confused glance, but he ignores it as he takes a deep inhale. 

He’d know that vanilla scent anywhere, the smell of apples mixed in and his heart gives an eager kick.

Surely not-

He turns his head, sees a painting of two lovers hiding from each other, kissing through a shroud of white cloth. He studies it for a moment, his mind racing at speeds he can’t fathom.

When the painting gets too far ahead, he turns and resumes his stride, thinking about all the ways he can do his best to get what he wants.

.

He gets permission to access the security footage of the museum.

Who’s really going to deny an alpha anyway?

Billy finds her, or at least the back of her head, and he can’t help the excitement that after weeks of searching, he’s managed to get lucky and obtain a lead on her.

He talks to the security guard that walked her out. With a sleepy voice over the phone, the man tells him that she’s a frequent visitor to the museum on Fridays, and she doesn’t cause any trouble so he lets her stay a little after closing.

“She just likes looking at the pieces, and I can’t be mean to an omega as shy as her.”

Billy’s mouth twitches upward, amused at the biological imprint inside everyone to protect omegas. The men who’d done her a favour to deliver his coat had said near the same thing.

It had made him fond, of a sweet girl, that would no doubt be spooked if he showed up at her home unannounced. Even if he now had the means to trace her back to her home, he couldn’t take the risk. He had to play this right.

.

When you hear Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display, you vibrate with excitement. Instead of going the opening week, you wait till your usual time the next Friday, when hopefully there’s much less of a crowd to contend with.

It’s not completely empty, but you’re okay with the sparse crowd, you smile, tiptoeing to peek over shoulders so that you can catch a sight of it before you’re at the front.

You love everything about it, the colour and the expressionism of it, you wonder how much the paint has faded over time. The little paragraph beside the painting describes an infinite scream, a universal anxiety, and you think you can almost feel that as you stare at it, the idea that you’re being watched sending a nervous thrill down your spine.

When you move away from the painting however, the feeling lingers. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to shake the feeling, you don’t understand how a painting can have such an effect.

To clear your head, you find an impressionist nearby, Monet’s reflections of clouds on a lily pond, and you stand in front of it, letting out a long sigh.

When the distinct smell of bergamot hits you, you stiffen. 

Your heart squeezes into your throat, and you try to look around as casually as possible, betas turn to look at you as they scent your distress in the air. 

Did you feel like you were being watched- because you were actually being watched?

You take in another breath, and this time, you’re sure.

Cracked pepper, citrus- 

The alpha was here.

Someone says your name behind you, and you turn in fright.

There he was. Dressed down in casual clothes, trying to blend in with the people around him- as if an alpha as handsome as him ever could.

Billy Russo was devastatingly gorgeous up close.

But you were fucked.

Your eyes widen and you take a step back, knowing that this was definitely about stealing his coat. He would no doubt try to make you pay for cleaning- or worse yet- a new coat entirely.

Your body flushes with fear as you back away from him on shaky legs.

His head tilts as he watches you go, dark eyes caught on your retreating form.

“Don’t run, omega.” He says easily, taking a single stride as you back away, his presence looming over you, igniting something in your stomach like a match being struck.

You make a small sound in the back of your throat, and you do exactly what he says not to.

You run.

Well, not exactly.

More like a quick walk, looking back to see if he follows, you beeline for the bathroom, hoping to hide in there for a moment.

You groan, splashing your face with water, internally grumbling over what you've gotten yourself into.

You should have never grabbed that stupid coat with your stupid omega senses always searching for the right alpha. What did you think? That just because he’d had an amazing scent meant that he wanted to take care of you? 

No, he was probably going to scold you, and force you to pay him back, and you couldn’t afford three thousand for a coat. 

Your throat tightens in panic, your body flushes with fear.

You couldn’t think too much on what he would do if he caught you, all you needed to focus on right now, was getting away.

So you take a deep breath and you shed your jacket, tucking it under your arm and stepping out of the bathroom behind someone. 

There’s not a lot of people, but luckily you know the museum, and you take the most secluded paths that you doubt anyone unfamiliar to the museum would know of.

You sigh happily when you see the exit door in sight, making large meaningful steps, looking back every now and then. Behind you is empty, and you think that you might have actually lost him.

It sends a pang of sadness through you, but you shake your head to shove it away.

You look back once more when you push your way through the exit doors, making sure the path behind you is clear of any six foot alphas.

And you walk right into him.

You’re not sure it is at first, but his size and smell give it away. Your face is pressed securely to his chest, and his hands come up to grip your upper arms firmly.

You raise your head in panic, trying to wrench back from him.

“Relax omega, you’re not in any trouble, I promise.” He says, something in his voice that makes his words sound believable.

You whine in distress.

“Please, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to replace your coat. I shouldn’t have taken it.” You plead, voice wobbling with the struggle to speak under duress.

“Shh, little one, I’m not here to ask you for money.”

His words don’t register in your head, and you begin to cry. Thick swells of tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t pay.” You struggle out in a tiny voice.

He grunts, his hands move to cup your face, your tears spilling onto his fingers instead.

“Omega.” He says meaningfully.

The command in his tone makes you look up at him, brain going quiet, the power of his voice catching your attention easily. His stern expression softens.

“I’m not here to make you pay for anything, and I promise you’re not in any trouble.”

You make a little sniffle.

“ ‘M not?” You ask weakly.

The corner of his mouth curves up.

“No, I just want to talk.” 

“Talk?” You repeat dumbly.

His thumbs trace over your cheekbones gently, a soft tingling sensation swims in your head and settles at the top of your spine. Your eyelids flutter as you watch him nod.

“I’ve been searching for you for weeks, omega, since you left me that coat drenched in your sweet scent, I haven’t had a clear thought since.”

You gulp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t be sorry just-” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s looking for the right words, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. My treat.”

You take a deep breath, eyes widening.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

He lets out a swift breath, you worry that you might be aggravating him.

“What aren’t you sure about? Your safety?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace beneath your ribcage, tormenting your body with the feeling of panic.

You reach up, cupping his hands in yours and peeling them off your cheeks. 

“Alphas are… notorious for getting angry when they don’t get their way.” You reply anxiously, your hands uncurling from his, filled with so much trepidation. 

“I understand, but give me a chance to prove myself. There’s something between us, omega, you just have to open yourself up to it.”

You blink, stomach flipping as you debate your options.

You eye him warily, too afraid to say no, too scared of how he would react.

You take another step back, and his face looks pained, his body tense.

You shake your head, scared, taking another cautious step away.

“Please don’t run.” He says softly, it makes you pause.

Maybe… maybe a chance wouldn’t be so bad.

“What about lunch tomorrow?” Somewhere bright and public that would make you feel safer about being around him.

He lets out a slow breath.

“Lunch is great. Where?”

You think for a moment.

“We can meet right here, there’s a place not far from here with nice sandwiches.”

He inclines his head.

“Sandwiches are great.”

You give him a soft smile of amusement, still a little unsure.

“Okay, we’ll meet here tomorrow? Around 12?”

He nods, digging into his pockets for a moment before pulling a card out and extending it to you.

You blink, a little cautious, reaching for the obsidian coloured paper in his hand. You study the raised silver lettering, his name, his job title, his company.

“The one on the left is my cell. Let me know when you get here. If you want, we can look around the museum too.”

Something flips in your chest at the thought. You wonder what he thought of The Scream.

“No,” You mumble, shaking your head, “The museum is packed on a Saturday. I hate crowds.”

He nods in understanding.

“No crowds then, maybe we can take a walk in the park.”

“Maybe.” You reply, still a little unsure of this entire scenario.

“You're safe, Omega, I promise.”

You offer a sad smile.

“That's what they all say.”

.

He was going to kill every Alpha that had ever made you feel unsafe.

He sits in his car, after you'd denied his offer to at least take you home. 

Your scent fades where he'd touched you, his body demanding more. Apples, so fucking sweet his mouth waters. 

Halfway to his home, a text comes in from you, shyly informing him that you'd made it home.

He'd asked, wanted to make sure that you were safe as the late evening had turned to night.

He keeps it simple, types out a small message to put you at ease.

Thank you. Sweet dreams

.

.

.

A/N: Pretty sure y'all are gonna hate this. Sorry.

Also, just asking for more without leaving any kind of feedback makes me feel kinda used 😅

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #alpha!billy russo

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on. 

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes. 

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t. 

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question. 

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge. 

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money. 

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant. 

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best. 

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages. 

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise. 

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks. 

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved. 

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop. 

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice. 

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams. 

Today was not that day. 

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume. 

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker. 

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath. 

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t. 

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris. 

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex. 

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore. 

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room. 

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans. 

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while. 

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers. 

Had he caught you staring? 

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground. 

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin. 

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin. 

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense. 

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized. 

You refused to give him one. 

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation. 

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth. 

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.” 

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him. 

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you. 

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels. 

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision. 

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it. 

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry. 

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind. 

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly. 

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August. 

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open. 

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie. 

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo. 

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance. 

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy. 

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make. 

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you. 

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence. 

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest. 

Eddie. 

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high. 

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile. 

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have. 

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating. 

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home. 

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence. 

I can pay you back. 

I can’t believe you did this for me. 

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character. 

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer. 

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts. 

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip. 

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend. 

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward. 

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.” 

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry. 

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors. 

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark. 

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school. 

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it. 

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades. 

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation. 

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you. 

Let go. Let go. Let. Go. 

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment. 

Hi. 

You pressed back with an accompanying smile. 

Hi. 

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile. 

--

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[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x f!reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

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[ktgoodmorning]

Hold still

Misa Rodriguez x reader

You help Misa in getting ready for a big event

Masterlist

“What if I just tell them I’m sick or something so we don’t have to go?”

“Misa, you’re not getting out of this. There’s no way I’m going to this wedding alone, just because you can’t decide what to wear.” 

Your girlfriend threw her head back with a groan, “But why’s it have to be outside? It’s gonna be way too hot to wear a suit but a dress feels like so much work.” you shook your head at her whining, amused at how easily your tough-as-nails girlfriend met her match, just at the thought of getting all dressed up. 

“I’ll help you get ready if you want. I’ll do your hair and makeup and everything. It could be fun! You could wear that red jumpsuit that I love so much.” The glint in your eye seemed to get her attention, turning her frown into more of a smirk, as she was suddenly much more willing to cooperate. 

