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tonycries · 12 days ago

Text

Amen (Hey, Men!) - G.S.

Synopsis. BIoodshed. BIoodIust. Vampires. It was no wonder you’d turn to the charming new priest in town during dark times like these…but Father Gojo seems to be interested in you in ways that are more than sinful. And there’s nothing holy about him, either.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, priest!Gojo, VAMPIRE AU, slight wild west AU, slight vioIence, reIigious themes, mentions of déath, slightly eerie, small town gossip, first times, oraI (fem rec.), he goes FÉRAL, fíngering, bíting, spítting, p sIapping, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, mentioned bIood, matíng presses, size kínk, breaking furniture, D slipping, manhandIing, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, D piercing, dúmbifícation, squírting, marathons, fated ones, matíng marks, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.0k

A/N. Tysmmm to the babygirls that voted on this poll <3

“H-help-” Words tremble weakly from your throat, drowning underneath the wailing wind. The storm was furious; forming iron walls of rain that blocked every dusty road and lane of your idle country town. “Please help-”

And your escape.

You thought you knew better than to trust the rumor mill. A few murmurs here, a hasty funeral with a closed casket there, and then two more exactly the same. It had everyone - from haunted elders at the local pub, to children on the playground - uttering only one word.

Vampire.

And then, you’d seen it- him.

Just the thought itself is enough to send your aching legs surging towards the nearest, faint yellow light on the midnight street. Safety. “H-he’s comin’ for me- please-”

Terrified to even turn your back, you race to bang your fists against the oak doorway of the building. For fear of seeing those eyes again - two glowing sapphires piercing at you from the dark. “He’s here-” Cold. Just like-

“Going somewhere, my angel?”

Lightning crashes against the sky. And you crash into his arms.

Staring right into the blue, blue eyes of Gojo Satoru.

Who else could it be?

That warm, handsome priest your age who’d taken it upon himself to renovate the dilapidated ol’ church of your town. It’d been forgotten for ages - and with it, the fear for what came after you were no longer upon this Earth.

Now you had both the recent string of deaths and Father Gojo to remind you.

And oh, were you reminded - it was hard to miss him. Especially in a town so small.

Golden cross always swinging in the middle of his dark black cassock, Bible always in large hands that you couldn’t look away from.

Perhaps it was sacrilegious, perhaps it was fleeting fancy- because there always was much to see.

From the broad shoulders filling out his holy robes, to the slight dimples that cratered his pale cheeks any time he grinned - at least you weren’t alone with your admiration. For it had only been a few weeks since Gojo had arrived, as quietly as if he’d simply parted the heavens and set foot here, and he was already starring in as much of your town’s gossip as the myth of the vampire was.

Well, a myth no longer, you’re realizing. And it’s enough to make your shivering fingertips clench-

Onto…a firm arm?

You blink, looking up only now to register that it wasn’t just any arm - it was Gojo’s arms. Heated. Strong. Around you.

The only thing holding your weight up right now, as your weakened legs made themselves useless.

And Gojo himself was peering down at you through his long, pale lashes. Close. Close enough that your wet-streaked cheeks bristle at his scorching breath, “My, you look like you’ve been face to face with the Reaper himself, beloved.” His rosy lips curl at the ends, slightly. “Or…worse.”

That makes you gasp- fighting in his grasp, you snap your head over your shoulder and stare into the darkness behind you. Just hoping it won’t stare back. “It- he- was f-following me- kept after me, wouldn’t let up-”

“Pardon?”

“The- the vampire!”

His eyes seem to flicker in the dim lighting, and Gojo speaks not a word. Just lets out what sounds like a short, sharp gasp- before tucking you deeper into his embrace.

And it would almost be scandalous, you knew. If it wasn’t for the rain then one of the neighbours might have peeked their head out, and by tomorrow afternoon the entire town would be ablaze with the news of the priest holding a rain-drenched woman outside the church itself.

But Gojo didn’t care if anyone would see, it seems.

Because he only tugs you tighter against his tense core once he feels you struggling, “There there, my angel. It must have been quite the fright, the Lord has surely tested your courage.”

“Oh, it was downright terrifying. One moment I was closing up my stall- ready to walk back home tonight, and the next thing I know I hear the crunch of a twig.”

Close. “Interesting.”

“He towered over me like a mountain- and just as cold. I-I think he was gunning for my blood next-”

Closer. “Real interesting.” So close that you could count each spike of grey in his irises, and every vibrato in his baritone voice. “No harm shall come to you whilst these holy walls and I stand, my darling. He shan’t lay a hand on you.” And then Gojo smiles, crooked and gleaming in the glowing candles from behind him. “Not a single hand.”

You seem to breathe out, for the first time in what feels like years. Simply held.

Simply ignoring the coil of something deep down in your stomach- you busy yourself with the frigid dig of something hard against your back, where his hands glided up n’ down soothingly. Like the corner of a book-

“Oh, heavens. I have forgotten myself.” Gojo starts, noticing the most minute shiver that runs down your spine.

In a singular, fluid motion, he’s breaking away to shut the heavy wooden doors and usher you inside- so fast that you half-heartedly wonder whether it may be spellwork. “Please, come in. Soak up some warmth in my office.”

“Th-thank you, Father.”

“Please. Call me by name.”

And you can’t help but follow.

Noticing the small, tattered book that was clutched in one of his hands - ah, that was what you’d been feeling on your skin. Guiltily, you think you must have interrupted him during his reading time…

As Gojo turns his back on you to lead you down the long, candle-lit hallway of the church, you can’t help but narrow your eyes at the tiny book swinging by his side. It didn’t look like his usual Bible-

“Ah, here.” You’re looking up to see Gojo dip his lengthy fingers into a side pocket within his dark robes. Almost melding with the shadows of the candles, it’s as if he’s pulling a long, stringed rosary from thin air. “Take my rosary. Let your faith guard you when I cannot, beloved.”

“O-oh, thank you again, Father-”

His dimple winks, “Satoru.”

“Right…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, even as he probes you with half-lidded eyes to do so. Instead, busying yourself by tugging on the incense-scented necklace, it weighs light ‘round your neck. And you can’t help but run your fingers over each bead- “I won’t forget this.”

And the very second your eyes flit up- you see him, Bible grasped in his hand like it always had been.

Strange, you quiver your head slightly, tonight must have shaken you up more than you thought for you to be seeing things that weren’t there.

Though, it should’ve been expected with how disorientingly massive the interior of the church was. Much too immense for such a town. You didn’t remember it being this grand before Gojo had arrived- far arches of the ceiling peered in with gargoyles, high stone walls carved with faint effigies.

Ahead of you, the pews were polished enough to act as mirrors. And as you turned left past the high place of worship down a corridor towards his office, you couldn’t help but feel like the building was swallowing you whole.

“Something the matter, my angel?” Gojo’s voice breaks through the cold silence, back still turned. “Still troubled by what the Lord has shown you?”

Clutching the delicate rosary, “It- it’s just…it wasn’t the vampire that spooked me.” You twist, and so does the string of beads in your hands. “But those eyes?”

“Yes–?”

“Hell rode in ‘em.”

The clap of thunder, the clash of dry prayer beads on polished stone.

It’s as if each degree of warmth bled by the candles blows out in a single gale of wind the very moment you say this.

Boring into your very soul, Gojo’s pale eyes are almost other-wordly as he turns. “Worry not, for no monster can enter through these holy walls, beloved.” Chuckling, and the rolling spheroids of his now-shattered rosary sing as he steps past them.

A tall, shadowed figure leading you into the dark.

“Except humans, of course.”

“Sugar-–! The finest sugar from the East-”

“Boots half-off–!”

“-get yerself velvet-”

The market was always alive, despite everything. A bustling, breathing thing lined with snug stalls upon either side of a dust-track road. And you were stationed at your fruit stall, as usual, as if you hadn’t damn near been the lucky fourth on a long list of closed caskets.

Shuddering, your fingers tighten on the wooden panel where you’d lined your plethora of fruits.

Eyes darting towards the melting yolk sun warming your skin- right, it was still light out. The elders whispered that vampires feared the day - and so you were safe. For now. You had to make sure to pack up as soon as the others did, no more idling around tonight.

“My my, isn’t that Father Gojo- oh, what a sight for sore eyes he is.” Your head turns at the coo of the bookseller’s young daughter, Miwa, her stall right next to yours.

And it didn’t take long for you to see what she was talking about- not long at all for you to nearly want to fluster, too.

Because there was Gojo Satoru - even in the distance, he was two heads taller than anyone else. With his stark ivory locks catching the daylight, tight cassock snug against his waist and fluttering ever-so-slightly as he weaved through the flea market, the calling pedlars.

“Oh, Father Gojo- I hear he built that dingy ol’ church right up with his bare hands-”

“I know he’s gotten nearly twenty-seven proposals by the wealthiest families, but guess what? Rejected ‘em all!”

“And that purity ring, oh, a true man of the holy script. Why, forget their daughters, I would have proposed myself- oh, but don’t tell my husband.”

The whispers made you squirm for some strange reason. It was a hasty retreat from the church last night after a brief bout of warming tea in his office, lest someone caught you and thought something else. And you didn’t expect to see him so soon; least of all have his fiery blue eyes waft through each shabby stall as if he was drinking them in.

So close. Close enough that you couldn’t help but let out an dragged-out sigh-

“Oi. Oi! You deaf or somethin’- fuck’s sake.”

Oh. Shit.

“M-my apologies, sir-” You’re gasping, snapping your head to the front of your fruit display to find that you’d attracted the attention of none other than Zenin Naoya, sole heir of the house of Zenin merchants. As if your day couldn’t have been any more eventful.

Well, as long as he was a paying customer. Plastering a plastic smile across your face, you gesture towards the ripe red pomegranate held in his grip. “Want me to tally that up?”

Scoffing, “No not after that shoddy customer service. It’d be the last time I spend a dime in this dump.” He tilts his head defiantly, “What’s got yer eyes so occupied anyways-”

“Nothing-”

“Hehhh–?” And you’re appalled to see the way Naoya’s smile curls as he swivels his head the same direction you were looking in - one that half the market was surely turned to admire at this point.

The sight of priest Gojo Satoru bent in playful conversation with a little child, beaming.

“Sweet on that damn preacher, huh? Isn’t it a sin to watch him that close, sweetcheeks?”

You bristle, “I beg you not to say another blasphemous word-”

“Oh, I bet the gossips at the general store’d eat this little turn of events right up.” Naoya titters, pomegranate now rhythmically thrown up n’ down into the air to be caught. “Small town like this? News like that won’t stay quiet for long. Real shame, huh?”

Only one word and it wouldn’t just be you paying the price, it would be poor, undeserving Father Gojo as well. You stay quiet. You can only stay quiet.

More so to stop from snatching that pomegranate and slamming it straight into his sneering face.

But Naoya takes that as an opportunity to lean in- to let his tobacco scent cloud all over your face as he grumbles. “Unless, maybe you care to keep me company for one ni-”

“My darling, pray tell, did you know that the Greeks figured the pomegranate to be symbols of abundance and fertility?” A smooth, simpering voice cuts in- and so does a slender hand that stretches its pale fingertips to clasp the pomegranate in Naoya’s palm.

What? You’re blinking at rapid-fire speed, looking from the familiar newcomer to where you’d just been staring seconds prior - how was he here? So quickly? All of a sudden?

And Gojo doesn’t even let out a pant of fatigue as if he’d been running, only curving his lips into an icy smile down at the other man. “The Lord speaks through consumption. Planning to expand the family, mister Naoya?”

“I- you-” Naoya strangles out, he jabs. A finger right into the smiling face of Gojo, and then into the space between you two. “My ol’ man shall hear of this. See how holy you really are when you’re-”

Gojo grins, leaning down from his towering height as if he was speaking to a child. “He shall be welcome to find me. Sermons are on Sundays.”

“Tch-”

With one last glower, and a few more muttered words underneath his breath, you can only watch in speechless amusement as the seething man promptly turns his back and saunters away. Fast. Furious.

“You have saved me yet again.” You’re breathing out in relief, finally raising your head to look up and oh- did he look absolutely magnetic bathed in the blood-orange light of the setting sun. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I do beg your pardon, to defend your holy honor is the least I can do, beloved.” And you don’t know where to look - the dimples decorating Gojo’s cheeky grin, or the peripheral vision of Miwa beside you mouthing ‘beloved’ in shock.

But Gojo always does steal your attention away in the end, and the buzzing marketplace rings with the snap–! of his bare, neat nails cracking open the outer rind of the pomegranate.

