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johnwickb1tsch · 8 days

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Vino Veritas - Part IV

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

IV. Showering Together To Conserve Water

You are both tired as you return to the hotel, and maybe a little giddy from what you did in the backcountry of the vineyard. You certainly didn’t drink enough wine at the reception to be stumbling the way you are, and when you nearly trip over your tall shoes again Frank sweeps you up into his arms for the second time that day.

When you look at him with surprise he qualifies, “If you break an ankle, it will ruin my night.”

You chuckle to yourself, and rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a very nice shoulder, broad, solid. If you were braver than you are, you might even dare to think it feels…dependable. It doesn’t escape you, that he carries you like a bride over his threshold, on this day when you watched your ex-fiancé marry someone else.

Frank would be a much better prospect than Kevin—but you are not thinking about that.

You’re trying not to, anyway.

The shine doesn’t even diminish while he curses as he fumbles to get out his key. It’s all highly entertaining, and very sweet, and that cloyingly painful ball in your chest only feels like it's growing.

He sets you down on the bed, and immediately sets about unbuckling the ankle straps of your shoes. “These things are an accident waiting to happen.”

“But they make my calves look amazing,” you defend.

He pauses to assess the body parts in question, nodding begrudgingly. “They’re quite nice on their own though. You’re a very attractive woman.”

This hits you a bit like a shovel to the head. You guess he’d complimented your clothes before, but it wasn’t quite the same thing.

“I think you’re very attractive too,” you confess, though you’re sure he already knows it.

The fleeting look on his face isn’t exactly surprise—but you dare think that maybe it moves him too.

“Excellent. We’ve had sex and now we admit we’re attracted to each other,” he deflects with a smirk. “However, I also think you’re dirty after our roll in the hills, and I am too. Want to take a shower?”

You can only presume he means together, and you nod.

***

At first you focus solely on washing, which is nice when he lathers his big hands up with soap and runs them all over your body. You’re all too happy to return the favor, which yields the inevitable arousal for both of you.

“I know it’s how it’s done in the movies,” he says between kissing you, “But if I pick you up to fuck you the odds are excellent I will slip and fall and we will both get hurt.”

You’re not entirely disappointed to hear this. You’ve always thought it precarious and awkward anyway. In answer you turn to lean on the shower wall. “How about this?” you suggest, standing on tiptoe to offer your ass up in the air, looking back with a mischievous smile.

“Maybe if we could get you a footstool,” he snarks, before engulfing you with his body behind yours, his front pressed to your back. He grumbles with appreciation as he kisses the back of your neck, his hard member pressing into your spine. “I think we can make this work,” he muses, his voice gone low and gravely with desire. That alone is enough to make you gush between your legs, and when he touches you he finds your slit slick and ready for him. It’s almost embarrassing, really, how much you want it with this man.

When he bends his knees to enter you the both of you moan, the wonderful pressure of his beautiful cock filling you up making you see stars.

It’s also embarrassing, how fast you cum on his fingers with his cock inside you like this, the hard clench of your walls bringing him right along with you again.

“Oh my god,” you pant, pressing your cheek against the cool tiles. You can feel the hot drip of his seed running down your thighs—it’s marvelous, if you’re being honest. It’s wonderful and you’re afraid you never want it to end.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning above you, leaving you feeling surrounded by his body and strangely secure in the shelter of his larger form.

“I never—” You stop yourself short, thinking that maybe it’s too much to confess this soon in your budding relationship, if this can even be called yet. Leave it to you, to scare him off straight out the gate.

“Tell me,” he says, almost gently, his throbbing manhood still inside you.

Fuck it.

“I never cum this quickly. I usually get freaked out that I’m taking too long, and it’s a nightmare, and I just end up faking it to make it stop. You are…” You evacuate the breath from your body, so that you don’t say something insane, like you’re a dream come true.

You tense, waiting for the inevitable snide comment that will shatter the moment, but it does not come. He just kisses the back of your head and slides out of you, so that he can stand upright again. However, he does not let go of you, holding you snug against the shelter of his body with an arm still looped around your waist.

“That sounds crushingly disappointing,” he says against your ear.

“Yeah.” You’re not sure why your throat is suddenly tight, and that’s all you can get out at the moment. You guess before Frank, you weren’t that into it either.

He turns you in his arms and kisses you again under the warm stream of the shower, so sweetly one would find it hard to believe he’s the same man from before. “I’m honored. And…same.”

“You’ve faked orgasms before?” you ask, incredulous.

“No, but you—this is the best I’ve had in a long time. So…same.”

You nod, and resolve not to pick at it anymore, happy with what you have for now. You rest with your head against his chest, catching your breath, your knees–and your heart–feeling like they’ve turned to jelly.

#destination wedding #frank x you #frank MrNiceCaboose x you #LOL that's for u scarlett!#frank x reader #frank x y/n #destination wedding frank x you #frank reeves x you #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #vino veritas destination wedding fic #destination wedding fic

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starleska · 1 year

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I hope you had a lovely trip! Hopefully this doesnt seem too demanding, but do you have any jack horner headcanons you're willing to share? Romantic, perhaps even yandere/possessive? Or just general headcanons? If not thats perfectly okay!!!

d'aww thank you sweet anon, i had a great time!! although i am very sleepy now 😴 i'm not even gonna lie to you, i whiled away the train journeys by gazing out of the window and thinking up little meet-cute scenarios with Jack 😂😂

oh HELL yes!! don't you worry, that's not demanding in the slightest - i'd be happy to oblige 😉 honestly this has steered off more into backstory/total fanfic territory, but i hope you like it anyway. i’ve written this with a bit of a feminine-leading-nickname bias, but this is for all readers!! i’m nb myself 🥰 feel free to substitute certain names for others 🔥

'Big' Jack Horner x Reader romantic/yandere headcanons:

historically, Jack hasn’t had much interest in romantic dalliances. coming from an upper-class family with a great deal of wealth means he received plenty of offers even when he was young, from hopeful families wanting to marry into his lucrative business. however, Jack always found the suitors from these families dull and predictable; they knew exactly what to say and how to say it, and their compliance infuriated Jack to no end.

as a result, throughout his teens and early twenties Jack mostly abstained from romantic connections. it was at this time that he began to increase in size: he shot up like a weed and bulked out enormously, which greatly increased interest from a variety of parties. this came alongside his succession to the head of his pie business, and the flourishing of his criminal empire. although Jack was propositioned left and right, he only engaged in the occasional date and/or lay, and considered them to be stress relief.

as his obsession with collecting magical artefacts and increasing his power grew, Jack’s dim view of romance as nothing more than fairy tale junk - something he has come to abhor - solidifies into a type of confident nihilism. he believes that he is simply built different, and that truly powerful figures don’t concern themselves with such trivial matters. that is, of course, until he meets you.

at first, Jack is horrified. first, he believes he has fallen ill; why is his heart beating so fast around you? why does he feel hot and sweaty and clammy all at once when you pop into his thoughts? this quickly descends into a type of paranoia: he is convinced that you must be some type of magical artisan, one who has cast a spell to drive him mad. we know Jack isn’t the patient type, so he confronts you, dragging you into his office and threatening you with the business end of the Huntsman’s Axe from the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale.

rather than the reasonable reaction of terror and attempting to escape, you stammer and blush, almost hyperventilating at the proximity. he’s so much larger than you, and it takes everything you have not to melt into his arms. you manage to tell him that you find him impossibly charming, and just being around him makes you feel lighter. this takes a moment for Jack to process. he questions you repeatedly: “You find me attractive?” “Y-yes.” “You’d like to become an item? With me?” “Yes, sir.”

once he is certain that there is no trickery afoot, Jack is ecstatic with you. the full extent of his smarm and arrogance pour over in waves. Jack is not a man prone to embarrassment , and he makes no secret of your relationship whilst going about the daily business of running his criminal organisation and pie factory. he freely plays with your hair, rubs your shoulders and gives you kisses in full view of all his workers, much to your humiliation, but the way Jack looks at you with approval after every teasing show of affection makes it all worth it. Jack’s staff even give you a nickname: The Baker’s Wife.

in no time at all, Jack becomes your fiercest protector. someone calls a rude comment to you in the street? they’re found the next day, strung up by their thumbs outside the village walls. a debt collector comes to harass you and your family? how interesting: they choke to death on a pie, overstuffed with plums. you soon find that members of The Baker’s Dozen are assigned to keep you safe: following you around his mansion and accompanying you outside without so much as a word. you try to question Jack about these events, knowing in your heart he is responsible, but the way he tells you, “No one hurts my princess,” makes your heart squeeze. indeed, day-to-day Jack treats you like royalty: only the finest garments, cuisine, and entertainment for the love of his life.

however, in private, Jack lets his sadistic side shine. he is delighted by how easy you are to fluster: how a filthy whisper or a well-placed touch can make you tremble and squeak. he enjoys your size difference, playing with you as if you were a doll, and he chuckles darkly whenever you squirm. there’s nothing he loves more than pinning you against a wall with a blade, enacting the predator/prey dynamic he knows you enjoy so much. he leans in close and breathes into your ear, telling you how small and helpless you are, and how easy it would be to rip you apart. he relishes in making you beg to be touched, how much you crave his silver tongue and those awful, atrocity-stained hands. Jack tells you that you are his, forever, until the day you die: and that is something you love more than life itself.

hope this is what you were looking for, anon 😉

#*dabs at forehead with a handkerchief* good lord is it warm in here #big jack horner #jack horner #big jack horner x reader #puss in boots: the last wish #puss in boots: the last wish spoilers #suggestive #naughty tag #starleskasks #starleskawrites

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justenjoythegossip · 4 months

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Would it be more “acceptable” if Chris & Abba were exclusively PR?

