#<- me saying this as if i even believe in the concept of virginity

[brainrotdotorg]

imagine a dashboard for alligators. what do you think that would look like

2 notes

🍏gatoridae Follow

Controversial opinion. If you're doing nothing but eating meat, what are you even doing. Remember to include bugs, fruits, and legumes into your diet in order to help aid digestion of the meat that you get from snakes, fish, and mammals.

Just because we have the reputation for eating lots of meat, that doesn't mean we have to stick to it.

🥒biting-you-biting-you Follow

counterpoint: fuit yucky

🪵blog-from-a-bog Follow

wdym reputation of eating meat. i float lik ea log thats what im known for

4,904 notes

🌿swamp-ass Follow

asked dad if i could go and steal some Floridian guy's lunch and he said "we have prey at home" girl we have been doing shit ALL DAY i am an awesome 600 pounds and I need some meat left on me to deathroll with. let me get a quick snack that i don't need to kill mmmmmmm burgers I want people food soooooo badddd....... i know they shouldn't feed it to me but I have such a lovely smile oh please oh please give me your burger.........

182 notes

🥗aliali-seeyoulater Follow

mom says it was cold the season she laid me so i have to be a girl. because girls are always born from eggs laid during cold seasons.

cope and seethe mother first of all, second of all, the reason i am transgender is because you kept me too fucking snuggly warm in the nest.

#i guess if you wanted a daughter you should have. idk. made a shittier nest? #thats not really my fault man

81,337 notes

⛰fuckyeahhugesnout Follow

You'll never guess how I just learned that we have the honor of being the "loudest reptiles in the world"

🫑teethem Follow

Yeah yeah, the 90 decibel mating bellow, we've all heard it.

🤢ch0mper Follow

we've all heard the what

135,633 notes

🩲gaytorrr Follow

this guy asked if i wanted to see his gator hole and i said fuck yes. why this boy take me into a 65 foot long hole in the mud at the bottom of the lake

6,421 notes

🏞daily-clawsitivity

✨Remember to take it easy sometimes!✨We thrive in slow-moving waters!✨Even though we can run fast, we get tired fast too-- it's okay to let yourself take breaks!✨Let yourself relax, that's how we made it this far as a species.

mud-rocks-deactivated20140706

Yeah, imagine telling your prehistoric great great great great great great great great great great grandpa or something to calm down and relax when he should be doing nothing but deathrolls. the longevity of the species should be your only goal. It's irresponsible to encourage your fucking species to fall behind even more than it already has? Have some pride, you're not a crocodile.

scalesssss-deactivated20150310

jesus christ calm down

alidile-crocogator-deactvated20140709

Okay, this post has a lot of misconceptions in it. There aren't as many differences between crocodiles and alligators than you think. It's really harmful to think that we have nothing in common with each other. So what if they're carnivores and we're closer to omnivores, or their snouts are more U shaped while ours are V shaped. We're both badass miracles of nature that have no reason to be pit against one another all the time.

Don't listen to guys like this. It's just hateful and small-minded.

stop-jawlock-androll-deactivated20140911

crocs are like. like them shoes that float right

wetlandia898 Follow

i wish i was a crocodile because i could have a virgin birth and i wanted to see what it would be like to eat an immaculate conception.

bigchallengesrealblog-deactivated20190412

welcome to the no notes gator/croc discourse post.

🦖l8rg8tr-z Follow

omg this is the post.... i can't believe i would see this naturally on my dash

🎍taildraggers Follow

Uh are we just going to ignore the virgin birth reply orrrrrrrrr

🐊gator-heritage-posts

gator heritage post

0 notes

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Follow

hgwiow h

hsfhjs

howw ws i nbevyrboy tyopingssaog oo vd wi hhrth rh thrre cl alawas ?>>

🌴a-l-g-t-r Follow

lmao this idiot never learned how to use their tail to type

#/j lol yeah its kind of hard at first #actually i'd say cut your losses and forget how to type bring the laptop back to the dumpster its not worth it

39 notes

🐍bellowbellowmygoodfellow Follow

am i fucking stupid. i just learned theres another species of alligator other than just me and the guys in my swamp. and i said "oh wow I didn't know that! which one of the two are we haha" and my buddy just stared at me like I was a fucking idiot. how am i supposed to know if no one ever tells me this . WHICH AM I

🍖meet-eat3r Follow

there are only 70-80 mature chinese gators in existence while there are 750,00-1 million mature american gators . do the math.

🐍bellowbellowmygoodfellow Follow

i could have just hatched you don't know me.

20,570 notes

🍀gatortears Follow

a group of queer gators in church call that a congregaytion

#reblogging this one bc none of you appreciate me

1 notes

👞makemeintoshoesdaddy Follow

I'm seeing the no notes gator/croc post circulate again and ha ha yes it's very funny, but we are NOT starting gator/croc discourse in 2024. lets leave that shit in the past. i know that's not what the post really ended up being about but i am soooooo sick of it.

🌾clawstothewalls Follow

okay, so the one with a fetish for getting turned into handbags is gonna talk down to us now.

👞 makemeintoshoesdaddy Follow

Not to be a pedant but its Shoes Actually. It even says so in the name. Shoes.

2,663 notes

[holylulusworld]

I’m your daddy now (3) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader (plussized)

Characters: Ari Levinson

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, groping, daddy Lloyd (not the kinky kind of daddy), some fluff

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It’s the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine. It will lead toward Ari’s story. We will see their relationship throughout all other stories. 

Catch up here: TOL - I’m your daddy now (2)

Ari exhales sharply. He’s not amused by Lloyd’s behavior.

The mustache-wearing bastard is shamelessly groping your ass while purring dirty nothings in your ear. “Plump. Sweet. Begging for cream.”

“Lloyd!” You swat his hand away and straighten your skirt blouse. “We have company. You can’t do such a thing while people are around.” You pucker your lips before striding toward the door. “Remember, we have a business to do.”

Lloyd licks his lips. He watches you walk out of the room, groaning loudly. “A hell of a woman I got myself.”

“Congrats,” Ari rolls his eyes. He knows about Lloyd’s endless stream of women roaming his bedroom. “For how long?”

“I’m gonna marry that chubby bug,” Lloyd grins before he tugs at his pants. He’s got a raging hard-on thanks to the woman ruling his mind and office. – You. It’s even worse since he got a taste of you and your perfect cunt. “She’s perfection.” Lloyd grins as he sniffs at his fingers. “She’s got a cute little shit too. Gotta be a daddy for the poor boy. His old man is a deadbeat.”

“Perfection,” Ari doubts that Lloyd will keep his word and marry you, but he says nothing. He came here for a reason, not to fight with Lloyd. “You should be careful if children are involved.

“I told you,” Lloyd grits his teeth, “I’m going to be a daddy for the little shit. I consider renaming him. Lloyd Jr. would be so cute, don’t you think?” He nods to himself. “I only need to convince my sunshine.”

“Lloyd, I came here for a second time because you want to discuss the details of my request later. I assume you had your hands full with your assistant,” Ari crosses his arms over his wide chest. He quirks a brow and waits for Lloyd to grovel.

“What can I do for you, my sexy friend?” Lloyd chuckles. He just loves to toy with people. Even more, since he found you. “I thought everything got discussed last time. My sunshine and I will join one of the dance classes and check your girl out. Maybe she needs a little money for her studio.”

“Lloyd, this is different from the other girls I paid. I want her to be mine,” Ari hesitates to talk about his feelings to a man offering women to wealthy men. He doesn’t believe Lloyd understands the concept of love.

“Love sweet love,” Lloyd smiles dopily. “I’m telling you, spring let me lose my mind. If only she wasn’t wearing those tight pants when I met her. I wouldn’t be so into that slutty little cupcake I call my own.”

“You are disgusting,” Ari sneers at Lloyd’s behavior. “I’m talking about love, not your libido. You’re lucky if your assistant doesn’t cut your balls off in your sleep.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” you say while walking back inside the office. “I got coffee for you, Mr. Levinson, and a disgustingly sweet coffee monstrosity for you, boss.”

Lloyd dips his head to glance at Ari. “I love it when she calls me boss. Gets me rock-hard every time. You wouldn’t believe how much I’m struggling to not have my way with her right now.”

You place the coffee on the small coffee table. “Lloyd!” You tut and glare at him when he tries to grope your ass. “Christ, you’re unbelievable. We have a client here. He wants our help.”

“All work and no fun,” Lloyd glumly replies. He pouts while staring at your tits. You decided on a light summer dress with a high neckline to avoid catching Lloyd’s attention. No such luck. “I wonder if I can make you forget about business.”

“Boss, do your job,” you point your index finger at him. “I already got a child to take care of. I don’t need a second one.”

“I like that one,” Ari throws in. He slowly sips his coffee while watching you and Lloyd interact. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

You nod and turn to leave Lloyd and Ari to their business. You’re still not used to the kind of business you’re involved in since you accepted the job offer. Lloyd takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass.

“Lloyd!” You huff and stomp away. It’s not worth it to get mad at him. He’ll only get horny the more you yell at him. Lloyd is a kinky bastard after all. “I should cut his balls off one day. But not his cock. It’s the best part of him.”

“You forgot my mustache,” Lloyd calls after you. “You know you love it, sunshine.” He turns toward Ari. “She loves it.”

“So…” You watch Lloyd rummage around his office. He curses under his breath as he goes on his hands and knees to look for something under the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I dropped something important,” he stretches his arm to reach something under the couch. You step closer to get a better look at his ass. It’s now or never. Payback for all the groping.

Smirking you grab his ass with both hands, groping him roughly through his slacks. You have to admit, he’s got a nice ass.

“Sunshine,” he purrs. “We don’t have time to get down and dirty. I need you to help me with something.”

“I swear,” you slap his ass, “if you get your dick out again and call it a surprise, I’ll follow Ari’s suggestion and cut it off.”

Lloyd huffs as he slowly gets back up. He hastily stuffs something in his pocket before looking you up and down. “He said balls, not my dick,” Lloyd smirks when you take a step back. “I see you can’t keep your hands off my perfect ass, huh? Do you want to feel me up some more?”

“We wanted to talk about your client. You remember your client, Ari Levinson, right? You mentioned a dance class and today he talked about it again. What is your plan now?”

“We’ll attend his chosen girl’s dance class and will find out more about her. That woman tries to make my job harder. She’s not on social media and pays cash,” Lloyd pouts. “I thought this would be an easy job, but no, Ari doesn’t want me to threaten her business. It would’ve been so much easier if he just played the knight in shiny armor after manipulating her business.”

“You’re so romantic.”

“When did you have the time to buy a book?”

“Romance is for losers, Y/N. I believe in horniness and my pussy-detector,” Lloyd points at his crotch. “If little Lloyd likes you, it’s true love.” He grins, proud of himself. “Come on, let’s get home. The little shit is waiting for his daddy to read him one of the new books I bought.”

“It’s called online shopping,” he huffs. “I don’t have the time to waste my time in a dusty bookstore.”

You quirk a brow. After you let him do unspeakable things to you for the first time, Lloyd is unstoppable. He wanted you and your son to move in with him. Lloyd even hired an interior designer to turn two of his guestrooms into a bedroom and a playroom for your son.

If only you could believe him that he wants to be more than the guy stuffing your pussy.

“Fine,” you sigh, too tired to argue. “The babysitter wants to go home too. Let’s go. We still need to talk about Mr. Levinson and your plan.”

He wraps one arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. “Does going home include a little action for the tiger in my pants?”

“I thought it was a python?”

“Who cares?” He groans. “There’s a whole jungle in my pants and it all belongs to you, sunshine…”

“…and then the little ant kicked the evil toad’s ass,” Lloyd closes the book, a big smirk on his face. “Son, how did you like the book?”

“Cool,” your son gasps. He’s still mesmerized by all the voices Lloyd imitated while reading the book he found online to your son. “I like the ant the most.”

“Tomorrow, we will read about his next adventure. I bet he’ll kick more ass.” Lloyd runs his hand over your son’s head, gently patting the little boy. “…can’t believe that deadbeat left a cute little shit like you.”

“Lloyd!” You tut. “You promised to stop calling my son little shit!”

“Our son,” he corrects. “How about you wait in our bedroom for me and the python fighting my pants? I got something to discuss with Lloyd Jr.”

You kiss your son’s forehead and wish him a good night. He refuses to sleep in your bedroom since he has his own room at Lloyd’s house. “We won’t rename my son. This is my last word.”

“If only…” Lloyd grins. “Now…go to bed mommy. We men need to talk about something…”

You reluctantly leave the room, looking over your shoulder before you reach the door. “No swear words, Lloyd.”

“I wouldn’t dream of swearing next to our baby boy.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I love you too, sugar cake,” he grins. “I’ll be right with you.”

The moment you are out of the room Lloyd gets something out of his pocket. He shows it to your son, smirking.