“You know it would probably look good with those black heels that I know drive you crazy too.” 

“Well I guess we won’t know for sure until you decide to start getting ready, si?” you turned back to the mirror where you were finishing your own makeup, making sure you had plenty of time to get her ready as well. This was a common occurrence, having to reason with her to get dressed up for the events that called for it, as she much preferred her joggers and t-shirts. From the other room, you could hear her moving around, finally deciding to give in to you, something she seldom did for anyone else. 

As soon as you finished putting the finishing touches on your own face, you stepped out into your bedroom to see Misa finding her jumpsuit and shoes she was looking for. 

“Mis, I’m done with my makeup if you want me to do yours?”

“Si, I’ll be right in.” As much as your girlfriend despised the idea of caking her face full of products, she absolutely loved it when you would offer to do it for her. It always meant spending time with her sitting on the bathroom counter with you standing between her legs, as close to her face as possible while you concentrated on what you were doing. She would always jump at the opportunity to have you so close to her, close enough that she could feel your breath against her face. 

When Misa joined you, she was immediately put off by the sheer amount of makeup products littering the counter. Most were left from your work on your own face that you hadn’t gotten to putting away but you still saw the way she immediately tensed up upon seeing them. 

“Not too much, right amor?” 

“Right, Mis.” You pulled her into you by her hips so you could talk face to face. “I’ve done this before, remember? And I haven’t messed it up so far.” The taller woman relaxed against you, and left some short pecks on your lips as a sign that she trusted you. “Now come sit!”

You cleared a small area on the counter for her to sit while you worked that allowed you to stand between her legs after she hopped up. For a minute you just stood there with your hands cradling her face, admiring your girlfriend’s features. You noticed how a slight blush rose to her face, the longer you stared at her, but it didn’t stop you until she pushed you away, giggling nervously.

 “God, you’re the only one who can always make me blush, so damn much.” Nobody but you got to see her so soft and giddy, so unlike how she was with everyone else. It made you feel honored, in a way, that you got to see that side of her that so rarely came out. You gave her another kiss to bring her back to you before stepping back to grab the products you wanted. 

Starting with some light concealer and foundation, you pat your beauty blender all over her face, trying to get in every crease and corner. Her reactions made you giggle. The usually stone-faced, world class goalie, would flinch every time you got anywhere near her eyes and scrunch up her nose if you went too hard, making it hard for you to take her seriously. “Amor, you have to hold still if you want it to turn out okay.”

“You’re gonna poke my eye out, though!” Her whining was back as she instantly transformed into a total child right before your eyes. 

“Only if you keep moving so much!” Misa pushed you away slightly as you laughed at her. “It’s just a sponge, and I’m not even near your eyes yet. Just please try to hold still for me, okay?”

“Fine.” she grumbled in annoyance as you both settled back into play to continue, starting in on a subtle contour. 

One of the hottest things about Misa was the way her face and jaw were so defined so you knew that the slightest contour would be just enough to drive you absolutely insane. The further you went on her makeup, the more you knew you’d have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself tonight. Between the unusually feminine look for her, having her hair and makeup done, the red jumpsuit you already knew you loved, and the heels making her even taller, excited was an understatement. 

When it came time for you to work on her eyes, you knew you’d have a hard time, partially from how fidgety the woman in front of you was becoming, but partially because you kept being distracted by the way she was looking at you. Misa’s eyes bore into you, continuously checking you out, clearly appreciating the work you’d done on your own hair and makeup. 

“Misa, I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.” She gave you a cheeky shrug, knowing exactly what she was doing to you. 

You rolled your eyes and started on her eyeshadow, being careful not to do too much. As you worked on her eyes, you moved closer and closer to her face, trying to make sure it was perfect. You felt your girlfriend’s breath catch in her throat when you used one hand to grab her jaw and steady her, smirking at her reaction. The two of you both drove each other crazy, especially when you were dressed up and looking the way you currently were. 

“What, do you like my hands on you or something?” 

“I’d like it better around my neck, mi amor.” her voice was a low growl, only working to further your attraction to her. 

“Maybe later tonight, but you’re still not getting out of this wedding, no matter how much you work me up.” 

“But what if I give you kisses?” she leaned forward into you, in hopes of capturing your lips but you only moved further away. 

“You can give me all the kisses you want, Mis, but we’re still going. And if you mess up your makeup doing so, I’m not gonna be happy.” 

“Babyyyy.” 

“You’ll live, I know you’ve had worse. Just sit still for a minute so I can finish, I’m almost done.” The taller woman grumbled to herself in Spanish but still decided to comply, just as she always did with you, allowing you to finish. 

“All I have left is your lipstick, do you want to pick the color or do you want me to?”

“Hmm well you should pick something that will go well with yours probably,” she shot you a wink while the smirk returned to her face once again, only causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I’ll just give you the same as mine so I can throw it in my bag and fix it when you undoubtedly mess it up later.” 

“Hey, how do you know I-”

“Mis, quit talking so I can apply it.” The second you changed your focus to her lips, your girlfriend had an even harder time holding still. She tried to hold in a smile which only made your job harder. “I need you to hold still if you don’t want to end up looking like a mess, Misa.”

“I’m trying, but your concentrated face is so cute!”

“Misa!”

“No, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’ll stop. I just love how serious you take this.”

You didn’t respond to her but smiled to yourself, allowing you to finally finish her makeup, growing slightly nervous for her reaction.“Your face is all done. What do you think?” 

Misa hopped down from the counter and turned to the mirror, taking in your work. “It’s perfect, mi amor. You do such a good job.” Her arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into her, forcing you to look up at the taller woman and leave a light kiss on her jawline. “Gracias, amor.” Your only response was a smile as she leaned down for a soft kiss, being careful not to mess up your makeup. 

“Do you want me to do your hair quick? I could just put it in a nice ponytail, maybe straighten it quick? It doesn’t have to be much.”

She gave you another nod and turned for you to start doing her hair, something you knew would be quick and easy. Her dark hair was naturally pretty straight so it was more a matter of brushing it back so the ponytail was smooth and straightening out any rogue pieces. 

When you finished her hair, you both got dressed and ready to go, helping zip each other's dresses and clasp each other's necklaces. As soon as you were ready, you turned to face Misa whose face was frozen in awe. 

“Mi amor, you look… breathtaking. You are so perfect I can’t even believe it.” Her hands were on you instantly to pull you into her while her eyes continued to roam your body. “How did I ever get so lucky?” 

“Mmm, I could say the same about you, Mis. Look at you. These heels, and this jumpsuit. Damn.” You had to go on your toes to reach her for a kiss, something you were more than happy to do at the moment. “You’re still not getting out of this wedding, but maybe we don’t have to stay too late.”

“I like that idea,” she mumbled against your lips before continuing the kiss. All you knew was it was a good thing you had your lipstick in your purse, because it was going to need lots of fixing if you ever made it out of the house.

Requests are always open! Feedback is more than welcome! Hope you enjoyed it! I'm always down to chat!

Masterlist

#misa rodriguez #misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez imagine #woso #woso imagines #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt #espwnt x reader #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingmisa #futfem #sefutbol fem

[gglitch1dd]

Love is Blind

Midoriya Izuku x Fem!Reader

Original Idea from @koreluvsspring thank you so much love for letting me do this for Izuku.

Midoriya wasn't even sure how on earth he found himself on the reality dating show but at this point he wasn't even surprised. When your mother is nagging you to get married, you end up doing anything to please her (and maybe even prove to yourself that you can do it). So on a whim here he was.

When he had decided to put himself up as a contestant, it was no surprise that the show took him. When the new Number One hero of Japan says he wants to be part of your show, one does not just simply refuse.

However he had a few criterias when it came to his participation.

In no way shape or form are any of the female contestants going to know who he really is, his real name or hero name. He was fine with them advertising that a hero would be part of the show but nothing more.

No special treatment. He wanted to be treated like every other person on the show. Same amount of screen time, same opportunities, same punishments if need be.

So when Midoriya found himself in the mens section of the facility that was being filmed, he was nervous. The guys were great, some were great fans and others were overall standard people and it was nice getting to know them.

"I really don't know what to expect." Midoriya said as he sat on a chair speaking to the camera in one of his side interviews. "I wholeheartedly just came here with an open mind. If I find her, I find her and if I don't, I don't." He shrugged.

Admittedly he hoped this wouldn't be a waste of time. As much as he loved his job, loved his friends and loved how busy he was as the Number One hero and all the new perks it came with, he was also lonely.

It was a prospect he didn't like to think about since choosing to focus on his career but here he was.

Once the pods were open, Midoriya quickly gave himself the pseudonym Mighty (sorry All Might). He became a fan with some of the ladies but mostly because he could shut up and listen, the moment he started rambling however... then he didn't have many supporters.

But then he met you.

"What is your favourite dinosaur?"

Midoriya paused before chuckling at the question. He leaned back in his couch as he opened to a new section in his notebook. This was a voice he had never heard before. "That's a tough question." He told you honestly.

"You can tell a lot about a person by the type of dinosaur they like."

"Hm..." Midoriya had to think about this question long and hard. "I think Velociraptors."

"Ah so you're a Jurassic park fan."

He couldn't help but laugh. "I can't deny that I haven't watched the movies a couple times, but the movies depict them all wrong. Velociraptors were typically not higher than one and a half meters and had feathers too. They were less than 20kg in weight. Although they were bipedal predators and are said to have run at fast speeds due to their light weight and short stature, they really were not as vicious as they seemed in the movies, unless you were a prey animal of course. That would be pretty unfortunate. But I think an animal like a brachiosaurus could easily survive against small velociraptors. They'd have to be hundreds of them to take down those big guys and-" Midoriya stopped talking when he realised he had once again started rambling. He had probably scared you off. "Sorry I-"

"I agree. The movies do depict them wrong, but then again I don't think we can truly know the truth. Although you did mention my favourite leaf eating tall necks, the brachiosaurus so you get points for that." You spoke up chirply, having followed along with his words. "I'm L/N Y/N! It's nice to meet you!"

Midoriya paused and smiled, genuinely. "I'm Mid- Mighty." He caught himself there. He almost slipped up and gave you his real name. That was a close one. In due time. He let out a breath. "I'm Mighty."