Letting thin trails of crimson run down his wrist like blood, “I was not jesting about the Greeks and their belief of fertility.” You gulp as his pinkish tongue darts out just teasingly to run down a stray droplet of juice before it inched too close to his long sleeves. “Try it, my angel.”

Before you can say a word, one hand tucks his Bible, and the other holds a clump of bright, beaded pomegranate to your quivering lips.

And you swear you hear the bookseller gasp! when you gingerly take it into your mouth. Humming at the explosion of sweet, saccharine syrup. “I can see why- about the Greeks, I mean. Now, if only that snake Mahito didn’t swindle me of the price each time.”

“Hm, is that so?” He huffs out slightly deep laughter, sharing more fruit. “But this was no idle trip to the market today. Truth be told, I came, with earnest heart, to see you.”

“M-me?”

Unaware of the restlessness he’s seeping through your very veins, Gojo tucks a free hand between his Bible and pulls out a long, now-fixed rosary. The very same one you’d accidentally torn apart just the night before-

“It was to give you this.”

Your ears burn with the hushed, pointed whispers of the market as he reverently puts the necklace ‘round your neck. And the cold flowers of the pearly chain nearly sizzle against your skin. “O-oh, thank you, Father-”

“Satoru.” Gojo smiles. He nods.

He reaches over to hold one of your clasping hands, pressing his mouth against your pomegranate-stained fingertips. In an instant. Red, red juice drips from the ends of your digits and stains his lips scarlet - almost in a kiss.

Oh.

He taps the nearby book stall in goodbye, “Until next time, my darling. Have a blessed day.”

With that - and nothing more - as swiftly, and as quietly as he’d arrived, Gojo Satoru was disappearing back into the thronged crowd. Cross on his chest, Bible in hand.

And you barely register the giddy whispers of Miwa- all but gripping your shoulders and jostling you back and forth at the excitement of coming across the most scandalous piece of gossip to hit this town since the vampires.

Hissing feverishly, “-way he cast his eyes upon you and- and how long has this been going on?”

“I uh-” At this point she was shaking you, much to the amusement of passersby. Monotone, “Don’t you have your mother’s stall to run, kid- oh.”

And something catches your eye, something tattered. Something blue.

Something that you swear looked exactly like that old book Gojo had for but a mere split-second in his arms last night. Neatly piled at the top of Miwa’s column of novels on sale. And you can’t stop yourself from pointing, “Hey, what’s the price of that book?”

“Oh? Hm…” Picking it up, she scrunches her eyes in thought. “I don’t remember such a book being here, least of all in this condition- my momma would’ve skinned me alive.” Then, suddenly she perks up. “Tell ya what- you tell me more on wha’s happening between you and Father Gojo and I’ll give you this here thing for free.”

There wasn’t much that one could do during a monsoon rain, and raindrops fall heavy on the roof of your cozy lil’ home. Making the wooden structure creak and sing you to relaxation as you tried to take your mind off of what happened when night arrives.

Who arrives, as night does.

“I’m starting to spook my own self.” You’re notching up your oil lamp to flare up even brighter; so long as you had this, no vampire would set his clutches on you.

Sighing, you search for a distraction in your gunnysack bags from the marketplace. Leftover fruits still good, a stray few hairpins, and oh-

A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you find it - that small, blue book you’d bought just a few days ago, not having had the time to read through just yet. No author. No date. Yet, you look over the faded gold print of the cover, “‘Scripture of Shadows’, huh?”

Satisfied, you drag your armchair to where your oil lamp sat sleepily on a windowsill, and start to read by flickering fire light.

‘Prologue: On Creatures That Walk Among Us.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against. —Ephesians 6:12

In the years of my ministerial labors, I have come to learn that one may never truly know what walks alongside you. There are creatures in every shadow you look - though you may not see.

Out past the edge of God’s hand, these things are borne of hunger and sin - they may be cursed, fallen, or bound to their flesh cruth; salvaged only by thirst that no godly mortal can explain. I have seen them, spirits of ruin that massacre entire herds and weep alongside the shepherd in the waking morn’.

Yes, dear reader, they may take shapes you belove—wolf, woman, child, lover. And above them all, vampires-’

The flash of lightning, the grumble of thunder- you’re jumping in your seat and nearly slamming the heavy tome shut with a yelp. Wide-eyed, you take a hasty glance through the window, feeling your skin blanket in skittering goosebumps.

“Dear gods-” Breathless, you’re flipping through a few more pages on vampires and other such entities to settle on a random chapter.

‘Chapter Four: The Myth of the Vampyre.’

Heavens, why was this always following you like so? And what was Father Gojo doing reading up on such a thing- skipping a few paragraphs and scriptures, you continue reading in honed silence.

‘Perhaps the most cunning of demonic creatures. Not truly dead, nor truly alive, the vampyre boasts the most fearful humanly power of all—beauty. Indeed, they possess much more; overwhelming strength, teeth to kill, speed to hunt. And yet, I have seen more mortals fall victim to the enticing nature of the vampyre than any other creature.’

Perhaps it was the topics taled in the book, perhaps it was the raging storm outside, but you can’t help but squirm restlessly in your seat as you feel oddly…watched.

‘Let this scripture stand, then, not as idle fancy, but as a caution towards the charismature essence of the vampyre. With this, most hold positions of great authority. Infiltrating even the most tight-knit towns with ease - among them, mayors, teachers, merchants, and mostly-’

Someone was watching you.

You stare up at the empty, pitch-black square of your window. And then back down past a few paragraphs-

‘But fear not, dear reader, though they cross realms of living and shadow, the vampyre has one confirmed flaw - not sunlight, nor garlic, as tales claim. It is barred from thresholds unbidden, for only when an invitation is offered, may the creature enter. And Revelation 3:20–’

You look up.

The empty window.

The full book.

‘Take care to hold forth the crucifix and be not deceived by beauty or charm. But be cautioned, god-fearing reader, even vampyres have tales of legends. Those of their kind so infamous-’

The empty window.

The full book.

‘-that we hear merely brief whispers of his name, one so vicious and almighty that even vampyres dare not evoke His anger.’

The empty window.

‘An omniscient being amongst even creatures of the shadows, his name-’

A flash of blue-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You gasp.

Urgently, you drop the book and hurry to the ramming fist at your door, more to get away from its words than anything else.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“C-coming–!”

Your rickety front door creaks as you swing it open, immediately struck with the light of the storm and the icy breath of rain. Wincing against the droplets of water that hit your face, you can just barely make out the flicker of blue, blue eyes.

Gojo tips his hat to you solemnly, “I pray I’m not disturbing you, my angel.” His deep voice rings out, curiously above even the howl of the wind, and his pretty face simply looks haunted. “Forgive the haste, but I came straight away- there’s been another attack.”

Out of breath, “A-another vampire attack?”

“We fear so, ranch hand Mahito this time. Neck punctured, eyes white- God have mercy on us.” He shakes his head, “The town’s congregatin’ for a special Mass tomorrow, I would like it if you were to join us together to pray for the four lost souls.”

“Of course of course.” You’re taking in the layers of water that soak through Gojo’s dark robes, skin-tight over his heaving chest. Opening your door wider invitingly, “Please, come on in. Oh, you’re just drenched.”

And he opens his eyes just a tad wider, he curls his lips just a slight further.

“I fear I cannot, beloved. So many more houses to alert.”

Gawking at yet another clap of lightning- “In this storm?”

And you have no idea how he can just smile like that during dark times like these. The pearly whites of his canines wafting near the shell of your ear as Gojo leans in- whispering. “Worried for me?”

He takes a step, his rain-soaked clothes chill your skin as he inches forwards. Then another step, trying to listen in for your breaths. Your lack of an answer. “You should be worried. Though, not for me.”

Lashes fluttering, “Wh-what do you…”

“Be careful, my angel.” And your collarbones turn humid with the steam of his breath, the way he’s moving his ajar maw down. “You’d do well not to open the door for strangers. Lest you wish to invite…” Down, down, down—“-a vampire.”

You wait - gasps stuttered, fists clenching once he takes a step past your doorway. Just a singular, miniscule step-

Only to brush off something invisible from your shoulder, touch warm on your skin.

“I bid you a goodnight, my darling. Rest well.”

And with that Father Gojo was gone, and so was any wink of sleep that very night. Or any memory of that book, now laying as open and untouched as it had been left on the floor.

“I ask you not to give into fear- neither anger, nor isolation. Solely to the word of God.” Gojo’s fervent voice sing-songs over the numerous pews. Hands waving, feet stepping. “And I ask you to watch over your kin, pray over those lost, and keep your lamps lit with the faith that He watches.”

It was impossible to tear your eyes off of him.

And you’re sure that the elderly lady seated right beside you was drenching her fifth handkerchief in tears already.

“Trust in me, as I trust in Him. For even in the darkest night, there is still light to be found. For no creature can snuff out the soul of one who believes…”

As you’re nodding, you can’t help but feel that familiar sensation of eyes burning into you. Though, softer than last night- less…frightening. Darting your line of sight behind you to catch Naoya assessing you- and you couldn’t snap your head back faster.

Instead, catching Gojo’s own twinkling eyes as he finishes his sermon.

“And who is a vampire to Him? Go forth, and may the Lord be with you. Amen.”

There’s a rush after concluding rites, a crowd forming around Gojo before he can take even a step from the polished pulpit. And just as you close your books to stand from your seat yourself, ready to head home- something tugs on your wrist.

“Oi- I still have a bone to pick with you, missy.”

Or more…someone.

“Naoya.” You’re deadpanning, snatching your wrist free to stare him down with a glare that was utterly not suited for the place you were in right now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He spears his index your way, “Don’t you go thinking that I’ve forgotten ‘bout you and that tch- preacher.”

Standing your own, you sneak glances at the thinning crowd and just pray they won’t give this little quarrel an ear. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Telling me nothing’s happened, sweetcheeks?” Naoya huffs, “I heard you talkin’ with that sobbing hag- saying how he invited you personally for today’s sermon.”

“Why, yes. What seems to be the problem?”

“You think he went knockin’ on any of our doors at the dead of night?”

Your brows furrow, wouldn’t he have? After all, it was what he said.

“But, of course, he’s gonna invite you personally. The day right there by the fruit stall? The way he was undressing you with his eyes today—I wouldn’t be a darn bit surprised if he’s laid with a shameless woman like you already-”

“And if that is so? Jealous?”

Naoya gasps, and so do about fifteen of the nosy townsfolk lingering by the pews.

Wincing as Naoya’s grating voice threatens to speak once more–

“Mind your tongue, mister Naoya.” A steady hand claps down on the shorter man’s shoulder, and this silvery bangs flick towards the interruption of the one and only priest. “We stand on hallowed ground.”

Just as he turns his fury towards Gojo instead, his palm squeezes where it lay- hard enough that you can hear the faint pop! of something emanating from the contact. And before he can say any further, Gojo tilts his head down to whisper something in Naoya’s ear.

Something that has him pale. Trembling. And rushing out of the church faster than you can even blink.

As Gojo smiles at the rest of your company in a polite dismissal, you’re fighting back an awed whistle from your throat. “Pardon my language but-” Eyes steady on his rapidly retreating figure, shoving past each attendee misfortunate enough to cross his path. “-what in blazes did you say to him, Father-”

“Satoru.”

You grin, “Gojo.”

“And ah, I only spoke the truth- that this was God’s sanctuary.” He tilts his head with a beam, though, there’s something about it that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And perhaps something of his father…”

“You’re the devil.”

“Quite the opposite.” Never one to care for gossip, Gojo wastes not a second leaning down till his breath wafted your cheeks. Snowy brows pinched into one of regret, “That reminds me, do forgive my intrusion last night, beloved, I pray I didn’t come at a bad time.”

You flail your hands in disagreement, “Oh, heavens no-” In fact, the eerie book rested upon your bookshelf, and you couldn’t have asked for a more welcome interruption. “I was just…reading a book, you see.”

“So you say.”

Carefully watching for his reaction, “Called um- ‘Scripture of Shadows.’”

And if you expected him to gasp- if you expected Gojo to even blink at the familiar title, then he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. Only nodding his head in deep understanding, “Anything interesting in that book, my angel?”

“Only fearful.”

He jests, “Then you should devote those eyes to the Lord.”

You grip your rosary, “I shall do both.”

“Good.” The call of Gojo’s names for blessings and prayers were often, and he nods his head towards a group beckoning him over. As he turns to walk away–“Chapter six is particularly fascinating…and I have plans to reread it tonight.” He whispers, just barely audible over the sound of footsteps on the hardwood holy floor. “My door is always open for you, my darling.”