“What do you say, little shit? Will she like the ring?”

Tags in reblog.

[merakiui]

RAHHH WAIT WHILE WE R ON THE TOPICS OF PERIOD SEX. CAN WE TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT WHICH GENSHIN GUYS WOULD EAT OUT/FUCK DURING A PERIOD?

AAAAAAA OMG YES........ under the cut because I rambled a lot. ;;;;

The most obvious one who would do it in a heartbeat is Childe. He loves the sight and smell of blood, and the fact that it's coming from between your legs is even better. He'll have you crying out while he spends so much time between your legs, all too eager to taste you and listen to you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. He'll fuck you while you're on your period as well. He loves the way your blood stains his dick when he's thrusting in and out. Playfully cooing at you when you beg him to ease up because it's too much: "Aww, can't handle it? That's too bad... down here seems just fine. You're taking it like it's nothing." <3

This is my own personal bias seeping through, but I wholeheartedly believe Scaramouche/Wanderer would adore period sex. I think Scara enjoys fucking you while you're on your period, whereas Wanderer enjoys eating you out just a bit more. There's this whole power/control thing Scara wants to have over you, so he's probably not getting on his knees for you anytime soon. But he will fuck you for as long as he wants, teasing you the entire time. Having your blood on him is all too exciting. As for Wanderer, he'll pretend like it's a tall order, playfully scoffing at you and saying something like, "What would you do without me? You'd be helpless, wouldn't you?" But if you even suggest that someone else do this for you, he's quickly putting that smart mouth of his to work. Try saying that again through all of your moans. :)

ALBEDO OMG........ it's all for "scientific research" because he's curious and would like to know how the human body operates in more detail. Really, this is his own nerdy cover. He just wants to taste you and feel you, blood and all. orz of course he probably collects samples because there's this clinical side to him that wants to know you down to the alchemical level. ;;;;; he spends way too much time stuffing his fingers inside you and stretching you open, curiously observing the blood that coats his digits and making note of all of your reactions.

Razor....... this one is also obvious. He smells blood and assumes you're hurt, so his first instinct is to either patch you up or lick it better. The latter comes into use when he pins you down and spreads your legs to get a closer look at your pussy. Razor's a bit inexperienced and sloppy, roughly gripping onto your thighs, but he means well. He has to keep his mate safe and content, after all!

Xiao........ XIAO!!!!!!!! He's so determined to protect you. He's very accustomed with the scent of blood, so it doesn't take long for him to smell it on your person. Xiao's a little stern when he tells you to stop moving so he can check you for injuries, but he's sincere. Why do you seem so casual? Aren't you hurt????? He cannot fathom the concept of a period because he's never known about such a thing. He's about as virgin as they come. ^^;;;; but he'll do anything to ensure you're happy, forever and always, and so even though he may not know what he's doing at first he'll eventually fall into the rhythm. Karmic debt is cold and cruel, but pussy is warm and soft. <3

I feel like Kazuha would be into it........ he's so sweet about it, too. T^T maybe you're embarrassed to have leaked on the sheets while sleeping beside him, but he assures you it's fine. Things happen. Besides, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's normal. He'll make you feel so much better about it, and soon you're falling apart on his fingers or mouth. He praises you all throughout it.

Gorou!!!!! This is also a Razor situation. He probably prefers eating you out more than he does fucking you, but the latter is also quite good. He's really such a sweetheart and he gets pussy-drunk SO FAST. OTL even more so when you're on your period.......

Itto!!! >:D truthfully, what won't Itto do? He'll do just about anything for his pal, best bud, partner, lover (you're all of these things to him hehe). He adores you omg. You only need to tell him that it hurts and he's ready to provide, whether that be by eating you out until your cramps are soothed or by fucking into you (he'll be slow and gentle; he promises!). Anything for you. <3

This may be unexpected (or not) but Ayato. I think he just likes the idea of staining those pristine clothes of his in your red. Or ruining white sheets...... there's something very thrilling about it. Also, you're just so sensitive whenever you're on your period and your libido has you begging him for even more.

Definitely Tighnari. He could just mix up something to help soothe your cramps, but why would he do that when he could indulge instead? Besides, this method works very well and you seem to enjoy it just as much as he does. Why would he ever trade that?

Cyno......... I can't explain it, but I feel like he would enjoy period sex... there's something so addictive about sinking into your wet warmth and getting blood on his cock while you dig your nails into his shoulders and rake his back bloody. >:D

Baizhu. Something something doctor's orders!!! Prescription to soothe cramps is not a calming herbal tea but the doctor working you open on his fingers or fucking into you sweetly and slowly!!!!!

Omg,,, speaking of doctors, how could I forget the man himself!!!! Dottore is a creature. He loves period sex. Perhaps some of his clones love it more than others. It's easy to tell depending on who's fucking you or eating you out. He has this deranged sort of smile as he watches you come undone.

PANTALONE.......... I just know he loves getting your blood all over his face and fingers and on his clothes. He's a big fan of simply cockwarming you while you're on your period and only getting you to orgasm by clitoral stimulation. AAAAAAA OTL

Wriothesley can and will spend his entire afternoon between your legs. He doesn't mind the mess. It doesn't bother him. Rather, he's busying himself working you towards your nth orgasm for the day. If you come to Wrio with a problem, you better be ready for him to solve it. He'll make sure you won't be feeling any cramps for the rest of the day after he's done with you.

Another personal bias, but I like to imagine Lyney also enjoys period sex. Maybe even Freminet, but he's too shy to ask you if you'd be okay with it...... >_< AAAA but Lyney!!!!! He reminds me of this audio. T_T Lyney sniffing out your period........ you seem to have cramps and that's no good. Allow him to ease them and this time there's no magic required hehe.

Another bias, but my beloved Gaming!!!!!! I think period sex with him is always a sweet activity. He's so gentle and caring,,,, so focused on making sure you feel good and that you'll have enough orgasms to get rid of the cramps. And of course he has plenty of snacks on standby for when you want to snack during breaks. Leave it all to him! You won't have to lift a finger. Just lie back against the cushions and let him make you feel good.

OH OH!!!! Capitano.......... I've seen some portray him with a long monster tongue and methinks that is very delicious and so true!!!!! Capitano using that long tongue of his to eat you out, and it can reach places that your fingers just can't and and and AAAAAAAA!!!!!

[daenystheedreamer]

Valyrian Pantheon Headcanons

We know the names of 5 of the Valyrian gods and that's it. We don't know anything about the practices or even what those gods were patrons of. Here is my headcanon reconstruction of the pantheon ^_^

I think the Fourteen Flames (the volcanoes) are named for fourteen gods who constitute the main pantheon, similar to the 12 Greek Olympians or the 12 Roman Dei Consentes. There are many minor gods, usually personifications of concepts like seasons/emotions.

I imagine them like Egyptian gods, who are personified sometimes as humans, sometimes as animals, sometimes as animal-headed humanoids. I imagine the main fourteen as dragons, though idk how silly that would look lol.

I think they were also androgynous gods. Why? That's fun. That's so fun. Dragons are theorised to be hermaphroditic/intersex who can change their sex at will, but also are referred to as she-dragons if they are confirmed to lay clutches of eggs. So some of these gods are gods, and some are goddesses, despite being a-gender

Canonical Gods

BALERION: I believe Balerion's name is at least a little inspired by Ba'al, an ancient Semitic god who was very important to the religions of the region (Canaan, Babylon, etc) and features as a false god in the Hebrew bible. I think he's the King of the gods, like Zeus. God of war or fire or conquest or all of the above. Many ancient gods shifted their patronage and powers.

VHAGAR: Consort of Balerion, similar to Hera. Goddess of war/wisdom, similar to Athena. I think this fits a person like Visenya.

MERAXES: Perhaps a concubine of Balerion? Like how Zeus had thousands of lovers. Metis, Leto, Demeter, etcetera. Goddess of love, because Rhaenys seems like a woman who enjoyed love and life. Perhaps also a goddess of marriage?

SYRAX: It's gotta be someone Rhaenyra would think is cool. Perhaps a goddess of the sun/moon? Another war goddess? A queen? Actually, perhaps Syrax is the Hera of the pantheon, while Vhagar is not necessarily virginal like Athena but 'unmarried' so to speak. Goddess of beauty/wealth would also fit Rhaenyra. Goddess of the sun or moon would be fun in opposition to Sunfyre.

BOASH: called 'The Blind God' Mentioned as the god the Lorathi worship, whose religious followers (dissidents of the Valyrian Freehold) founded the city of Lorath. The name doesn't follow the typical Valyrian naming traditions, perhaps he was originally Boax/Boaxes? Would be fun. He's a very esoteric god connected to 'higher truths', the priests are eunuchs and the followers are vegetarian teetotalers and a main tenant is that everyone is equal. They also wear hair shirts which is an old Christian practice. I think he's a version of a Valyrian death god

the BLACK GOAT: Whose followers founded Qohor. I think he's a minor god, perhaps of magic or agriculture even, agricultural deities tend to be very important to common folk. However the goat imagery evokes Satan and Baphomet, so I think a villainous or death deity would be fun.

Non-canonical gods

A lot of the Targ dragons are given names with similar naming style to the canonical god dragons.

VERMITHOR & VERMAX: The naming conventions of Vermax and Vermithor intrigue me... I think one is the name of the God and one is a theophoric name in reference to the god. Perhaps a god of justice, law, order, etc, since they were the dragons of Jaehaerys and Jacaerys and I can see them picking that kind of God.

ARRAX: Lucerys names his dragon this, so I think a coming-of-age god or god of youths would be fun since he, yknow, got eated at 14.

CARAXES: This is Daemon's dragon so I'm saying Caraxes is the Dionysus/Hermes trickster god. Daemon picking the bacchanalian drunk sex god for his dragon is real to me.

MELEYS: Rhaenys TQWNW's dragon. Rhaenys gives off SUCH demeter vibes idk so agricultural god would be fun but idk i don't think she'd pick something like that. Perhaps its based off of Meraxes since Rhaenys is her namesake. Perhaps an oceanic or weather-based god.

MORGHUL: Morghul is simply the word for death in High Valyrian e.g. 'Valar Morghulis', but I like it as a euphemistic name for a God of death. Like his name is so tabboo that you just refer to him as death, or he's just named death in relation to afterlife, like how Hades refers to both the god and the underworld. I think perhaps Boash and the Black Goat are actually interpretations/aspects of the same deity, perhaps a death - morghul - god.

SHRYKOS: Sick name sorry just had to say that. He's Jaehaerys (son of Helaegon)'s dragon. got no clue what he could be a god of cos jaehaerys is a plot device character. I think he's just a cool Valyrian word, like Morghul, since Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are twins. Be fun if they picked life/death dichotomy for their dragons :p

TERRAX: ridden by the pre-doom character Jaenara Belaerys, who flew further south in Sothoryos than anyone else. God(dess) of travel/wisdom/conquest/oceans would be fun since she's a traveller who flew across oceans and sort of exemplifies the Valyrian conquest/adventurer spirit.

TESSARION: Okay the blue queen has to be a goddess of the ocean or the sky<3

TYRAXES: Joffrey's dragon :) I think a god of animals would be cute also cos he sounds like T-rex. I would name my dragon T-rex. Possibly a bastardisation of Terrax though...

URRAX: This is the name of a legendary/fairytale dragon from the story of Serwyn and Daeryssa from the Age of Heroes. By Daeryssa's naming convention and the fact she is mentioned only in AGOT, I think she was perhaps supposed to be a Targaryen before GRRM had established a full history. I think he's just a bastardisation of perhaps a Valyrian god like Arrax.

So my vision of the Valyrian pantheon includes Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Syrax, Vermithor, Arrax, Caraxes, Terrax, Tessarion, which is 9 gods

plus Meleys and Tyraxes who I'm not sure if I want to be referring to above gods or just the name of a god entirely, which makes 11

Adding a death god (Boash, Black Goat, Moghul) makes 12,

which leaves another two unnamed for my personal idea of a Valyrian pantheon :)

[farfromstrange]

Carpe Noctem [Chapter One]

ONE: “All these spindly roots”

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Nun!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Religious imagery & symbolism, mentions of rehab, crisis of faith, mentions of blood, the typical "animal attacks" aka vampire attacks, mentions of childhood trauma, stalker vibes at the end, Dead Dove Do Not Eat (the entire series)

Chapter Summary: You return to Clinton Church for the first time since Father Lantom saved your life, but what you first believed as an opportunity to start over reveals itself as a mountain of secrecy you have yet to uncover. Needless to say, your first week as a sister at Saint Agnes leaves you with more questions than answers, and an impending sense of darkness coming to get you.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/n: I finally got this done! I started with 3k words and it doubled in size. But I suppose it is enough to set the scene a little. We will certainly be diving deeper in a short while...

Read Me On AO3!