"Hello Mighty." Midoriya could hear the smile on your face.

Since then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, nor could he stop talking to you. You were the first and only person he ever wanted to talk to while in the pods. He felt like a high schooler again, laughing with a soft blush on his face and having serious conversations with you almost as if he had known you for years.

"I mean yah, I try be as close to my parents a possible but sometimes it just... doesn't work out." He heard you say from the other side of the wall. "I'm pretty close to my younger sibling though. We have a lot of fun together, I miss them. What about you?"

Midoriya lay on his back on the couch, his hand stopped writing notes as he moved to look up. He took a moment. "Well it's always just been my mom and I. My dad was..." In jail as a mass terrorist and genocidal maniac who tried to kill him upon seeing him for the first time in 16 years. "Never really in the picture." He decided to say. "But my step dad and I are real close. He's a real nice guy."

"I'm glad you've got him in your life. You talk very highly about him."

"He's... he's given me more than I can ever express." He spoke softly.

"You're a hero right?"

He nodded his head with a hum. "Yep."

"Well... I think its mighty special that a hero is able to still appreciate the ones that brought him to where he is. I think that's mighty sweet." You said, making him smile at your words. Then he heard you giggle. "Hehe, see what I did there? 'Mighty'?"

Midoriya snorted.

He could talk to you about absolutely anything and the both of you seemed just so compatible. You both wanted the same future and had the same goals in life. When he thought of his future, now he saw you. It had just been a little under a week in the pods and he was sure.

It was a weird thing watching other guys come back and say how they proposed to the girl of their dreams they had never seen. But Midoriya could say that he understood.

He understood as he entered the pod in a button down and dress pants despite you not being able to see him. He understood when he crouched down on one knee and took a breath and said. "If there is one sure thing I know about this whole experience, it's you. I've... I've never felt so calm and so happy than when I'm with you. You gave me happiness and... and well... I wanted to ask you if you would marry me?"

You didn't answer immediately which had Midoriya a bit nervous (he was sweating through his shirt) but then he heard sniffs. You were crying. "Yes. Yes I will marry you."

Next thing he knew, he was standing behind the impending glowing doors that would lead to you. The woman he loved. He couldn't care how you looked. Honestly if you were a troll that lived under a bridge, he would follow you there too.

And when the doors opened and standing at the very end of the pathway, your doors opened to and he saw you. Midoriya's pupils blew out as he saw you.

Dear God, you were gorgeous.

Love truly was blind.

-Glitch1d

#bnha midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku fluff #midoriya izuku fluff #midoriya x you

[rreids]

hi! i'm not sure if ur taking fic request atm, but if ever u r, can i ask for a fic where f!reader also works for the bau, she is hotch's daughter, and she is dating spencer reid? 🥹 thank uuuuu

TELL ME • S. REID X READER

fem reader; reader is jack's older sister (age gap unspecified but assumed around spencer's age, hotch had her young or adopted); hotch is reader's father; established relationship; mentions of child abduction (unspecific, part of a case); bau reader; spencer is clingy; ~800 words

Working for your dad could be complicated. 

Your emotions couldn’t ever fully be separated from the work, and he was known to get over protective and lose subjectiveness when you were in danger, or when he felt you were being mistreated. He’d always been protective of you and Jack — though, and, to be fair, you were protective of Jack, too. Like most were of their younger brother.

And you also got frustrated or worried about him easily. It was only natural, the way you both acted, despite your professionalism.

But most difficult was your current situation — you were dating a coworker (on your own team, no less), and were trying to figure out how to fill out the fraternization papers without your dad tearing Spencer apart limb by limb for dating his little girl.

“I don’t see why we can’t turn it in today,” Spencer speaks from where his chin rests on your shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he hugs you. You hum and continue rolling his omelet. “He’ll find out one way or another,”

“Baby,” you start, interrupted by the toast popping up with a ding. “I think he’s going to kill you if he finds out through official channels and not a ‘meet my dad’ dinner.”

“But I’ve met him,” Spencer's voice is whiny and you’re so endeared by him you can’t help but to smile. “He’s my boss. And my friend.”

“Yeah, and he’s my dad before that. Trust me. We need to tell him as my father before he finds out as Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner,”

Spencer sighs. You know he wants it turned in so there’s no potential push back from Quantico if he’s caught stealing a kiss (as has almost happened many times now, like the time he’d kissed you by the coffee in LAPD’s station and had to pretend he stumbled into you while grabbing something and that his face was only red from embarrassment — which it was, but not for the reason he told the chief), and so he can cuddle you on the plane, or have casual intimacy in down time, or a kiss for good luck before raids and arrests.

He’s fond of having his hands on you, soaking in your presence like a plant in the sun. This is proven to you even more as he refuses to let go of you while you plate breakfast, nuzzling closer to you as you struggle with the plates.

“A little help, Spence, please,” you jerk your head towards the coffee mugs. He heaves a long and suffering sigh before releasing you and grabbing them, placing them on the table. “Thank you, my love,”

He stares at you quietly. “Kiss?”

You beam at him and kiss him sweetly before sitting down. He kisses the top of your head before settling in his chair. 

“Thank you for cooking,”

“You know I love doing it, Spence,”

“And I will always thank you! I don’t want to ever stop being grateful for all you do.”

You smile fondly and take a sip of your coffee. The two of you fall into comfortable silence until a phone rings — the tone set for a call from work. You sigh and pick it up, since Spencer was in the middle of a bite of his omelet.

“Hello?” 

There’s a pause on the other end. “__? Why are you answering Spencer’s phone?”

Your dad. “Um,” you swallow. “We went to this event together yesterday and the weather was too bad for him to go home so he stayed at mine?” Your voice pitches up, and you know it’s a terrible lie. The weather was great. And you’re not a very good liar, especially not when it was to him. “What’s going on?”

He sighs, long and suffering. “We’ve got a case, a child abduction. We’re in the first two hours. Get over here as soon as possible with a go bag.” A beat. “And don’t lie to me. When were you planning on telling me?”

“Soon. Over dinner.” Your face falls and Spencer looks at you, wide-eyed. “Spencer wanted to just fill out the paperwork but I thought you’d want to be told like any dad…”

He hums. “You’re right. You still owe me that dinner, but, right now, a little boy needs our help. Get here. Quickly.”

The call ends.

“Honey?” Spencer asks softly, holding your hand.

You shake your head, clearing it. “We have a child abduction. Go get our stuff ready while I clean?” He nods, and as he’s getting to the bedroom you call and say “we’re still doing dinner with my dad! But he does know.”

i am always taking requests unless my pinned says otherwise <3 just for future reference, i will update that so don't worry that you're sending when i'm not accepting! if i don't update the request section, that's on me also i dont know how i feel abt this but it's written 👍🤠

#my works #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #requested

[thinkingotherwise]

Ways of loving

Finally second part 🥂 (it took way longer than I meant for it to do)

Bofurin second and third years:

Hajime Umemiya, Toma Hiiragi, Ren Kaji, Takeshi Enomoto, Yuto Kusumi, Tasuku Tsubakino, Uryu Sakaki, Seiryu Sakaki

1. Words of Affirmation

Yuto Kusumi - being fond of his frizzy hair

You came into your boyfriend's room like usual on the weekends, ready to spend your free time together. You were so happy and waited for Yuto as he got ready in the bathroom, yet when he came out of the bathroom with his hair still in disarray you could see the disappointment and slight irritation present on his face.

After using yet another shampoo he was annoyed to see the frizzy locks on his head. Even with all the time and money he spent on buying and testing all the different shampoo brands he didn't find one that could get rid of his problem with hair.

"Is it yet another shampoo that doesn't work?" You asked the rhetorical question and he nodded sadly. He went towards you and sat on the bed making your legs touch. Yuto leaned his head on your shoulder and your hand immediately went behind him and moved along his back to bring him some comfort.

When he moved away, you grabbed your bag from the floor and searched through it. Finding the conditioner you took it out and moved back on the bed making a place for your boyfriend. "Well then, I can't make it disappear but I can help with the issue a little bit." You shook the tube showing it to him and then patted the sheets in front of you. "Come on."

Yuto reluctantly shifted closer to you, and you got started. Kneeling you squirted some of the conditioner on your hands and moved towards his hair. You massaged his head, combing through his strands and making his unruly hair a little better.

"You know I actually really like your hair." You said trying to pick him up. He responded with a hum that meant something along the lines of "Why would you like the mess on my head?" while scrolling through his phone. "It's so soft to touch and you look really handsome." Your voice was teasing but you really meant what you said. "And it's pretty easy to tell you apart from everyone else because your hairstyle is pretty unique."

Yuto chuckled at your words and put away the phone before turning to you over his shoulder. And as you finished you leaned to the side and kissed his temple.

While the conditioner didn't help getting rid of the frizz, your words certainly made him feel better.

Seiryu Sakaki - adoring his fashion style

Seiryu was one of the, if not the best-dressed person you knew. It was not only because his clothes were stylish but also the fact that despite looking so fashionable they also felt good. They were so comfortable you took any chance you had to wear his shirts or jackets. Because of that you always couldn't wait for June, because it meant rain and rain meant whenever you got soaked while walking with your boyfriend you had a chance to wear his clothes.

During one such day after completing getting drenched, he pulled you as you ran back toward his home. He let you in first and moved deeper into his house to get you some towels. He placed one on top of your head as you entered his room and you started drying your hair. "Do you want some clothes to change into?" Seiryu asked taking off his shirt and moving towards his wardrobe to pick some clothing for him and you. "I thought you'd never ask." You said putting the towel over your shoulders and came closer to him.

He put on a fresh shirt first and then thought deeply, moving some shirts trying to decide which one would be the best for you before finally deciding on one. "You're a true fashionista, Sei." You said absentmindedly watching all the outfits he owned. You knew some of it was his brother's but still the ones that were his.. He had so many, it was easily twice or even thrice as many as you had.

"Well, that's true." He said matter-of-factly. You furrowed your brows at him trying to hide the smile from appearing on your face, he was so confident it made you adore him even more. "I like it when you wear my things. They match you." He added as you took the shirt he picked for you.

You ran your hands through it noticing it was one of the softer shirts he had. He knew you liked it and chose that one specifically. "I like them too, they are so comfortable. Not to mention you look great in them." You replied joyfully and switched your soaked shirt for the dry. "But I look better." You joked.