Chris’ performative political activism

Whether Chris and Abba are a real legitimate couple with a PR spin or exclusively PR, Chris’ political activism has proved to be totally performative. It’s one thing to fight for equality and injustice when it is beneficial to your image, it’s another to do it when voicing that opinion can be costly. Look at Melissa Barrera who expressed her opinion, stuck to her guts and lost the role she is most famous for. Look at Brendan Fraser who refused to stay silent and paid such a heavy price after speaking out on his being sexually assaulted. It took him years to come back and finally take home a much deserved Oscar for his acclaimed performance in the Whale.

Chris’ persona and brand were utterly destroyed when he was linked to that fat-shaming racist antisemitic Nazi sympathizing girl. The most aggravating part of this PR shitshow is that by accepting to be officially in a “RS” and then be “married” to her, he has helped put her in the spotlight, which was his first mistake. Look at Dylan O’Brien who is in a real relationship with someone extremely problematic as well. They are rather discreet. If Chris and Abba had behaved like a real private couple, if Abba would have stayed in the shadow, then the backlash would have been kept to a minimum. Also by agreeing to this, Chris helped clean her image. Knowing what she has shown to the world publicly, it’s all the more egregious to see the media portraying her as this smart talented great humanitarian who speaks 5 languages and who has perfect eyebrows. The gaslighting is unbearable.

Of course, Chris has famously said that the industry makes you do things that you don’t want to do. But it is an excuse. It’s a rationalization. The truth is that he had a choice. For sure the two options he was offered probably sucked but he still had a choice. Nobody forced this on him. And he knew the optics were terrible. That’s why he didn’t come back to Twitter, that’s why he took so much distance from his political project ASP. It would have been too hypocritical to be vocal and to be lecturing people when he, himself, was connected to someone that represents what he is allegedly fighting against.

When he did that infamous asp chat about racism and antisemitism, it wasn’t random. It was very likely a test to monitor the reaction of his fans. This is probably why they left all those negative comments. They wanted to know if Chris had been forgiven...

If their “RS/marriage” was exclusively PR, would that absolve him somehow?

Certain mods have expressed the opinion that if Chris and Abba were a real legitimate couple, it would be much worse and then they couldn’t support Chris anymore. I don’t mean to judge or criticize anyone’s opinion by the way, especially since I think some of those mods are good, well-intentioned people and I love reading their take on things but I am just trying to ask questions here.

What is implied here is that it’s ok and preferable to compromise yourself if it’s meant for your career. And it’s true that we are taught from the earliest age that we have to succeed. Whatever the cost may be. We must have friends, have a career, have money, have a family, have a house… So much emphasis on having and so little on being. This is the darker side of the American dream, it puts way too much importance on money and success. And if you can’t achieve those goals then you are considered to be worthless. Nihilism starts right there. If you are nothing, it’s a lot easier to give up on your morals and ethics…

To get back to Chris. Yes he’s had an amazing career, the kind of career most actors would kill for. But it’s easy to relate to being terrified to lose what you have and what you have always wanted. I guess the desperation must be unbearable if you have defined yourself by your professional success and you see that things start slipping away from you. And by his looks and demeanor, people can tell he has struggled with it. Although it might be an act of course. But I choose to believe that it’s genuine and that he really feels guilty about it.

But wouldn’t love make this situation more “acceptable”?

If Chris and Abba were exclusively PR, then it would signify that Chris compromised himself and his beliefs for his career, for roles, for money and for power.

But wouldn’t it be actually “preferable” and “more acceptable” to compromise yourself out of love?

Love can be so powerful and nonsensical that certain people have lost their ways because of it. People have betrayed their partners or spouses, some have abandoned their own children because of it. Heck, people have even killed out of passion. And we sometimes free those people in a court of law when a jury decides that the criminal was so blinded by love and passion that they were unable to distinguish right from wrong. We call it temporary insanity!

If Chris had genuinely fallen in love with Abba (I don’t believe it by the way) to the point of being blind to her problematic stuff, would that be really worse or wouldn’t that serve as more mitigating circumstances? I am merely asking a question: compromising yourself for money and roles is it better than compromising yourself out of love? Did we actually become too cynical? Too materialistic?

Chris and his treatment of Abba and how it is reflective of our society…

Regardless of what we might think of Abba (and for sure we don’t have a good opinion of her), Chris has treated her very poorly. And this doesn’t reflect well on him.

Indeed he has done the absolute bare minimum to sell this, has never even said her name once, he has acted all ashamed most times she was nearby, has thrown shade (see the GQ interview where he implied she was judgmental), he has kept repeating how much he likes to be alone and how his dog is his true soulmate. He even said while allegedly being with her that he was looking for a partner to spend the rest of his life with. Ouch!

Of course, people who know about her problematic stuff will have trouble having any kind of empathy for her but that doesn’t make it ok.

Chris has agreed to this PR shitshow so tacitly he has accepted that Abba is good enough for these PR games and he has accepted to use her. So he should treat her with a minimum of respect. Otherwise he shouldn’t have gone through with it in the first place.

And it’s very symptomatic of our society these days. With the propaganda pushed by the mass media, we are taught that it’s ok to hate on people as long as they are horrible human beings. And similarly we have seen so many mods troll and comment on Abba‘s appearance as if it was even relevant. Just because someone is horrible, it doesn’t give you a license to behave the same way. Otherwise you become the very same thing you are criticizing.

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yuri-is-online · 12 days

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I've got a theory question for tdb (bear with me, I've blazed through story so remembering the beginning is a little difficult)

So at the beginning, the anomaly we met was actively texting us right? Said something about how they've "been waiting to see us" or somethin like that

Which we know anomalies can be sentient (especially if we run with the theory with towa). And I dunno, I wanna loop in the time loop theory somewhere here. If we go with the idea of mc being the girl in the tower and her jumping before a loop maybe, then what (or who) is the anomaly we met?

I've been going through the tdb tag to see if you've mentioned it yet and no one has asked, so I figured I would bc I like bouncing theories... I need to hop on tdb reddit

SO I lurk in the discord server some people on the reddit put together and it was pointed out there that shortly after that happened the dev's other game had a Rapunzel themed event 💀💀💀 so that's what the line about the girl in the tower was likely referencing since it makes sense someone like Taiga would "not be into that shit (i.e. not his game) at all." THAT BEING SAID I am so glad you brought up the anomaly in the beginning because there's some stuff about it I find interesting.

I went and took some screenshots from the summoning and the person who commented under that little theory was right in that the person who is falling does land in the woods, so it could be that whoever jumps off of the tower at the end of the loop does end up in the woods somewhere. It might mean nothing, but I'll hold onto this thought just in case.

Dorms rarely cooperate on missions, so Taiga and Haku being on one together is odd. Taiga also does not seem to have lines referencing Haku, but he seems to have given up on trying to escape the timeloop and wants "the others" to join him in his nihilism. I think this sort of goes with his being a gambler who says there is "no trick to winning you just have keep playing" but still desperately looking to the MC for "something I could do different" or a reason. He wants to have hope again but he isn't able to.

I personally think these "others" he talks about are probably Tohma and Romeo, Tohma because he seems to be one of the more active ones working to isolate the traitor and Romeo because that's his best friend. Oh and while I am on the subject of the traitor, someone brought up to me a crack theory about Luca being the traitor and I have seen some votes for Towa too. While I obviously think that it is almost certain to be Haku, I think there is a potential for a faction split between people who agree with whatever Haku's take on the ghoul's situation is and people who agree with Tohma. Luca is a very good candidate for someone who I could see being manipulated into siding with the "evil" side if he thought it meant it was the only way to protect his brother. Towa will go wherever Haru does, and I can't really see Haru siding with Haku if it involves hurting the anomalous creatures in any way. That and Haku seems very convinced that he's in whatever he's in alone.

But to finally answer your question/talk about what's been bugging me: the anomaly who curses the MC takes her into something that reminds me of a cursed domain from JJK and turns the scenery all red. And like you said they text her! Like it's been stalking her for a long time. I hope we get to learn about how Haku's flute works in the Hotarubi chapter because I want to know how and why he was able to take MC out of the anomaly's domain and return her to the train car. That almost made me think he could control it in some way... I'll have to level his affection enough to see what his pfp is in his texts because it it is remotely similar to the one the anomaly uses I will have a stroke.

As for what the anomaly is... it's profile picture is a spider lily and it uses the name "Mina" when talking to MC. It's head has roses, spider lilies and what I think are supposed to be poppies growing on its head. Apparently there is a Chinese legend about spider lilies and I keep seeing the same text copy and pasted everywhere about it, but I feel comfortable sharing what I found since I was able to find it on Wuhan University's English website: (x)

I imagine when we meet whatever monster cursed MC it will be a bit different than whatever is going on here, but MC is talking about how "if she knew it would end like this she never would have fallen for them in the first place." Sure she's just talking about how her favorite band just broke up, but maybe that feeling drew the spirit towards her since it is attracted to/preys on lost loves.

If I am allowed to cope a whole bunch here, I think it would make for solid timeloop building if MC's feelings weren't about the band at all, but about her lost love who jumped off the building at the start of the game. Since the loop has restarted she doesn't remember him, so she thinks her feelings are and directs them towards the band she used to love, but the strength of her disappointment comes from somewhere else.

Thank you very much for your question, it made me think a whole lot!