Sunlight streams through the colorful mosaic of stained glass. Red fades into magenta and violet, and blue fades into yellow. Innocence is a fleeting concept in this modern-day garden of Eden, and salvation remains merely a whispered promise. 

Centuries rest on the shoulders of those hallowed walls; the knees of countless worshippers have left indentations on the wooden benches, too many to count, even, but a tragic beauty remains in the art of architecture that stands tall amidst worn-down brownstones in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Catholics believe in the Devil. He preys on the innocent and makes them eat their souls like Eve bit the apple. He corrupts them, slowly, passionately, and intimately until they have nothing left. Then, and only then, does he take them by the hand, and he drags their lifeless bodies down to the fiery pits of hell. 

You once danced with him. You met him, and you were charmed by him. You shared a bed with him. You loved him. But then the snake whispered about the forbidden fruit, and you had to taste it. You were already broken when he found you. You were shattered glass on white marble floors, bleeding wine into the cracks. The serpent didn’t have to try—you fell hard and fast for his blatant corruption. A silver tongue whispering the sweet promise of salvation to a broken soul, but you never saw the end of it.

Three years you spent surrounded by brick walls and sycamore trees. It was ironic, really. You, the least catholic person to have ever breathed, confined to the walls of a nunnery. For three years, you prayed your knees bloody, yet three years later, it still feels like you learned nothing at all. 

You professed your first vows shortly after you returned to New York. It is a vivid memory. You thought you would never see the city again, not after everything the cold and dark streets put you through, but it was the only place willing to give you something to live for. To survive for.

The cold of the marble stairs before the altar will forever remain etched into your skin. Candlelight reflected in your eyes. When you lifted your gaze, you remember, you met the hollow eyes of Mary as she looked down on you. Like her inanimate features were suddenly overcome by a wave of shame for you. Her hands were clasped in prayer, as most of her statues are. A figure from thousands of retellings forever cast in stone. She was given no choice, but neither were you.

The church was alight with the wonders of early spring the day you took your first vows. Yet, when you met the dead eyes of the Virgin Mary, a shadow cast over her pale features like a widow’s dark veil. The sun disappeared behind a set of clouds with the promise of rain, and the kaleidoscope of colors from the stained glass faded into gray. The walls around you resembled more of an asylum, the priest before you reciting a Bible verse you still fail to remember even to this day. You weren’t listening. A voice was calling for you, and the darkness threatened to possess you with its magic.

The longer you stared at the statue, the more the stories set into the church’s window started to come to life. A window to the soul of Christianity: Mary and Jesus, and the apostles, and Judas betraying Jesus; God’s son dying on the cross for all of our sins before rising and ascending to heaven. Judas was greedy, or so they say. He gave up his friend for money, and in return, they both suffered. 

The serpent that tempted Eve crawled out of the glass and toward you, the original sinner. Every story played like a bad movie before your eyes, coming at you inhumanly fast. The voice in the back of your mind kept getting louder, and louder and louder as it called your name. 

Your sins hung above your head like a guillotine, the very fruits of your labor you had to bear far too young. A daughter, not a son. An inconvenience to those who bore you. You were forsaken from the start, you were told, and the day you took your first vows to become a child of God after being no one’s daughter for most of your life, the walls of the church seemed to know that even after hours of confessing all of your sins to the priest, no Hail Mary could ever take them away. They would always be there until the day you die. You could have done penance until your knees were bloody—you would always be a sinner in the eyes of the church. 

You had the Devil inside you, they said. Because you let him inside. And he did not hesitate to steal your virtue from the source, forever tainting the well of your innocence. 

“In the presence of God, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and all the saints, I humbly offer myself to His service,” you recited on those marble steps, but the shadow only continued to grow around you, wrapping its black wings around you. The fallen angel. Was it you or the Devil? 

The people around you disappeared. You weren’t taking your vows that day; you were standing trial in front of God and all his disciples who came before you. You were taking a stand, and only the jury could decide if you were worthy of your title. 

“I vow to embrace the holy virtues of chastity, poverty, and obedience, following in the footsteps of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teachings of the Holy Scriptures,” you said. “I promise to submit myself to the will of God and commit to live out these vows faithfully all the days of my life. Always.”

Amen.

You lay your broken soul bare, cuffing yourself to the congregation with unbreakable steel and throwing away the key. And there remained the voice, calling for you from the threshold to the darkness.

You thought you could ignore it. Until you returned to Hell’s Kitchen. 

Until him.

Your heels drag over the stone floors of the seemingly endless hallway stretching through Clinton Church. The walls look different when you’re not running. When you can breathe without yearning for means of self-destruction that set fire to your lungs. 

When you asked Father Lantom if you could come back to Clinton Church, he didn’t hesitate. You were unsure what it would be like. The last time you were here, the circumstances that led you into the arms of the empathetic priest were anything but conventional. The memories you have since tied to this place are a conflict between reaching your breaking point and begging for someone, anyone, to help you, and the overwhelming guilt that came with committing the worst of crimes, and a cardinal sin.

You were not a woman of God. You doubt you were a human being at all. If anything, you were a puppet. 

Father Lantom said three years ago, “When you feel ready to take your first vows, come back. I will always have a room waiting for you.” And come back, you did—for he was the one who held your hand when you were falling into an abyss headed for certain death. When you were covered in blood and feared you would burn in hell, the past came back to haunt you with pitchforks and execute you at the stake for the entire town to see. He was there, and in that moment you knew you could not disappoint him. It was then you first started believing in the idea of God.

You gaze down at your habit. The tunic, the cincture, and the veil. You have never been more dressed up, yet you have never felt more naked in the eyes of another man. The fear of judgment for choosing a path you once thought you would only pick over your dead body is rooted so deeply within you that it nails you to an invisible cross. 

“Three years,” the priest breaks the silence. You look over at him, walking beside you as he leads you around the hidden corners you’re not yet familiar with. 

You nod. “Three years,” you repeat. “Doesn’t feel like that long ago.”

Sensing your conflict and the underlying insecurity that renders you speechless a lot of the time, Father Lantom clears his throat. “You look…better,” he says.

“Thank you, Father. My time at St. Anne’s was very… self-reflective. I learned a lot.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.”

Your wide eyes snap back up at him. Oh. 

Pride is not the word you would have used. Proud of you, he said. He sent you away to cleanse your soul, and most days you are not sure if it even worked, but he is proud of you. The man who only knows the worst version of you looked at you and saw good instead of evil. It is a concept that had once been so foreign to you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“For what?” he asks.

“This. Everything.” You shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted me here, so hearing you say that…it means a lot to me.”

“I promised you would always have a room here if you chose to come back.”

There is so much sincerity in his voice. In his eyes. You swallow thickly, feeling the tears burn behind your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him, but the words die miserably on your tongue. Instead, you nod. You just hope your eyes manage to convey what you want to say.

The priest leads you to a door that connects the church with the grounds of the orphanage next door. “You will be living with the other sisters at Saint Agnes,” he tells you. The change of subject is welcome. “After we had to close our convent because Tony Stark could not be bothered to fund our restoration, all postulants who have since wanted to join our order were sent to study at St. Anne’s. Like you. But most of them stayed there,” his tone changes slightly into hurting. “They offer a lot more than we can. Donations can only get us so far, and we barely get those anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” you cut in. 

He sighs, waving your concern off with the flick of his wrist. “We make due, and now that you’re here… well, the sisters are going to appreciate the extra help.” Father Lantom puts on another smile like you would put on your veil. “We don’t have any separate living quarters, unfortunately,” he states, “so your room is a floor above the children’s dormitories. Sister Grace offered to show you around.”

“Sister Grace?”

“She’s the one in charge.”

Your eyes flick back to the walls you’re passing. Intricate details are carved into the stone even here, far away from the chapel. These hand-made masterpieces breathe a certain eeriness into the church. Not just life but a certain wave of mystique because even the stories from the bible are left open for interpretation, especially when they are turned into art. 

A sense of doom falls over you like a dark cloud. “Does she know?” you ask. 

Father Lantom raises his eyebrows. He studies your features. Your chin tipped toward the ceiling, observing. He notices the gentle shift in your breathing pattern as your heartbeat speeds up, and when you meet his eyes again after an agonizing bout of silence, he smiles at you once again. 

“Sister Grace?” he inquires. You nod. “Well,” he says, “She does know. She’s the abbess. I had to let her in when I told her you were coming here, but I assure you, she swore to the utmost discretion.”

You breathe out. The weight rests heavily on your chest. “And everyone else?” You turn back to him. 

The Father shakes his head. His eyes are so gentle. “It’s not my story to tell,” he says. “If there’s one thing I learned after years of talking to people—taking their confessions, listening to their fears, their anger, and their pain—it’s that we all suffer. We all have things we’d rather not talk about.”

The words penetrate your heart like a sharp dagger. 

“And as humans, we tend to often see our burdens as sins, even if those apparent sins hurt us, or we had to commit them to protect ourselves from getting hurt. And sometimes, hurt people do stupid things. Objectively stupid, that is. It doesn’t mean we are going to hell for doing what it takes to survive. People suffer, and most of the time, that suffering doesn’t stop. That’s the truth,” he says. “Now, a lot of these people come to confession because they think it will give them a clear conscience, which it does, momentarily. They believe that God will make the pain go away with the snap of his omniscient fingers. A few Hail Marys, a few extra hours at Sunday mass, and your burdens will be dealt with. That is not the truth. Confession is not therapy because penance does not heal decades of trauma. If that were how it works, we would collapse from overcrowding.”

Father Lantom breaks off with a chuckle, but you can’t find amusement in his wisest insight. It’s real, too real. You can’t even muster a pity smile. 

“Why do we do it then?” you ask. 

“Do you want the Catholic answer or my personal opinion?”

“If those don’t intersect, I’ll choose the latter. Please.”

He takes a moment. “Well, confession works as a tool,” he explains then. “God knows the difference between an actual sin and human nature. Sometimes, these two are the same, but a lot of the time, there is a big difference, and He knows that. Confession helps regain balance where you’re standing with your faith. That’s why we do it. Because faith… faith can be a strong motivator. That’s why a lot of us—sisters, priests, and… and monks—are here now. Because we found a passion and a purpose in devoting ourselves to God. It’s not for everyone, of course, but it is a clean slate if you want it to be. Whether you tell the other sisters about why you chose this path, is up to you. Not me. Because that trauma is yours, and yours alone.”

The silence stretches between you, long, longer, as the church holds its breath. You absorb every word and every breath of his like a sponge. You swallow them. A bitter pill, that’s what it is. It goes down like hard liquor. 

You walk a few more steps in that silence with his eyes on you and the world on fire within. “Father,” you whisper. The sound is not more than that. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. And this time, you smile at him.

Behind the door that leads to the orphanage, another hallway awaits. The walls smell faintly of moss—nature but a bit rotten. A woman in a similar habit makes her way toward the two of you from the end of the hall. She carries herself with a quiet air of authority. You can’t look through her. 

Father Lantom may have vouched for Sister Grace and her discretion, but her judgment is not his to determine. She is her own woman, with thoughts only she can determine. You’re not sure if you are ready for that, either. 

He greets her with a smile. “Sister Grace,” he says.

“Father. Good morning,” at him, she smiles. 

He nudges you forward. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

Her gaze shifts to you then. “The uniform is unmistakable.” She nods. “Welcome, Sister.”

It’s a start, a small step towards finding your place within these hallowed walls. 

“Thank you, Sister,” you reply. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“Likewise. Though it’s been a while since we had someone new here. So young, too.”

“I know. Father Lantom mentioned. I’ll try my hardest not to disappoint you.”

She nods. “Let’s get you settled into your room first before we worry about that. I believe Father Lantom has mass to prepare.”

Father Lantom gives you a reassuring nod. “I’ll leave you in Sister Grace’s capable hands. And remember, you are not alone. If you need help with anything, don’t hesitate to come and find me.” With that, he turns and makes his way back through the door you came from, leaving you with your fellow sister and a lump in your throat.

She leads you down the corridor. “This way,” she says. “Your room is above the children’s dormitories. Second floor. You’ll find it quiet enough for reflection but close enough to be of help when needed.”

Her tone suggests that you will be plenty busy, no matter where your room is in the building. More work means less time to think, and less time with your thoughts sounds like a blessing.

As you follow her, the faint sounds of children playing filter through the walls. It’s a comforting contrast to the silence you’ve grown accustomed to. 

Sister Grace opens a door to a narrow staircase, and you both begin to climb. “The other sisters will be eager to meet you,” she says over her shoulder.

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “I am, too,” you answer.

At the top of the stairs, she leads you down another hallway, then finally stops at a simple wooden door. “This one...will be your room.” She pushes it open to reveal the small space behind, connected to a window with a clear view of the adjacent cemetery. “I admit, it is a little scarce,” Sister Grace says, “but you are more than welcome to add a few personal touches; pictures, curtains, maybe even a plant or two. Don’t worry, Father Lantom encourages it.”