"As long as I get them back later on." He teased you back poking his tongue at you. "Of course, can't steal the amazing wardrobe of my fashionista diva boyfriend. Who do you think I am?" You played along and did the same in return before turning away from the couch.

Seiryu snorted before plopping on you smashing you against the couch and you giggled at him patting his head.

2. Acts of Service

Toma Hiiragi - taking care when ill

Dating Toma, you knew all about his issue with stomach aches and about his addiction to Gasukun 10. You appreciated that despite his health problems he still tried to take care of everyone and tried to solve their issues, putting them before himself.

Yet whenever he didn't depend on someone when he was sick you would get concerned but annoyed. You rapped at his door waiting for him to open it. You tried to call him but he didn't pick up so you sent him a message you were coming. Finally, he opened the door and he looked shocked as he saw you with a shopping bag tightly held in your hand. "What are you doing here?" He asked his voice raspy and before you could answer he sneezed loudly. "Umemiya told me you got sick." You replied pushing him back to his apartment and closing the door behind you. "Of course he did."

You took off your shoes before picking the bag a little higher so he could clearly see it. "Why? You don't want me taking care of you?" "No, just don't want you to catch a cold." He answered honestly. "Don't worry about me." You stepped into his kitchen and noticed the package of his "favourite" medicament. "Wait, please don't tell me you took the Gasukun."

"Not yet, I was about t-" Toma took the package but you immediately stole it from his hands and put it behind you. "No, you won't take it. How many times do I need to remind you it won't help you with everything?" You scolded him and he tried to reason with you. "Huh? But-" You cut him off again before picking up the shopping bag you brought and pulling out a bottle.

"No buts, you have a fever, not stomach ache. Here." You handed him a vitamin water. "Drink this and I'll make you some porridge." You unpacked the rest of your bag and as you started preparing things for the dish he still stood beside you. You turned to him raising your eyebrow in question. "Do you need help?" He asked but you weren't about to use him when he was sick. "No thank you, I'm taking care of you today. You go get some blankets and lay in bed."

After finishing the porridge you brought it to him. Toma sat up with fluffy blankets around him and turned to you to reach for the bowl. "Open up." You said suddenly and his hands froze, his eyes widened as he looked at you holding the spoon for him to eat. "You know you don't need to feed me." He said tiredly his hands falling down on his lap. "But I want to, you don't mind right?" Your eyes were so soft as you stared at him. He knew he couldn't resist you.

Toma was weak for you even when he was healthy and you knew he wouldn't say no to you.

Uryu Sakaki - packing bento

While you were at school your phone vibrated signaling a new message. You unlocked it to see your boyfriend texting you. Uryu: "I'm dying.." You snorted to yourself at his dramatics. Y/n: "??" You waited for his reply and it came soon enough. Uryu: "I left my lunch at home, I'm dying... Need food.."

That did explain his dramatics. Food was something Uryu couldn't live without even for some hours and you were very much aware of that. Y/n: "Why not go to the market near your school?" Uryu: "Can't. Busy"

A thought about going to the supermarket yourself, after your classes, and bringing him food did cross your mind but the bell soon rang for your next class. You left him on read then as you moved to the classroom. It was home economics and how lucky was it that you were to cook during the lesson.

As you finished cooking and got it graded your friends ate the dishes while you packed the ones made by you in two containers. Home econ was your last lesson for the day, and so you quickly changed your shoes in the locker and made your way towards Bofurin school. Y/n: "You at school?" Uryu: "Yes - rooftop, are you coming?" Y/n: "Yes" He liked your response and waited for you while doing the tasks he got from Tsubakino for the day.

The moment you entered the school and climbed the stairs up to the rooftop, you saw the twins moving some fertilizer and soil bags around. "Working hard?" You asked and your boyfriend quickly ran up to you. "Hi, (Y/n), you came to help?" He asked softly and leaned closer trying to kiss your cheek.

You, however, seeing that he was wearing the dirty apron stepped away from him with a grin, for which he pouted at you. Not wanting him to be sad and hungry you took off your bag and then took out the two containers. "If you mean helping as bringing you food then yes." Your boyfriend's eyes shimmered in excitement and he quickly started taking off his apron and gloves. "You're the best."

His eagerness was noticed by his brother who looked at you curiously. "I got some food for you too Seiryu." You called to him and he smiled before joining the two of you for a lunch break. "You're lucky I had cooking at today's home econ class." You told them as the brothers stuffed their faces with food. "I'm lucky to have you." Uryu said sneaking a cheek kiss and you nodded at him. You were also lucky to have such a good boyfriend as him.

3. Gift-Giving

Hajime Umemiya - buying books for each other

Gardening was Hajime's greatest passion, right after keeping the town safe. With him being your boyfriend, you knew that all too well, as his passions came with a lot of shopping for daily work so that the plants grow properly. "Is it heavy?" He asked in concern moving towards you, ready to take the bag you were carrying. "No, it's fine." You waved him off observing the shops along the streets.

Your gaze stopped at the bookstore and you slowed down making him match your peace as he observed what caught your attention. "Do you want to go in?" He asked motioning towards the shop. "If you don't mind." He smiled at you and moved quickly to the doors opening them for you. "Go on." He let you in following after you. You asked the cashier if you could leave your bags near the cash and she happily let you.

Hajime looked around all the shelves before gasping as an idea came to him. "Let me pick a book for you." He proposed. He was curious if he could find something you'd like. "Fine, but I'll pick one for you then." You replied almost instantly and he nodded with a big grin on his face. "Okay, see you in 15." He said and turned left moving deeper in the shop looking at the different genres and thinking about the best one for you.

Fifteen minutes passed just like that and when you walked back to the counter Hajime already paid for the book. "What did you pick?" He asked as soon as you stood in front of him tasking the bag of gardening tools you previously carried. "I saw the new volume of the series that you like!" He added in excitement before you could respond to his question. You smiled at him, happy he listened to your rant from a few days ago about the new volume. Seeing your smile his grew even more, if it was possible.

"Thank you, Hajime. And I bought you something about gardening." You thanked him sincerely before showing him the book you had in the bag. "Oh my! Thank you so much, babe. You're the best." He bounced onto you and you almost fell down because of all his weight being put on you. He left a soft peck on your nose before pulling away. "Let's go bring the tools back to Bofurin and then we can go back home to read." He said opening the doors for you. "Mhm." You hummed in approval and walked with him in the direction of the school.

After leaving the gardening tools in the shed in his high school you spent the evening together sitting on the couch, with Hajime gasping and highlighting things in his new book every few minutes. He was sure to use the newly acquired knowledge for his rooftop garden and grow the best plants possible for you.

4. Quality Time

Ren Kaji - sharing music together

Ren Kaji - sharing music, creating playlists with new songs You and Ren sat together by the corner shop on the bench waiting for Hiiragi who went to buy some stuff before their patrol with the rest of Bofurin members. You were joining them this time and Hiiragi decided to put you with Ren just so he can watch over you, if you have any trouble.

As the third year went to buy some more Gasukun10, you talked with your boyfriend about the new songs you found. "You know I got a nice song recommended recently." You mentioned and he turned to you a lollipop in his mouth. "Huh?" By the sound you knew he wanted to learn more so you grabbed your phone before searching through the tracks you recently listened to. "Wait, let me search for it, I saved it some- oh I got it. Here." You turned the phone to him with a song titled 'Uncontainable' shown on the screen. "I can play it if you want." You added. "Sure, go on." He nodded and put his headphones down from his ears.

You were used to him having them on even if no music was playing, but you always appreciated whenever he put them down when you wanted to show him something or wanted to talk about some concerns you could have.

Turning the sound up a little you held the phone speaker up so you could hear the music better. As the first sounds came out you noticed Ren moving his head slightly to the rhythm and you smiled knowing the song was in one of his music types. "Hmm.. it's nice, what was the title again?" He said when the chorus finished and you moved the phone back down and showed him the title and band name. "Thank you." He said taking out his own phone and writing the names in his notes. "No problem. By the way, did you perhaps finish putting the playlist you mentioned last week?" You questioned remembering that he promised that and you wanted to listen to it.

You loved getting to know new kinds of songs and music that Ren deemed good enough to listen to. You also showed him some new songs or playlists you put up and because of that your playlists constantly changed in volume. "Yes, you can come over later on and I can show it to you." He responded and smiled softly when he saw the joy on your face, a small blush appearing on his. "That'd be great, thanks." At that moment Hiiragi came back putting the medicine in his pockets before standing near you. "You going together after the meeting?" He asked and you quickly answered. "Yes." "Gonna have another heated conversation about music?" Hiiragi said.

He knew well enough that some of your meetings ended up in friendly arguments about the different types of music, he was a witness to some of them and he was still surprised how one second you could argue but another you were in agreement. Music was truly something that both connected you and Ren and at the same time divided you, as your opinions would clash, fortunately rather rarely.

"Oh, shush it Hiiragi. It's a deep discussion about music." You argued back as the boys stood up ready to start the patrol. "I think Hiiragi is right." Your boyfriend muttered and you looked at him in shock. "Reeen, how can you betray me like that?" You whined following after them. "Sorry, but it's true." He patted your shoulder trying to apologize to you that way. Still, you pouted at his words and he sighed. "Either way I like them." He said quietly, barely audible to you, before speaking louder. "Do you want to listen to the playlist or not?" "Fine, let's go." You run up to them walking side by side with your boyfriend.

Tasuku Tsubakino - doing skincare together

You had a deal with Tasuku, namely one weekend you spent however they liked while the other was prepared by you. That way you could become closer and get to know more interests of each other. This week your partner was the one to pick an activity and it was having a day off and doing some skincare. It wasn't the first time for you, as Tasuku was very fond of taking care of themselves.

Previously they taught you all things about haircare like the different conditioners, oils, and herbs that could be used to make the hair more silky and well cared for. You weren't sure about it at first, but when your hair turned softer and looked even better, you started following some of the advice that was given to you.

This time, however they decided for the said skincare day. As you waited patiently for Tasuku to come back with all their products you patted the towel over your face just like they taught you. "I tried to pick the best one for your skin." They brought a box full of products and showed you the mask.