#<3 asks #tokyo debunker #tdb

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biblioflyer · 9 days

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Critical Mutant Theory: Fictional Societies are Loose Allegories

This is the third entry in a longer essay about the pessimism of X-Men, why it is a pessimistic setting, and if that is indeed a fair reading at all. This part discusses some of the deeper influences of X-Men, the problems with direct analogies to the real world, and why X-Men is unable to move beyond depicted pogroms.

Part 1 laid out some of the core conceits of the setting.

Part 2 discusses theories of historical change.

However fitting events throughout history and the world might be for interpreting X-Men, it is by intent a culturally American setting with a majority culturally American writers and artists, the classic example being the assertion that over time Xavier has come to represent the thinking of Martin Luther King Jr. while Magneto represents Malcom X.

Again, like everything else X-Men these are clumsy metaphors that cannot represent the complexities of either man or the movements they were influential within. These are metaphors that are exaggerated for effect by design and metaphors that have had decades across multiple mediums to evolve beyond their original conceits. The notion that this was the original conception of the characters also appears to be folklore, the associations with King and X came later which makes trying to apply real world historical movements, ideas, and events to the world of the X-Men that much less likely to be anything more than vaguely accurate, although occasionally by accident or intent it is spookily relevant.

Suffice to say I am also intimately familiar with the discourse around how political opportunists have flattened the lives and beliefs of King in particular in order to moralize about Black American failings and justify various disenfranchisements as a consequence of not living up to a mythology that is convenient for the comfortable and powerful. I’m also aware of how the mythologized King has been used to try to discredit other civil rights movements for being too disruptive, too ambitious, or too untidy. Something I think X-Men ‘97 does quite well is show us that the X-Men are often exhausted, demoralized, and even sometimes lash out in frustration and anger, but reliably recommit to acting upon their virtues.

The complexity of trying to use X-Men as a direct allegory is why the surface level nihilism of X-Men is worth unpacking. I’m fond of saying that we need to not forget that fictional societies are storytelling devices, not remote civilizations that have consistent internal rules that can be examined and codified by anthropologists. As storytelling devices, they can reflect our world in a funhouse mirror sort of way.

Mutants are explicitly an invitation for people who have experienced aggression and unfreedom due to an arbitrary characteristic to feel represented, at least metaphorically.

More specifically, the X-Men setting is a storytelling device to talk about incredibly emotionally difficult concepts with some degree of emotional distance like bigotry, identity based violence, reform efforts, bitterness, systemic oppression, resistance, and the risks and rewards of rebellion or assimilation. If the victims in the setting make lasting gains that aren’t reversed, then the setting is either finished as a device for telling stories about bigotry or it needs to become more sophisticated.

Lynchings and massacres are visceral events that the audience can easily grasp what is happening, why, and it gets the blood pumping. Something more rooted in the present might be someone being shot by the police because the police panicked and thought they were about to get shot with projectile spines or laser vision. A mutant being refused a home loan because they’re purple or being asked to file down their horns for their office job to avoid making the humans uncomfortable is very relevant but not particularly cinematic.

Because of the difficulty of trying to preserve familiar themes in a recognizable way while allowing the characters to achieve meaningful victories, the temptation is always very strong in any setting to reverse victories and prefer stasis or even make things significantly worse. There are opportunities for letting the heroes actually win and start a new “phase” of the story where the heroes are dealing with the consequences of winning as well as the ever present threat of revanchism. X-Men ‘97 even leaves the door open to this in small ways. Which will be the theme for the next installment.

#Marvel #x men 97 spoilers #x men the animated series #x men 97 #charles xavier #magneto #erik lehnsherr #systemic oppression #allegory #civil rights

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scoobydoodean · 3 months

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the way bronlies are so obsessed that they’ve just become sam in the way they don’t like/won’t allow dean to have other friends 😭

it’s crazy to me, especially for a question whose different answers are both true to an extent bc your definition of “knowing somebody” is totally subjective!

lol that said, i am curious, soo… who do you think knows dean best, sam or cas? somebody else? do you think it changes over the seasons?

One of my friends was just saying that about bronlies and Sam sjhbfhsdhjf. Truly tho they're more insufferable than Sam's ever been. Bronlies are every spoiled child antagonist in every children's book. The Veruca Salt's of fandom. Miserable little cry baby brats screaming throwing tantrums trying to hit everyone with their baby rattlers... over Supernatural (2005) POLLS.

Their indignantion at that poll is pretty hilarious, because Sam doesn't start out the series actually knowing who Dean is at all. He thinks he knows who Dean is, but he doesn't, and this is illustrated to us over a dozen times in season 1. I do think Sam grows to understand who Dean is better over time, but he still sucks at understanding Dean for the vast majority of the series, because in many ways, he doesn't actually care to stop and think and study who Dean is and ask himself whether he actually knows him. He prefers an image he's made up in his head of who Dean is instead—an image that comforts him or bolsters his own self-image in some way. Dean is smart when Sam wants him to be smart and stupid when Sam needs to feel smarter (1.10, 1.16, 4.12, 8.14). Dean is strong when Sam wants him to be strong and weak when Sam needs to feel like the strongest person around (4.10, 4.11, 4.14, 4.16, 4.20, 4.21). Dean isn't opening up enough (2.02, 2.03, 2.04), then Dean is too emotional and soft and needs to get over it (2.10, 2.11, 2.14, 4.14, 4.16). Dean is a protector and nurturer who is failing to nurture and/or protect Sam adequately (3.09, 4.04, 8.23), then Dean is smothering (5.07, 8.20).

Basically, because Sam spends so much time trying to force Dean to fit into the shape he wants Dean to fit into, instead of actually trying to understand who Dean is, he often (unknowingly in some cases) completely lacks insight into who Dean actually is, and I'd say while he gets better at recognizing this, and better at understanding who Dean really is over time, surrounding certain subjects (especially things like grief), this refusal to see the actual real Dean continues through the entire run of the show (ex: 13.04).

I guess the question is then... is Cas actually better at understanding Dean than Sam is? And for me? Honestly I think it's a wash. I don't actually think either of them is Mr Amazing Perfect Dean Understander to be quite honest with you. I mean—practically Dean and Cas's entire schtick is perpetual misunderstandings bolstered by their own insecurities? They understand the important parts like that they each have good intentions and are good hearted, but I don't think Cas ever really understood how their repeated cycle of conflict made Dean feel. I don't think he ever understood how deeply entwined Dean's well-being became with his own, to the point that Dean was Not Fucking Okay when Cas was dead. I think Cas had a leg up in getting genuine insights into Dean's feelings straight from Dean for a long time because of the childhood dynamics and previous events that have made using Sam as a confidant uncomfortable and/or unsafe for Dean (2.03, 2.11, 4.14, 4.21, 5.01, 5.02, 5.03). I think Cas also understands Dean’s feelings more than he lets on and often acts on his perceptions of Dean's feelings without communicating those perecptions to anyone (and sometimes he's right... but sometimes he's also very VERY wrong).

We get a sort of back and forth with Sam and Cas understanding or not understanding different aspects of Dean's feelings or behavior. Think about "Nihilism" for example, when Sam and Cas walk through the darkness of Dean's mind, and Cas is shocked by the amount of trauma in Dean's mind and Sam just says, "Well. Yeah." But then compare that with 10.03 "Soul Survivor" where Cas was able to explain to Sam why demon Dean didn't want to be cured no matter how much blood they gave him. Sam didn't understand, but Cas understood Dean's perspective immediately (and that entire episode was a scathing commentary on Sam's lack of insight into Dean tbqh).

All of that said, I think I did vote in that poll and I picked Cas, and I would do it again. :) In fact, I will vote against Sam in any moment of uncertainty in any poll I see going forward, because bronlies are pathetic cry baby brats victimizing themselves 24/7 over Tumblr polls and can get fucked.

#maybe i’ll start tracking this going forward hdhdhdhdhdh #mail

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visibleclosedeyes · 9 months

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✧ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴠᴏʏᴀɢᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪꜱᴅᴏᴍ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ ɴɪʜɪʟɪᴛʏ✧

IX x reader

1k words Ao3 version here

To repeat how and why you ended up in this position would be like trying to recant the story of several centuries of here and there, so at some point, you just let it go—let the words you had once told centuries ago washed away into the ever-flowing stream of the intergalactic void.

But as an emanator of the Nihility —perhaps this suits you best.

Today and yesterday and tomorrow and last year and a century have been blended together like an ever-growing vortex of void—at some point, nothing really matters that much, including your life story. Perhaps this is how IX feels, all the time. Maybe they were a breathtakingly beautiful creature that rivaled that of the Aeon of beauty and the abundance Yaoshi—but then they had touched the darkness that is the pit of this universe, and—and now they lost all those faces because it hardly ever mattered which form they took.

You understood you thought—as you have touched nihilism too. Or, to be accurate, IX has gazed upon you. Only those with an unrestrained arrogance dare to compare their plight to those with Aeonic status. But you thought, at the very least, you get a fraction of how they felt.

“Big or small, all things are touched by the same bottomless meaningless vortex,” Aeon of Nihility told you once, a fraction of truth is still truth nonetheless.

“Why are you planting seeds into the ground?” IX asked. Although their voice was low and acoustic; bouncing all over this fabricated dimension used for holding IX themselves when they went to sleep, you can feel the genuine curiosity behind those blob eyes of theirs.

“ Someone has said to me once that beautiful flowers help people get into a better mood,”

“ Maybe for mortals, but those tricks don't work on us who knows,” IX said. Even with a rather distant and monotone, there is a hint of somewhat concern.