The wooden floorboards creak beneath your weight as you step inside. You look around. A single bed, neatly made with crisp white linens and a worse-for-wear mattress occupies one corner of the room, a crucifix nailed above the headrest, and casting a faint shadow on the aged plaster walls. On the other side, a desk and a wardrobe offer some storage space that leads to a second door—the bathroom. It is scarce, but you came here with nothing but a cardboard box filled with your hopes and dreams and books and diaries; people have built homes from less. 

“Our shared kitchen is downstairs. Feel free to store your food in the fridge, but don’t forget to label the containers if you don’t wish to share.” Sister Grace pauses, chuckling softly as her hazel eyes meet yours. “You wouldn’t believe it, but even nuns can be picky eaters, and very territorial about snacks.”

You smile, but your attempt at kindness falls into artificiality. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense. We look after each other around here.”

There has to be more to it, surely. Innocent may be a construct, but most of the sisters in the community were born into their faith. They started studying from a young age, always destined to dedicate themselves to the cause. You were far from religious before destiny found you dying in the flames of your old life. Whether destiny or a curse befell you that night remains open for interpretation. You have seen it both ways. An opportunity arose. You received a second chance from a very nice man, but the price to pay was your soul sacrificed to a God you once thought you would never believe in. 

Do you have faith or do you not? It is a loaded question. You think you do. You want to know you do too, but you are never fully certain. In the eyes of God, you are a loyal soldier who studied the scriptures and did her due diligence praying for penance, but when you look in the mirror, all you see is Judas. 

A heavy breath ripples through you. “You didn’t have to let me in,” you whisper. “Father Lantom didn’t have to offer me refuge, but he did. And you’re not judging me even though you have all right to… I just don’t understand.”

Her answer is a shrug. “When you were desperate,” says the sister, “God led you to us, and you found refuge at the church like so many before you. I don’t believe that was a coincidence.”

You were covered in blood when you came—your hands stained with the essence of another man’s life, clothes torn beyond recognition. You can still feel his hands on you, wandering, lurking… The crimson had seeped into the fine lines of your palms. It took you days to get rid of it, and weeks more to scrub the last remains from under your fingernails down the drain. 

You grapple with their decision. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure. At St. Anne’s, they treated me like an outsider. Because I didn’t grow up Catholic, and—”

“And you found your faith in rehab?” Sister Grace smiles knowingly. “Trust me, it happens so often that it no longer comes as a surprise.”

“But there is still judgment. There will always be judgment,” you insist.

She takes your words into account, nodding. They digest for a brief moment until she breaks into a soft chuckle—a mere breath from her full-moon lips. 

“A small piece of advice, if I may?” she asks. You hum. “If you spend all your time here questioning whether God has forgiven you for your sins, your lack of faith in the Lord, as tiny as it may be, will always stand between you and taking your final vow. And if you keep worrying about the judgment of anyone other than God, you won’t find happiness.”

You vowed to dedicate your life to religious service, and if you don’t close the last period of your study after taking temporary three vows with a solemn declaration to give up even the last of your possessions then the gap between you and God will be too big for you to ever be anything but a simple sister of the congregation. 

But is that what you want? To close that gap and give yourself fully to a higher power? It would be a live sacrifice, you knew that from the start.

You believe in God and the Devil, and you believe in eternal damnation. And you believe that you are damned, too. Doomed, forsaken, and cursed. A scratched record. God’s wrath is not a match for the fear you instill in yourself; your mere existence is maddening. 

You are drowning in a darkness you were born with, and possessed by demons you never learned how to exorcize. Not even studying a newfound faith in God to get on the right path could get rid of the monsters that are not lurking under your bed or in the shadows but in the dark corners of your mind.

The beast inside of you has gone to sleep, but God knows that he is a ticking time bomb, even in a comatose state. The Devil has planted his seed—all these spindly roots growing from your soul to the pit of your stomach, digging their claws into your fragile heart and tearing you to shreds. The protective poison ivy you grew over the years can only last so long without water before it starts to wither. 

You look over your shoulder when the door shuts gently behind Sister Grace as she leaves you be. 

The cardboard box on your desk holds an abundance of scriptures, books, and leather-bound diaries. Your diaries. They told you that writing your feelings on paper would help you heal. If you crave something you know you should and cannot have, you should write it down; you have been for years now, but with every pen wasted and every diary hidden in compartments around your room so no one can find them, the words you write turn into firewood, and your tears are the gasoline. 

Outside, the wind brushes through the trees. It beckons you, its tendrils creeping into your consciousness like creatures of the night reaching for the last flickers of light.

With a heavy heart, you flip open the worn-down leather. Seconds turn into minutes turn into hours turn into days. Knees turn bloody from praying, and the joy of one child’s happiness dies at the hands of another’s trauma. 

Dear Diary, 

Yesterday, the groundskeeper dug another hole in the cemetery. Father Lantom will officiate the funeral on Sunday. Another addition to the bones and rotting corpses hiding under a shield of dirt, but does anyone know what happens after? 

I tried to ask the Father, but he didn’t give me a satisfying answer. He told me what he thought I wanted to hear, but I did not. I can’t help but wonder if he is protecting me or keeping secrets. The latter would be highly unethical, I suppose. 

Other than maintaining a religious belief in heaven or hell or rebirth while we are alive, what does happen to us after we die? Is it definite? Is it infinite or is there something else, something... more? 

Is it the Devil? Is it God? Or is it heaven and hell? 

And why do they keep digging holes in the cemetery? The children keep asking me every day, but I do not know how to answer them. 

Dear Diary, where do we go when it is all over?

The clinking of porcelain and cutlery emerges from the kitchen like a mushroom cloud. As you approach the dining room through a long hallway, the soft soles of your vinyl shoes barely make a sound. The voices inside overlap, but a few rise from the masses, demanding your attention. Like a moth to a flame, you fly toward it. 

“…and they found another one this morning. Washed up on the river banks after the storm last night,” one of the sisters whispers to another. 

“It’s been fifteen this month alone,” another one says.  

“What kind of animal does that?” a third cuts in.

“The kind that isn’t an animal,” says the nun you now recognize as Sister Marjorie, the oldest of the bunch. “It happens every two months for twenty years that bodies wash up on the shore, supposedly mauled by a bear or a baboon in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen, and then the city grows quiet again. I’ve been here for forty-five years, and it still happens like clockwork.”

The one next to her sighs. “Well, maybe it’s the changing climate. Lord knows it has humans and animals going crazy alike.”

“Can’t you see?” Marjorie raises her voice. “These aren’t the actions of an animal. It’s the Devil!” 

It seems as though the mere thought puts the fear of God in them—your fellow sisters, usually so strong and collected, reduced to whispers of the rumor mill as the color fades from their skin. 

Sister Grace clicks her tongue, interrupting them all at once. “That’s enough,” she says, trying to remain calm but there is still a sense of urgency in her voice. It’s not an exclamation but a well-concealed warning. Behind that façade hides a leader you would not want to cross twice. 

Only one of Sister Marjorie’s eyes finds you standing there, eavesdropping like a misbehaving child. The other remains unmoving, caged in by a white scar across her cheek and an iris made of glass. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Animal attacks?” you dare to ask. 

Heads snap toward you. The table falls speechless, compelled into a sudden silence by your presence. The world stops turning. 

“Oh, dear, don’t you worry about that,” Sister Grace, the first to find her voice again, reassures you. She ushers you from the doorway to the table, but the eyes of your fellow sisters suddenly feel like tiny needles all over your skin. “It’s just idle gossip,” she says, shooting the others a glare, “nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

But the silence starts to wrap around your neck like a noose regardless. Curiosity is only appreciated when they can answer it, you have learned. In the eyes of God, lying is a sin, and you spend each day teaching the children to believe the same, but is omitting not essentially the same as lying? 

They’re scared. They don’t want to admit it; no one does. Fear does not fit under the veil of ignorance, so they try concealing it as idle gossip. The rumor mill is always spinning, and it is an outstanding excuse, but you will never forget the look in Marjorie’s eyes when you dared to ask—dared to question. 

A thud from outside causes you to sit upright in your bed later that evening. The springs that are digging into your lower back creak when you move so suddenly. 

Through the window, you can see the cemetery hulled into a fog where cold and warm air meet for the night. You put the children to bed, got them dressed in their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and told the little ones a bedtime story. They like it when you do it. Something about the way you tell them fascinates their little minds, so it has become a ritual in the week you have been here. 

The more it strikes you as odd that there is noise outside. After bedtime, no one is supposed to be out and about, and if a sister has something to do out of schedule, they have to share it with the group. For safeguarding reasons, they told you. 

Against your better judgment, you roll out of bed and into your slippers, wrapping a cardigan around your body. Your nightgown is not the warmest thing to wear on these cold walls unless it is under a thick wool blanket. 

The door creaks when you open it. Father Lantom gave you a flashlight a few nights ago because he asked you to take care of something on the church grounds for him after the sun had set, so you kept it. You weren’t sure if you would still need it. Thankfully, you did.

You follow the noise to the back door one floor below. It leads out into the backyard, and a few more feet east, a fence and a gate separate the many acres of the cemetery from the rest of the church’s grounds. 

The flashlight illuminates the path before you. “If it’s another stupid raccoon, I swear…” you mutter to yourself. It wouldn’t be the first time one of those critters found their way into the trashcans and caused mayhem in the middle of the night. 

Somehow though, it always seems to be you who catches them. The night-owl. The one who is always on guard, always on edge, even when she knows she is safe.

You wander through the backyard, closer to the fence. You tilt your head. There is a small gap in the gate to the cemetery. The fog makes it harder to see. 

“Hello?” you call out into the darkness. Nothing. 

Through the rustling of leaves and the howling of an owl in the woods far beyond Saint Agnes, a small whimper breaks the silence like a hot knife. It is faint, but unmistakable nonetheless. 

You strain your ears. “Oh no,” once again, you curse to yourself. “No, no, no…” 

You follow the sound through the gate and into the cemetery. June Montgomery and her husband share a grave. They died over twenty years ago, but it is still well-maintained by their children and grandchildren. A few steps further though, the infestation of poison ivy begins. 

The graves under the gigantic cherry tree are the most hidden, and the best hiding spots. You had to tell the children many times that the cemetery is not a hiding place, especially not for games, and never alone, even when the gates are open. The general public has access to it during the day, and if they wander too far, they will land on a populated street. It’s dangerous. 

You were so careful. You did everything by the book, and someone still managed to sneak out. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the wet grass soaking your thin slippers until you come upon a small figure huddled behind one of the bewildered gravestones. Sara Mayfield; she died in 1945. Your sigh resembles a cry of relief. 

“Timmy!” you exclaim. “Thank God!”

He’s curled up into a ball behind the headstone. Tears stream down his cheeks in bottomless rivers. Your flashlight blinds him, and his whimpers escalate to sobs. Your heart shatters at the sight. 

“Hey there, it's okay,” you try to soothe him, crouching beside his tiny figure. “It's just me. Hi. What are you doing out here all alone?” You shed your cardigan, wrapping it around his shoulders. “It’s the middle of the night, sweetheart.”

From what you’ve learned about Timmy, his parents died in a freakish car accident about a year ago. He was in the car when his father fell asleep at the wheel and drove the car into a tree. His mother died instantaneously, but his father bled out right in front of him. He has been receiving therapy ever since he came to Saint Agnes, but he is a troubled child. 

Timmy sniffles, accepting the makeshift blanket. He recognizes you, which is a good sign. “I had a nightmare,” he confesses. “I-I wanted to see the stars, but then I heard a crash, and I got scared.”

You wrap your arms around him. “It’s okay to be scared,” you say. “But you shouldn’t wander off by yourself, especially at night. You should have come to me, or Sister Grace.”

“I’m sorry, Sister.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”

His skin is clammy and cold. You don’t know how long he has been out here, but he is also in no state to be questioned. 

“Come on,” you say and lift him into your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.”

Together, you make your way back towards the orphanage. But as you approach the gate, there it is again, that voice. Whispers of nothing in the chilly breeze. The air crackles with a certain, sinister something. A chill runs down your spine, and the back of your skull starts to burn as though someone is watching you. Listening. Lurking. And it is not a raccoon this time.

You set Timmy down on his feet. He whimpers again. “Go to your room. I’ll be right there,” you tell him. 

He looks up at you with his innocent blue eyes. “Promise?” he asks. 

“Yes. Promise.”

The boy lets go of your hand, quickly sneaking back inside. He knows better than to make any more noise. Any other sister would have threatened consequences. But he’s just a traumatized little boy, and the night is dangerous. It’s creepy. Of course, it would only add to childish fear and trauma that has had time to manifest for an entire year.

You turn around when he is safely inside, pointing your flashlight in the direction where you came from. 