A smile appeared on your face when you saw it was one of those animal masks. "Okay, put it on." You said lying down on the bed while they opened the package and took out the mask. As soon as the sticky substance on the mask touched your cheeks you flinched back, a shiver running down your back. "Hey, hey don't move now." They said trying to put it on your face but you squirmed away as soon as it touched your skin. "But it's cold." You whined and they chuckled before putting it on you and moving their fingers over your face straightening and correcting the mask.

The warmth of their fingers helped a little and you stayed still enjoying the activity more and more as the time passed. The whole day was very relaxing overall and helped you ease up.

You were slowly getting used to Tasuku pampering you up with makeovers and skincare routines. You didn't like it as much as they did, not yet, but you did like spending time together, so it was an easy choice every time they proposed it.

5. Physical Touch

Takeshi Enomoto - cuddling while watching yakuza movies together

The movie collection of Takeshi was enormous, and you were quite sure it grew with each time you visited him. Most of the DVDs were action movies about yakuza or mafia but if you looked closely you could find other genres as well. Well, it didn't really matter as your boyfriend loved watching his favourite movies once more with you, letting you on the "fascinating", at least surely for him, and "well-written", in most cases, story plots.

After deciding on one of the movies he put it on and sat down next to you, who was already snuggled in the blanket, lying on the couch. He moved you before lying next to you and then placed you on top of him like usual. It was your favourite position to watch the movies whenever you were tired and Takeshi actually liked how close you were together. Being able to hold you was his go-to point during your movie night and it was either you lying on him or you sitting next to him with your legs over his.

"You want some?" He asked mentioning the snack in his hand he previously placed on the table. You only nodded and opened your mouth not wanting to take your arms out of your blanket. He sighed seeing your antics and moved his hand around you trying not to disturb you lying on him as he picked some crisps (chips) from the package he held in his other hand and then moved his hand back and towards your mouth. "You're so lazy." He said with a smile and you reciprocated it to him before pushing a little up and kissing his jaw and moving back to your comfortable position.

"You're just too comfy and it's difficult to leave this cozy position." You teased him grinning at the look he sent you. He sighed before placing his hand on your blanket-covered back and moving it up and down before he moved his head down and placed a peck on the top of yours. "You're lucky I love you." He uttered before focusing on the rest of the movie.

Easy to say you didn't make it through the whole movie as you fell asleep several minutes before the end. Sleeping on Takeshi was very comfortable, he made for a perfect pillow while embracing you and playing with your hair making it impossible to stay awake.

Tags: @misticbullet

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii) #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #hajime umemiya x reader #toma hiiragi x reader #ren kaji x reader #takeshi enomoto x reader #yuto kusumi x reader #tasuku tsubakino x reader #uryu sakaki x reader #seiryu sakaki x reader

[thegoldencontracts]

ONE OF MY TWST OCS IS A TOTAL TSUNDERE WHAT THE HELL

Make twst tsundere content, I DARE you(I'd say I'd match you with content of my own, however it is drama and science finals week and I'd rather not burn myself out on more than one front bc my english final is next week. So I will not guarantee that lmao BUT STILL THAT SOUNDS AWESOME MAKE THAT CONTENT I WILL EAT IT UP)

- thoughtlessdesires

THANK YOU SOMEONE ELSE WHO UNDERSTANDSSSSS

Hello, you there, yes, YOU 🫵 can help make tsundere twst by uhh... idek man it's tsundere twst,,, it's cuteee i swearrr imagine THIS:

I-It's Not Like I Like You!

Summary: The Housewardens deal with their affection in the oddest of ways.

Notes: This is a taste of what we can make possible GUYS tsundere!twst is cute and it's not ridiculously ooc or smth like that i SWEAR- Also the last sentence in Azul's part is literally ripped straight from the third part of his dorm vignette (the tsundere potential of this man is so understated guys PLEASE let me yap here I have a point-)

Night Raven College; a place of raw meritocracy. Sentiment is rarely found, and affection is often mocked. Logic and strength are meant to take priority, and discord between students is common.

So what happens where these students find someone who treats them with kindness, understanding.

...Completely flounder, of course.

The housewardens, during one of their meetings, even discussed the dearest Ramshackle Prefect, so odd, so understanding. Kalim had brought the topic up, of course.

"...Why's this important?" Leona had said, a bored look on his face.

"I-Indeed," Riddle said. "The Prefect isn't particularly relevant to our current topic of discussion, regardless of accomplishments."

Azul sighed in his typical, overdramatic manner of his.

"How cold!" he said. "Kalim was merely doing his duty to discuss the needs of all students, regardless of how-"

His nose wrinkled.

"Talentless."

"Well, the Prefect's not that bad." A lukewarm praise. Even Kalim wasn't speaking highly of the Prefect? Just what was going on here?

"A total normie," Idia had said.

"It's true, the potato could use some work," Vil said,

Wow. These housewardens sure did hate you, didn't they?

Wrong! At that moment, all of the, were lying! They liked you. And no one in that room had any clue how to deal with it.

Riddle hasn't ever really got to experience relationships due to the stifling pressure of his mother. Thus, he has absolutely no clue how to handle the sudden affection for you he feels. He'd often stop by Ramshackle to help you with your homework. Just because you happened to need it way more than the others, of course. N-No ulterior motives here. What do you mean 'his face is red'? You're just imagining things!

Leona's always been treated like a cold, uncaring individual, and that's what he's used to. That leaves him completely flabbergasted when you suddenly start making him lovesick. He happens to "accidentally" drop money and the like while you were near. Not that he wants to help you, of course! He just doesn't really care about the money that much. Why're you looking at him like that? He's not that kind of sap!

Azul's childhood's left him used to rejection. After so long of being mocked for any desire of love and companionship, he's shunned it. Love's just business to him, an easily exploitable emotion. So he'll never be able to admit it now that he's the exploitable one. He gives you stuff... for free? Since when did he do that? Ask him about it and he insists he's just doing it for business' sake. What kind of business? Is he sure he doesn't just like you? W-What sort of foolish questions are those? Do you honestly think him capable of such an illogical sentiment as "attachment"?

Kalim, of course, isn't immune. Even he doesn't understand this. Someone actively returning his kindness? He's absolutely in love, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Although he won't be quite as abrasive as the others, he'll definitely struggle to admit his feelings. He might actually be less nice to you than to others. Not in a rude way, of course, he's just a bit quiet because he's always so flustered around you! Can you blame him?

Vil, too, despite his normal mentality of being candid and mature, struggles to handle his affection. He'll buy you skincare and the like. B-But, he'd do this for anyone, of course. There's nothing particularly special about the way he feels for you! Once again, though he isn't particularly defensive, he'll definitely struggle to admit his feelings, and it causes him boatloads of internal conflict. Why's he being so immature all of a sudden?

Idia doesn't get you. Why'd some normie suddenly have to start talking to him? J-Jeez, it's not like he enjoys your company or anything! Idia can vaguely recognize the word 'tsundere' in his head as he mulls over his interactions with you, but he denies it. Denying his feelings? U-Uh, what feelings?

"Looks like you have some competition, huh?"

"What competition, Lilia?" Malleus's face twisted in displeasure. "The Child Of Man- they're merely a friend."

Malleus doesn't know how to feel. He's never really had these sorts of close relationships before, so when his heart pounds around you and sparks seem to fly, he has no clue what to do. He's so deep in denial, partially due to his obliviousness when it comes to matters of sentiment and partially due to how he's used to being intimidating, and blushing like a schoolgirl around one's crush is the opposite of intimidating.

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #wanna see more tsundere!twst? #I hope you do #PLEASE YOU MUST UNDERSTAND #THE POTENTIAL #THANK YOU thoughtlessdesires (i cant see your blog for some reason T_T) you are an individual of TASTE

[genshin-side-piece]

This is inspired by the anon from the otter one - imagine just getting sleepy so you go to sleep on the couch and wake up in Neuveliette's arms

I'm not saying I want to nap on Neuvi's thighs, but I would jump at the chance.

In a post archon Fontaine, Neuvillette often finds that his schedule is a bit more flexible than it was in the days before the disaster. Furina's independence, as well as his own, leaves him with more time to do as he pleases. It instills a joyeux de vivre in him that he had sorrowfully lacked for many years. 

He embraces the unique Fontainian ideology of relaxation and pleasure; in moderation of course. The country still needs to be governed, the paperwork still needs to be handled, but when there is time for recreation, Neuvillette seizes it with both hands and he doesn't let go. That means trying new things, seeing new places, or just spending his afternoons in the comfort of you.

In this new world, Neuvillette has made the discovery that you like to take naps in the afternoons. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled knowing that. Before the disaster, there had been the odd chance that Neuvillette could slip away early. The paperwork hadn't been heavy that day or the case he had been set to try hadn't gone ahead. The reason wasn't especially important. The opportunity to be with you was all he wanted and when it came, he happily availed himself of it. If he was lucky, he would return home to find you in one of your many spots, peacefully napping in either the sun or near the fire if it was cold.

Your relationship with him had been vastly different then. The two of you had yet to reach the accord where you would allow him to be in the same space as you. Because of that, the temptation to be near you, to touch you overrode any common sense he had when it came to allowing you to sleep undisturbed. Instead, Neuvillette would try to squeeze himself in next to you. The effort was clumsy and more often than not, you woke up before he could ever get you in position, but there were a few blissful seconds where he had you as he wanted you. Then, it had been enough. He had those rare moments with you, just as he had the night. Between the two it had been enough to see him through the long days that followed. 

Since the disaster had struck, your relationship with him and the silent agreement you had with each other had changed. While you were resistant to the idea of Neuvillette being so near, so often, you would on occasion be comfortable enough with him that you would fall asleep next to him or wake up curled into his side. His previous clumsiness when it came to moving you in your sleep had been replaced with a schooled technique that allowed you to remain blissfully unaware of him sliding in beside you. If anything he found that you tended to snuggle into him a little after he’d done so, if only to chase his warmth. He treasured those moments with you. In his mind he could pretend that the wall between you didn’t exist. That you were his and he was yours and the world around you existed only for this moment. 