“I know,” you said—your voice, too, was bouncing off the metaphorical wall. It created the signature acoustic sounds that, as you remember, were once disorienting when you first arrived here. Now? It would have been weird to not hear a slight echo in your or their voice.

You kneeled, the gray and tender sand soil you have gathered in your palm felt cold. It shines against the soft light emitting from the other side where IX was crawling opposing it. The light existed alongside the nihility, belonging to the Doctor of Chaos. “—You don’t have to be too worried. This is mostly for them,” when you continued speaking, the sand was allowed to slide past your hand—it flowed down, but immediately dissolved mid-air into nothingness.

“All things that exist would come to its conclusion. And all things exist for one single purpose; to exist, to continue to exist, and then struggle for that existence—against the unknown, against the others. Only when they no longer could stomach this any longer, shall they perish—left nothing behind,” the Nihility said, Their tone was rather melodic despite the absolutely horrifying speech they have given to you. Yet, it didn’t shake you. Perhaps, being their emanator has some interesting and useful additional benefits.

“I understand, and you are right more than wrong. Still, I plant this for them,”

“ If I am right, then who else is them ?”

“ Those who will walk this path, the same path that I did, and those who will receive that gaze of yours,” you said with an amused yet exhausted smile on your face.

“ No, no. There will be no others. You are selected, but there will be no more others. You are my first and the last emanator,” IX burst out—a rather strange demeanor from those who hold the status of an Aeon; but then again—we don’t really know all that much about Aeon after all. They almost sound anxious—almost but you just burst out laughing.

“Are…you laughing? At an Aeon..?”

“Who else would I be laughing at?”

“…why?” The aeon exclaimed with a voice filled with a hint of annoyance. You inhaled—trying your best to suppress the laugh that seemed to be indefinitely pouring out.

“You are wrong about most things, you were wrong then before you gazed upon me, and you’re wrong now that you assumed you won’t gaze at anyone again,” you said. Most of the dirt in your palm was already gone. Turn around to face your Aeon who, to best describe it—seems to be in absolute shock. Mortals or immortals with less significance do not challenge Aeon, and if they do it will be done not in such a flippancy like this. IX has faced hostility by mortals before by the name of ‘annihilation gangs’, it was…something for several seconds…and then they were nothing, swallowed whole by the crushing weight of nothingness. But—you are special, IX recognized that genes the Aeon’s gaze that craved a mental scar of nihility into your mind. Yet, uniqueness does not exempt you from absolute nothingness. In time, you will perish, and the millions of steps you have to take to be at this point will quickly be washed away by the current of time…and the ever-looming, uncaring silence of the universe. Like the dirt that no longer sits among your fingers, your life will soon slip from the grasp of the Aeon.

And yet—yet, this fact did not dim your light, not one bit. You know full well of the approaching darkness at all of the universe’s corridors—they have let you see it yourself. Still, you have insisted on the very same stand you have held before. Despite not chasing foolishly trying to create artificial meaning to life and the universe—you have understood and even believed the same thing IX believed, you have chosen to face such issues with a totally opposite reaction they have expected.

You faced your Aeon now, the metaphorical barren land of gray and emptiness was now occupied by blooming bio-fluorescent white flowers. It shines bright, but not too bright where it hurts—but bright enough to stand firm against the blackest of black sky that enveloped the garden and both entities facing each other.

“Before you crowned me as your emanator, you had none before. You don't believe in bestowing your ‘blessings’ upon anyone—you have seen no point in it, and you believed no beings could tolerate such nihilistic gaze anyway. Then you gazed at me, I suffered from you and I survived, and I got better. You said, in the face of looming darkness, I will understand and change my way—and I have not changed, before or after,”

IX looked straight into the eyes of their emanator and thought— why is she so difficult? But perhaps that is why she interests me…

“You are unbelievable, breathtakingly chaotic,” IX said with exasperation but their gaze was soft, as soft as a freshly cleaned wool. Something rather surprising coming from the Aeon represents coldness and emptiness.

“Now stop bothering me, I want to sleep…” With that, IX closed their eyes—essentially turning themselves into a mass of darkening black hole that seems to suck away all the life force surrounding it. This made-up space for you and them has dimmed its light, the world was asleep now as both you and the garden of light fell into the dark. You sat down, in an environment with minimal light, and closed your eyes too—drifting into a state of inactivity like your Aeon. Still, you and the garden emit soft light like a nightlight for the Aeon to anchor on. IX didn’t need it, and yet… you wanted to do it.

This place should be hell for any other, but for you—you felt comforted by the presence of the Nihility. It’s true that you were now in the darkness swallow but this darkness itself soothed you—just like the Nihility has too. Tomorrow, there will be work to do; but now you just want to rest beside your aeon. Basking silently in each other comfort.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #aeon x reader #hsr aeons #aeon IX #hsr IX #IX x reader #honkai star rail

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bloodfin · 6 months

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✭・.・✫

Rain Ghoul x Dewdrop Ghoul x Phantom Ghoul (plus some background polyghouls)

Rated: E for Explicit, 18+ only

Word Count: 4.347

Summary: Dew spills some wine on Rain's pretty moonrise outfit; shenanigans ensue

Pronoun tags for this fic: She/Her Rain, He/Him Dewdrop, He/They Phantom (everyone has a dick today)

Warnings: pre-existing relationships (and therefore pre-existing kink negotiations), ma'am kink, mommy kink, alcohol consumption, blood kink/drinking, spitting, aether is always a little stressed (and gets called daddy once), handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, spit as lube, anal sex, dumbification, come play, come eating, there is so much come, praise kink, knotting, breeding kink (very mild and only if you squint but just in case), horribly unreliable narrator, no beta we die like nihil; as is typical of my writing sensitive kink (mommy in this case) has been italicized and bolded for easy skipping - i know this isn't a kink for everyone, please keep yourself safe

Author’s Note: as always please mind the tags and don't read if anything squicks you out! i fear my brainrot is now terminal and i am making that everyone else's problem (sorry). if i missed a tag in the warnings or you think i should add something please let me know - i try and be thorough! enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

additional disclaimer: this is about literal demons straight from hell and has absolutely nothing to do with the actual band members of Ghost, unless someone dyed themselves blue or gold and we all missed it

read on ao3

Vernal equinox had passed, but the ghouls were still in celebration mode, the walls of the den overflowing with small paper flowers. The pink moon was due to rise - the first full moon of spring always cause for extra celebration. It was welcomed around the abbey by all members for ushering in growth and change, solidifying partnerships of all sorts.

Phantom, Aurora, and Dew decorated while Sunshine and Cirrus cooked, the den slowly filling with the warm smell of freshly baked bread. Mountain and Aether were arranging the plants to best receive the moon's energy, while Swiss and Cumulus worked on setting up a large nest in the center of the den.

The only one absent from the preparations was Rain, but her packmates were certain that she would come by when she was ready if she felt so called. Every moonrise was different, but this moon in particular had a strong effect on her. Sometimes the pull was so intense she would spend the evening at the bottom of the lake worshiping in her own way, or she would slink away with the other water ghouls of the abbey.

Today, however, she wanted to play with her pack, painting her face with a gentle pink blush and lipstick. It stood out beautifully against her navy-freckled teal skin, making her sharp teeth seem even brighter. She hummed at her reflection once she finished smudging her eyeliner, the red she put on the waterline bleeding into faded black. Predatory.

Rain was flicking through her closet when the smell of dinner wafted under her door, her ears flickering once they picked up on the sound of quiet laughter. She huffed, passing over dress after dress, jumpsuit after crop top, nothing feeling quite right or looking as powerful as the moon was making her feel. She was fiddling with her belly ring when her eyes landed on a small black skirt next to the laundry that she had been meaning to return. One more wear wouldn’t make her anymore late on giving the clothing back to its rightful owner, right?

“Perfect,” she smiled to herself, wriggling into the skintight black leather miniskirt, sporting a slit that left absolutely no thigh to the imagination. It hugged every part of her perfectly, highlighting where her cock was straining against a too small pair of panties. Once satisfied with its placement she put on a black lace bandeau, followed by a sheer black crop top.

The only thing missing was shoes, and she slipped into pink heels that matched her lipstick before heading out the door, her tail wagging slowly through the air.

When she rounded the corner into the den’s common room the air shifted, the whole pack taking a collective breath when they saw her.

“Wow,” Swiss whispered under his breath, his foot tapping rapidly under the table.

“Mo- mo- mom-m-”

Phantom was stuttering, frozen in place before Cumulus clapped her hand over his mouth, whispering in their ear.

“She will eat you alive baby. Let her get settled, she just got here.”

Their ears started to twitch like he was going to make a move, but when they saw how Rain's teeth seemed to glow in the light he nodded, leaning into Cumulus's side, content to watch for the moment. Dew, however, was not. He wanted Rain near him always, and especially now.

Dew was probably a little too inebriated to be attempting anything close to chivalry, but anytime he saw Rain like this his brain deflated while his blood supply funneled south.

“Saved you a chair, beautiful,” he hummed, standing to pull out the seat beside his own.

He should have left his glass on the table, really, but the thought didn't cross his mind until he bumped into Rain, burgundy wine sloshing out of his glass to drip down her exposed stomach. The room was still, Mountain having sucked in a sharp breath while Aether started to stand, readying himself to intervene. The sparkle of Dew's skin began to fade as his face fell, turning to run into the kitchen for a towel.

He didn't make it very far, Rain's hand reaching out to grab the back of his neck. She pulled him back and pushed him to his knees, leaning on the chair.

“Clean your mess, Dewdrop.”