You scan the blanket of fog for any sign of movement. And that’s when you see it—a shadowy, obscured figure standing amidst the graves by the woods, behind the cherry tree.

Your breath catches in your throat, the whispers echoing in your mind once more. It could not be your name. It’s something else. Latin, perhaps. What terrifies you most though is that you're not scared; you feel strangely drawn to the figure. 

You hold your breath. The figure tilts its head, and you do the same. Your heartbeat remains eerily steady throughout. You should scream. You should alert everyone that there is something—someone—out there, but they would call you crazy, surely. And maybe you are. No sane person hears voices and sees the darkness as a comforting presence. Not a nun. Not someone who is not supposed to let the Devil win. And what other explanation is there but for the figure to be a phantom of the Devil's making? 

In the blink of an eye, the figure is gone. The hold on your lungs eases, and you gasp for air like a desperate woman.

Instinctively, you turn to the door and usher inside. Timmy is still standing there. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind. “Nothing,” you say, but when you lock the door to make sure no one can get in or out, your hands shake. A single drop of sweat runs down your temple. “Come on.”

Inside, you’re freezing. Like a cold hand touched you and set you on fire, but it had claws that let the ice age into your heart, and now you’re poisoned. 

Taking Timmy back to his room, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that gnaws at your insides like a hungry beast. You tuck him in; you check under his bed for monsters, and you lock the windows. It takes a while for him to settle back into sleep, but when he finally does, you leave his room on your tiptoes and close it. 

The other children are all peacefully asleep, and your fellow sisters seem to not have noticed the commotion you caused on your way in. Every door is locked—you check twice. Still, when you get to your room, your hands tremble once again when you use the key for the fragile lock for the first time. 

Fear is not what compels you. Uneasiness, maybe, but not fear. The venom in your veins stems from something else entirely. You can’t explain it. The feeling is familiar somehow, but so foreign at the same time.

You clutch the rosary from the nightstand over your diary, facing the fog you yearn for so desperately. “Foolish, foolish idiot,” you mutter. 

Dear Diary, 

Did I force myself upon God out of… of guilt? Or was it a sign that He led me to Clinton Church that night? I thought penance would wash away my sins, that by dedicating myself to Him, I could erase the past. You know, like magic. But I was so wrong. Father Lantom… He told me that’s not how it works, and Sister Grace… She’s so sure that will stand in my way, and now I can’t help but wonder… Did I study scripture and Catholic rules for the past three years like a mad woman out of faith or because I was trying to make good for something I did by neutralizing myself?

I’m lost. I don’t know the path to righteousness, and I don’t know how to silence this… this darkness inside me. I can hear it calling my name. Every night… I’m scared that I’m not scared enough. I’m a flawed creature; I’m desperate and tired, but I don’t want to disappoint Him. But how can I? 

How do I serve a God I have been lying to from the start, and how the fuck do I fix this?

You squeeze your eyes shut, the pen cracking under the pressure, and the ink bleeds onto the page, over the letters and your broken heart. Your blue fingers wrap around the rosary again as what you have written disappears under the chemical ocean. 

In the heat of the moment, you tear the page out of its confines, but it has tainted all the ones to come. You ruined it like you ruined yourself. The page had been you once, being bled all over by an ink meant to stain for the rest of your miserable life, but you tried to glue it back in place. You tried not to fall apart like your diary just did at your very hands—as everything you touch rots or turns to ashes eventually.

You ball a fist around the paper, tossing it across the room. It hits the window. You catch your runny reflection in the glass. To think you were just looking to be loved, to be seen and forgiven ever since you were a little girl dreaming of being a princess, but instead, you are falling apart. 

But no, you will not let the Devil win. You pull the curtains closed, and you hide the cemetery where it belongs—with the dead, both in heaven and hell and everything in between. The Devil can’t have you because God already does. 

You have to seize the night before it seizes you. Anything else would be, for the lack of a better word, certain suicide. 

Tag List: @luvebugs @mxxny-lupin @1988-fiend @bluestuesday @ghostheartbeat @cheshirecat484 @faesspace (if you want to be tagged or I forgot to tag you, let me know!)

[kaciidubs]

aaaah yessss, virgin!jeongin was such a nice little adventure in brainrot!

got me thinking about virgin!ot8 — like, the off chance that any one of them was not as experienced as they led stay to believe.

because i am ALWAYS in my seungmin feels, i am locked on to the concept of this teasing, smirking man actually being a complete virgin and his bravado is just a defense mechanism so no one knows 😈

Just answering this now [but it feels so much more fitting]-

I need this but with Chris, Hyunjin, and Minho, and here's why;

Chris, because we've all seen his bubble messages, he's perfect for the man who knows how to say all the right things with that dimpled smile, just to find out those words truly were just things he'd learn to repeat over time, and he hadn't actually experienced the true meaning/feeling behind them yet.

Hyunjin, who is easily seen as the image of Adonis, an undeniable face card and body that compels even the most restrained of people - even his dance moves alone can have you clutching your pearls!! However, those lithe hips and body rolls have only been used on the stage and stage alone, but unlike the eldest, he isn't shy about his lack of experience or the sharp contrast between his reality and his persona.

Minho, always talks big game no matter what, he's not ashamed, and he's not going to hide the fact that sure, maybe he hasn't had action yet, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop being the world's biggest tease - he'll say the filthiest words in your ear with burning red ears, every day of the week.

[yinses]

all and half pt. i

in which your fate intended is the one person you can achieve true pleasure from 

pairing: modern au! alhaitham x fem! reader, minor kaveh wc: 10k+ (i wrote over 70k+ words for genshin alone last year, that's crazy talk) rating: mature 18+

a/n: so we have two people to thank for this. 1. @mystic-sky rescued my sanity with this fic. i always worry about characterization and plot sense. she's actually the culprit who got me into genshin so really it all started with her. and she made me tear up a bit so here we are. 2. you guessed it, @mediocrityexpert who never failed to mention this man at all opportunities with pictures included until i became the simp you see now. this fic is meant to be her wish banner charm! hope this story brings as much joy as his homecoming

you had a plan. 

a simple and easy one-step outline that was meant to be fool-proof for a lifetime.

avoid your fate intended and you wouldn’t have any problems 

the idea of connecting with another living being on a level of complexity assisted by the archons would be thought to be a spiritual venture. except the very gods who wrote the lining principals found more value in physical compatibility rather than soul binding merit.

it was proclaimed, since what is thought to be the beginning of teyvet, that an individual's soul would be tied to another through the carnal utopia found at the peak of an orgasm. scholars liked to believe that it was a forethought with intention to cultivate the proliferation of humanity; but you like some just inhaled a little too much meditation incense.

if you never reached true nirvana then there was nothing for you to compare it to. thus, you could go about enjoying the frivolousness of life and it's untethered freedom. 

there was something to say about 'true love' when your soulmate could only be found at the peak of an orgasm. they say for those who have had sex in the past that nothing is commensurable beyond that. you don’t even have to love the person. the sex is just that good. 

apparently it’s the worst for virgins—never knowing what came before and rarely having the courage to experience anything less. 

the idea of soulmates was a broken concept of love. ruining stable relationships for the desire of an infallible sexual experience. to think fates were willing to reduce passion down to its most carnal physical form and bind people to it. 

it was the forbidden fruit for some. 

or what was left after it fell from the hands of celestia.

you weren’t in a relationship; had nothing to tie you down. but you refused to have your body hijacked by one person who could only rock your world because of erotic devine intervention. 

it didn’t make you easy by any terms, just determined to always have a taste for what else the world had to offer. 

there was good sex out there.

mind blowing, leg numbing sex.

and not everyone needed the most expensive cake in the shop to achieve satisfaction. 

and that had been the testament of your life thus far, until today.

you were there, edging over the line you’d come to know like a second home, when it all just stopped.

the sheets shifted as the figure hovering above used his hold against your headboard to halt the progression of his hips.

“sorry, i just can’t.”

and the dessert began to crumble.

his face pinched in a way that was far from sexy, “it’s not you.”

of all the times. 

“i just thought it was all myth and legend you know. it wasn’t possible for one person to hold the key to your sexual awakening, right?”

and now he was pulling out. no, no, no. you head hit the stale fluff of your pillow with a thump. 

“or maybe it’s just you-.

you found flimsy satisfaction thump in the sound that came from knocking the second pillow into the blonde head of hair.

“okay, okay. not you. it was great before. but now it’s just—“

archons.

groaning into the mattress, you accepted that the mood was beyond repairable, left to simmer in the rustled sheets and sticky wetness connecting your thighs. honestly what was fate thinking ruining a perfectly good thing. 

“you don’t even love them, kaveh.” you grumbled out crassly. maybe it was a little insensitive. but it was true.  

he’d run into them on a whim, no more bound to you than you were him. it had only taken one night and and a short consideration to make a difference it seemed.  kaveh had once he was a pessimist like you; willing to stick a middle finger to fate and find your own asylum without discovering the road paved out for you. 

the two of you shared stories, marking your own sexual discoveries while exploring ones of your own. you could have married him. 

maybe. 

eventually, possibly, after accepting that you had unearthed all you could from your back- and other various positions.

were you selfish to deem it unfair ?

you’d taken a chance. you filtered through all the variables in an attempt to beat the odds. only to have it slapped in your face. and they even took away your orgasm with a last hoorah. 

“it’s fine.”

it wasn’t. 

well, you would move on. he was the best so far but there were plenty of fish in the sea it seemed as if he caught a bigger one, so to say. it wasn’t the least bit awkward as the two of you gathered your clothing, less of you as in the comfort of your own home you were comfortable in just a shirt and panties. 

an old shirt of his in fact. 

the last of your collection. 

he has the nerve to actually look guilty at the door and you can’t bring yourself to weigh him down any further. 

“hey, we were in a mission to find all the wonders of sex. be happy you get to clock out before your dick fell off.” the pat on the shoulder you give him feels lacking, but you had to stretch to get there so it wasn’t without effort. 

his lips split into a small cautionary smile. 

“hey, maybe yours is—“

no. nope. no evil spirits in your house. 

all hospitality leaves you as you press and prod him through the door. just because he was content didn’t mean you were ready to accept the deal. 

“don’t let your next orgasm send you into a coma. baby steps, kaveh.” 

he laughs like you expect him too, waving you off with a wider grin as he departs, likely to slip into the bed of his dreams. 

and now you were left with an absent orgasm and one less reliable partner. 

great.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

it’s funny how something so soul binding can’t even be properly taught in school. it's wholeness left for young people to discover on their own experience and limited research on the subject available to the general public. teachers spoke lightly on the topic of becoming one with another through body and soul.

the only interesting thing to come from joining the akademiya was dissertations being written as close to erotic novels. 

you convinced yourself to take it easy-ier over the last few weeks since kaveh's unforeseen retreat. you were not that desperate for a good lay and fate would end up handing you want you didn’t desire if you weren’t careful. so instead of your usual nightclubs and after hour ventures, you found yourself wasting hours in lighter pubs. 

maybe not completely losing time. a decent drink and sound music was as good a stress reliever as any. 

relaxing into the bar seat, you manage to keep from losing your balance. the lack of back support seemed like a latent encouragement of chances of falling to the floor, but you were only two glasses in at the moment. as your fingers traced the edge of the glass in languid circles, you wonder if you should just call it a night. 

it had been quite awhile since you’d let yourself wander into bars. back in your early undergrad days, it had been in the accompaniment of friends to alleviate any stress built up over the semester. it was safe to say you’d matured a little since then; or at least discover an alternative that was just as satisfying. 

but then kaveh had to go and ruin that. 

it was as equally frustrating to admit you were both dissatisfied with the abrupt departure as you were pleased it ended before it festered into something too entangled for you both to escape. though 'finding your soulmate ‘ route was still well outside your expectations.

nearly a year ago, your introduction to kaveh had been fortuitous. he was a graduate, senior to your status, but a frequent of the akademiya due to renovation projects. he had been a pretty face, an easy distraction when his latest construction was near the vahumana school grounds. 

all it took was a pair of wandering eyes and a few smiles to strike up a conversation. after a cursory drink here and there and a night out of fun, the kindling chemistry began. 

it had never been an intention for either party to make it more than that. one shot too many had kaveh confessing about his mountains of debt that put him in direct servitude to the akademiya. 

and you had no desire to date either, at least not while the sages were still prickling your nerves about research. but you also were willing to admit that you were getting a little too old to be bar hopping for a night out.

kaveh fit comfortably in the midst of both criteria. 

he was a reliable lay and it helped that lately it took effort to run into one another. he was always focused on a new project and you spent more time in the library than your own apartment. which was ironic, because the majority of your ‘meetings’ occurred at your place rather than his. 

something about a belligerent roommate. 

now he was out gallivanting in the desert in the pursuit of creative inspiration; an interesting metaphor when he was towing his newest obsession along for the ride.