For your part in all of this, you too embrace the new Neuvillette. His curiosity for the world around him resulted in an expansion of your privileges that hadn't existed in the world before the disaster. He liked to take you on long walks through the countryside with him or he would bring home new foods or new fashions for you to try. The change in monotony is a welcomed thing in your world. It added a sense of normalcy that hadn’t existed previously. You could for a time forget that you weren’t his captive and he your captor. You could lay next to him on the sofa, resting your head against his thigh as you listened to him read the latest detective novel or he shared the tamest of gossip with you. The dulcet tone of his voice was such that you could easily drift off into a dreamless sleep, content in the knowledge that when you woke up you would be safe and sound. 

#genshin impact #genshin #genshinimpact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette #chief justice neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #anonymous asks #anonymous

[r0ttenhearts]

longing stare II

kazuha x situationship! ex! reader

warnings: angst, nsfw themes mentioned

pert one

“what happened, (y/n)?”

your palms began to sweat. she knew. but how? beidou’s glare bore into your nervous form as you let out a breath.

“how much do you know?” you asked quietly.

“i know something happened between you and kazuha. he doesn’t mention you anymore like he used to, not since he came back on the alcor. and once you left in such a rush i knew something happened between you two.”

shame burned your insides. your cheeks were heating up and you felt it, you felt it all too well. you were embarrassed, humiliated. kazuha was your ex, your ex who was loved by all. would she even believe you? she knew kazuha more personally than she knew you.

“you can trust me (y/n). if that boy wronged you, i’ll give him hell.”

you smiled softly at the fierceness in her voice. beidou was one of the good ones. so, you told her everything. from the alcohol to the disgusting warmth that spilled out of you once kazuha had his fill of you.

beidou held your hands in hers tightly as you finished retelling the events between you and the white haired samurai. tears of shame pricked your eyes but you blinked them away. you wouldn’t give him your tears. he had taken enough of you.

“we have to do something.” beidou finally murmured after what felt like ages.

you shook your head, “what’s done is done. i can’t face him again.”

beidou placed a firm hand on your shoulder, a kind warmth you hadn’t felt since before that day.

“i want to help you (y/n)). if you don’t get any closure i’m afraid this will eat you alive.” she spoke gently as if she was trying not to scare you.

beidou went on to make a plan to help ease the turmoil in your mind. rather than you speaking to kazuha, she would ask him what happened instead. if he admitted to it, then that would be your closure. closure that he knew he wronged you, that he felt some type of guilt.

because you had returned to the alcor before kazuha had returned from exploring the nearby city, you could easily find a place to hide and listen to the conversation beidou would be having with him.

beidou helped you to get below the shipdeck, the gaps between the wood creating enough space for you to be able to hear above. now was the hard part, waiting.

you sat under that deck for what felt like hours, until the familiar muffled steps of beidou and kazuha was heard.

you stood directly under the gaps, peering up at the red and black figures above. the both of them had bottles in their hands, a usual for them whenever they spoke privately.

“so, kazuha, i ran into (y/n) today. she seemed different, maybe you should talk to her?”

kazuha laughed gently, “about what exactly? i cannot help that girl.”

beidous expression stiffened. “well, i’ve seen how the both of you are with one another here. i thought you were close.”

kazuha shook his head, the bottle in his hand swaying with the shaking of his head. “i hardly know the girl. whatever troubles her, i’m sure it won’t be resolved with anything i could say to her.”

“nothing happened between you two? are you sure? you both seemed awfully close the last time she was here.”

“nothing happened between us. she is only a wandering girl, such as i.”

“hmm.” beidou hummed a response and bid goodnight to kazuha, turning on her heel and making her way down below the ship. she found you quietly sobbing on the floor, knees to your chest, hands over your face.

“i-it’s not fair, beidou! he used me! he used me. i’m ruined. i’m dirty and disgusting, i’m used up. i’m no good anymore.” you babbled out incoherently as beidou knelt down to hold your sobbing form.

“you’re none of those things, (y/n). don’t let him win. you’re so much more than that. you’re not what he did to you.” beidou whispered gently.

you no longer could utter another word, only a slight nod and sniffles were made from you as heizou helped you up and out of the bottom of the ship. you spent the night in her room, the comfort of her presence was more than enough for you.

from that day on you would avoid his gaze. for awhile, he’d stop you to present his latest haiku. but with a drastic lack of enthusiasm he no longer asked you what you thought. your blank stares and monotone voice had said enough.

but you never noticed his stares from across the ship when you were laughing and talking with the others. the grip on his sake bottle tightening with every laugh that escaped you.

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @somatchajade @dearsumire @saeism @jaderose18 @0kauy @lelemnh @linkookie197 @xiaonscaraswife @reblog-crazily @sparklylanddetective @gh0sts0up @darliingyu @kenmabfasf @jihyuniepark @chiisananingen @just-anotherbookworm

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha angst #kazuha

[magpie-lu-aside]

So. About that shadow crystal and the Master Sword. (All art belongs to @linkeduniverse and JoJo!)

I want to discuss this part because I find Four, Wind, and Legends reactions interesting, specifically because it was those three who had the argument over Twi in the first place. An argument that all three of them seem to not want to bring up again at all.

I've seen some posts saying that Four and Twilight are gonna have a talk about it (and I'm sure they will) but I'm wondering if they're gonna have a talk about the argument again too. (post got long, if you want to read more its under the cut)

(takes place in sunset pt 11)

So here's the thing about The Argument™. Four and Legend are the ones to have an opinion on the crystal itself, with Wind being more concerned about Twilight's status at that moment and wondering if the blood (not the crystal) is what could corrupt him. Wind seems to be almost unconcerned about the crystal which is why I think he was excited about the transformation rather than concerned (Four) and.... Whatever Legend is doing (I'll get back to that).

Legend and Wind also almost immediately put the argument behind them. They ran to find a great fairy fountain....

... And have interacted past this point. And I think that's because overall they agree on this, both of them have trust in the Master Sword to nullify whatever corrupting power the crystal could theoretically have.

But Four and Legend on the other hand? They have not talked to each other one on one since then.

Before this, they teased each other, Four trusted him to work on Wilds sword, and they seemed fine to be in each others space and just talk and conspire a little bit. But now? They barely even speak to each other even within the group. In fact when they do interact in a group both seem... not fully annoyed but not really laughing at each others jokes either.

Also despite the fact Legend was on the team to work on Wild's sword in the beginning, he didn't show up in the towns blacksmith to help either. And while its very easily argued he did that to stay with Twilight, based on this reaction,

He was asked or at least knew they were doing it. He was also fine spoiling the surprise to Wild despite it being mainly Fours gift (and symbol of forgiveness). He refused to join either way, and I think it could both be because he wanted to be by Twilight and also because he just... Didn't really want to interact with Four.

Now to bring it back to Legends reaction to the transformation (told you it'd come back). I don't think Legend particularly likes the crystal (who can blame him really) and I think he's with Four on not really liking the magic, so unlike Wind who's excited to see it hes still a little.. Iffy on the magic itself. And I think that still can cause tension, but that's more of a red herring to the real thing that's causing strife... And that's the Master Sword itself.

Legend and Four didn't argue over the crystal. They argued about the Master Sword. I think the shadow crystal was just the tipping point to get them talking about the Sword and make Four oppose it in some way. Four has always been indifferent to the sword, not really willing to wield it and has been absent from discussing it. But after that? I think with Four and Legend being on opposing sides, along with Time and Sky (whole other discussion I cant delve into cuz good god this post is long enough as is) is leading me into thinking that the next arc is going to delve more into that strife. And its going to be harder to overcome than Twilight being injured.

tl;dr I think Four and Legend still have beef after sunset pt 11 and its going to boil over on them and its their inability to discuss the Master Sword like normal peoples fault.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu four #lu wind #lu twilight #linked universe theory #sorry if this doesnt read well. i dont often theory post #but i havent really seen anyone discuss the fall out with four and legend #and i wanted to because it rots my head sometimes

[psfortune]

Not over yet. - (1)

pairing: stalkerexbf!jungkook x female!reader

@ what was leah listening to? : one of the girls - the weeknd

⋆ summary. what do you do if your being stalked? call the police obviously. if you don't and something happens...you cant blame anyone.

⋆ warnings . 18+ mdni... dark/psychotic!jungkook, kidnapping, jk has no morals whatsoever, dirty talk, breeding kink, past relationship mentioned, fluff if you squint, unprotected sex , debatable happy ending , yandere elements, pwp , reader is a big overthinker, major angst dump, jungkook get jealous super easily, misunderstanding, jungkook is mean

Wordcount !!! 846 words ( short chapter )

no smut in this chapter but definitely in the next few. -

༉‧₊˚. this work is pure fiction. no acts performed in this are linked to the charecters that partake in the storyline. please refrain from reading if uncomfortable ༉‧₊˚.

He's been sitting there for hours now. Just sitting, not using the cracked mobile placed next to him or....even blinking? He is doing something obviously but not the most productive thing to do at all.

Watching you.

If you said that was the most creepy thing you've experienced today, you'd be wrong. Completely fucking wrong. What had you done to deserve this? To be locked in this shitty basement on a mattress that must have been bought in the medieval times, that is if they even had mattresses in those times. You'd been Jeon motherfucking Jungkook's girlfriend. Your stomach let out the most horrifying growl which broke the deafening silence.

A low chuckle echoed around the room as footsteps padded towards you. You held your breath and snapped your eyes shut. Trying your hardest to act like you were sleeping. Too bad you never payed attention in the classes your mother splurged on.

' Oh darling...you've never been the best at acting have you? ' a husky voice said. ' I know you're awake. ' a hand brushed your face, your body shivered involuntarily as it trailed down. hooking your chin and forcing you to look up.

Anyone would say he's a beautiful sight. A fallen angel perhaps. Not you though. To you he's the devil on earth. Fucking satan maybe.

He's a Monster.

⸻ . ࣪   . 　♪⃝ Flashback....2 years ago

' Morning love, ' Jungkook sighed. ' sorry for waking you up so early, I completely forgot about the meeting '

You smile at him and peck his cheek, ' Thats okay, I needed to wake up anyway ' you mutter while buttering a slice of bread. Jungkook gives you a side-ways glance ' Why's that? ' he says absent-mindedly, picking up his phone you check unread emails from work. ' I'm meeting up with a few friends from high-school, sort of a reunion i guess' you say awkwardly, hoping begging internally he won't ask which friends. ' That's nice....who's gonna be there? ' well, shit. the universe is definitely not on your side today. ' oh......uhm, just Lilya, Ana, maybe Siena and a few others ' it wasn't lying....they were going to be there...you just hadn't listed the names of ' a few others '. Luckily, Jungkook bought it, relief flooded your face as he walked out the door.........after a rather long make-out session. He did love his kisses, you smirk.