Oh.

Step.

“Hello?”

You didn’t know whether it was the darkness or the taboo in what you were doing that had your footsteps rattling in noisy unison with your heartbeat.

It was dark - dark enough outside that the neighbors wouldn’t be able to make out your flickering oil lamp through the blanket of the night. Light in one hand, your book in the other, you let yourself slip through the unlocked gates of the church, making your way down the winding hallway that you knew led to Father Gojo’s office.

Though, it was not the church like you’d ever known it.

And you’d known it crumbling from the walls, you’d known it manifested into something grand - but never so…chilling.

Each candle was snuffed out, puffing out ghosts of smoke that curled up in the high hallway. Clinging onto your shivering shoulders and making you flinch at each miniscule noise in the distance- “Father Gojo? Are you present toni- mmpf.”

Your mouth gapes, aghast, nose wrinkling when it felt like you’d just been run over by a carriage. But, it wasn’t a carriage at all - it was a thick, metallic scent that permeated the frigid air and made you stop straight in your tracks.

Hand coming up to cup your mouth, “What is that godforsaken smell?”

Step.

And it only gets thicker. More relentless.

Soon enough you’re fully closing your tingling nostrils with your palm and hopelessly praying that it was only a passing perfume. For this wasn’t just the tinge of metal you might smell as you pass the time piece-maker, rather, it was heavy. Slightly sweet.

Step.

The one you’d smell on the butcher.

Iron.

Your eyes widen- blood.

Gojo.

Running.

All but sprinting, you’re staggering further down the hallway to where you’d remembered were his quarters. Following the faint memory of his candlelit office, fear laces its frosty grip ‘round your heart as you call out. “F-father Go- oh!”

And it seems you’d forgotten that light reveals more in the shadows than you might want to see.

Red.

Red, red pools paint the grey stone of the church in a bloody mosaic.

You gasp, body running a few steps backwards on pure instinct at the pale hand sinking into the blood like a desolate ship. Mindlessly, the hand holding your oil lamp jerks over to reveal pale, silvery bangs peeking out from the crimson puddle.

Your heart races- was this. No. Stepping tentatively closer, your mouth drops as once you spy a few stray strands of deep, two-toned black. Naoya.

“Bitter.”

Slowly…achingly…your quivering oil lamp raises up to the darkness behind Naoya’s corpse. And there you see it - two bright, harrowing eyes of azure blue that bored into your very soul from beyond.

His eyes.

Just a flash of those, a mere single glimpse is all that you’re given before the light crashes down to the ground, and you’re both plunged into darkness.

Both you and Gojo Satoru.

Who shoves you against the nearest wall with such inhuman speed, so fast that you don’t even have the time to register it, register your rosary breaking.

One hand slamming down on the rocky wall above you, hard enough to make it crater an outline of his five fingers. The other cupping your cheek gently- almost gingerly, as if afraid to use his true strength with you.

“Five bodies.” He rasps, and in the grimy lighting you can see two elongated glints of his canines, “Five bodies. All five of them bitter, but you, my darling…”

Before you can even take a closer look, he’s stuffing his face into the thrumming skin at the crook of your neck and drinking in a deeeeep inhale. A sigh. A groan.

“-I would kill for but a taste.”

And he already has, you’re realizing.

You stammer, staring up into his pale, stoic face - looking at him properly now.

From the sharp fangs poking through his rosy lips, to the beauty that was so incredible that it was other-worldly. He had a trail of dark red blood staining one side of his maw, a few droplets spattered onto the whites of his roman collar.

“Y-you’re-”

“Say it.”

“You’re a vampire.”

Whimpering at the ice-cold breath that haunts your flesh, your pulse. “And you’re a delicacy.” He’s enveloping all of you, as if you were ripe for the picking- and you can feel the way your thighs tremble when Gojo’s pushing himself harder against your body. He’s holding you.

Cassock rubbin’ your front, your book falling, golden cross startling.

Gojo raises his refined nose into the air just once to sniff, before the most simpering tone bleeds into his voice. “How adorable.”

“Wh-what you- oh!”

It seems you can’t help but fail in catching your breath whenever he’s around, even though it might just be your last. And Gojo slithers out his long, pinkish tongue to sliiiide down your racing pulse - wet and hot on your flesh, he’s tasting you. Savoring you. Enough to make something instantly hard n’ raw tug through the layers of his holy robe.

One that he ruts between your legs-

Gojo tilts your face up by your jaw, nailmarks dotting your chin. He gives you a sensual peck, “Let me show you what true carnal pleasures are, little human.”

Maybe you’re nodding, maybe you’re simply gasping at the shock of his touch and bucking your hips up wildly - because that’s all it takes.

All that it takes for Gojo to scoop your weakened knees underneath a singular arm and turn- almost as soon as he did, you’re blinking your eyes to stare up at the ornate ceiling of the priest’s quarters.

Right now you’re laid out across the large, cushioned couch in the middle of his room. Legs sprawled out embarrassingly, dress hiked high up to your knees where Gojo had kneeled himself on the floor in front of you.

Speed to hunt, the book had said.

The very same book that he was now twirling between two pinched fingers and humming idly, “My my, it seems that you haven’t even read chapter four properly, my darling. Going against holy orders? Now, how should we rectify that, hm?”

Fingers itching for the hem of your skirts, “P-please-”

“Oh, the Lord has spoken to me.” Gojo gasps, suddenly, as if he’d just come to an epiphany. And his smile is simply sinful, sapphire eyes glowing- the very same ones you’d seen that night. “Bend.”

“Wha- hey!”

In a nanosecond, he’s manhandling you like a puppet. Making you crawl onto your knees with your front plastered against the high seat of the couch. Arched directly in front of his salivating maw-

“This shan’t work if your heart didn’t will it, my angel.” Gojo muses, shit, how gorgeous you looked like this. Bent and ready for him. He doesn’t even have to make use of his inhuman eyesight to locate that pretty damp spot blotchily drenching through your dress.

You were so wet that all he had to do was lean his nose closer and sniff to drink in that sweet, heavenly scent of you. “Oh.” Gojo’s sharp nails tug on the hem of your thin dress, “Oh.”

Rip-rip-riiiiip—!

Every inch of your clothing melts like butter underneath his power, and the only thing you can do is whimper as you lay your spine arched. Thin panties the only thing you had on underneath during this humid night.

“Fuck.”

It’s the last thing you hear before Gojo’s lengthy tongue probes at your sheeny inner thighs and laps up- not your drooling, puffy core where you’d needed him the most.

But instead the slight cut that had grazed your heated flesh as he tore off your dress- Gojo moans the instant your taste hits his tongue. Red-hot.

Not even having to breathe, but his pants were labored, “Fuck.” The sloppy drag of his moistened muscle lets out the most sinful slurp when he’s licking and licking before nothing else is left of your crimson. And then he’s inching his tastebuds up your thighs. He wanted more. Needed it this very instant, all the patience of these immortal years and it wouldn’t be enough. Not even caring for your paper-thin panties, “Fuck-”

Hastily stuffing the quivering orifice of your puffy with his fat girth- before scoffing at the complete n’ utter tightness that wouldn’t let him go completely in. “Pure as a dove, aren’t you, beloved?”

“I-I’ve never…” Tearfully mewling at the burning streeeetch, Gojo’s tongue was just so massive that even the slightest probe inside made your head loopy. “Never done…this.”

The only thing he does is spank a hand down at the edge of your spine to make you bend even further- “Then show me how devoted you are.” Straight into his mouth. Straight into a pert, pretty target for him to spit. Thick, globular, and wet. “Show it to me, my darling.”

And it’s maddening how it’s the last thing that Gojo can get out before he flicks his sizzling tongue through your undergarments to taste down your slit. Letting the slippery wads of your slick fill up his tastebuds and make him groan-

You gawk over your shoulder when his eyes only dilate, sharp fangs growing even sharper. “Show-”

With a hand groping the left of your ass cheeks, he’s tuggin’ you all back to him with an inhuman strength that makes you keen.

That makes his metallic crucifix press against the backs of your thighs. Fanged lips hovering over your outer pussy as he wetly nuzzles aside your panties to slip his tongue past-

You buck, “Sh-shit, Gojo-”

“Oh.” He’s shuddering at the act of you bucking up stupidly, chasing the temperate French kiss of his mean mouth. Giving him even more of a taste that he just can’t take it-

“Dear heavenly father, I thank you for this meal.”

And then it all happens at once- your soggy panties are torn off you in a split-second, Gojo’s mouth replacing it even more rapidly.

Bent over the chair, he’s eating out your saccharine sweet pussy like a beast starved.

He glues his upper lip against the swollen nub of your clit and you whine at the sharp sting of Gojo’s fangs digging right up against your bundle of nerves. Sucking. Tasting. Until his cheeks are all hollowed out with the friction of his suckling and he’s still forcing himself deeper into your pussy for more.

“Oh g- fuck.” Head throwing back stupidly, his nose nudges against the very tip-top of your treacly cunt. “It feels so, so good-”

“A meal this exquisite- never in my s-six hundred years.” He’s muttering between the swollen folds of your pussy, lining your slippery slit with the long line of his nosebridge.

So messy. Gojo snickers in lewd amusement at the way you’re rolling your hips back to ride n’ slide his nose. He’s rovering his mouth everywhere, glassy eyes half-lidded until he’s simply moving in pure primal instinct to slap the curl of his long, lecherous tongue by the edge of your dampened hole.

Tugging the rubbery circle of it just enough to make you whimper, he circles out soppy patterns that stretch out your cunt. Back and forth back and forth until your limbs weaken. “Have you just finished your monthly dues, my angel?”

You’re gripping onto the wooden headboard of the chair for sweet relief, “Y-yes?”

“That explains it.” And then he nuzzles in nose-deep and even deeper into your drivelling pussy, up n’ down to latch onto your clit and bite. “The next time, you tell me first. I know exactly how to…”

Murmured straight into your hot pussy, mouth departing such a guttural groan as he feels your sap splash down with a noisy squelch. Alllll down his pointed chin and where he’s creepin’ up one of his free hands to caress your glossy outer pussy. “-help.”

Squealing, you’re feeling just the thick crown of his index poke your cunt. “A-are you putting your ngh- fingers in?”

“I said I shan’t lay a hand on you.” And just then, the doughy palm of his second palm pushes your legs wide apart, not nearly enough to distract you from the flick of his flexible tongue and the way he smooches your filthy hole with yet another cushy fingerpad. “I shall lay two.”

And then you’re seeing raw white in your vision, the feeling of Gojo pushin’ his two ringed fingers past your first tight ring of muscle too much to bear.

Thick enough that you’re struggling to squeeze him inside- “Fuck back t’me- fuck back-”

“L-like this?”

He’s matching your sluggishly sensual pace, nose wrinkling sinfully at the velvety texture of your insides. Gojo’s cross necklace swats your thighs with each constant lurch of his head, crooning out. “Yes- yes. Oh, hell.”

He scrapes the mushy roof of your walls with his deep black purity ring, the cold material thrusting into your most sweetest spots and making him grin. “This is devotion, beloved.”

“Y-you’re just so big- nghhhh–” Your moans strike against the wide chamber and echo all across the building. Hips rutting back to feel his prolonged digits all the way down to the mountains of his knobbly knuckles, “Why are your fingers so big?”

“Only to please you, my darling.” And oh- oh, it was such a tight fit.

Gojo can’t help but salivate the slimy tip of his tongue down your silvery slit and fucking pry your pussylips apart to let your snug channel take him deeper. Harder. Faster. The roaming shapes of his long, long digits scissor just so that he can stir apart your gluey walls and let you gush out slick.

Licking his way inside while he’s pushing into each nook n’ cranny- hitting down all the way to the base ends of his digits with a right thwack!

“And you’re just so- ngh- looong—”

“Only to find-” Oh, you didn’t forget about those eyes of his, did you? Because right after he’s letting off a murky gust of those syllables, Gojo’s eyes glow- his fingers hammer - exactly into the bulging area of your g-spot. He’s seeing right through you. “-this sweet thing better, my darling.”

And then it’s absolutely driving you crazy- Gojo’s fingers are just so incredibly rude, swatting a furious back and forth. Thrash-thrash-thrash, determinedly perking up his fingerpads to push his purity ring against your g-spot and watch as you cutely flinch.

“You’re so- oh- oh my god-” Making each scrape against your sweet spots so sensitive, pump after pump.

“I prefer…Satoru.”