but apparently that was a thing of the past as you found yourself in an establishment that was better referred to as a tavern than a bar, or at least one less frequented by akademiya students. the campus bars were always full and bursting with a cocktail of students and occasional faculty members. it was a dangerous mix of egos and alcohol. 

it was why you found it worth it to venture to port ortmos on occasion to the habour tavern. the lack of boisterous music was nice, but the atmosphere was empty of intrigue. not to mention the place hardly offered a promising selection. not a favorable gift of wine, and top shelf liquor was hardly in their vocabulary, let alone supply list. you decided eventually not to waste time trying to explain the ingredient of a zaytum sunrise. 

a sigh tickled you lips and your shoulders sagged an inch lower. really there were more pressing issues than laminating over bed partners. you were rapidly approaching the end of your scholarship, making you one step closer to your dissertation. which was still a prospective theory with no hardened evidence worth presenting. 

it took something akin to guts to challenge the age old belief of soulmates. in sumeru, it was the equivalent of a religion and you stood as the outsider throwing rocks at the stained glass chapel.

what you believed wasn't meant to be interpurted as hate, but clashing ideology tended to paint one side as the villain in order to raise the value of the rest. 

you didn’t want to topple the pedagogy, but be given the opportunity to confront it fairly. but with a theory so widely supported in droves, it was no surprise that no one took it seriously. the akademiya hadn’t even blinked when you had proposed it, not threatened in the slightest. 

nor had you wanted them to be. all you wanted was to be heard and given the chance to provide a new perspective. 

your mentor had been rather agreable about the matter, offering encouragement and diffusing tension in equal bouts. but they also had their concerns, more so for your future than the present. 

though not insistent on deterring you, they often hinted at your growing fascination in conservation and rejuvenation of old practices to save the future. the histories of the past often held secrets for the future, they liked to say. vahumana was as proud as any house, determined to make their mark on the world and the research that gave it life.

but you liked to argue that the past also had plenty of mistakes as well, a shaky ground to dispute your soulmate theory on but one worth grasping all the same. 

“maybe i should just summerise my conservation efforts,” you grumbled audibly, reluctantly tipping the ice-melted drink down the back of your throat. it was the easy way out.  the more practical route with postgraduate application as well. 

discussing soulmates with anyone felt too much like a religious sermon. the emotional process was part of the passion needed to drive the evidence behind the dissertation. half of the presentation was to comfort the audience of your opinion and you had plenty to say on the matter. 

cutting your gaze back over your shoulder, you gradually took in the atmosphere of the tavern. it was small, likely a family owned heirloom passed down generations, a homey style that you’d seen quite a few bars back in the city try to replicate. frankly, it was dusty, cracked and you missed the appeal but it seemed popular with the quieter population. perhaps not as full tonight, but most tables were occupied by one or two patrons. sensibility correcting your wandering gaze, you reluctantly trained your eyes back forward. no need to garner anyones attention, there was hardly anyone here for that kind of late night ventures. mature men were a stark difference from akademiya students. you shudder off the imaginary thought of a stranger’s touch. 

eventually you set your glass down for the last time, signalling the bartender without a word as he rounded back to check on you. in their approach you considered balancing one more round on your psyche. it’d been only been your second glass, watered down at that. you’d linger longer if need be to sober up. but archons, did you just want a glass of wine.

you parted your lips to initiate the order, the bartender not far away to request, but then his gaze was snapping beyond you. a slow tilt of familiarity formed his lips, followed by a polite wave. mannerisms encouraged you not to turn your head, but curiosity was a painful pinch. it was almost too difficult to resist. you were grateful when the bartender moved for you, not even perturbed when he bypassed you for a few seats down. 

the quiet bustle was still too heavy for the distant conversation to carry. idly you twist at the mini straw floating along the melting ice as you way.  

it took a few more moments for the bartender to return to you, an apology muted at his lips but you shrugged it off, sliding the glass closer. “just one more. no ice.” he gave his affirmation, the soft smile still lingering. you weren’t piqued by his brightened service. he’d been nothing but amicable to you, but it was something to take notice of. 

the moment his back turned, the burning itch came back. just a peek. everyone got first looks, it wouldn't put you on the spot. you was sure it was nothing you hadn’t seen before but now you had to be certain of it, the tethers of inquisitiveness pulling at your gaze. 

okay, well you definitely hadn’t seen that. 

he was certainly something to observe. the first thing that caught your attention was his musculature, mainly the girth of his arms that were propped against the bar as unaware of the potential interest they could draw.  not to say it was the first time you had been impressed, but he was filled out in a way that tore a page out of a different volume. you had grown use to the leaner builds at the akademiya. 

but it wasn’t just his build, his presence alone took up so much space it was already hard enough to miss him without that silver threaded hair. he held an air of authority that felt strangely familiar yet foreign in the port. 

the click of glass against the counter brought heat to your cheeks as you were caught, your head whipping back to attention. “thank you,” but he was already gone, moving on to the next attendant. 

you filtered through a quiet breath, pretending to be engaged by your phone with spotty service. at this point you were nearing an issue you weren’t ready to admit to at such an early stage. while you were comfortable in saying you could go quite a while without kaveh, the eccentric architecture; kavrh jr’s absence was starting to have some drawbacks. 

to think the bastard was possibly warming someone else’s bed while you refrained from tempting your own. what you refused to believe was that it was the best time of his life. you brought that man closet to the archons than anyone could. 

yet here you were siting alone in a tavern nearly undressing a stranger after hardly a few weeks of no intimacy. what were you thinking even considering the idea? the bartender floated neatly around him but aside from that he hardly gave the impression of being approachable. 

archons ... and weren’t you just imagining how uncomfortable it would be to be approached by someone from this bar. but technically weren’t you one encroaching now? had this been just another city establishment, for one you’d have some proper wine. but at the very least you’d usually just talk. if the receiving end didn’t like it, then oh well, you weren’t circling them like they were the sun.

so he wouldn’t be any different.

besides, if you didn't say anything now you’d be running scenarios of this moment until you really did go insane. you dreaded the thought already. 

you were slightly attracted to him- okay, pretty attracted. and you were still a young adult, it was the season of flings and one offs. surviving your final year at the akademiya thrived a little excitement. cutting your eyes sideways, you recalculated your chances. maybe he-

“if you have something to say, say it. your flittering is just as distracting.”

if warmth described you before, flames were dancing beneath your skin now. the man wasn’t discreet in the slightest, not caring who listen to the exchange. or maybe he was speaking to someone else- oh no, he was looking at you and he was not very intrigued. for a pause you were caught by a churring sea of turquoise. 

you stumbled over deliberation shortly before a new emotion countered the transition. weren’t you just accepting cutting losses? if he was lacking interest then what was the point. 

against your internal will, your lips pulled into a scowl at the potent irritated disinterest in his voice.  “yes, because i’m sure it’s me that’s distracting” 

well, that was not exactly how you intended to start this whole scenerio. playing hard to get was already a slippery slope and your face of indifference was faltering. you could see it mirroring back from the look of reflection on his face. or maybe that was just him contemplating the consequences of just leaving. or maybe he was truly in with the owner enough to kick you out. 

for another moment it looked like he might just, and then something shifted. he reached for his glass again, the amber colour much like your own but in a higher volume. the amount of his intake challenged yours as well, or so you would have noticed if you hadn’t been so entranced by the movement of his adam’s apple. 

“-students.”

what?

you caught the tail end of fostering chagrin but you knew you were rapidly eating up his reserves for patience. really, he could have just been here to relax, not get harassed by some akademiya scholar. 

the man stared at you for a second longer, then scoffed. “apparently the standards have dropped. what school are you from?”

“i…” you trail off, feeling a little nonplussed by the implied merit. “vahumana.”

he hums, a sound audibly dry with scrutiny. “the study of history and the past of our predecessors. fitting to dig into the business of others as you cant seem to mind your own.”

you narrowed your eyes at him,” and you must have been haravatat.”

he huffed in amusement and reached for his glass, the rim tips against the tilt of his lips. he didn't diffuse your assumption. “why's that?”

“because only you would be so far up our asses to know what business we were sticking into.”

there was a smile, but the tone was serious. “cute. what year?”

“final.”

“good. any longer and you might have become unbearable.”

you shot him a look of rebuke,”those same standards would imply that you got kicked out.”

“aw, its adorable that you think we’re held at the same degree,” he said. “i’m afraid i simply out grew their expectations.”

you scoffed. he was so stupidly cocky. “uh huh.” you prepared to turn away when he chirped back, amusement bleeding into the heart of his motive.

“done biting already? didn’t think you would bend to authority so quickly. but i suppose akademiya students know when to fall in line.”

you shot him a chiding look. he came across as tall but the way his torso seemed to stretch even seated. it would have been impressive enough without the additional bulk that added an unfair amount of definition to his clothing—attire that had speckles of familiarity in both its design and colour scheme. 

“you work for the akedmiya.”

he watches you silently. allowing you to work through the calculations. he obviously wasn't a teacher, you would have at the very least heard of him by now especially since he was confirmed haravatat. he had maybe a year or two on you,  just enough to be an established graduate.

looking back now, he did look a bit distinguished. the fine details of his clothing hinted equally at quality and prestige. though the material was tighter to form than usual robes, but you would admit it had it's own unique sense of flair. still it didn't give the full answer you were looking for.

“that’s all you can differ? disappointing.”

“if i’m so unsatisfying, why bother holding a conversation?”

he gives you a look over and you realise you weren't the only one noticing a few things. he was just more subtle.

“with your mouth closed, you’re mildly appealing.”

you could barely resist the roll of your eyes. “funny, most men would say they might prefer it wide open.”

“you must have a lot of soulmates with that kind of confidence.”

this time the effort was for naught as you turn away. 

“oh, sore topic?”

his voice carried despite the action, a touch more smug. 

“well i’m assuming your odds of not finding your true partner are promising enough.”

surprised into reacting, you twist your body in his direction. it was an odd choice of words given the subject. it almost felt as though he were implying something.

“i have your interest then?” 

the intrigued man angled his body towards you leaving you no room to misinterpret his attention. “we both agree that there is physical attraction. and though i doubt i need more points, the likelihood of us discovering the epitome of pleasure is a low possibility.” the offer  is so blunt as he roves you over with calculating appreciation, but those eyes… that blue-green fire-

don’t find that arousing. he’s being a dick.

feeling a bit unsettled by your desire, you averted your eyes briefly before raising them back to his handsome face. you had never once considered yourself weak, the spirit alone strong enough to challenge the akademiya worth its weight in mora. 

pure stubbornness was your greatest defence against a lot of things. 

but temptation was a trial fought time and time again. 

he read your resolve like an open book and finished his drink in an impressive swallow before rising to his feet. he waved down the bartender with a quick hand and then put down a few notes of mora with the other. he walked with intent, hardly harbouring an inch of reprieve in any direction. whatever he was, this was his hunting grounds and he set his sights on you. 

your mouth was dry, glass still untouched as you visibly shuddered under his shadow, “i’m not some easy student-”

archon be willed, you denied yourself the privilege of running your sight down the length of his arm as it benched securely between you body and the bar. there was a smart smirk on his face that you hadn’t witnessed yet, a challenge that you’d be dragged through whether you wanted to or not. “no, you’re just spun too tight and could benefit from new lesson.” 

you parted your lips to rebuttal but he silenced you with a hum. “i’m not going to play the role of some authoritative figure you desperately need. you can either come along or play games with someone else.”

a streak of heat crackled along your nerves at the rawness of his words. to be honest, he looked absolutely done with your presence but there was a primal edge of something you couldn’t place rooting him there. whatever drug him down to this bar was still devouring away at him, tightening his defences to the peak of stress. 

yeah, you bet he could use a stress reliever alight. 

your eyes slipped close as a low groan escaped you.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

it had taken you an embarrassingly small amount of seconds to fork over common sense as you hastily scrambled to procure payment, only to have your attempts overrun by another careless slip of a few bills to cover much more than you had spent that night. it was no wonder he was so popular here.

he didn’t just walk like he owned the place, it certainly seemed like it as he guided you out of the door with a firm hand at the small of your back. not one pair of eyes crossed your paths and from the corner of your own you witnessed the bartender already moving to clear your spot. 

a minute later, you were outside in the slight chill of the nighttime air. but where you were expecting the man to hail a car, instead urged you along the cobble-stone path.

“you live in port ortmos?”

“is that a problem?”

“i just …”

he lifted his chin slightly, “expected me to live in sumeru city? no, i stay there enough for work.”

you hum thoughtfully at the new information,“so that’s why the bartender was so familiar.”

“or maybe he just likes me.”

“or maybe he just likes your money.”

“why are you so sure that i have money?”

it takes effort not to mention the cash he’d tossed so carelessly onto the table top. there could have been one too many stuck to gether, but he had not even paused to check. instead you gesture marginally to the fine clothing stretching over the girth of his arm.