Everything was great. You had missed your old friends. As it was shown, so did they. You had especially missed one person in particular. Your best friend...Min Yoongi. You sweared you weren't crying when you pulled away from a bone-crunching hug that probably lasted a few minutes but it felt that a few seconds. That made you realize how long it'd been since you had seen him. You sat next to him when eating,smiled at him as much as you could, making the most out of the day......it was perfect.

until it wasn't

You turned your back for two seconds tops. You heard a low groan and whipped round only to find yoongi lying on the floor face-down a shadow cast across his body.

jungkook's shadow.

He stared at you with bloodshot eyes,his large frame shaking with rage. The room was quiet. deadly silent. then broken by the scared whisper of a worker as she whispered into the telephone, undebatably to the police.

' what do you think your doing huh?! FUCKING LIAR ! ' lilya, ana ....and maybe siena ' ' he says mocking you ' AND NOW I SEE YOU WITH THIS PIECE OF SHIT HUH? ' he let out a low sigh

Jungkook's eyes switched from yours to the workers and anguish washed over his face, he frowned and grabbed your arm.

' Hurry up, love. If we leave now we can get away.....love? ' it was too quick. the change in tone that is. Something bad will happen if you go with him. You just know it. So of course you stay rooted to the spot. he looked at you a questionable look etched on his face as he kept trying to pull you along with him.

You shake him off ' No. ' you state. Jungkook looked bewilderered ' What do you mean no? Babe there's no time hurry up. ' you shake your head ' No. Jungkook. I mean it. I'm done. This, ' you beckon around and point at him then yourself ' is done ' you finish.

In a moment of anger he lunges at you and grips your hair pulling it hard, making you gasp ' you fucking slut. you're leaving me? ha...this is for him isn't it ' he points at yoongi's still unconscious figure on the floor. ' you've been cheating on me haven't you, well listen here you- ' he never finished that sentence as several police officers strode in and manhandled jungkook until the hadcuffs were securely on his wrists. What Jungkook had done was assault. That was 6 months in prison. Minimum. As the officers dragged him out of the place he shouted something that made your blood curdle.

' you wait bitch. i'll come for you. just wait '

⸻ . ࣪   . 　♪⃝ Present......

You scurry away from him desperately ' JUNGKOOK....PLEASE. ' you sob out ' WE'RE OVER JUST LEAVE ME ALONE !!! '

he chuckles darkly

' but darling we're not over. not yet '

oh my lord.....i cant believe i just wrote that 😭

this is my first post and it going to be a series so... make sure to read the next few chapters 💗

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook #bts fanfic

[tossawary]

I'm fascinated by little overlaps of character experiences in a timeline. In "Final Fantasy 7" as I vaguely remember it, Sephiroth is born in Shinra Manor in Nibelheim. The house has a secret basement laboratory, but people can't really spend months locked inside a house without losing it, so there must have been SOME interaction between the scientists in the manor and the people of the local village.

Like, they would have needed to get food somehow? And Shinra could be delivering all of their food by helicopter or something once a week, among other supplies, sure, but it's also possible that they might have had their food delivered through the village. Over the months or years that they were there, someone must have gone out drinking at the local pub or gone out to buy cigarettes at least once. There are different levels of lockdown that all seem feasible. It's possible that the situation was chill enough that Shinra employees might have semi-regularly gone out to eat dinner in town and simply not talked about what they were working on while out and about (Project S / the Jenova Project).

According to the wiki, Cloud is 21 during FF7, which means he was 17ish during the Nibelheim mission, I think? Some additional materials somewhere suggest that Cloud's Mom was only THIRTY-THREE (33) when she died, so I'm putting him at 17 because that means she would have been 16 when he was born. Which, depending on how old Sephiroth is exactly (wiki puts him at 25-30ish during FF7, which means he's probably 21-26ish during the Nibelheim mission), means that Claudia Strife would have been 7-12 years old in Nibelheim when Sephiroth was born.

It's perfectly possible that Claudia Strife at some point met Vincent Valentine, Hojo, or even a heavily pregnant Lucretia. She was supposedly a precocious girl with big dreams (before apparently becoming a teen mom), so she might have tried to hang around Shinra Manor at some point, and, idk, Vincent on his smoke break might have casually told her to fuck off for her own good. If the Project S people stayed in Shinra Manor for several years, it's very possible that one of the security guards or someone else there might be Cloud's father, who slept with a 15yo local and eventually left when he got sick of rural life. In which case, Claudia Strife might even have had the motivation to belatedly try to record who was at Shinra Manor and when, as part of an effort to find and contact her baby's deadbeat dad again.

(It's also possible that Cloud's Mom paid zero attention to any of the Shinra people back then and knows nothing about them, of course. Small towns are small, but also, sometimes you do the smart thing and just don't go poking around the mysterious corporate compound on the edge of town. That's just none of her business.)

Anyway, I think it's funny that Sephiroth is trying to figure out the secrets of his past, and they (Sephiroth, Zack, Cloud) could have potentially easily learned both Lucretia Crescent and Vincent Valentine's names if Zack had had one (1) conversation with Cloud's Mom. Claudia Strife was around back then as an adventurous young girl! She might honestly know a little something! Cloud, go home and talk to your mother!

#tossawary ff7 #cloud strife #claudia strife #sephiroth #vincent valentine #lucretia crescent #spoilers #fic ideas #cloud's mom barely exists as a character but it still surprises me she isn't used more in fanfiction #I know people don't think moms are cool + are terrified of women older than their male partners but Seph's mommy issues are RIGHT THERE #also it is deeply funny to me that the age gap between Sephiroth and Cloud is the same as the age gap between Sephiroth and Cloud's Mom #protagonist claudia strife au

[aziraphales-library]

Hi mods! I'm new to the fandom so I was shocked seeing the AO3 tag for the first time. Largest fandom I've joined by far (difference in fic count is in the tens of thousands), so thank you so much for your hard work!! After finishing S2 I've read great fics where Aziraphale apologizes/decides he made the wrong choice, but I've had difficulty finding fics with a POV that A + C were both asking the impossible of one another. I was wondering if you have any s2 recs where that's explored? TY again!

Hello and welcome! Here are some fics in which they talk and both of them acknowledge mistakes...

undercover by Lilian (T)

Aziraphale seeks a broken Crowley out to talk to him again. This time they do slightly better. Story picks up right from where the show left us.

Three Kisses…and then Rabbits. by impatient14 (M)

The thing is, Crowley didn’t know. Not entirely, at least. Not in the same way he knew the measure of every nebula, the heartbeat of every star. He wasn’t given the tools–wasn’t afforded the right–to know. He’d thought around it, of course. He’d spent many a moment (or century) daydreaming impossible things. He’d read enough books and seen enough movies to feel pretty confident about the mechanics, at least. He’d even written a little scene or two himself–carefully vague, of course, and never to the extent of his mind’s vivid imagination. Given an Effort, his body responded the same way theirs do; it was all pleasant ache, shivering heat, and dazzling hope. And yet. When the moment came, it wasn’t what he was promised. *** Or, three kisses between and an angel and a demon.

the human custom of wrong love by pinklemonades (T)

He supposes he should’ve seen it coming from the moment they met in the garden when their lives became inextricably intertwined to the point of mutually assured destruction if either of them tried to leave. (or in which Aziraphale realizes that Heaven will never care for him the way he wanted them to, Crowley can’t figure out why he can’t let go and leave as easily as Aziraphale did, and the two lovers realize they need to learn how to love without hurting)

You must remember this by HolRose (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley have their extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz at the angel’s invitation. Important conversations are had, harking back to their shared experience of one night in 1942. A canon-compliant fix-it fic.

only then i am human by Angelofsmalldeath69 (G)

When his phone rang he let out a squeak, heart stuttering. He stood up so fast his chair almost fell over, and paced for a moment before grabbing the phone. “Hello?” “Hello, Archangel. The demon has arrived! I’ve been asked to let you know.” Aziraphale screwed his eyes shut, holding the phone to his ear with both hands so it wouldn’t fall from his trembling grasp. He managed a thank you, set the phone down, and grabbed the edge of his desk to keep him upright. He could do this. So what if he was the worlds worst liar? Who cared about his awful case of stage fright? None of that mattered, not when it came to him. If he had to put on a show to keep his beloved safe then Goddamnit- this would be the greatest performance of his life.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fix-it #communication #apologies #reconciliation #mod d

[itsabouttimex2]

Y’know how reader is stuck as a monkey in the Yan monkiefam posts, what if reader somehow sneaks off the mountain and stumbles upon macaque. Macaque gets a specific vibe from the mysterious monkey, so he takes it as his own. Monkey reader is trying to communicate to macaque on how to transform back, but either due to lack of understanding or macaque not wanting reader to turn back, reader is still a monkey much to their dismay. Meanwhile Monkiefam is panicking and looking everywhere for reader. This could be seen as a part 3 to the Yan monkiefam posts with an added platonic Yan macaque.

How would you write this scenario? Sorry if it’s long, I started rambling a bit lol. I really like your writing and was hoping you would write something similar to this, I love platonic Yan and you stuff really caters to me. Thank you🩷🩷

Monkiefam: Part Three

Sable Savior

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(💜💜Post one-hundred, huh? Feels good to have gotten here! My ask box has been wiped, and is open again! Character x character requests are now allowed! 💜💜)

Monkeys don’t make for good pets. They’re cute, sure. They’re funny and interesting creatures that are worthy of study. But it’s impossible to raise them properly.

And it’s impossible to obtain one ethically.

Either the mothers are shot to death in the wild and the babies are ripped from their still bodies, or they’re kept in horrid conditions and forcibly bred again and again, having their babies torn from them after only a few days or weeks.

All for a cute pet that will be dumped in a few years. Monkeys don’t stay cute, after all. They grow out of the clothes you put them in, grow out of the training you put them through, grow from cute “living dolls” and into wild, fanged animals all their own.

Once they’ve shed their youthful looks and compliant behaviors, the fate of every ‘pet’ monkey is the same- death.