He’s letting out a husky snicker each time he’s plunging into the deepest of your melty depths. Maw now gaping widely ajar to scoop up every glittery ribbon of slick that trickled from between your folds. He’s hungry- thirsting like a vampire parched for six hundred years n’ now he can only gulp in the first meal of his lifetime - you.

You’re bending your pussy to slope down against his mouth and he has the audacity to give you a sweet, puckered smooch. Innocent. “C’mon say it- pray.”

“Please-”

“Not what I asked, beloved.”

Your throat rips with such a carnal shrill at the pudgy crown of his third finger desperately trying to find a way in. Pushing- pap! pap! pap! “Pleeeease- ngh- Satoru. Satoru, fuck-”

SPANK!

Such glistening beads of pearly slap stream n’ gush all down the front of Gojo’s bobbing throat the very moment he swats his plush palm down across your cunt. “Profanity is a desecration of the church, my angel.”

Another spank. Another splurging squelch of your pussy talking out in leaks of your sweet, sweet juices. And Gojo only nods along as if in conversation, “How wonderful of you to volunteer to read chapter six in repentance-” Some invisible force of his powers is guiding your familiar shadowy book to your hands. “-and recite it in perfect condition, too.”

“But-”

“Perfect-” Just as a third finger spears its way between your slick-glazed pussylips and finds itself mazing down your walls, headed straight for your g-spot with a thump. Grinning. Voice airy. “-condition.”

A tiiiight fit, that makes you fumble with your poor book, your eyes whirling in the exact lecherous patterns he’s drawling out on your wettened cunt. Each sloppy slurp Gojo’s drinking in enough to make your wrists weaken-

“Ch-chapter six: The Vampyre’s ngh- Beloved.” Unsure of what has your mind spinning more, the title or the way that he’s picking his pace up angrily. “Many are unaware of- hah! the one weakness of the- fuck.”

Tittering, his dimples peek. “Keep going.”

“-the vampyre- hnghhh–”

“Don’t make me- oh.” And before you know it, not only does he have three of his fingers rummagin’ inside. But also the slither of his tastebuds stuffing insides- his vampire tongue so lengthy that it squeezes and squeezes ‘round your tight rim till he’s rutting his flushed cheeks against your cunt.

And the underside of your stomach crackles with a few sparks of bliss, “-the vampyre- their one true love.”

“Mmmmm, yes. Say that again.”

“O-one true love?”

Gojo’s pulling back his tongue with a wettened squelch. Ravenous. Feral. He’s getting himself drunk on each drag that your restless body was quivering out - now moving everywhere and anywhere.

Faster. Sloppier.

Fucking back inside your hole. Slapping over your clit. Biting down on the swollen edge of your pussy just to hear those pretty cries, “One true love-” Then sticking the damp edges of his bangs to tickle your skin, he suckles on your clit like gum. “-my one true love.”

Again and again.

Moving so rapidly- it’s like he’s in three places at once. Swirling the long edge of his tongue around and around your walls until you’re babbling stupidly, “The fated mate- ngh- soulmate…?” Skipping paragraphs, enough to make Gojo give your pussy a quick spank.

“All scripture is God-breathed.”

“-c-can induce a different kind of bite in the vampyre. An unexplainable soul tie that happens merely once in- haaah- eternity- one that vampyres tear down heaven and hell for.” Oh, that gets him excited.

Flicking his tongue furiously in hearts upon hearts on top of your sensitive clit now. Thoroughly. Feverishly, you’re half-wondering whether his lips weren’t aching- “And one such known- ngh- vampyre in search-”

“Yeeees–?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

And then you’re hitting it- that lewd, lecherous crash of your orgasm that’d been building up for what felt like eons at this point.

“O-oh my god-” Was this what all those filthy romance books you hid away meant? It was so much better than a lonely night with your hand. You were cumming so hard that you’re seeing comical stars, letting go of the book. “Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru- I-I’m-”

“All over my face now. All over, my darling. C’mon.”

You didn’t even know where it started, you didn’t know where it ended.

Just that it had your poor, trembling pussylips plastered to Gojo’s mouth like he was attaching it with adhesive.

Inhuman strength holding your thighs down to stop you from even recoiling- because anything that would break off the rubbing massage of your cunt was something he had to halt. You were creamin’ all down Gojo Satoru’s face and he was making sure it stayed that way.

“Yes- yeeeees, that’s it. That’s it. Never in my life have I- hah-” Even speaking was such a difficult endeavor for him, not when he couldn’t bear to pull away mere inches from your gushing pussy. “-been more grateful for the fact that I don’t need to breathe.”

Thighs shaking, goosebumps taking over. You arch your back with a whine at the repeated flicks of his tongue on your clit- in dual stimulation with your g-spot. “B-but I do-”

In response, Gojo’s only crushing your poor pussy against his face further. “Hmmm- heh.”

Only fucking you juuust a bit more with the coiling ends of his tongue, oh-so-lengthy like a snake’s. He swabs the bruised corners of your walls a few more times, gurgling through each fleck of gooey sap that escaped you. Before pulling back with such a loud, dramatic mwah! “Amen.”

Shocked, you flip your woozy head backwards to catch sight of his sleazy smirk, the way that his summer-blue eyes seemed to spark. Feeling your legs twitch slightly with the jolts of your high, “A-and about the vampire’s Beloved?”

“Huh? Oh.” Blinking his dazed eyes, he’s so pussydrunk that it takes Gojo a few seconds to even register what you’d just asked. “Well…will this prove my scripture’s truth, beloved?”

You’re being treated like a cute lil’ ragdoll at this point; because it doesn’t even take seconds for Gojo to perch a rude hand on the side of your hips and flip you over.

With your back now against the cushion, you’re grappling for the woody bearings of the chair as he holds your ankles wide apart and lodges himself between them. “How devoted I am?”

“D-devoted?” You’re puffing out a humid breath, and your chin strikes your chest in your hurry to ogle the entire sight of Gojo Satoru. Because oh…oh, was he such an utter sight.

Your slick sheens the entire lower half of his handsome face- all the way up to his damn, ruddied cheekbones. Dripping down in sticky sloshes all across the hollows of his cheeks, and down his pointed fangs. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in just how glistening they were with all your glazes of sweet juices.

He was wearing it like a mark of honor.

“So. Hopelessly. Devoted.”

Staining his neckline of his dark cassock even darker, you can’t help but notice that you were completely exposed while he was still dressed in his priests’ robes. Right down to the gold cross.

Gojo slaps down the edge of his coral pink tongue to lick up the cloying excess glued to his mouth, staring dead-on at you all the while. “Oh…are you aware that I can smell whenever that pretty pussy gets even wetter?”

“Y-you can?” You’re hissing, trying to close your legs but you can’t - not with Gojo pushing himself between them.

“It’s delicious.” Even deeper. Even wider, he stretches your legs and hunches over with his towering frame to fit a fat thumb between your spit-glossed lips. “I can smell your blood.” Sniffing your throbbing pulse, “Your need.” He glides his digit down your canines, so much more blunt than his fangs.

“And–?”

He looks down with a grin, “Your pussy.”

And Gojo could already sense your lewd impatience, holding onto the side of your waist with one hand- and the other pulling back to fumble with the golden buttons of his robes.

Pop!

“Satoru-”

“Ah ah.” He was such a damn tease. Unbuttoning only about halfway down his fitted cassock and black clerical shirt. Just enough for you to be spying his extremely chiseled front, from the bulge of his curvy pecs, to the ridges of his abs.

He was oh-so-naturally sexy that it made your mouth water. Ripped core flexing once he’s removing his belt and tugging down those pants of his, robes lifted now. Not enough for you.

But just enough that his red, aching cock springs free and hits the pure white happy trail on his abs with a thwack!

Nine- maybe even ten thick inches. And you can only speechlessly gape, because he wasn’t just rock-hard…he was so hard n’ heavy that it must’ve been painful, like every drop of blood in his pale body was surging up to the bulbous tip of his cockhead.

Gojo’s mushroomy tip blushes a scorching hot pink and leaks out hot precum as if he’s melting, a translucent splat! straight between the slitted slope of your pussy. “Any last words?”

You’re trembling, “L-last words?”

“Mmm—” He’s sandwiching the girth of his fat, veiny cock between your folds. Just so thick that your pussylips are already being spread near their absolute max- and was that…

You gasp, surging your head down and oh- you were feeling it right. Each n’ every time Gojo’s sliiiding his length between your cunt, your clit snags on the cold, bulging nib of something. A piercing. He had a piercing.

Like one of those you’d only heard they had in large cities and oh, you weren’t making it out of this alive.

“M’gonna eat you alive, my angel.”

As if he’d just read your mind.

And you wouldn’t be surprised if he could- pure cottony static entering your brain the very second that Gojo’s aligning his smooth tip at your entrance and pushing.

The stretch is so much that you can only blink your teary lashes and keen– “I-it’s so big- oh, shit, go easy on me, Satoru.” Especially when you’ve never been stretched out like this before.

So-very-vulgarly, Gojo only hovers his wet-glazed thumb down to tip aside your plush folds. It was so cute, like your swollen pussy was puckering right up at him every time he nudged his hips back to give your tight hole a good probe.

“Is that all?” He’s inspecting with a grin, ringed fingers pryin’ your dewy cunt apart. Mindlessly rutting- bucking- “Six hundred years and s’that all you can take, beloved?”

Clearly teasing, but the thought of taking all his barrelling shaft makes your back arch wildly. Whimpering after every smooch of his orbed piercing, “I-I can make all of that fit?”

“No.” Gojo snickers, but even that sounds unsteady. Even that sounded like it was on the very verge of shattering into a zillion pieces, and he’s only sinking a finger inside your pussy to stretch you out. To force his raging dick to break off from your clammy cunt to push and push. “But I will make it fit.”

And then it’s like you’re losing your mind- seeing white behind the lids of your eyes when he’s sinking in a few fat, heavy inches.

Hissing underneath his breath, Gojo’s moving the hand at your hips over to your throat to pin you down.

“C’mon-” Chortling, he uses it to keep you still as he ruts- “C’mon c’mon-” And ruts, burying your upper half into the couch cushion as he swerves his hips deeper. The stretch just vicious, your elastic entrance is being oh-so-tugged to his very size. “Acting like such a sinful girl– and you shall be dealt with as such. Now, open those legs wider, my darling.”

“Oh-oh, god- Satoru-”

Choking you, his big, beefy biceps flex once he’s pulling you down by your neck. Meaty thighs gluing flush against your own, his fangs peek in a grin. “Yes and yes.”

Languidly, Gojo’s pumping himself deeper to fill out each slick ridge and orifice. Prince Albert’s piercing decorating the very line of his sensitive slit, he’s acting like it’s a spotlight to massage every spot inside of you.

Letting the puffy entrance of your pussy stretch-stretch-streeeetching-

“F-fuck.” Gojo lets out, all of a sudden. Barely even audible over the resounding plop! that lets off from the damp space between your thighs when he’s finally - finally - bottoming out.

Finally.

And oh– it takes a few seconds to register inside your mind, did you just make the infamous Gojo Satoru stutter? Mewling in bewilderment, “D-did you just…did you just fit all- hck!”

He groans—“Sure did.” But there’s something dopey in his tone, something that sounds like utter fucking disbelief. Gojo rovers his hand over your plump cylindrical tummy bulge - he was so big that he could tap his thumb down on the hill of his cockhead poking through. “Fuck.”

Then it’s like the floodgates open. The floodgates shatter.

Gojo’s fangs elongate, his eyes slit almost menacingly- and he’s throwing your boneless legs over his shoulder to push you down into the tightest possible mating press.

A mating press.

Hand slamming down on the couch’s oak frame hard enough for it to splinter, “Fuck.” He’s croaking out like a broken record as soon as he’s gifting your goopy cunt with the first thrust. “Fuh-fuck.”

Then the second, the third, the fourth- smashing against that cute spongy cervix at the bottom of your pussy. Gojo rubs his swollen veins raw on the gummy texture of your walls, feeling a little part of his sanity crack each time.

“Oh my- ngh- fuuuuck, Satoru–” You’re wailing out whimpering, fingers valleying through the locks of his ivory hair and pulling. “It’s so big- h-hngh- how’s it even going in-”

“If only your eyes may gaze upon what I can.” The edges of his blue eyes sizzle with power, and shit, he’s seeing right through your drooling cunt.

Using the lecherous advantage of his powers to swerve his hips just right, he knocks the flared end of his tip right at the target of your g-spot. Extra, extra blissful with the way his chilling piercing slips n’ snags just right across that particular orifice.