Aether breathed a sigh of relief and plopped back into his chair while the color returned to Phantom's face, eager to see what was next. His tail thumped quietly on their chair.

Dew looked at Rain for a brief moment before dropping his head, speaking quickly.

“Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.”

Rain's eyes dilated and her fingers flexed, breath stuttering for just a moment when Dew’s hot tongue met the cool skin of her stomach, lapping up the wine. He made sure to clean around the band of her skirt first, knowing how much she hated stains.

Once he felt the area was thoroughly cleaned he delicately worked his way to her belly button, wrapping his tongue around the glittery, dangling jewelry and sucking it clean. He tongued around the attached belly chains, not wanting to miss a single drop. There was a quiet moan from behind them, but Dew didn't dare lift his eyes, focusing instead on the beautiful creature before him.

Rain stuck her hand out and Cirrus placed Dew's half spilled glass of wine into it, complimenting her skirt.

She smiled while she swirled the glass in her hand, bringing it to her nose for a quick sniff.

“Thank you, I've been meaning to return it -”

Cirrus's laugh sounded like little bells in the wind.

“Please, keep it. You look better in it then I do.”

Rain smiled and bent to the side, knocking their horns together. “You're too sweet to me Cici, I'll be sure to properly thank you later.”

She smiled back, blowing her a soft kiss before returning her attention back to Mountain, tugging him from the table and towards the nest. Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone shuffled around, still watching Rain and Dew’s exchange.

Rain studied the glass of wine in her hand, turning it slowly. It was her favorite one, thick and full bodied, a few citrus notes at the end.

Expensive.

“How many dicks did you have to suck to get this?”

Dew shrugged while lapping at her cool skin. It didn’t matter to him so he didn't keep count, he would do anything for his mate. Anything to see her smile, even if he wasn't sure she'd attend the evening festivities.

“Four,” Sunshine giggled from Cumulus's lap. Rain purred, licking the tips of her fangs.

Dew had finished his task and was sitting back on his heels, looking up to watch Rain take another sip of the wine. His tongue darted out from between his lips with a quiet whimper. Rain looked down at him, one perfectly done brow raised.

“Need more?”

Dew nodded his head rapidly before opening his mouth wide, groaning when Rain slipped her thumb into his mouth, pulling at his cheek. She took a large sip of wine before setting the glass down, bending at the waist to bring her lips to Dew's. His sharp gag as he struggled to swallow triggered a series of muffled groans and the slick sounds of hands meeting wet skin.

“Thank you ma'am,” he panted, struggling to speak around her thumb. He rolled his head to the side, exposing his thick veins and the silvery scars of their prior couplings.

“Got plenty for you, too, if you need.”

Dew often begged to be bitten where his gills once were, aching to feel something there again. But now he was offering in submission, to let Rain take what she needed under the power of the moon.

Her tongue darted out of the corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down.

With a quick nod of her head Dew was scrambling towards the nest, quickly divesting himself of his clothes as he went. She slowly followed him, sinking to her knees to pull his back to her chest, running her nose along his neck.

“Please,” Dew sighed, flexing his claws against his thighs.

Rain inhaled deeply against his cinnamon-scented skin, fangs fully dropping before she sank them into the crook of his neck, blood quickly filling her mouth. He groaned low, the pitch only going higher when she took his hard cock into her hand, slowly stroking him from root to tip as she drank.

“Rainy,” Aether warned gently from across the nest, voice cracking with the way Swiss had his mouth wrapped around his cock.

She pulled herself from Dew's neck, licking at the corner of her mouth to gather a drop of his shimmering blood.

“Don’t worry so much daddy, Dewdrop knows his limits. Would never hurt him more than he wants, promise.”

“All good Aeth,” Dew agreed, raising a thumbs up which quickly dropped back to the pillows with a loud purr when Rain started to clean the wounds at his neck. Her tongue slowly worked around each puncture, her fist mimicking the movements of her mouth against the quickly darkening head of his cock.

Aether nodded and fell back on his elbows, digging his fingers into Swiss’s hair, determined to enjoy the first night off in… a while. But a set of eyes still remained fully planted on Rain and Dew, the movement of a flickering tail catching her attention from the corner of her eye.

“You okay bug? Not in the mood to play?”

Dew barely opened his eyes, biting into his lower lip with a groan as Rain gently stroked him.

“Wanted to watch, if that's okay with you both mm-ma'am.”

Dew was nodding before he even finished their sentence, and Rain was grinning like a shark, Dew's crimson blood smeared all over her lips and chin. She didn't miss the way Phantom's eyes dropped to her mouth, watching her lick another spot clean.

“Just want to watch?”

Phantom blinked hard before forcing their eyes away from the mess, chewing at the corner of his lip.

“He um… He just smells really good.”

“Would you like a taste, sweetness?”

Phantom nodded eagerly, eyes back on her mouth. “Please ma'am, please.”

Rain beckoned him over with two crooked fingers, stifling a laugh at the eager way Phantom's tongue licked across her chin. Dew whined in her lap, quickly hushed by the drag of her pre soaked fingers up his chest to toy with the bar running through his nipple.

Phantom hummed as he licked at her lips and chin, quiet thank you's between their breaths.

“So polite,” Rain smiled, holding his chin to kiss them deep and slow. Phantom groaned when she slipped her tongue into their mouth, filling him with the taste of a beachside bonfire and hot iron. It was intoxicating, and they would let her have every ounce of air in his lungs if they could stay just like this forever.

When they broke apart Phantom was a panting mess, claws digging into his own thighs.

“Thank you mommy -”

They paused, blinking his eyes and shaking their head to clear it.

“Sorry thank you mommy -”

Another huff, trying to hide a whine that would rival Dew's.

“I'm sorry momm- ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”

Rain just smiled as she twisted Dew’s nipple between her fingers, his keen cutting through the heavier sounds of fucking that had filled the room. The way her head was tilted probably should've sent Phantom running, but instead his cock kicked against their thigh, a shiver running up his back.

“So dumb you're having trouble speaking and I've only kissed you. Don't worry sweet little bug, mommy will take good care of you.”

Phantom choked on their inhale as pre blurted on his leg, and Dew whined even louder, drawing Rain's attention back to him. His cock was weeping freely, begging for release while she kept teasing at his chest, working her other hand under his chin to turn him towards her.

“Did you lose your words too?”

Dew groaned when she started to slide her hand back towards his cock, lifting his hips to try and meet her.

“You know I love your voice Dewdrop, if you need a moment you can watch Phantom and I play for a while.”

Phantom's tail smacked against the pillows so quickly it sounded like someone running down the hall. Dew shook his head, voice just starting to splinter with need.

“No ma'am, need you. Need you please.”

“What do you need,” she cooed, pushing a lock of golden hair behind his half drooped ears.

“Want - need your cock, your knot. Need you to fill me ‘til I swell with you, please, need you so bad.”

Rain hummed, tapping her fingers along Dew's length while he squirmed. Phantom crept closer, kneeling in front of the pair, fangs poking into their lower lip.

She paused, looking across both Phantom and Dew, finally settling on an idea.

“Phantom, sweetness, you're being so good. Do you want a nice hot dick in your mouth?”

“Please, mommy.”

“Excellent,” she purred, kneeling tall behind Dew as she folded him to the floor.

“Why don't you come get this skirt off, without ripping it, while I get Dew all worked open hm?”

They smiled so wide Rain was sure his ears would fall off, scrambling to her side to examine the zipper. With careful fingers Phantom undid the clasp, gently sliding the zipper down while watching Rain run her nails down Dew's back, making him arch.

He leaned in close to her to work the band of the skirt down, breath hitching when they caught the gentle scent of orange blossoms on a sea breeze. Rain was always dangerous, the sharp iridescent scales that framed her face and joints were a reminder of that. But right now, she was deadly.

A whine bubbled up from their throat when the band of her skirt caught on her cock, unable to bring it any lower. Rain glanced down to find Phantom gently pawing at her, looking up at her with big sad eyes.

“Wanna be good and help you, but it's stuck. Don't wanna ruin your pretty skirt.”

“Sweet little bug.”

She smiled as she stood, gently ruffling their mop of hair before letting the skirt pool around her ankles. She stepped out of it and her shoes, returning to her spot behind Dew. Phantom's mouth watered at the sight of her cock hard and leaking into delicate pink lace, barely contained.

She brought two fingers to his lips, tapping them as she spoke.

“Get these nice and wet for me, then you can have a taste.”

Dew groaned loud, wrapping his tail around Rain's free wrist. He pushed his ass further up, hips swaying slightly.

Phantom moaned around Rain's fingers, wrapping their tongue around her long digits while sucking at the tips. When they pulled away he made sure to leave a thick line of saliva up her fingers, watching with rapt attention as she smeared it around with her thumb.

She nodded her head towards Dew's exposed hole, telling him to spit. They were happy to oblige, sticky with want themselves, aching to make Rain happy. He trilled when she hummed with approval, bringing her wet fingers to Dew's hole, pressing the tip of her index finger inside. Dew's gasp was anything but quiet.

“You're both being so good for me,” Rain praised, shifting on her legs to make the bulge of her cock more prominent. Phantom couldn't help the thin line of saliva that dripped from their fangs and down his chin.

“Come have a taste, Ant.”

Phantom eagerly licked across his lips, dipping down to settle against Rain's lap. They began to mouth at her cock through her already too wet panties, running his tongue up and down her length. She purred low, her free hand working into their hair while the other pressed into Dew.

“Just the best bug, sweetest little thing,” she cooed.

“Rainy,” Dew whined, wiggling back onto her fingers. “I need -”

She curled her finger up, stroking against his prostate while shushing him gently.