“well at least i know you're only after my body.”

“it's certainly not your personality,” you respond flatly. 

“you would prefer the bigger of the two.”

you click your tongue and look away, determined not to snort at the smooth jest.

the short trip ends when he taps his key fob against the entrance of a modestly built apartment complex overlooking the port. 

“anyone you need to inform of your nightly ventures?" he breaks the silence as he hits the bottom for the elevator to jerk into motion.

it occurs to you with no great pleasure that he was indeed right. you had followed the man with only the speculation that he was part of the akademiya in some capacity. at least you had confidence that he hadn't drug you to some seedy part of town and as long as the bartender didn't sell you out, there would be an evidence trail. 

still you shot off a quick text to a friend, letting them know of your location in the port.

“good girl.”

you scowled to which he returned the gesture with a broad smile.

fortunately, the elevator door opened before anything more could spark. he stepped out first, leading you four doors down before unlocking it and flickering on the first light available. he waved you in with a nod of the head. 

if he was a secret murderer, he was one with good tastes. from the entrance, the home opened up into a modern looking living room with panel windows hanging high above the quiet streets. to the right, an impressive kitchen held more appliances than you even knew what to do with. you assumed the final hallways led down towards the bedroom and other accessory rooms. overall, it was quality living. something to dream of after finally graduating from the akademiya. yet it still did not offer anything more of his position. 

overly curious, you ask, “what is it you do again?”

he smiles, all mischief, “i’m just a feeble scholar.”

the man expects your scoff, lip curling higher as he vaguely gestures to the darkened kitchen,“i’d offer you a drink, but then i’d have to cut the night short. i don't sleep with drunks.”

you shrugged off your jacket, folding it over before lying it on the couch. “i’m not a lightweight.”

he tucked his free hand into his pocket, “but you’re in my home. house rules for guests i’m afraid.”

his shoes echo off the floors as he walked towards you, teasing closeness until you stepped back in turn. a second later, you were backed against the wall connecting the kitchen to the hall.

you swallowed hard to control the nerves flaring under your skin. it was infectious with the way his eyes travelled slowly from your eyes to your lips. he was shameless, continuing down past your collor bone to the subtle swell of your breast until the weight of his gaze dampened your breaths. 

eagerly, you arched your spine,” how else do you treat your guests?”

his eyes retuned to your face,” i suppose you’ve earned that much.” he shuffled closer and trailed his thumb along your jawline, then leaned in and kissed you. his other hand came up to cradle the other side of your face as his lips tugged gently at yours before coaxing them apart. 

then his tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper. its an embarrassing sound that pulls a reaction from him as he breaks the kiss. 

he’d never been close enough before to take in the spicy smell of his person, an additional spritz of expense. something about it burned your nose from this proximity, like he was activating too many of your other senses to not notice. his hands were hot and heavy as they groped at your body, following the curve of your hips and testing the weight of your breast. 

his tongue lapped at your neck, each action only a span of minutes already accumulating a pool at your core. 

you just wanted to kiss him again but he seemed to conveniently remain out of reach. to test it, you craned your neck again only to have him counter by nipping at your ear. 

“did you come to that place just to get laid, sweetness?”

you were beginning to edge away from the dry tone of his voice but he had yet to be proven innocent from the other assumptions. blood finally returned to your hands, rendering you with the ability to move as you grappled at his own body, lavishing in the not so hidden display of muscle. “did it look like it?,” you eventually responded back. 

that earned you another nip, obviously not the answer he was looking for. it wasn’t a gentle one either. the sharp bite of it was still echoing through your nerves and ripping a yelp of arousal from your lips. 

“i just wanted a drink.”

he bit you again. 

you quickly wailed out the truth of the matter, a short sentence about your growing frustration before waiting for another reprimand but the firm pressure of lips responded instead and you sagged into the warmth of it. you dared to ask the same of him but you doubt you had enough strength behind your teeth to get him to comply. 

his pace was ruthlessly, hands sliding and discarding clothing, certainly not interested in prolonging the moment. 

“you’re going to miss that attitude when i’m done with you.” 

the weight of his words should not have produced the reaction that it did. but god did it make you so wet. this man would probably fuck anything. and everything would let him fuck them. 

you’re grappling on to his bicep, meaty muscle probably tenderised from long hours at a pricey gym. he loops one of your legs around his waist, leaving the other standing to allow more room for himself. his fingers are dry when they first touch you, though not for long as they absorb the slickness your body throws at him wantonly. a thumb tweaks your numb and your breath hitches into a pant as he curls two thick fingers into you without warning. 

his face remains refined but his touch is explorative, teasing the spongy walls as he stretches them to their limitations. “unexpected debut but not a bad way to end the night.”

you wished his words would have less of an effect on you, the dichotomy of them and his touch making you out to be a blushing virgin. 

and he keeps talking. 

“akademiya girl, huh? bet you think you’re so smart. “

you keen lowly as he introduces a third fingering, forgoing rudimentary scissoring to just plunge them into your depths. you arch against his hold bucking with no ground to stand on. his hitches your leg higher as a reminder, threatening your barely there balance. 

“look at you, all spread out for me. i said what five words to you? did they not teach you manners? a lot has changed.” he presses with the intent of stretching limitations, and you’re grateful for the debauched ministrations. science and biology taught you more than enough about anatomical proportionality. 

“no resistance. you’d let me fuck you for less wouldn’t you? ” but with the way words just kept off his tongue without preamble, you were nearing certainty that he’d ride the glide of your channel without much resistance. 

he works a hand up the loose material of your shirt, sending your bra into disarray as he tweaks a nipple sharply. the pain is acute, shuddering through your body like a ripple. your groan rolls into a soft hiss as he does it again, enunciating  the action with words. 

“i asked you a question.”

the pressure returns and your body squirms. it's enough to plunk the strings of obediency as your mouth is quick to answer.

“yes!”

his fingers rip from you, cutting the strings of your impending release and you hear the tell tale signs of a belt jingle. the material of his pants shifts, but unlike you they never leave his hips. 

“fuck.” he frees himself, af the musk of him permeates the air. it’s almost intoxicating, urging you too look but you fight the urge. “i knew it. you came to that tavern looking for someone to bit that edge off.”

 you don’t have to, because he’s pressing into you thick and hard and your walls flutter around him. with efficiency, he hitched your last standing leg up as well, leaving you suspended at his mercy. “good thing i came in, i bet you were getting unbearable to your little friends.”

the wall reverberates against the knocking of your body, the offbeat staccato telling any nosey neighbours all they need to know. that's if they weren’t already use to the frequency of overnight guests.

“just needed a few pumps to set you right. “

you tilt your head back and his immediate reaction is to latch back onto your neck, no doubt intending to bruise you both physically and mentally. he’s not immune to his own sounds, grunting through explications with each thrust. archons, it’s so hot, feeling the weight of him dragging over the wet hole, soon to be coined as a delicious ache before the night’s end. 

it’s uncertain if he drew blood, the sticky wetness of your throat a toss up between the possibility and perspiration. 

his name. you need to know his name. desperate to whine it, cry for it, tattoo it onto your tongue. you ask as much of it without realising. 

-haitham. 

you’re supposed to learn of it so soon but don’t disappoint the expectation following the admission. 

“my name is alhaitham.” his name rolls off fluidly and you bite down to savour it before it’s gone.

your head rolls back against the wall, mouth parted for air as your eyes squeeze shut. your breast rise and fall with each hurried breath as alhaitham pins his focus on the thrum and the heat of your clit. 

he’s back at your throat, nosing against the constrictions as your voice strains high and desperate.it was dominating, overwhelming, and even though you could accept that you enjoyed it, you still couldn’t understand why. domineering had it’s attractive qualities, sure, but it was arguably a delicate matter. one that took a fine tuned perspective to account for any aversions and hone in on the pointes of gratification.    

and he knew.

“you looked so pretty at the bar. i’m almost grateful you were so nosy. now you look even more gorgeous. pinned against my wall like a painting.”

a shower of sparks rain down over you and cracks open the door to the flash of lights stippling the dark behind your eyes. you rock yourself forward until it becomes clear that you’re fucking yourself on his fingers until theirs both slick and resplendent with your essence. 

it should be the end, the cut off of your journey but the trip feels like it's leagues long until the horizon breaks and you’re no longer anchored to the terrestrial spear but floating within the realm of celestia. 

he removes his fingers slowly, excruciatingly so, and smears your release over your clit and skin. your nerves feel as delicate as your bones feel weightless. 

you're fortunate that alhaitham is close enough to catch you as you all but collapse against the wall, feeling like someone—no your fate intended—removed all the bones in your body. cheek pressed against his chest, you inhale the scent of his skin while wondering if this was the exact feeling kaveh had. it was indescribable. like you were racing toward the end of days, on the verge of expiring by your own inability to call back the breath that alhaitham had stolen from your lungs. it's a dichotomy of wonder and fear as you come to terms with a terrifying realisation. 

you want more. 

alhaitham lets out a throaty hoarse sound when you bury your hands in his hair and tug at the thick base. he presses his lips harder against yours, determinedly set on devouring you with teeth and tongue if he can get away with it. in turn, you wrap your legs back around the already familiar notch at his hips and squeeze, drawing your front flush against his. 

his erection remains hard and insistent. it’s enough to make you sigh happily against his mouth, arousal blooming above her navel at the promising orgasm it will provide. 

“i want you,” you gasp between kisses, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other continues to pull at his hair. 

alhaitham grunts again at the action and sneaks a hand down between you two to cup your wet mound. two fingers press up, spreading your spend and is immediately reward with another sweet hasp from your lips as he teases the sensitive nub. 

archons, just the faintest touch of his fingers against you is enough to drag back the reminder of the shattering kaleidoscope until the only thing you can think of is him—alhaitham— with either his soul-binding fingers or his cock buried inside. you don't care if it's a repeat performance or something new, as long as you come. 

the truth is so palpable between you but alhaitham has sense enough not to mention it. instead he dips as his arm slips under your knee to pull you into his arms. he walks you towards the darkened hallway where the door at the end opens into his bedroom.

alhaitham pulls at your clothes and you let him, sliding them down until you’re left with nothing and reaching for his. he follows you onto the bed, bracing himself over you. he lowered his head to kiss you, holding you still as he ravishes your mouth until you’re forced to break apart, breath haggard from the effort. 

you blink blearily up at the broad shoulder hovering just by your nose as you resist the itch to squirm. the grip holding you down had lessened dramatically in the last few minutes, the weight of trust holding you still. a soft sigh tickles your lip as his forehead rolls against yours, light and nuzzling.

“you’ve finally lost some of that attitude. that is good. you’re doing so good,” his voice is less dry, holding warmth and reverence for compliance. your head tilts up to seek his lips again, craving the gentle touch and the taste of exhalation.the sharp edges of thoughts fade away, leaving only room to consume and receive. a reward comes in the tweak of thick fingers returning to your apex, twisted deep within you and curling for purchase. in return, you sigh into his mouth, pleased, as you rock into the affection.

“think you can return the favour? let me see what all the fuss is about?” his smile savours the flavour of saccharine, both appealing and intoxicating and you find yourself nodding in acceptance without cause. alhaitham knows he has you anyway- always had- you’d crawl for his mercy if just to have a a taste of the nirvana only he could give you.

he feels the motion of your nod, pressed so close,” i’d like to know what it’s like. feeling your open mouth, the sounds of your gasp as you choke on my cock. ”

his hand remains low, twisting within you as your own rides the length of his body. it’s a stretch, but you manage to brush against the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein protruding against the surface. your heart thrums, seeking his praise even as his hand leaving you and his thighs shift upward until he hovers at your face.

the heat of him bobs from the movement, tapping your lip and smearing its tackiness. his hand cards through your hair, rumbling veneration as you lick it away then open your mouth to stretch around him.

alhaitham’s hand, girthy and wide, teases the nap of your neck, forming a brace without asking. the rhythm of your tongue is met with a heavy groan of approval, the volume increasing as you swallow around him. the coordination of suction is breathing is an erratic dichotomy but you managed- for him. your mouth continues to caress him as he grows, hips beginning to undulate in aid.