“Then you’d know that this is the only- ngh- heaven that a creature like I shall ever taste. The only heaven that I shall…fuck.”

Digits twitching on his clammy scalp, “O-oh.”

And you just look so pretty like this- lips sprayed with bubbles of drool, your eyes rolling cartoonishly every time he struck the bottom of your pussy, chest heaving.

So Gojo can’t help but feel your gushing pussy clench ‘round his cock and gasp- and slouch. Maw sagging fully open, cross hitting your chest, he’s furrowing his brows down at you- yeah, the most beautiful thing he’s seen since he was turned six hundred years ago.

Letting go of teasing that tummy bulge, he holds your left hand - tenderly.

And Gojo, for all his riches, might not have an engagement ring ready yet; which is why you’re feeling the cool slip of his purity ring make way onto your ring finger. Blinking dazedly, “C-can the Father even- ngh- propose?”

“For you? I’d burn down every soul, building, and flora upon this land.”

Dead serious.

Gojo tilts his flustered features down at you and asks one simple question, “Feel like flying?”

“Flying? What- oh, fuck!”

And he could fly, if he so wished to grow his wings- but what Gojo meant right now was to pick you up. Cleanly off the broken couch, he stands tall with only a singular inhuman hand supporting your weight.

The other turning your head up to watch the twitches in your expression as gravity slides you doooown his aching cock. From the ruby-red globe of his crown to the wide circumference of his hilt, each squirm leaves his prominent veins grazing your walls sensually.

Your ass cheeks nuzzling his heavy balls, you whimper, “I-it’s in again?”

“Oh, beloved, it’s more than in…” Trailing off with a husky groan, Gojo leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your lips that makes you whine. “-I don’t think m’gonna make it out of this with my life to spare.”

Oh.

Then Gojo’s fucking you like he’s angry his thick, ravenous cock can’t delve deeper inside your pussy - just furious, slobbering strokes.

He thwacks the curve of his ballsack against the front of your cunt and then hisses when it won’t go any further. Usin’ a firm grip on your ass to get you to arch even further, “More- come on. More, little human.”

Rolling your hips back with each hit after hit to your g-spot, he’d mapped you out perfectly at this point. Shaft just so extremely long that you were feeling it in your very lungs.

“R-right there mmm–” Spittle pours from the edge of your mouth and lavishes Gojo’s deltoids, where you can only hold on for dear life. “Oh my god, Satoru-”

“You think your Lord’s lookin’ down at you right now, my angel?” Gojo has the audacity to giggle with his fanged canines - pussydrunk and gone once his hips only slam harder into yours.

His golden crucifix repeatedly thumps your chest, and you can only watch when he drags up your ringed left hand right up to his mouth. Biting. “He can’t hear you-” Hard. “So maybe you should heh- scream louder.”

Louder and louder - your pitchy whines were utter music in Gojo’s blushing ears.

By now reaching a fever point as you’re feeling the sensations in your legs go numb, head lolling stupidly-

“My, no ngh- sleeping yet, my darling.” And this position just left you so helpless, completely at Gojo’s mercy when he’s deciding to slip a free hand between your legs and pinch your perky clit. Brushing the calloused fringe of his thumb down where you were the most sensitive. “Not until I bite every inch of you.”

Oh…it just felt too good. Those slender fingers knew exactly what they were doing, targeting the most delicate spots of your nub, until you felt all raw.

You babble at the carnal itch of his fingerpads rolling across your clit. Smearing the dewy droplets of slick that just kept on seeping out of you. “B-but I’m so- ngh- can feel it again, Satoru…”

“That so?” Absolutely no mercy. Gojo’s starting up a synchronization between his pre-glazed tip banging your g-spot, and the toying of your honeyed clit. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. “And yet…”

You’re shivering as he whispers in your ear, rasping. Dark. Something that makes your heart race and your cunt pound. “I will still fuck you until you can’t walk out the hah- steps of this very church.”

Another dollop of buttery pre sprays along your cervix, another kiss of his frigid piercing glueing to your walls, and yet another twitch of your useless legs. “I will still make everyone see- make everyone know. But first…”

And you knew from that delicate dimple dotting the side of his grin that the next few words won’t bode well for you.

You knew you were done for just as soon as Gojo leans back from your haphazardly dangling body, ever-so-slightly. Eyeing down your front with his superhuman sight, he still bites down on your purity ring as he grins.

“-I wish to make a statement even the heavens shall know.”

And he can see. He knows exactly where his stirrin’ cock is heading for - right towards the bullseye of your womb. Thrashing- the only carnal sensation you register before it’s all white.

Both your bleary vision and the thick, copious clumps of cum that Gojo was filling you up with.

Both hitting your highs at once - so hard that his fangs shatter the deep purity ring on your finger. Though, never once leaving even a scar on you.

“Oh, ya really are made for me.” Gojo gasps out a sharp pant, toned hips rutting so ferally upwards at the clenching squeeze of your heated insides. And oh- saying it was good would be an understatement.

The winding lines of his veiny cock dragged out your wave of bliss until you felt like your mind was melting. Bludgeoning his Prince Albert’s against your g-spot again and again and again at the precise peaks of your high.

You almost get the feeling that he’s milking himself on your overspilling cunt, twiddling a thumb over the button of your clit just to get you to clench. “H-heh-” Gojo watches as your creamy pussy driiiips with ivory syrup. “More more take more-”

You curl your toes in euphoria, dragging him into a filthy, filthy kiss. Slurring,“M-mmm- yes. I wanna-”

“Mhmmm–?”

“Hck! wanna be yours, Toru–”

Oh.

He had such a look on his face that told you he would just kill for you. Simply say the word.

“M’already yours, beloved.” Gojo’s meaty thighs shiver after each stringy ribbon of sap being pumped into you, and he’s sliding a thumb all over the drivelling mess of your slit. Cooing as you flinch, “Oh, you’re so fuuuuck- ripe.”

Ripe? What did that even mean-

You didn’t need to utter the question, because he’s already answering it in the next sultry instant.

You watch as he lovingly gazes at your tummy bulge, now stuffed with the weighty knots of his cum. There’s an almost tender note in his voice as he speaks, “Should you so wish, this one’s gonna be a ngh- boy.”

Oh.

Ripe for the picking, like a pomegranate.

Ripe for him to fuck you till you were all round and glowing- and it’s almost the two of you are moving at the speed of light. Gojo barely even taking a split-second to transport himself to the edge of his humble priest’s bed and bully you down.

Cock still buried deeply near your womb, he flattens the weeping head of his shaft against your cervix. Taking a loooong, languid glide of his pierced mushroom tip-

“Y-you’re still- ngh-” You hiccup, feeling the parched twitch of his length - still so red n’ swollen that it ached him to not be stuffed between your glossy folds.

Sheathing himself in sluggish gyrations that stir your insides, Gojo’s tearing off the rest of his holy robes. From his cassock to his roman collar- and that twinkling golden cross ends up dropped somewhere on his dampening sheets.

“Still hard? Heh-” Gojo snickers, oh, he’s going to have fun with you for the rest of eternity. “Now, you didn’t expect a vampire to stop at only one, did you, my angel?”

Fuck.

And maybe it’s been hours. Maybe it’s been days.

All you’re learning is that a vampire goes for seconds, thirds, fourths- that Gojo Satoru won’t be even the slightest bit satisfied until he’s well past the sixth round.

Your tired hips slumped on top of his now, riding him dry- well, as best as you could when your entire body was utterly helpless. At his mercy, he’s got his large hands clawing on your waist, moving you in steady figure-eight grins.

Long, achingly probing his sensitive divot into your battered and bruised delicate spots. So far gone that you could feel the slimy second skin of his cum from hours prior pool inside.

Gojo slaps his hip bones up to yours and lets out what sounded like a damn broken whimper, “Yeah- yeah, if this isn’t the most heavenly thing- nghhh–”

“Oh-ohhhh my god—” You whimper, the cheeks of your ass stinging as he perks a hand underneath your thighs to slam you down. Crushing your overstimulated clit against his soaked happy trail, “The sun’s coming up, Toru.”

And sure enough, tentative yellow light was seeping between the half-shuttered blinds of Gojo’s quarters.

With it, a new day. And a new victim of the vampire to be discovered - of his.

Though, that’s the last thing on your stupidly fuzzy mind when the thickened end of his thumb is coming down to draw out a cute lil’ heart on your clit. “S’that soo–? Heh-” He gulps from his completely dry throat, looking at you through unruly white bangs. “Better make this fast then, my darling.”

You had no idea where his stamina was coming from- even for a vampire this was ridiculous, surely.

At some point he was clinging onto your hips and maneuvering you up n’ down his vein-decorated cock as if it was nothing.

Slight sparks of power flying from his half-lidded eyes every time he’s swirling and swirling his flinching cock ‘round your walls. Each semicircle of him stretching you out gets you rewarded with the slightest geyser of milky pre- damn near cumming dry.

“Oh.” Gojo’s nostrils flare, and his flushed maw hangs wide open with a sliver of spittle. Turning into a torrent of saliva once he’s hit with that familiar candied perfume of your orgasm.

Close-

Before you can even babble out the word, you’re cumming- and not just cumming, squirting. All over Gojo’s…face?

Fuck, your hands dig into the sweaty locks of his pale hair. Half-melted mind realizing that he’d transported you with his powers just as soon as you hit your high. Moving you from his jolting cock to seat all prettily on top of his face.

Right on top for him to lavish his swollen mouth with the splosh of your velvety sap. Creaming all over his handsome features, leaving his lower and upper body soaked.

“Mmm- fuck.” He slaps his dewy-wet lips down your dripping wet cunt; simply drunken, Gojo lets the ribbons of your thick slick drench his sharp jawline. Puddle after puddle of cloying liquid that sprays across his mouth. A fucking mess.

“A-men…” Cum and slick bubbling down his rosy mouth n’ fangs, he babbles. Catching sight of the bleeding orange of the sun rise, “Oh, it’s time.”

Time for him to lick up the last few tingles of your orgasm. Time for him to keep pinning you down to his face as he turns his head towards your thighs and bites.

Hard.

Puncturing.

And just as soon as the hot crimson of your blood leaks into his mouth, Gojo finds himself smiling. “May God never forgive me.”

A different kind of mark, the book had claimed. And sure enough your body flashes hot- something churning inside your blood vessels. Something that makes him tenderly flip the two of you over so that you can lay across the ruined sheets-

Only for him to take sweet, sweet advantage of the crook of your neck and bite. Once more. Then twice on the other side, just to make sure. Just because he couldn’t stop himself.

Six hundred years.

Six hundred years that he had been searching for you.

You’re wheezing out weakly, “Satoru…”

Now to finally, finally find you.

“Rest. The transformation from human to vampire is quite taxing.” Gojo hushes you, ivory lashes lowered in pure loving. He plants a kiss on the bloodied bite marks at your neck, fangs peeking out just enough to tease. “We have a long eternity together, my beloved.”

[Excerpt from ‘Scripture of Shadows’: Latest published edition, author unknown.]

‘Chapter Six: The Vampyre’s Beloved

Many are unaware of the one weakness of the vampyre: their one true love. Yes, reader, the fated mate, only poetically comparable to a ‘soulmate’, is one that can induce a different kind of bite in the blood-thirsty vampyre.

It is an unexplainable soul tie that happens merely once in eternity - one that provokes even the most blasphemous creature of the vampyre to tear down heaven and hell. One such known vampyre in search was the famed Gojo Satoru, almighty of even these shadowed beings.

But through my journeys, I have found that our despicable being has come to find his fated mate, as of late. The latest whispers within the shadowed realm speak of an atypically happy life, and an even happier bride—expectably, leaving bloodied wedding favors behind.

Some even claim an heir of the Darkness to be within reach, God have mercy.

Six hundred years of terror, and it seems that He has found even the most undeserving worthy of being loved. Being seen.

For, perhaps even the cruelest of creatures can love.

Amen.’

A/N. Omg y’all I had to get permission from like five of my Christian friends before I could post this erm- obvi disclaimer that this isn’t a true representation of Christianity!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 year ago

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commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#writing #writing reference #words #writeblr #literature #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing #writing tips #lit #langblr #studyblr #dark academia #vocabulary

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bumblehoneybee · 6 months ago

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Something I wanna write but it’s a big super huge plot that is so large and daunting

“Because this isn’t you!” Shadow snaps, and his voice is so sharp and angry that you have to step back. Lightning licks off the tips of his quills, a warning, a sign that something is wrong. “You’re not this!”