Whether shot or euthanized or dumped far from home and left to starve, monkeys kept in captivity almost always have unhappy endings.

You could be easily mistaken for one of those unfortunate creatures, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Even after two full weeks, the transformation you had accidentally locked yourself into remained strong, showing no signs of faltering.

What at first seemed like a potential method of escape had quickly because the thickest chain in your shackle.

Not only was your newfound ‘family’ thrilled to have you as a cuddly little monkey, they seemed even more intent on coddling you.

MK especially adored having a ‘little sibling’ who couldn’t escape his grip. Day in and day out, every minute spent by your side, tending to your needs as a form of stress relief. Whether it was wrestling you into the bathtub or carving up fruit to spoon-feed you, the hero had quickly become a constant smothering presence. He was a fine caretaker, but you would much prefer that he used those skills on anyone else but yourself.

Just barely had he talked himself out of dressing you up, reasoning that you might find fabric uncomfortable over your fluffy white fur.

Not that he allowed you to remove the silk ribbons that his mentor had tied. Those were staying, and MK made sure of it. Every single time you had managed to squirm one free from your body, he just snatched it off the ground and tied it back on.

And, speaking of his mentor-

For all the doting you faced at the hands of MK, Sun Wukong was twice as bad.

Having been the caretaker for thousands of monkeys through the passing of centuries, it seemed that the Great Sage had a knack for pampering the furry darlings- and that translated quite easily to human beings who had accidents trapped themselves in the form of a cub.

Already you had spent hours upon hours upon his lap, feeling Wukong’s deft fingers comb through your fur in search of debris to remove. Given that you weren’t allowed outside, he rarely found anything more than dust. Still, his intention was more to bond than it was to clean.

For him, the best part was when you'd get so bored that you'd start stroking his fur in turn, picking through it just to pass the time. Even though your heart wasn't really in the action, he was absolutely thrilled to have you acting like a real monkey in some small manner.

The Great Sage was so thrilled, in fact, that he'd barely allow you even a minute alone. And though some of this was justified by your inability to properly function in this new form, it went far beyond the realm of understandable when the king started taking you to bed with him- all under the guise of 'keeping you safe'. You'd rest all through the night tucked into his arms, listening to a powerful beating within the Monkey King’s muscular chest.

Against MK, you were lulled to sleep by a slow throb, finding some gentleness in the steady and low thrum.

Against Wukong, you were cascaded by the furious white-hot pounding of a heart blessed by power almost beyond comprehension.

You’d be lying if you said neither was at least a little comforting to hear as you drifted to a deep, dreamless sleep.

But here and now, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be found.

You had finally managed to slip from the clutches of your ‘family’, mustering just enough motor control to clamber up the couch and jump to a window left cracked, slipping under the peering pane and crawling to ‘freedom’.

On unfamiliar and furry legs you had fled, away from a gilded cage and into the beckoning wilderness. Maybe a part of you now longed for the forests, driving you to escape and run free. Perhaps some newfound simian instinct craved a life free from unchanging scenery and sturdy walls.

So away you went, chirping and chittering and calling out to the rising moon as the night grew darker and darker.

And as you raced into those darkening woods, throwing caution to the wind, you also drew further and further away from any semblance of safety.

It hadn’t taken you even twenty minutes to find trouble on the supposedly idyllic mountain.

And now you were here, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Not alone, of course.

A troop of monkeys surrounds your quivering form, hissing and snarling at such a strange outsider. The count is easily fifteen to twenty, each one bearing sharp fangs and hunched down in aggressive stances.

You hunker away, pressed to the cold bark with eyes pointed downwards. You don’t dare move or make a sound.

It’s not enough to save you.

The largest member of the pack snarls for just a second, rearing back with his teeth bared. Before you can even flinch, the simian lurches towards you with a splitting howl, powerful jaws snagging the skin of your neck.

The scent of blood fills the air.

As it shrieks through a mouthful of your flesh, the monkey violently slings you back and forth. It beats at your face and neck, hammering your diminutive form with all the strength it can muster. When you dare to try and strike back it throws you to the ground, beating ruthlessly down on your stomach.

It hollers.

The rest of the pack jump into the fray, beating and biting and tearing at fur. Where one shoves, another pulls. Any spot left untouched by one is promptly assaulted by another. Not an inch of you is spared the violent assault, nor is mercy given in regards to your youthful form.

And right as darkness swells in the corners of your vision, the troop freezes.

A barbed lash of black strikes the alpha across the face, leaving a deep and stinging cut where it lands. He howls and shrieks and falls back, shooting off into the jungle and disappearing from sight. From only the trail of blood left in his wake, his troop follows, fearful but still loyal.

“Someone’s had a rough go of it,” says a voice that would be insufferably smug if it hadn’t just saved you from probable death.

Two cold hands wrap around your prone form, prying you from the ground.

The white of your fur has almost entirely disappeared behind a mixture of wet soil and stinking blood, filthy and pungent. The ribbon around your neck has been torn free and left on the ground, lying in tatters.

“You‘re still a little too young to be without your mother, fuzzball. She’s the one who’s supposed to teach you ‘the ways of the wild’, yeah? Where’d she get off to?”

Macaque cradles you close in one of his arms, lightly stroking the underside of your chin with a sharp nail. His touch is surprisingly gentle, far more than you’d expect for a demon. His voice takes a turn for the soft.

“Nah, that’s not it. If you’re this close to another pack without her, then she’s… not around anymore. You probably weren’t raised by her at all, actually.”

His thumb presses against your ragged silk ribbon, toying with the red fabric.

“Must’ve been dumped by some mortal who got sick of taking care of you, huh? Bastards.”

You chitter desperately for his help, hoping that this one might understand even a word you say. But he only gives you a pitying smile, untying the ribbon from your tail and letting it flutter slowly to the ground.

“You never even learned to speak, furball? They must’ve taken you young. Humans always do. Keep you for a few years and dress you up like babies, then throw you out once you’re not cute enough for them anymore.”

Your vocalizations grow more desperate and wild, becoming outright hysterical.

“I know, I know. Hungry, right? Never learned to forage for yourself, or pick for bugs. C’mon, let’s find something to eat- bet I can scrounge us up some peaches, at least. After all…”

Macaque pulls free his tattered scarf, then holds one end of it against your stomach. You can’t so much as chitter before he wraps you head to toe, swaddling your fluffy form tightly. It’s warm, at least, if a bit restrictive.

“Shouldn’t we outcasts stick together?”

And off he goes into the night, far from home and far from safety.

It’s not quite freedom, but you’ll take it.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Monkiefam #All that stuff I said about pet monkeys is 100% real by the way

[otomiyaa]

Diluc x Ticklish Male!Reader

Romantic + 11. “So, what will be your next excuse to tickle me?” Requested by @blue-little-angel for my 1K Followers Event🌻

You started it. Really, anyone would say you literally asked for it. But how could you help yourself? When Diluc was tying his hair in one of those pretty ponytails with his hair tie in his mouth, looking so gentle, charming, vulnerable, beautiful...

Well, your hand just acted on its own!

You reached out, tickled him and watched his adorable reaction unfold. The delight of watching him yelp with his arms shooting down, and seeing the blush spread on his cheeks, it was quite short-lived.

You went from giggling triumphantly to cackling your head off the moment he lunged at you, his fingers digging into your sides for a fitting tickly revenge.

"Cheeky little guy, you thought that was funny hmh?" he said with his hair tie still between his teeth as he tickled you, his attack calm and calculated, yet so very torturous.

"Yehehes! I'm sorry-ackhahha! Dil-Diluhuhuc wahahait!" you laughed, and you tried to jump up and get out of his reach, but this was a game easily won by him. You always failed at tickle fights against your evil boyfriend, no matter how much you tried to win.

It was a combination of those ticklish sensations and the way Diluc would always look whenever he tickled you: so charming and elegant, it made your entire mind and body go weak.

And it happened a lot, actually. Whether you teased him physically or verbally, whether he was trying to be romantic, playful or vengeful, or whenever you were too tired in the morning or too energetic, Diluc would find a reason to tickle you.

It became clear to you that he just enjoyed this way of showing affection, and you might like it even more. Despite the somewhat uncharming noises you made every now and then...

"Heehehehee NAhh! Not thehehere!" you howled when his wiggling fingers reached under your shirt. You weakly grabbed his hands but were unable to stop them from making you laugh. Diluc smirked at your attempts.

"You'd say that no matter where," was his soft answer, and with one hand he swiftly took the hair tie out of his mouth and put it around his wrist. He then pulled you tightly against him into a warm and comfortable hug, but, not without the tickles.

"Eyaaahaha! Okahahay I'm sohohorry! Yehehes?!" you laughed, kicking your legs in hysteria. Diluc merely scratched your tummy and sides and was able to turn you into such an embarrassing orchestra of sounds and noises with only little effort.

"Hmm," Diluc hummed, staring absent-mindedly in the distance while his fingers continued to scribble all over your ticklish areas.

"One more time," he suggested.

"I'm sohohorry for tihihickling you!" you howled, trying the more specific way. And it worked! Diluc only tickled you a little more after that, then he finally stopped.

"Whew. This time, I kinda deserved it," you agreed breathlessly, and you pulled your shirt back down to cover up your tummy which still felt ticklish even when Diluc's attack had stopped seconds ago.

"Hmm," Diluc responded quietly, and he nodded. You smirked, thinking it was so funny that for such a quiet guy, he sure was very tickly.

"So, what will be your next excuse to tickle me?” you asked, and you noticed from the way Diluc blushed that he wasn't ready to suddenly be confronted with his repetitive ways of punishing you, teasing you, and so on.

"Well... I-if you keep giving me reasons to..." Diluc looked you in the eye and paused mid-sentence, changing his mind. He then gave you a tender kiss on your lips and smiled.

"I mean... why would I need an excuse to tickle my boyfriend?" Diluc asked, no longer looking flustered. The one who was blushing like crazy: it was you again. Eep. 2-0 for Diluc! You collapsed against him and couldn't stop smiling, covering your face with your hands while you gathered your breath.

In the meantime, Diluc finally successfully finished tying his hair, looking even more beautiful. You were truly so lucky to have him!

#x reader tickles #genshin impact #diluc #x reader #ler!diluc #tickling #tickle fic #diluc x male reader #male reader #otomiya!writes