“I know baby, I know.”

Dew adjusted his arms so he could rest his face against them, his back making a pretty arch. His golden skin always seemed to glitter most in dim light; he’d certainly be glowing once the moon fully rose.. Rain hummed as she worked a second finger into him, quickly followed by a third. She scissored them as much as she could, making sure Dew was starting to stretch. He was already leaking, a leftover trait from his time as a water ghoul, the slick sound filling the space.

Phantom moaned at the sight, his drool further wetting Rain's cock. She rolled her hips gently against their chin, his attention quickly returning to suckling at her tip.

“Please,” Dew whimpered, claws flexing into whatever poor cushion he latched on to, “ready for you now. Need to feel you, want it to ache.”

Rain purred as she pulled her fingers from Dew, her other hand still nested in Phantom’s curls.

“Don't worry baby, it's coming. Being so good for me. Showing off for Phantom, huh? Showing them how good you can be?”

“Only for you ma'am,” Dew sighed, wiggling his little hips.

Rain pinched at his nearly non-existent ass cheek before returning her attention back to Phantom, gently pulling him away from her cock.

“Do you want to watch, or would you like to play with Dew?”

Dew trilled, his answer obvious. Phantom had the sense to at least look like he was thinking about it before planting a kiss to her cheek and shuffling towards Dew's head, settling on their knees in front of him.

Dew stretched out as much as he could, wrapping first his fist and then his tongue around Phantom's cock. Plum-flushed like Aether gets, although the purple was swirled with grey instead of gold. He hissed when Dew took them into his mouth, head dropping back at the heat of his tongue.

Rain smirked as she watched them, taking her own cock in hand and pressing the head to Dew's hole. He leaned back into her, stretching himself between his partners, urging her to give him more.

She wrapped her long fingers around the base of his tail and tugged, using the extra leverage to slide inside with a guttural moan. Dew responded with one of his own, muffled by Phantom pushing themself deeper down his throat.

“Not gonna last,” Phantom grumbled, his hand locked around Dew's bun. “Feels too good.”

“Mhm I know,” Rain smiled, rolling her hips to drive her cock straight against Dew's prostate. He popped off of Phantom with a little whine of protest, his breathing heavy when she began to pull at his puffy nipples.

“Dewy isn't gonna last so long either, huh baby?”

She asked with a particularly hard thrust into him, Phantom's eyes wide watching Dew's roll back into his head. They pulled from Dew’s mouth to rest for a moment, unwillingly to reach his end so soon. Dew’s mouth was legendary for a reason, after all.

“Go ahead, get that pretty mouth on Dew's little cock, he wants it so bad.”

Rain's words pulled them from their trance, blinking a few times with his head tilted just to the side before nodding quickly, shuffling back down to take Dew to the back of his throat.

Rain wrapped one of her arms around Dew's waist and the other tangled back into Phantom's hair, rubbing gently at the sensitive skin behind their ear. Dew's hands were everywhere, flying from Rain's head to Phantom's, digging in his own thighs and pressing on Rain's, lifting his hips to help guide her into that perfect spot while desperately trying to not choke Phantom.

She didn’t need the help, she knew Dew's body as well as she knew her own. Maybe better, even, with the way she had him moaning while dragging her cock over the perfect spot. Each roll of her hips was punctuated by one of his breathy sighs, adding to the cacophony of the room.

Phantom for his part was chirping happily, licking long trails across the thick veins on the underside of Dew’s cock. When Rain pushed them forward he happily followed, swallowing around Dew's length with a pleased hum. Rain cooed at him from over Dew's shoulder, scratching behind his ear again before grabbing the back of his head.

“Tap twice if you need to breathe, yeah?”

Phantom brought his tail up and tapped the spade twice against her hand, rolling their hips gently into the nest of blankets below him.

Rain smiled that far too toothy grin, thrusting into Dew and driving his cock further into Phantom's throat. Dew was all but jelly between them, held up by Rain's arm around his waist and Phantom’s hand pressed into his chest, his tail slowly tangling with Rain's in search of something more to hold onto.

Phantom's tongue was good, great actually, Dew's thoughts on the matter filling the space as choked off babbling. When Phantom wrapped their tongue underneath Dew's head and sucked Dew was certain he'd open his eyes and be back in the pit, unholy pleasure running hot in his veins.

Rain hooked her chin over Dew's shoulder, nuzzling at the space below his ear.

“Don't swallow sweetness, let him dribble out of your mouth, down your face. That okay?”

Phantom moaned in affirmation around Dew's length, nodding his head as best he could. It wouldn't be long now, Dew's balls were heavy in their hands, getting tighter with every thrust of Rain's hips driving him further into their mouth.

She drove harder into him, and Dew's hands fisted Phantom's soft hair right next to Rain’s.

“Rain, Rain, Rainy, fuck -”

Dew's voice went high until it broke off, dying out as he painted inside Phantom's mouth. Phantom hummed as he took every drop, careful to not swallow. Once Dew had stopped pulsing they pulled away, sitting back with their head slightly tilted slightly forward before smiling, Dew's spend trickling out of his mouth and down their neck.

“Fucking nasty,” Rain mumbled, pressing herself hard against Dew, grinding her hips to his ass. “Just how you like it, huh?”

Dew nodded in agreement, his voice breaking on every whimper Rain pulled from him as she chased her own release.

“Lay back bug, slide closer to me.”

Phantom melted for her, nearly pressing themself into Dew's chest before dropping onto his back, tail shifting to rest on Dew’s thigh. They moaned when Rain wrapped her talented hand around his length, back lifting from the pillows.

“Haven't even been touched yet,” she cooed, and Phantom shook their head. “Such a good, patient little thing.”

Phantom nodded hard, like he was trying to say waiting for you.

“Whenever you like, sweetness.”

Their voice was trapped in his throat, muffled by every unholy sound Rain could pull from them as she worked his cock at the same tempo she nailed Dew, who was putty at this point. He was limp in her arms, begging for her release, her knot. For everything, for nothing, for all of it at once.

Phantom wasn't sure how long they'd last, and when Rain rubbed her finger across his slit to gather a pearl of pre just to taste it they knew it wouldn't be long.

She hummed in pleasure at the tang of him, mixed with the carbonated vanilla of their benzoin scent. Her hand quickly returned, long manicured fingers wrapping around their length, pulling in the most devastating way.

Phantom could feel their eyes crossing as he watched, Rain's hand firm against him, the other tight around Dew. They brought their tail to where Rain and Dew’s were tangled together, joining the heap.

Dew was crying now, his cock hard again, gold skin glistening. He begged, Rain purred, Phantom tried to keep their claws to themself but he looked so pretty, eyes screwed tight under a crown of sweat, his golden bun no longer neat and tidy. So they reached out, grabbing Dew by the base, feeling his little knot start to inflate under their hand. And if Phantom thought Dew had been crying before, well… He was really going now.

“Little bug is being so sweet to you, aren't they,” Rain purred, licking below the shell of Dew's ear as she slowly ground her knot into his rim.

“Yeah, yeah you both are. Need it ma'am, need your knot, need to cum -”

The movement of Rain's hips became more frantic as she pressed more firmly into Dew, hissing when his tight body finally swallowed her knot, enveloping her in delicious heat. Dew keened, high pitched and devastated as he came into Phantom's hand, a string of thankyouthankyouthankyou falling from his wine stained lips.

Dew was babbling, words broken and punctuated with breathy moans. Phantom wasn't much quieter, egging Dew on with their own muttering. C'mon Dewy, come for mommy. Make a mess, make me a mess.

Rain followed quickly, the squeeze of Dew around her knot too much, biting into his neck with a groan from the depths of her throat.

Phantom wasn't sure what brought them to the edge. Dew's hot come, the scent of his blood, the noise Rain made when she slid fully into his body. Maybe it was the way her calloused fingers rubbed against their frenulum with a talent flick of her wrist. All he knew was that they were floating, high in space, coated from the chin down in their own and Dew's release.

He stirred when they heard Rain shuffling on her knees, laying down next to them with Dew tight in her arms. He hissed a little at the shuffle but it was good natured, her knot still buried tight inside his hole. Dew shuffled a bit closer, admiring the mess that was Phantom before turning his head to bat his lashes at Rain.

“Go ahead Dew,” Rain smiled, blood dotting her lips. “Clean up your mess.”

#nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #raindrop #raintomdrop #the band ghost fanfic #all warnings are as described above i will run out of tags down here #she/her rain #lunar cycle gender fluid rain my beloved #phantom and dew see rain dressed up as their sexy vampire girlfriend and their brains flatline #(same)#pls let me know if i missed a warning tag i try to be specific and nothing is ever intentionally left out!#love you all byeeee

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la-pheacienne · 10 months

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It is certainly true that the show has done a lot to force an unbearable climate onto the remaining book fans, but on the other hand you could also wonder - why is such a large part of this remaining book fandom so hell-bent on fanatically supporting the most stupid, toxic ideas we have seen the show to embrace? I would say as stupid as these plot points were, few of the basic, broad ideas Dave and Dan went for were really things they made up all on their own. Mad Queen theories, the distorted view of so many characters like Arya and so on, these all were echoing things a lot of book fans (the type of milieu many of the people in charge of HBO's output were bred in) always WANTED the story and the characters and their trajectory to be, regardless how well founded these wishes matched the actual text.