Your mind scrambles for some sort of explanation, but you’re drawing blanks. “But- what? What do you mean? I’m-”

“You’re a human!” He snarls, storming up to you. His hands flick at your ears, ruffle the fur of your cheeks, point to the tail tucked between your legs. “Not this. You’re not like me!”

“Sh-Shad-”

“This is nothing but a trick!” Shadow exclaims, stalking away from you. “One to make me think you might possibly see me the way. . . the way I see you.”

He stops, shoulders slouched under an exhaustion you can’t begin to understand.

“But you don’t. Cause you’re human, and I’m just. . . some freaky alien living in your house.”

#shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #kinda based on that cute farmer reader blog in the tags #mixed with my own fanfic ideas of a shadow being found by someone in the middle of nowhere

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jjjjisun · 3 months ago

Text

Sunday Morning

NJZ Danielle X AESPA Karina X Male OC | 1945 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

Author's note: Happy Karina and Danielle day!

—

A violent storm had descended upon the night, the thunder growling like a waking beast and lightning carving veins of light into the ink-black sky. The old mansion rattled, its timbers creaking as if alive, and the rain lashed against the windows with the fervor of a jilted lover. In the expansive master bedroom, dominated by a large four-poster bed, a naked man lay awake, his heart pounding in sync with the storm's rhythm.

Karina, his daughter, was the first to sneak in, her petite body hugging the shadows. Her eyes, fierce and bold, met his in the darkness. She was a wild thing, untamed and free, her dark hair cascading down her back, the sheet clutched loosely in her hand. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the storm's fury.

He shook his head, pulling the sheet higher up his chest, a futile attempt at modesty. "You?" he replied, his voice hoarse with sleep and something else he dared not name.

She smirked, tossing her hair back. "Never could sleep through a storm. Not without…" she paused, her eyes glinting wickedly, "company."

Before he could respond, Danielle, his other daughter, padded in, her lithe form accentuated by the faint glow of the lightning. She was the yin to Karina's yang, her fair hair contrasting with her sister's darkness. "What are you two doing?" she asked, her eyes flicking between the two.

"Just talking about the storm," Karina said, her smirk growing wider. "Wasn't it you who used to love stormy nights?"

Danielle's cheeks flushed, but her eyes burned with a familiar challenge. She dropped her sheet, standing before them nude and unafraid. "I still do," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. And then, with a playful laugh, she lunged, aiming for Karina, the sheet they had both been clinging to forgotten.

The room filled with laughter, and soon, they were a tangle of limbs, their bodies sliding and pressing against each other, their tickling fingers exploring familiar terrain. The storm outside seemed to mimic their play, the rain intensifying, the thunder rumbling like their own laughter.

He watched, frozen, as their playfulness turned sensuous. Their touches lingered, their eyes locked, their breaths hitching in sync. He felt a familiar stirring, a response he couldn't suppress or control. He was their father, but they were his weakness, his downfall. He knew he should stop them and reclaim his self-control, but he was rooted to the spot, his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out the storm.

Karina looked up, her eyes meeting his, her fingers dancing on Danielle's hip. "Join us, Dad," she purred, her voice sultry, inviting. "The storm doesn't seem so frightening with us together, does it?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between them, the thunder outside escaping without a peep in the face of the tsunami of want crashing through him. He knew he shouldn't cross this line, but in that moment, bathed in the storm's light, he couldn't find the strength to resist. He let the sheet fall, revealing his arousal, and surrendered to the storm within.

The thunder's grumble had softened to a murmur, and the rain was now a rhythmic patter against the windowpanes as the storm reached a gentle crescendo. The room's illumination oscillated with the passing Lightning, caressing the three figures in the large bed. The tension was thick and palpable, holding them in a suspended state of anticipation.

Karina's hand, previously dancing on Danielle's hip, now slid down, her fingers parting Danielle's thighs with tender authority. Danielle's breath hitched, her lips parting on a soft gasp. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, and her eyes flicked from Karina's fingers to her father's face. "Dad," she whispered, "tell me you want this as much as we do."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked with Danielle's. He could feel his arousal throbbing in response to their Touch, their words. He was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one he had never dared to approach before. But the sight of them, their bodies flushed, their breaths coming in short pants, their eyes filled with hunger and want, was his undoing. "I do," he admitted, his voice raw and honest. "God help me, I do."

Karina's fingers found Danielle's center, stroking, exploring. Danielle's hips moved in rhythm with her sister's touch, her moans filling the room. His gaze flicked between them, his pulse pounding in his ears. He reached out, his fingers tangling in Karina's hair, pulling her in for a kiss. Their lips met, their tongues sliding against each other, igniting a fire that raged through his veins.

Danielle's fingers wrapped around his cock, her touch tentative yet sure. He groaned into Karina's mouth, his hips moving in sync with her sister's touch. He felt freefalling, his body alive with sensations he had long suppressed. He broke the kiss, his gaze finding Danielle's. "Come here," he growled, pulling her to him.

She straddled him, her warmth pressing against him. He captured her mouth, his hands roaming her body, relearning the curves he had tried so hard to forget. He hears. Karina's soft laughter, and then her touch was there, her fingers joining Danielle's in stroking him, her lips tracing patterns on his chest.

Danielle reached between them, positioning him at her entrance. She slid down, a slow, torturous inch at a time, her eyes locked with his. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his breath coming in short gasps. When she had taken all of him, she began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous rhythm.

Karina's hands were on Danielle's breasts, her fingers pinching and rolling the nipples. Danielle's breath hitched, her movements becoming more frantic. He felt Karina's touch on him, her fingers stroking the base of his cock where it disappeared inside Danielle. His grip on Danielle's hips tightened, his thrusts meeting her movements.

Danielle leaned back, her hands settling on Karina's shoulders. Karina's lips found Danielle's nipple, her tongue flicking against the hardened peak. Danielle's moans filled the room, her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her back. He could feel her tightening around him, her body tensing in preparation for release.

He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed in counterpoint to her movements, his touch firm and steady. Danielle's body bowed, her release pulsing through her, her inner muscles-clenching around him.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a groan, he came, his body shuddering with the force of his release. Danielle collapsed against him, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Karina's hands stroked his chest, her touch gentle and soothing.

As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Danielle lifted her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Dad," she whispered, "I don't just want you to fuck us. I want you to breed us."

Karina nodded, her fingers twining with Danielle's. "We want to carry your child, Dad."

He stared at them, his mind racing. He had crossed this line, which he knew he couldn't uncross. But at that moment, looking at them, their bodies flushed, their eyes filled with love and desire, he knew he didn't want to. He took their hands, his fingers intertwining with theirs. "Then let's ride out the storm together," he said, his voice filled with determination. And with that, he sealed their fates, binding them together in a way that was primal, intense, and undeniably erotic.

The first light of dawn broke through the storm clouds, casting a soft glow over the three spent bodies entwined in the bed. The room was filled with the symphony of their breaths, slowly evening out, and the faint patter of rain against the windows. He was the first to stir, his fingers tracing patterns on their arms as he lay between them.

"Morning," Karina mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep. She nuzzled into his chest, her hand moving to cover his.

Danielle stirred as well, her fingers finding his waist. "Morning, Dad," she said, her voice soft and content. She rubbed her face against his shoulder, a small smile on her lips.

He looked down at them, his heart swelling with mixed emotions. He cupped their faces, his thumbs stroking their cheeks. "Are you both sure about this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "About what we did, what we want?"

Karina's breakfast pushes up, her breasts pressed against his chest. "Oh, we're sure," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Aren't we, Dani?"

Danielle nodded, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Very sure," she confirmed. "I think it's time we made it official." She rolled on top of him, her hands pushing his thighs apart. She bent down, her breath hot on his cock as she took him into her mouth.

He groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair. She sucked him, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand pumping the base. He felt himself hardening, his body responding to her touch. He looked down at her, her fair hair cascading around his lap, and then caught Karina's gaze, her dark eyes filled with hunger as she watched them.

Karina joined in, her hands stroking his chest, her fingers pinching his nipples. He moaned, his hips bucking slightly. Karina switched her sister on sucking his manhood and took him deeper, her throat convulsing around him. He felt the pressure building, his balls tightening.

"Stop," he gasped, pushing Karina away. She sat back, her lips glistening, her eyes hungry. "I want to come inside you," he said, his voice raw. He reached for her, pulling her up. She straddled him, positioning herself over his cock.

But she didn't lower herself onto him. Instead, she leaned back, her hands on Dani’s thighs. "We have other plans for that, Dad," she said, her voice teasing. She looked at her sister, a silent conversation passing between them. Danielle nodded, a seductive smile on her lips.

Karina got on her knees, her massive breasts swaying. "Noona Karina wants you to come inside her too, Dad," she said, her fingers playing with her nipples. "But first, she wants to show you how much she's enjoyed your attention." Karina pushed her monster breasts together, a valley of soft, pale flesh between them.

He groaned, his gaze locked on the sight. Danielle took his cock, positioning it between her sister's breasts. Karina began to move, her hips rolling, her tits on either side of his cock, sliding up and down. He watched, mesmerized, as his daughter used her sister's breasts to pleasure him.

He reached out, his fingers finding Danielle’s clit. She moaned, her movements becoming more frantic. He felt his release building, his balls tightening. Danielle's body tensed, her orgasm ripping through her.

"Come on my tits, Dad," Karina whispered, her eyes locked with his. "Mark me. Make me yours."

He groaned, his body tensing as he came between Karina’s breasts. Danielle collapsed against Karina, their bodies sticky with sweat and his release. They all looked down, a sense of satisfaction filling the room.

Karina laughed, her fingers wiping his cum off her skin. "Looks like we've made a mess, sis," she said, turning to Dani. She grinned, her hand joining hers in cleaning their skin.

As they got up to clean off properly, he watched them, a sense of peace washing over him. He still had his worries and doubts, but at that moment, looking at them, their bodies glistening, their smiles soft, he knew he wouldn't trade this for anything. He was ready to face whatever came next and cross whatever lines they needed to.

#njz smut #aespa smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #njz #karina #smut #kpop #aespa karina #girl group smut #danielle #njz danielle #karina smut #danielle smut #aespa

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letoasai · 1 year ago

Text

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment.

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams.

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy.

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it.

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle.

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.”

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan.

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted.

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.”

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?”

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work.

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it.

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?”

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.”

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?”

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.”

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for.

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs.

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face.

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment.

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.”

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.”

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?”

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over.

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-”

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?”

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke.

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title.

“I can handle that. Your deal?”

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-”

“Pass.”

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly.

“My soul then….” Raven muttered.

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!”

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.”

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away.

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.”

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer.

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?”

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.”

“Wha…” Flash muttered.

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.”

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.”

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough.

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked.

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds.

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction.

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered.

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity.

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.”

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?”

“Yes.”

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly.

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…”

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.”

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.”

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?”

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything.

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced.

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging.

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.”

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered.

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes.

“My food?”

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.”

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage.

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?”

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face.

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green.

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head.

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.”

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action.

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water.

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed.

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating.

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare.

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale.

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger.

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing.

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag.

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small.

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.”

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form…

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…”

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.”

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him.

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.”

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?”

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.”

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him.

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?”

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering.

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin.

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.”

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression.

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.”

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.”

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself.

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either.

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?”

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.”

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!”

“No way.”

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.”

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame.

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.”

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

Masterlist

#dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #Danny Phantom x Red Robin if you squint #Batman #Red Robin #superboy #conner kent #Raven #Flash

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floatyflowers · 23 days ago

Text

Dark! Tarzan X Single Mother Reader

The storm was unexpected.

Waves slammed against the fractured hull of the ship as the night sky shattered with lightning. Your baby wailed against your chest, wrapped in whatever blankets you’d managed to grab before chaos took the crew.

The sound of splintering wood, screaming sailors, and crashing waves mixed into a cacophony of despair.

Then, a plunge into freezing black water.

You didn’t remember how you survived. Only the pull of maternal instinct, your baby's crying voice a lifeline in the storm.

You washed ashore on an unknown jungle coast, battered, trembling, and alone with your son.

Except... you weren't.

The baby cried, but it meant he was breathing.

That was all that mattered. You kissed their damp head and whispered promises you didn’t know how to keep.

"We will be okay. I will protect you."

You built a crude shelter from palm fronds and branches. Days blurred into one another searching for water, for food, trying to quiet your child's hunger. Your body ached. Your mind is tired.

But you weren't alone.

At first, you noticed footprints near your camp, large, bare, and human.

Then came the food which were fruits placed in careful piles, bowls carved from bark filled with clean water, and once, a rabbit skinned and cleaned.

Something or someone was watching you.

You tried to stay calm. Maybe it was a local. A tribal man? Or someone else who had survived like you?

But then you saw him.

He emerged from the trees; the stranger was tall, wild-haired, shirtless, his skin bronzed by the sun. Muscles tensed beneath every movement, but he crouched low, green eyes pointed at you with eerie stillness.

Then he vanished, back into the trees.

You told yourself it was a hallucination.

Until the next morning, when he stood just beyond your camp's edge, holding your baby.

Your heart stopped. You rushed forward. Yet you realised that the baby wasn't crying.

In fact, he cooed, nestled calmly in the handsome man's massive arms.

"Safe," the man said simply, his voice low, rough, like language was unfamiliar to him.

He stepped forward, carefully handing the child to you. "Safe with me."

You backed away, clutching your baby. "Who are you? What do you want?"

His head tilted. He looked confused.

"You. Mate"

The word landed like a stone in your gut. You stared at him, horrified.

"I don’t know you!"

He blinked.

"I know you. Long time. Since sea came. I watched. You… strong. Protect cub." His gaze softened slightly. "Good mate."

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your blood ran cold.

From that day forward, he never left.

He followed at a distance, silently watching. Every night, he lingered near your shelter, unseen but felt.

When you gathered water, he would appear from the trees, walking alongside you as if you belonged to him.

He would pick fruit and place it in your basket, like a lover trying to please you.

And your baby? Adored him. Laughed when he appeared. Reached out for him.

That's why you finally decided to give him a chance to learn about him.

And from the information you managed to collect with hardship due to his lack of vocabulary.

You found out about his name, age, and how he grew up with animals like gorillas.

He also told you about how an english woman called Jane taught him the vocabulary before she left to return back home.

That made you warm up to him.

You taught him words, through gestures, repetition, soft correction.

And he mimicked you like a devoted student, eager to understand.

Tarzan was intelligent in a raw, primal way, his voice gradually shaping your language like it was his birthright.

Tarzan had found the remains of a treehouse, half-rotten but salvageable.

It was his parents’ long abandoned home, tangled in vines and broken wood. and he began repairing it.

For you. And your son.

You watched him every day, his muscles rippling as he lifted beams like they weighed nothing, his hands bloodied from work, but never complaining.

He carved handrails so you wouldn’t fall. Laid moss and furs across the floor so your baby had somewhere soft to crawl.

"I fixed it for you, and our son" he said one day, gesturing proudly. "Our home."

You touched the wall. It smelled of cedar and sun, warm, clean, and strong.

Just like him.

And you began to fall for him.

Because out here, in the wild, he was everything for you, food, shelter, and safety.

When you cried, he held you, when your child was sick, he sat awake through the night, bathing them in cool river water and humming low, wordless lullabies.

He didn't ask to sleep beside you, but one night, when the wind howled and your baby curled up between you, you didn't send him away.

You almost forgot the life you had before. The pain. The betrayal.

Until he came back.

Your ex-husband.

It was early morning when you heard the shouts, male, unfamiliar, human. Tarzan stilled like a hunting cat.

His green eyes narrowed at the intruder.

You rushed down the ladder of the treehouse, heart pounding, baby strapped to your back. And there he was.

Soaked. Sunburned. Bruised, but unmistakably him.

"Y/N?" he gasped. "Is it really you?"

You froze as he ran toward you, grabbing your arms.

"God, I thought you were dead! I came back, hired a search crew. The boat is nearby, it’s not too far down the coast. We can leave! We can-"

"Stop," you whispered.

He blinked, confused. "What?"

And then Tarzan stepped out of the trees.

Your ex froze, taking in the Tarzan appearance with wild eyes and an unreadable expression.

"What in the world is this?"

Tarzan moved beside you, putting a hand over your shoulder in a protective manner.

You didn’t speak as your former glared.

"You living with this freak now? Did you lose your mind out here?! He is dangerous, he is a savage!"

You felt your baby stir at the rising voices. You rocked him gently, trying to stay calm.

Tarzan’s breathing had grown shallow. Slow. Eyes locked on the intruder like a predator sizing up prey.

"Go," Tarzan said, voice flat.

When you opened up to Tarzan about the abuse you endured and how you fled on that ship to escape your ex-husband, it broke his heart, and left no doubt in his mind who the real villain was.

Your ex turned, glaring at Tarzan.

"Excuse me?"

"Go back to the tree house and protect our son.”

"She is my wife. That is my son!”

Tarzan tilted his head slowly.

"No."

The man tries to walk past Tarzan to get to you, but he doesn't get the chance to do so as Tarzan stabs him in the chest with his spear, killing him instantly.

A silent gasp escapes your lips, as you hide your son's face in your embrace.

The way Tarzan turns around to face you with a small smile as if he hasn't committed a murder in front of you is shocking.

But his proposal was something else.

"Can I be your husband now?"

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere tarzan x reader #tarzan #Tarzan x reader #x reader #yandere disney

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gracexthoughts · 11 months ago

Text

intrusion

jacaerys velaryon x wife!reader

warnings; assault, blood and fighting, break in, cursing, pretty typical for canon universe level of violence, no use of y/n or character description, men being creeps summary; from this request. two intruders, sent by the greens, stumble upon you in their search for rhaenyra and decide to take you as their prize instead a/n; i love this request sm and wrote this kinda fast so apologies for any mistakes. please do not read if any of the above is triggering to you. i put *** on either end of the physical attack on reader if you want to avoid it

The night has been restless for you. A storm lashes at the island Dragonstone towers over; rain and lightning and thunder tearing at the walls of the keep, wind howling against the window pains. Your husband, Jacaerys, is still gone after being sent to treat with some ally. He has yet to return, and you cannot help the worry that has wormed its way into your chest. The storm has held him up, you repeat to yourself, sighing as you toss in bed to lay on your back. Even though you’ve only been married for a few moons, the bed feels too large without his warmth next to you.

Lighting illuminates the room, and the door to your chambers bursts open as thunder claps, covering the sound of the wood banging against the stone. You bolt up, hoping to see Jacaerys, but instead, you are met with two pairs of unfamiliar eyes.

Two men stand in the doorway of your chambers, one tall and skinny, a white scar across his face shining in the torchlight, and the other short with muscles pushing against the seams of his clothing. Fear seizes your heart as they examine the room. “Who are you?” you demand sharply, attempting to cover the fear in your voice with the commanding tone you hear Queen Rhaenyra use so often.

“That’s not the bloody Whore Queen,” the stout man grumbles in a Flea Bottom accent, lowering the torch slightly. Whore Queen, they called your mother-by-law. The Greens sent them, you realize, your heartbeat increasing its pace.

“That’s the bastard prince’s bitch,” the taller one sneers, kicking the door closed and stalking forward.

“Where’s your princeling at, girly?” the other coos, placing the torch in the sconce near the door. As they come closer, you scoot away on the bed, their eyes like rabid animals circling prey.

“The library,” you lie, “He’s due to come to bed any minute.” Your hand slowly moves under the pillow behind you, searching for the small dagger Jacaerys insisted you sleep with since the attack on his mother by Ser Arryk. The men look at each other, evil smiles splitting their faces.

“Just came from the library,” the shorter man sneers, stepping up onto the platform the bed sits on.

“No bastards there. Seems like you’re all alone,” the tall man coos, biting his lip as he stands at the foot of the bed. Your fingers close around the cool hilt of the dagger as the blankets of the bed are ripped off you. You don’t move, keeping the dagger hidden under the pillows, even as the men scan your figure, only clad in a silk nightdress.

***

“Leave now, and the Queen and the Prince will reward you; I’ll ensure it,” you say, your voice beginning to quiver slightly in fear.

“Oh, the Queen and Prince will reward us, alright, just not your lot,” the man at the foot of the bed smiles menacingly. “Hold her down.” The man at your side reaches out for you, and you slash at him with the dagger, managing a deep cut on his arm. The man stumbles back, a raging yell from his lips.

“GUARDS! HELP!” You scream, trying to move to the left side of the bed, but your leg is pulled back, and your arm that holds the dagger is pinned down to your side by a heavy boot, a rough hand covering your mouth and muffling your screams.

“Shut up, idiot,” the taller man grumbles to the other, who still wails, before turning back to you, “I heard you were a feisty one,” he laughs as he hovers above you, wrenching the dagger free and bringing it up to your face.

“Little cunt, more like,” the man you cut grumbles, glaring at you as tears of fear blur your vision.

“You’ll be fine. Help me with her, would ya?” The two men grab your arms and legs, dragging you from the bed. You cry out as you land on the hard stone floor.

“Shut up!” One of them growls behind you, pulling you up by your hair and covering your mouth. You squirm and fight as best as you can, but the men have the advantage and chuckle at your feeble attempts as they shove you up against the wall. You cry out again as your head connects with the wall and they begin tying your hands with rough rope as you pray silently to any god who will listen.

***

Before they can secure the ropes completely, blood sprays out of the taller man’s chest as a sword splits him in two. The hands on your limbs relent as the man is pulled off you, revealing Jacaerys, sword dripping with blood, face dark with rage and hair wet with rain.

Jace tosses the man to the floor before his eyes turn predatorily to the stockier man who draws a short sword from his belt. You watch in shock as your husband engages with the man, attacking him with more vigor and bloodlust than you thought possible for the sweet man you know. You back away hurriedly and crouch in the corner of the room, desperately trying to get as far away from the fight as possible.

A hand pulls your attention from the fight, and you flinch away before turning to see the Queen, your mother-by-law, reaching for you. Her face is soft but urgent. She goes again for your hand, pulling you to her and helping you stand. She pulls you into her, taking care the shield you as gentle arms wrap around your shaking body, not caring that the blood on your front will stain her gown. You cling to her desperately, listening to her whispers of comfort, and turn your head to see Ser Lorrent pushing the intruder to his knees in front of the Prince, his blade to the man’s throat as more guards rush into the room. Jacaerys stands over the man menacingly, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breath, blood pooling from a gash on the intruder’s leg onto the stone floor.

“Your friend is lucky I gave him a quick death,” Jacaerys growls, glaring at the man on the floor as he crouches down in front of him like a predator, “You won’t be so. I’ll be sure to send The Usurper a message with your head, once I’ve made you pay for touching my wife.” You’ve never seen such rage in your husband before; his usually so soft and sweet amber eyes now contorted with hatred, the flames from the torchlight reflecting in his eyes as if the fire is inside him. His sword drips with blood, mixing with the blood pool on the floor and yet there’s not a scratch on him. Rhaenyra squeezes you tightly for a moment before releasing you and stepping forward.

“Take him to the dungeons, have two guards on duty at all times, and summon the maids,” commands the Queen to Ser Lorrent, who nods and drags the man from your chambers, a trail of blood in their wake. You watch, without moving from your corner, as Rhaenyra cups her son’s face before taking her leave and the guards, and Jacaerys turns to you; all the hardness in his gaze melted away and replaced by wide eyes full of concern. He speaks your name, his voice cracking slightly at the sight of you, and you throw yourself to him. His sword clatters to the ground as his muscular arms catch you, a hand cradling your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your waist tightly. Your knees give out as the shock leaves your veins, and the pair of you drop to the floor.

“How did-”

“The storm made the flight back harder than I expected. I was on my way up when I found a dead guard. They’d pushed the body behind a pillar, but I still saw it. I thought they’d come for Mother again, so I ran to her chambers first. When I saw her undisturbed, I just knew,” Jace explains softly, brushing your hair soothingly, his thumb wiping away tears and blood spatters from your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, my love. I should’ve been here. I should have come here first, I-I’m going to kill them all for laying a hand on you.”

Jacaerys’ mind is reeling and he’s sure he has never been so scared as he was when he found those men attacking his wife, his love, his heart. His more violent side, one he pushes down for the sake of decency, itches to storm down to the dungeons and torture the man who dared hurt you, to make him pay for every second of pain he caused you, to fly to King’s Landing himself to find those responsible for this night and add their blood to his blade. But you need him more in this moment and he is ever at your will.

“S’not your fault,” you say softly, your voice weaker than you’d like. Jace opens his mouth, but two maids enter the room, clearly having just been woken, eyes wide at the state of your chambers.

“Pardon, my prince, my lady,” the elder of the two says softly, dark blue eyes full of sympathy. Your husband helps you stand, his arm staying protectively around your shoulder.