The show was echoing bad fanon rooted in the book scene more or less from the beginning, you can trace it directly to how some characters were presented and castings were chosen right from the start. That's also why if you listen more closely to so many of the less bearable people in the book scene, the REAL problem so many of them had with the ideas of the latter parts of the show was that it was done in such a way that the public thought it was trash and didn't accept it. The whole agenda of them is now hoping for the books to emerge as some better written version of the show that finally will convince them all that this worthless trash story that is ironically only loved and wanted by these people alone is actually the correct version of it and its characters everyone should finally accept and digest. As ridiculous as the show was, ironically the most ridiculous parts of it were in truth clumsily made fan service for the worst sentiments that were peddled by and nurtured within the book fandom.

Oh, for sure. Thank you for this ask because you have put into words something that has been turning in my head for a long time.

the REAL problem so many of them had with the ideas of the latter parts of the show was that it was done in such a way that the public thought it was trash and didn't accept it.

After almost a year on tumblr and observing the book fandom and reading the BNFs' metas and theories and fanons and briefly delving into reddit and twitter god forbid, I have to say that I agree with you. I can't say how it was in the past though, I wasn't here. But I am afraid it is exactly as you say it is. I mean, Dany's arc from a hero to a fallen hero to a villain because *she watched her abusive brother die without an emotional reaction, psychopath!*, Jon just randomly exiled beyond the Wall because *subverting expectations*, none of them becoming King/Queen of the Seven Kingdoms/KINT, not even BRIEFLY, not even during the War for the Dawn (ok Jon did), because *throne bAAAAD*, *they're not heroes no one can fix Westeros*, *monarchy bAAAAD*, *subverting expectations*, Sansa getting girlbossified because *subverting expectations*, all of these points that ****supposedly*** sucked in GoT, are the exact same theories shared by a very big and very loud part of the BNF here, if not the majority.

So, what exactly is the internet fandom's problem with the show? Is there any? I literally can't see it, except that it was done too quickly and thus made these stupid theories appear even more stupid than they initially were. I've seen a LOT of posts saying like "oh you should stop wishing for your fav to get the throne, no one will get the throne and no one is 'in the right' (especially in the fire and blood discourse), no one 'deserves' it, the throne will crush and burn, the show has done so much damage to the fandom pitting favs against each other for the throne" etc etc, but that's so funny to me because what they say will happen in the books is literally what happened in the show, at least roughly, and their vibe was the vibe of a huge part, if not the majority, of the show fandom. This super annoying nihilism that I see in (book) BNF right now is the exact.same.nihilism I remember from the show fandom. The exact same one, but with a faux-feminist rosey Stansa touch. That's it. From the "Your heros will not get the throne, losers, Littlefinger will kill them all and prevail, the end" show-only dudebro rationale we went to the "oh nobody can fix Westeros, Dany and Jon will sacrifice themselves (best case, worst case Dany will get all psycho like her daddy and bros), monarchy Targs BAD, Targ feudal system BAD, fuck the Targ lords, team small folk, only coincidentally my fav bbgrl Sansa will actually end up in a conventional and strictly feudal position of power uwu, the end". The common denominator? Nihilism and this obsession for subverting expectations. This parallel is even funnier with hotd, where the show's most non-sensical, straight up delulu plot points are whole-heartedly embraced by, again, a big and very loud part of the BNF (probably the majority). This time the concordance is direct and not even denied, and it's embarrassing when I see their half-ass attempts at criticizing the show, because they literally can't. They actually love it and it's so obvious.

So to get to your point, there are two possibilities here: either the show's nihilistic, faux-edgy, shock value-based direction irrevocably transformed the book fandom, or the book fandom was already in that mindset and the show was based on that and it could very well be the latter.

#anonymous #asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #aspa rambles

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honeyynymphh · 1 year

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| The Mark of the Beast |

Cardinal Copia x Fem!Reader rating: E chapter word count: 3k total word count: 5k chapter 1 of 2 tags/warnings: dom copia, he's a dickhead, humiliation, inappropriate touching, abuse of authority, hair pulling

An imposter has apparently been hiding in the abbey, and there is only one way to prove you're part of the congregation. And that is to submit yourself to an examination to find Lucifer's mark upon your body.

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I sat just outside Sister Imperator’s office, patiently—or not so patiently waiting for my turn. I was last and had spent the entire day on edge, unable to pay attention to my chores or lessons. Nobody had really been able to pay attention, not since this morning’s sermon. And it hadn’t really been a proper one. Papa Terzo had been interrupted halfway through by Sister Imperator, who had rushed in late—a disturbing thing in its own right. Sister Imperator was never late!

Her hurried and whispered words with Papa had left the rest of us whispering in the pews until Papa had turned to face us, looking confused. He had told us we all needed to submit to an inspection—apparently, an imposter was amongst us. Spreading falsehoods and lies about our Dark Father. The whispers had grown even louder then.

Over the next few days, we were all to submit for an examination to confirm that we were all truly siblings of this abbey. And the only way to prove that was for our bodies to be stripped and searched for a mark—the mark of the beast. A mark bestowed upon our skin when we had pledged ourselves to Lucifer. My stomach had twisted just as my hands in my lap did now.

Some of my other sisters had proudly shown me theirs. I had not been a sibling for very long and I had heard a few remarks about them but nobody had ever said that everyone had one! I thought it was something only the higher clergy were gifted with. Last night, I had twisted myself in circles like a dog chasing its tail trying to find some mark upon my body. Anytime I had spotted a blemish I had felt a momentary rush of relief only to realise it was simply another freckle. I had asked Sister Rosaline, whom I shared my room with to check me over and she had found nothing. Her suspicious eyes and cold voice had made me reluctant to ask anyone else.

Would they throw me out? I knew in my heart I was no imposter, and I had taken my vows. But still, my heart was gripped with dread.

The door was suddenly opened and another Sister walked out, giving me a smile before she skipped in the direction of the papal suites. A ghoul followed, not even glancing at me before it slunk down the halls. Sister Imperator soon followed but before she could hurry out her eyes fell on me.

“Sister!” she said, raising a hand to her forehead in surprise. “I thought Sophia was the last one today.” She sighed. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting but I must go speak with Papa Nihil urgently.”

I tried not to let it get to me. “Should I return tomorrow morning?” I asked as I stood up.

I did not want to wait a whole night for my fate to be decided, I was anxious enough as it was. This whole ordeal needed to be over!

The older woman shook her head. “No, no, no.” She looked across the hall at a closed door. “Cardinal Copia can check you, we have too many siblings to get through and I want this dealt with quickly.”

“Cardinal?” I squeaked out. I did not want that man anywhere near me. He was terrifying. And I certainly did not want him to see me naked! “But, Sister, I would much rather it be you.”

While the smile she gave me was kind, she was clearly tired and I could tell she had better things to worry about than my embarrassment.

“Dear, he’s very efficient,” she said, giving me another smile. “You’ll be fine.”

“Or Papa?” I asked. “Can he not check me?”

Sister snorted. “Ha. No. This is not an excuse for Terzo to fuck the entire congregation. We would be here until spring if that were the case.” She gave me a quick little pat on the shoulder and then prodded me in the direction of the Cardinal’s office door. “Cardinal Copia is a professional. And he has finished with everyone else.”

I went to open my mouth to protest but she was already waving me off and hurrying down the halls, her shoes clicking behind her. I stared at his office door. Maybe I could just go back to my room, but I knew it was pointless. I had to be checked and I didn’t want to disappoint Sister Imperator—or have her think I was silly. If it had been Papa Nihil I think I would have been less hesitant. I shuddered at the thought.

I had only ever been in Cardinal Copia’s office once before. It had been when I had first joined the abbey and was a fresh-faced novitiate. He had been talking of rituals—explicit ones—and I had been unable to stop fidgeting in my seat, unable to really concentrate. I had been sitting so far back I do not know how he had noticed me, but he had. And the Cardinal had requested to see me after dinner that night in his office. The old church I’d left behind had instilled in me a sense of shame that had been hard to ignore during those early days—especially when my thoughts would turn to the more lustful. Whenever the Cardinal would speak, I hadn’t been able to control the way I would press my thighs together. I didn’t really care what he spoke of, only that he did. But when he spoke of rituals out there on the sacred grounds, bodies naked in praise of Lucifer, how was I supposed to concentrate? I had never heard such lascivious talk before, and certainly not from a man wearing a cassock!

I didn’t know what I had expected when I had arrived in his office, but having the back of my hands struck with a ruler had not been it.

Lack of discipline, he had told me. I should pay attention and not fidget during lessons. It had been mortifying. But not because he had struck me like an errant child but because it had made my mind immediately think of being bent over the desk and him striking my backside. I never wanted to go into his office again.

That was a lie. I did. But he couldn’t know that. I had witnessed a few hopeful siblings sidle up to him after an impressive sermon, surely emboldened by his passionate words and that wicked look he would get in those mismatched eyes. All of them had been turned away with a snide remark. I had no desire to be mocked or to embarrass myself in front of a high member of the clergy. So I didn’t dare approach him.

I knocked on the door politely until I heard the sharp command to enter. I did so, letting the door shut softly behind me. The Cardinal was at his desk, bent over some document and scribbling furiously. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before I cleared my throat.

“Cardinal—“

He held up a hand for my silence but did not look up. I bristled but kept my mouth shut, hoping he would finish quickly.

I glanced around the office. It was very much like Sister Imperator’s office with dark wooden panelling and numerous shelves full of books and other odd trinkets. But the Cardinal’s space had a ridged neatness about it, I felt sympathy for the maid who had to clean in here. I suspected he was rather pedantic about everything. My eyes continued to roam until they fell on a high wooden stool off to the side. It looked out of place compared to the Cardinal’s high wingback chair and the hard uncomfortable chair that sat in front of his massive desk—I suspected this was a deliberate choice in an effort to discourage others from staying long. When my eyes fell back to his desk, the Cardinal was placing his fountain pen away and finally acknowledging me with a raised brow, gloved hands folded in front of him on the desk.