"Let us wash and try to find sleep," he says softly to you before turning to ask one of the maids to make the bed in your old chambers and run you a bath. Jacaerys wraps his dark red and still-damp cape around your shoulders before leading you down the halls to the chambers you lived in before your marriage. The familiar surroundings comfort you as Jace leads you to the couch before starting a fire in the hearth.

Soon, the bed has been made up and a hot bath drawn and your husband dismisses the maids, thanking them for their help at such late hours. Jacaerys gently helps you undress and step into the bath. Kneeling outside, he helps wash away the night's evidence, softly sponging the blood from your skin and wringing it from your hair. You lean into his soft touch, finding comfort in his presence and care. Few words are spoken between you as he cares for you but in this moment, his presence is all you want. You can sense the anger in Jace lingering under his skin, needling at his mind, but he stays by your side, whispering promises that he won’t leave you, that he’ll always protect you; your wellbeing more important to him than anything else in the world.

Once you are dressed in a clean nightgown and all blood cleansed from both of you, the pair of you crawl into bed together, your head on his broad chest, allowing his heartbeat to lull you back into a sense of safety. It is not until the first rays of light begin to shine through the curtains that you both find sleep, but you do eventually, wrapped in the loving embrace of each other.

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bodhiscurls · 20 days ago

Text

exceptional. ( bodhi durran )

you should've known that xaden riorson would've come after you after attacking violet sorrengail. but what xaden should've known is that bodhi durran would destroy the earth and everything in its existence than have someone lay a hand on you. based off of xaden saying "he's my cousin of course he's exceptional"

pairing: bodhi durran x marked fem! reader (ice signet), xaden riorson x violet sorrengail.

themes: angst, violence, wholesome but deadly bodhi.

in all fairness, violet sorrengail was a bitch who had it coming.

it had been a week of the nightly shifts being dumped on you and maybe you were letting the lack of sleep get to you. or maybe it was the extra funny stares that came your way from standing guard at her door or most likely it was the fact that you had hardly seen your boyfriend this week. the thought of being in his vicinity felt far too impossible and it tore at your heart through scrapped edges.

you had another hour left of this shit before your friend liam would take over in the morning and with a single glance into the distance, you felt the yearning stretch your mind.

fucking xaden, you grumble under your breath. with you watching over violet and bodhi on the drop offs, the loneliness crept on you closer it felt as though you'd been caged in.

you feel a creak and instantly shift in alertness. a scan across your surroundings confirms your suspicion that it must be violet awake in her room. nonetheless, you knock lazily.

"sorrengail, shout if you need help," the slumber draws out your speech and the door rips open too quickly you think it may fall off its hinges.

"fuck you," she angrily meets your gaze and your brows furrow in confusion.

"i'm taken sorrengail and even if i wasn't," you scan her head to toe dressed in her night attire, "hard fucking pass."

she storms past you, deliberately brushing into you and the thin thread of patience holding your sanity together snaps within a second.

"hey," you snarl ridden of all your usual composure, "watch it worm." she meets your low warning with a scoff.

"or what huh? you can't even bark unless your master orders you to," and she faces you, stance hardened as steel. you stick your tongue into your cheek, biting back the retort and rising above the pettiness radiating from her.

"you're brave tonight," you level, edge and warning laced in your tone and she scans her eyes down to the daggers laced at your hips. not that you need them given the fact that violet sorrengail the first year who should have been a scribe is not well rehearsed in anything other than being a naive fool. "when you're done playing child, get back inside," you order.

"you're not the boss of me," a glint of defiance shines and by each second you grow more and more annoyed by the minute. "matter of fact, why don't you call your boss down here i've got plenty to say to him to."

and a flash of a milisecond is all it takes for you to rip a dagger from its holder and slice it in her direction. she's caught off guard, backing herself into the wall where the edge of the blade gently cuts her temple upon landing. she knows you could've striked her dead in the forehead but she knows that you also know the importance of her life being tethered to xaden.

"you will put some fucking respect on his name when you speak of the wingleader," you warn softly. violet however, feeling the surge of lightning ripple through her veins has decided that no, tonight she will not listen to anyone. she will not be ordered or babysat, she can and will carve her own way into this world. she pulls back, gently tapping to feel the crimson streak prickle from her temples to her fingers and thats when all she can see is red.

she runs to you, its sloppy and lazy like her steps are too large for her small feet to carry and so you let her knock into you. its not enough to take you to the ground but enough to cause a little stumble. if that destroys her confidence in anyway she only lets it show through wrinkle in her brows and moves on to throwing punches.

she's out of sync and it'd be awful if you really showed her what you're capable of- this likens to kicking a poor defenseless puppy so you let her throw (and miss) more heavy punches that lack force and drive. you catch her fist lazily "you're embarrassing yourself sorrengail, give it up," there's no malice in your tone, slight amusement but mainly annoyance. really, she couldn't save this energy for liam?

"oh yeah?" she's out of breath, "look at you so high and mighty huh, you weren't even enough to save your mother," she spits and your brain doesn't have time to catch up with your fist slamming her to the ground. you're seething, the anger radiating off of you in waves and if you had the right head space or enough time to stop and think you would have actually stopped and thought.

a kick to her side that will have her seeing blue and purple tomorrow makes her scream out in pain but the sound is not enough to stop you, it only fuels your fire. punches on punches, you lift her frail weak body into the air and slam it back down to the earth. somewhere in the distance a streak of lightning threatens the sky, drawing closer to you but like first year squabbling underneath you- its out of sync and misses you by yards.

you pull back, chest heavy in deep breaths as she lies shuddering.

"the next time you even think let alone speak of my mother, remember how your skin feels on this ground, because next time you'll feel it again six feet below," you swear with a hiss. she croaks out a futile apology but the blows have landed and the damage has been done.

its five am when you leave violet sorrengail bloodied and bruised in her hallway. not dead, not even unconscious, but alive enough to remember this lesson and live to seek retribution.

...

its fifteen minutes past five when you're lifted off the ground.

black shadows enclose around your throat, around your arms strapping you in an entrapment only capable of xaden riorson. his eyes mimic the streaks of onyx that menacingly threaten to cut off your oxygen supply and end your existence right here and there and for a second, you still.

you weren't stupid enough to kill violet knowing the effect it would have on your leader but you were stupid enough to disobey his blatant order-

"she was not to be touched," he whispers into the stillness of the early morning, cutting your thoughts clean. its a promise he swore, an oath you took and broke and a valid reason for punishment.

"she went too far xaden- wingleader riorson," in this moment its futile bargaining with your closest friend. right here right now, gone are the memories of running free at riorson house with grass in your hair and suits of cardboard armour. gone are the laughters that come from mischief and sneaking in on your parents discussing battle briefs and running silly after thieving from the kitchens.

what takes his place is him and you, a chain of command and a promise of death distinguishing the two.

"you took it too far, cadet," he spits. "i saw how you left her- not even a scratch was supposed to touch her. she was failed under your protection, by you." each word is a deliberate articulation laced with malice and control and he was right, you let your feelings get the best of you.

"riorson, stop," you gasp through ragged breaths, if you just could create enough room to wiggle and let your hands break free then-

and they do. for a split second, you wrestle and use your signet of ice wielding to freeze at his ankles, his hands and slowly by slowly the cold waters rush up his body.

its working you think, he faulters slightly but he's still got a strong hold on you as he dangles you in the air and its a dangerous bet fighting with xaden riorson- no one has lived to tell the tale but it gives you a slight satisfaction to know you're not the only one hurting. it's either he kills you or you kill him and if you weren't so damn focused on surviving maybe you could've figured out which option was less scarier.

until you're not floating anymore and a pool of water splashes from the air and bounces off the cool tiled floors.

your hands clutch your throat as your body is thrown across the floor with a vicious thud. dark splotches overtake your vision in a fit of dizziness but you can make out the shape of another figure you know well and love completely.

where you've hit the floor not so gracefully, bodhi durran has his hands at his cousins throat pushing him so far into the stone walls that you're sure he's going to leave an indent of the shape of xaden riorson.

it's been a week since you've last seen your lover that in your dazed haze you lie on the floor with a manic smile settling on your lips. you marvel at the softness of his curls that are a stark contrast to the stoic stillness he exudes at a height slightly shorter than his cousin. his black tee is soaked with your icy water and compresses all the muscles you have memorised underneath as his tan skin shines in the white streaks of morning light peaking through the windows. goodness, the skies above must feel how hard you have missed bodhi durran.

"you laid your fucking hand on her," he seethed, and you've never heard bodhi's voice dip this low of an octave as if the timbers aim to reach the very core of the earth. xaden pushes him off slightly but bodhi's got a death grip of his chest, holding him so close.

"she disobeyed an order," xaden makes out the words with a perfect stillness as if being flung halfway across the room hardly has any effect on him and as you stand there clutching your hip you decide that you hate him more than you hated violet in that disastrous moment. "she suffers the consequences," he tries to make an indifferent shrug but bodhi barrels him to the floor. they engage in a silent combat albeit a few huffs and growls. bodhi moves with the same deathly stillness as his cousin. each move is calculated, deliberate, designed to strike where it hurts the most. it's high risk high reward between the two of them, almost cathartic as bodhi slices his dagger alongside the length of xaden's neck.

"she hurt violet," xaden hisses as the metallic smell of blood fills the air. he twists his form and traps bodhi to the ground with his hips locked firmly. "yield," he orders. its a moment of silence, defiance in stares before bodhi uses the momentum of his lower half to completely knock xaden over and dives into a firm headlock.

"she is my violet, she's more than violet could ever be" he breathes heavily, voice straining with the thick of emotion. "and you laid your hands on her," between every breath is a flare of nostrils and for a moment you can no longer recognise the man that you love. you've known him capable to be the most skillful rider and soldier of your generation but you've never known his capable to kill his own blood.

"yield," a pause. "or it will be a damn shame to kill my last living relative," his whisper is a solemn swear into the darkness as he counters any chance of xaden using his shadow signet- xaden should have known how exceptional his cousin is and it's a shame he had to find out through advanced hand to hand combat.

"no," xaden's voice is firm and you roll your eyes, wincing through the pain in an effort to stand- or rather sway.

"bodhi," you call out and he softens, relaxing slightly at the sight of you and its enough for xaden to break free. you are however quicker and aware of how dirty of a fighter xaden riorson is and chain him through ice glaciers to the wall.

bodhi dusts himself off like this ordeal was an inconvenience and meets you at your side as his cousin is half frozen into a wall. matching limps and bruises you really were soulmates. he uses his free arm to grip your waist and haul you against him, carrying most of your numbed weight. you slump against his frame gratefully, resting your head on his bruised shoulder.

"you were right xaden," you meet his betrayed gaze. "i disobeyed your order and violet sorrengail was hurt under my protection. i will die fighting for you and for our cause and i carry the burden you accepted for all of us marked ones. however, i am entitled to honour and respect- both of which sorrengail tested this morning."

xaden bows his head at your testament, tongue threatening to poke a hole through the skin of his cheek as he ponders his next words.

"i will gather violet's account and decide the next course of action. however, violet sorrengail is not to be touched," he reemphasises and grits out to the two of you.

a scoff leaves bodhi and he pulls you closer to him. "you keep your fucking hands to yourself riorson or next time you won't be so lucky," he promises and a small smile works its way onto your lips.

"come on," he mumbles into your hair with a soft slow kiss. "lets get you mended up," as you two limp away into the distance.

"wait," you pause, "maybe we should let him go," you think of xaden cuffed in ice and whatever ridiculous banishment he will sentence the two of you tomorrow. worst case, he never speaks to you again and you've lost your childhood friend for good. best case, he never speaks to you again and you'll never have to do the night shift of watching over violet sorrengail and bodhi will never have to do the drop offs again. you both could spend each day wrapped in eternal bliss and ugh it could be soooo good.

"nope," bodhi doesn't even grant xaden the grace of looking back. "let him suffer, stubborn ass."

"you know he'll never let this go right?" you meet his stormy gaze. the chocolate orbs soften gently as he stares at you in adoration. you've never felt more safer than in bodhi durran's existence.

"tough, because i'm never going to let you go," he returns. "but as hot as you are when you go batshit crazy, please leave violet looking a little more alive next time."

you react to his tease with a shove to his shoulder and he winces. it takes him less than a second to catch up to your stomping frame because the limp hurts a lot more in the aftermath and you need his strong hold to shift the weight but more importantly because there's no where you could be where bodhi durran isn't right at your side.

note: its one am and i miss my man, this one goes out to the losers who think bodhi is all soft and no edge. he is that guy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he can and will kill you !!!!!!!! he's survived wars with just a shoulder in a sling do not underestimate him !!!!!!

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