“Sister,” he said, “what do you want?”

“Sister Imperator was meant to see me—for my mark,” I said quickly. “But she was called out urgently. She said I could see you instead.”

The man regarded me a moment before he let out a suffering sigh and waved a gloved hand at me.

“Si, si.” He stood, his grucifix clinking against the many buttons of his black cassock.

It was then I realised he had already removed his biretta. I’d so rarely seen him without it when he was wearing the regular clergy attire. The soft lamplight made his hair look like burnished wood and I could see the greying strands at his temples. I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to not think of how it would feel to run my fingers through it.

He moved around the desk and past me, leaving a trail of heavy incense and leather in his wake. There was a scrape and I turned to watch him grab the stool and place it before his desk.

“Do you know if you have one?” he asked in a bored voice but then he smirked. “Unless you wish to confess to being a virtuous little idolator now?”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t find one but I’m no imposter, Cardinal.”

“We shall see.” He pointed at the stool. “Take off your clothes and sit.”

I stood there stunned by his brash attitude. He scowled at me impatiently.

“Hurry up, girl.” He waved a hand at me impatiently. “I do not want to be here all day.”

I quickly stepped out of my shoes, taking my veil off as I did. I angled my body away from him ever so slightly, not wishing to look at him, though I could feel his eyes on me. The skin on the back of my neck prickled and a shaky breath escaped my lips. I undid the top few buttons of my habit before unceremoniously tugging it over my head. It was nothing, I told myself. Many people had seen me naked since my time at the abbey, I had become more comfortable over time. But still…it had never been in front of Cardinal Copia. I folded my dress over the nearby armchair with my veil before I moved to sit on the stool but his words stopped me.

“Dai!” he snapped, coming towards me and pulling up my bra strap so that it flicked down hard against my shoulder. “The rest of it as well.”

“What?” I said, shocked.

“Remove the rest of your clothes,” he repeated, voice tinged with irritation. “Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide…”

While I didn’t speak Italian, I didn’t need to in order to guess what “stupide” meant. But I wasn’t going to sulk, I just wanted it over and done with. Ignoring the embarrassment already welling somewhere in my chest, I took a deep breath and undid the clasp of my bra, grateful that my fingers didn’t fumble with them. The flush of humiliation was rising up my neck and I could feel it suffusing my cheeks. It’s just like a medical exam, I told myself. A very strange one. I glanced at the Cardinal and he was staring at me with a blank expression. I couldn’t just stand here forever so I decided to just treat it like a bandaid and gathered whatever courage I had to push my knickers down my legs and step out of them. I kicked them towards the rest of my clothes and immediately used my arms to try and cover my breasts with my hands clasped in front of my sex.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Sister,” said the Cardinal, bored disdain dripping from his words. He pointed at the stool. “Sit.”

I awkwardly perched myself on the stool, my hands in my lap and keeping my thighs pressed together tightly while my feet dangled. I didn’t know where to look as he approached me, engulfing me again in that delirious scent of his. It made my skin prickle and I tried to think of anything that would distract me. I was all too aware of how bare I was and didn’t need my stupid body to give me away. Thankfully, he walked behind me and I felt myself relax somewhat. It didn’t last long. Suddenly and without warning, a leather-clad hand was gripping my shoulder while the other touched my bare back. I couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden contact.

“You have not been here long, Sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I replied as his hand pushed me forward slightly. “I only joined a few months ago.”

“Most marks are on the torso,” he said. “The mark isn’t used much in these modern times but everyone is gifted one.” I felt the leather glide down my back, making my skin break out in gooseflesh. It felt unbearably soft despite his precise movement. “Sometimes it is like that of a burn—a branding—or it can be like a tattoo or birthmark. But it’s always His sign.”

It was easier to try and pretend I was merely in a lesson, or perhaps mass, and not sitting here naked while his hands roamed over my skin. He grasped my shoulder again and pulled me back upright. A gloved hand swept my hair to the side and trailed gently over the back of my neck. He moved methodically but I couldn’t deny how every touch sent my nerves alight. Occasionally when he moved closer, the grucifix he wore would swing forward and I’d feel the cool bejewelled cross graze against the skin of my back.

When he tilted my head to the side to look behind my ear I had to bite my lip. The patch of skin there was too sensitive and again my body was tingling. I tried to squeeze my thighs together and then abruptly stopped—I was completely bare, I told myself, and couldn’t hide. He would notice. I tried to think of anything to distract myself: Nihil naked, the smell of rotten eggs—anything revolting I could think of. But it was too hard to conjure up anything disagreeable with those hands on my skin and his scent enveloping me.

“Nothing yet, Sorella,” he hummed. He sounded a little gleeful, as though he was hoping to be the one to find the imposter in our midst. “It could be on your head,” he continued thoughtfully, hand grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging me back so I had to look up at him, “we could chop it all off but that would be a shame to have you looking like Papa Secondo.”

He let out a bark of laughter and moved in front of me, letting go of my hair. I still kept my hands in my lap, trying to salvage whatever modesty I had but he grabbed one arm and stretched it out. I didn’t know where to look so I just stared below his chin at the top few buttons of his black cassock. He twisted my arm and then spread my fingers before he dropped my hand unceremoniously and began doing the same to the other.

It felt like a slight reprieve to have him checking my arm and hand. It didn’t make me feel as delirious as his touching of my back and neck. But too soon he was done with the other arm. I couldn’t place my hands back in my lap so I just gripped the side of the stool. The Cardinal was already tilting my chin up so his fingers could glide over my throat before they dipped over my collarbone. There was a rustle of fabric as I heard him lower himself to the ground before me. I kept my head slightly up, staring at a small brass globe sitting on a shelf behind his desk. One of his hands was gripping my waist while the other flittered over my chest. He muttered something in Italian under his breath.

“I have yet to find a single mark on your skin, dolce,” he said and I still refused to look at him.

“There will be one,” I replied even as my breath hitched.

The feel of his thumb digging into my hip was driving me insane and I tried to take in a calm and even breath. But I lost any composure I had when his thumb accidentally swiped over my nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath in an effort not to moan, my whole body trembling at the contact.

“Keep still then.”

I bit my lip again as leather moved underneath my breast. How was I supposed to keep still? Surely he didn’t need to touch what felt like every inch of my skin? It was torturous.

His careful and businesslike touches should not have had me dancing precariously on the knife’s edge of arousal but they did. I was praying that he would find it soon, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My stomach was tense with building desire and the throb between my legs was getting insistent, I knew I was already soaking wet. Sneaking a glance down at him, I could see his face was set in an expression of focused concentration—his heavy brow furrowed as his eyes swept over my legs. A hand glided up my shin and gripped the side of my knee, fingers tickling the back of my thigh.

He hummed in thought and when I saw his finger move between my pressed legs I nearly cried out.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

No way, I told myself. I was not parting my legs. It was too humiliating. But he just glanced up and caught my eye.

“Do it now, Sorella.”

That frightening face just watched me, seeming to dare me to defy him. I parted my legs barely two inches. His face was directly in front of my shamefully soaked pussy and I was terrified he would notice—and even worse that he would make some snide remark about it. But I knew he had to notice, there was no way he couldn’t smell it. If I could, he certainly could. I wanted to run, but his grip on my leg was firm.

An irritated huff fell from his lips before his large hands swept up my legs and gripped my knees. He forced my legs apart and I nearly tipped off the stool with the sudden force of it. My face flushed again and I readjusted my tight grip on the seat and stared up at the ceiling. The humiliation had me breathing hard. I couldn’t even try to pretend I had any composure left as soft leather-clad fingers moved over the inside of my thigh. I glanced down again unable to stop myself and saw him lean closer. His finger paused—it was right in the crease of where my thigh met my groin. His hand was so close to my dripping sex I was ready to scream. He tapped my skin and I squirmed in my seat.

“I think this is it, dolce,” I felt his breath against my folds and bit the inside of my cheek. How was he doing this? How in heaven was he so calm? “But I have to check for sure.”

“How?” I managed to ask. I didn’t even sound like myself.

As with earlier when he had first begun, there was no warning from him. His head just moved forward as his hands dug into the flesh of my thighs before I felt his mouth kiss against the skin. His cheek brushed again my pussy, sideburns tickling and teasing my flesh before it was suddenly gone. I’d been unable to stop the soft whine of protest that fell from my lips, I prayed that he hadn’t heard.

Suddenly it stung hot and I gasped. I looked where he had touched me—there was a small mark—three sixes intertwined—which blared red for a moment before it faded to look like a regular birthmark. It also sent a rush of pure, unfiltered pleasure through my entire body—a body that was already on edge. I shuddered. The temptation to just scoot myself forward an inch or so, just so that the Cardinal’s large nose was buried against me was overwhelming.

But he stood abruptly, smoothing his hands over his cassock not even phased that he had left me a wanton mess. I just sat there, still breathing hard as I tried to come to myself.

“You can go, Sister,” he said, moving towards his desk. He glanced at a clock on the wall and grabbed his biretta before placing it on his head and giving me another withering look. “I’m already late for dinner.”

thanks for reading! will hopefully add the rest soon :) apologies for any errors.

Dai! - Come on! Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide - Satan save me from stupid little girls

chapter two

#cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #the band ghost fic #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #fanfic #my-writing #fic: mark of the beast

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