“you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you, sweetness? for me?” he’s curled over you, blowing through harsh pants as he coaxes another inch down your throat. it still lacked the depth that he would have wanted, but you would still make it good for him.

tears bubble behind your eyes, though not from pain, from sacrifice as you nod once more. it’s still an impossibility to take him to the hilt, but with passion you come close. swallowing the bitter taste of him until the taste of it is tattooed on your tongue. it’s a musky bitterness, thick with salt.

his voice is but a whisper, rolling against your ears. “yes, sweetheart. make me proud.”

you splayed your hands against his thoughts, fingernails digging a little into the skin there but alhaitham could care less. in fact, you dared to say he enjoyed the pinch of pain. it most noticeably shattered his ability to prologe his release as his eyes closed and he allowed the orgasm to surge through him. 

this close, it was impossible not the notice the intense ripple of sensations as his nerve endings sparked with a powerful wave that had his knees trembling above you. just when you feared he might topple, he leaned back, rolling to the side and combing a haggard hand through his hair. 

then your eyes connected and the truth you’d damned up inside, burst forward, barrelling through your defences and overwhelming you. 

this man. alhaitham was your soulmate. this stranger whom you’d let take you home, ravish you beyond your wildest dreams and given you an core shattering orgasm that you were still reeling from. alhaitham who had come to lean in closer than you realised, must have come to the same conclusion as his mouth sealed over yours. 

the featherlight caress of your lips to his made your body yearn for something more than one-sided release, the promise of coming together as one—

a sudden feeling of panic gripped your gut as the final dreads of your euphoria dripped away. scrabbling for your bearings, you nudged at him until he had no choice but to pull away, leaving you more exposed than ever. 

alhaitham’s face was flush with exertion, eyes to feverish but his face was unguarded with uncertainty. 

“are you alright?”

no, you definitely were not and you wouldn't be until you got home. even then you likely wouldn't be okay. you never would be the same after tonight.

“i should go—i shouldn’t have—i just need to leave.”

your heart seized with the sudden ache as realisation weighed down on you. this was not how this was supposed to go. not at all. you pushed yourself off his bed and onto your feet, hastily scrabbling for your clothing. 

alhaitham picked his movements carefully as he straightened up on the bed,” it’s fine if you need space. i know this is a lot but it’s late. you should stay the night.” he gestures out out the door,” my roommate is gone for the weekend, you should take his room.”

but you were hardly listening as you pulled your top over head and headed for the door while working your arms through the sleeves. despite his offer, you continued past the adjacent door until you neared the entrance. 

alhaitham’s steps were heavy as you followed behind. his hand came to your back to steady you as you hoped from one shoe to the other until they fit snug. 

“you are overwhelmed and it's too late. you're not thinking clearly. i don't want you out in the city like this.”

you turned on him before he could finish, “you don't know me. just because were—you—,” you guested widely between the both of you. “this doesn't change anything. “

reading the room, the man carefully held up his hands in surrender. it should have been a commercial sight for a man of his stature given his still nude state. 

“okay, okay. just wait, please.”

it’s the agreeableness that gives you pause. its give him just enough time to round the counter of the kitchen and rummage through one of the doors.  he spares the time to bring a pen to it. when he returns, its with a small card.

“i’m not asking for anything. but if you want to reach me, here. i wont seek you out. but you know where to find me.”

whether he was referring to the tavern or his home was vague. but the look in his gaze wasn’t. no matter how much he tried to hide it, it was there … the expectation. 

you turned away and opened the door, clutched the cardstock in your hand as you hurried to the elevate and punched the downward key until it blinked and the doors opened. you threw yourself inside, not looking back not when the doors closed but until you were free of the building and ducking into the hailed car. 

fucking kaveh, it should have never ended this way.

it had been quite a long time since you’d felt anything remotely shameful after a night in bed with someone new. with kaveh it had never been an issue as he’d wormed his way into a positon of comfort before he’d ever reached your bed. 

the both of you had decided that you enjoyed the fragile lining between friendship and something more, confident that neither would seek out the unknown. he was focused on his growing list of projects to offset his student debt and you were still trying to make the most of your own expenses into your education. 

it had been a simple arrangement that you had been forlorn to see it unravel. but you couldn't put stocks into blaming kaveh forever. he certainly had not led you to the bar housing your soul mate and had no ploy in getting you into their bed. 

no the blame had been solely yours. 

you had barely been able to look at your reflection in the mirror, finding it all the more damning to written the swollen redness of your lips and early signs of hickeys dotting your throat. there had been no point in examining the rest of your body as you slipped into the shower to wash away what you could. however the ache of his presence remained seeped into your bones even as you fell into your blankets.

there had been one too many unsuccessful attempts to silence your mind, your more reasonable half having a field day over-analyzing your choices. 

eventually you'd given up on sleep altogether in favour of squinting against the glare of your phone. if you were going to be riddled by guilt, the best thing to do was to spin it into a web of evidence. for months, you had been trapped trying to craft a damning theory to challenge the damn-near will of the gods. 

and in return they made you into your own attestation. 

in your initial presentation, the sages had challenged your theory as one-sided, some even edging to accuse you of envy. at their age, it was difficult for you to speculate if one or any of them had found their soulmate. there was no rhyme or rhythm to discovering your fated partner. 

some discovered them early, others had to wait until their last breath. 

but in the city of sumeru, where the god’s will was paramount to divine expectation.

if anything the only thing worth of your envy was the free state of mondstat where the country had thrived under their archon’s guidance to seek out their own fate.

it was a plausible dream but sumeru was your home.

closing your eyes, you leaned back against the flatness of your pillow. but behind your eyelids, however, were the lingering traces of last night’s memories etched there. it began with those blue-green eyes, then the image panned out to reveal the entirety of alhaitham, broad and defined in ways built from a fantasy. 

hissing out a sharp curse, your eyes snapped open to shatter the visage. 

it was starting to feel like a never-ending joke. why could it not be as simple as falling in bed with an attractive man. 

you’d barely typed out a sentence before you eventually gave up, signalling defeat with the snap of the device closing. rubbing your eyes, you kicked the device to the edge of the bed and sprawled back against the bed. 

hopefully tomorrow would bring forth a more concise mindset.

|     ⚘⚘⚘      |

you woke several hours later tangled under a sea of blankets and the lingering taste of zaytum peaches. the faint glow of sunlight coming through the window indicated that it was sometime in the afternoon. instinctively, you rolled over to reached for your phone, heart stuttering at the feeling of hard cardstock against your fingertips. 

there had been no effort made to forget about what had transpired less than twelve hours ago, nor was it meant to be a rude awakening. those thoughts were better suited after a shower and something to eat. 

for now you roll out of bed in pursuit of the bathroom, mint taste and burn of mouthwash would help restart your day on a better note. you considered a second shower as well. the heat and steam was always a nice balm on a clogged brain, always helping to clear your head and think. 

the promise of peace lasted about as long foam forming from the slow drag of your toothbrush against your teeth. it didn't take very long at all for your mind to sink into reality; the fog dissipating somewhat as you realised with dread that this would not be something you could avoid without some confrontation. 

alhaitham

the name did not come without an overhanging cloud of density. it was a weighted thing, something of a reminder but you could not figure out the source beyond the stranger you’d met at the tavern bar. 

it was fairly customary name in sumeru though your tallied occurrences were low. perhaps a stray soul at the market in passing but nothing of significance. it had been an akademiya joke to place him in harvata without truly knowing, purely inspired by the natural flow of banter. 

but there wasn’t an alhaitham currently part of the darshan that you knew of. to be frank, when the name alhaitham came to mind it was only accompanied by occasional whispers in the absence of a highly regarded graduate and now scr—

your brows rose with each fragment of proof as realisation dawns with nauseating clarity. the soothing shower quickly becomes a brisk wash as you will your mind to calm. 

you were so stupid. so so stupid.   

spitting carelessly into the sink , you stagger through your strewn clothes as you return back to your bedroom with renewed vigour. the card you had tried to forget was quickly snatched up.

alhaitham kaysani 

grand scribe 

he was that alhaitham. the name bringing forth sobering clarity that had evaded you while post-orgasm. you had only known him in name, never having the opportunity to meet him. he wasn’t just faculty, he was damn near a sage after his achievements and one of the youngest to get so close. 

and he was your soulmate. 

snarky

callous 

rational

these were all phantom rumours stitched into the reality of the man you’d come to witness. 

but he was also dominating

attentive 

and responsible when baring you to the world and unravelling you at the seems. there could be little fault in you for not recognizing him at first given the circumstances. you had never met the man before yesterday.

now, in the safety of your own home, you can admit to yourself that deep down, twisting your perceptions, you'd be a little relieved to have found him. yes, you were scared— worried that fate might have skipped you in your doubt— but the fated milestone was reached. and he had wanted you, albeit sexually, the setting had made you desirable enough to bring you home. even after discovering the truth, he’d reached for more. 

in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest. 

despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future. 

you were both scholars, but he was more welcoming to the present evidence than you were. though given the abrupt shift in your reality, a bit of additional clarity felt like a needed kindness. 

tossing the card back down, you returned to the bathroom with the first spark of determination kindling. if your thoughts were going to be set aflame, you knew who to invite to the bonfire.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

“i thought you said you and kaveh were through?”

finding a friendship with dehya had been an unexpected but appreciative experience. sumeru city was built by and for the cultivation of scholars under the aged guidance of late archon of sumeru. the akedemiya prided itself on its accumulation of knowledge, though it had yet overcame its ostracism of the children of the desert. 

it boiled down to conflicting views of the source of knowledge and whom it ultimately belonged too, but those like dehya hardly cared little of the dispute. it was old news kept relevant but elders who needed to let the new generation decide the future.

ultimately, she found interest in your defiance. shared stories among drinks and good company overwriting centuries of bad blood.

you drew the steaming cup warming your palm closer, finding solace in the simple smell of caffeine rather than the taste of it. dehya kept her inquiries limited when you had first requested her company at the portside coffee shop but now her curiosity was brimming as she scrutinized you from across the table.

“we are.”

“so this has something to do with the random quality of life text i got last night?”

the curl of her lips hinted that she already knew the answer, the slow grin widening further when you tossed her a less than impressed scowl. 

“i found someone new.”

the sharp red of her freshly pained nails drummed patiently against the table top as her raised brow encouraged you to get on with it. 

with a huff, you opted to just get it all out. 

“i met a guy at a bar who ended up being my soulmate.”

the woman had the courtesy not to laugh outright in your face, but the quiet snicker that escaped through the side of her mouth couldn't hide her amusement. 

“you know i was rooting for you. i thought if anyone could defy the odds it would be you.”

her support, while generous, was one-sided towards your benefit. dehya had her restraints when it came to the exaggerated nonsense spewed by the akademiya on the subject. but she couldn't deny it’s biological merits after discovering her other half in the form of her childhood friend and now girlfriend. 

dunyarzad believed in a more muted rendition of the historic value of soul mates, a hopeless romantic that thrived on the magic of dreams. in a way you both humored the young woman, if only to be plagued with her infectious smile and outlook on life. 

dehya smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. the flaky croissant you had purchased as a show of gratitude forgotten. “so you go out with a stranger and they rock your world … and now you’re in the same boat as the rest of us."

you stare at her blankly, “it’s not that simple.’’

“it is if you stick by the facts,” she answers smoothly. “so you had one good night, you’re not obligated to marry him. if anything, you're the one hung up over it. why not just leave it as that and move on?”

your body jolts with the instinct to protest, but the weighted gaze she holds over you keeps you rooted until the words seep in. you had hardly delved into the details of the night, but she was reading you like an open book. 

society’s expectations weren't your reality. nor had alhaitham’s surmise given his perplexed but visible patience during your hasty escape. he had made the same discovery as you but didn’t hold you accountable for an explanation. 

instead he gave you the option. 

seek him out or leave it as it was. 

knowing him would be an emotional burden but you had lived this long without encountering him and would eventually outlive the physical reminder. 

dehya drew your attention back by the soft sound of her spoon clinking against the side of her mug.

“you’re my friend, but sometimes you scholars are all the same.”

setting the spoon aside, she leveled you with a look. “once you get a theory planted in your head, anyone outside of it is well out of reason. you all forget that the world is full of theories and opinions and there is so much more to explore if you would be more wiling to accept ones that aren't your own.”

her face softens as she reaches out to fold her palm over yours. 

“you came to me for advice at least, so let me give it. everyone's soulmate situation is unique. your parents for example.” you flinch at the mention, years of memories solidifying the reason you sought out the akademiya. 

dehya's fingers squeeze in reassurance as she continues. “at least hear him out. maybe their theory will compliment yours. and if not, well next time call me to a fight rather than a cup of coffee.”

the thinly veiled joke pulled a tight smile from your lips. 

she was right though. as a scholar you had encouraged a new experience and were left to analyze the variables. the night had been an unexpected outcome but not a failure.

in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest. 

despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future. 

you managed to finish your coffee before dehya eventually coaxed you out of the shop, muttering about a fresh text from dunyarzad as you parted ways at the entrance. 

the warmth of her encouraging hug still lingered as you plucked the contact card from its perch on your nightstand.

flipping the card, you found a neat scrawl of additional numbers, the intention clear. 

with that in mind, you reached for your phone and typed out a message. 

‘i’d like to talk.’

your thumbs tap against the screen idly, hoping he was awake and wouldn’t keep you waiting. it was a safe assumption that the man was a morning person when the reply was sent a few minutes later. 

‘fine. would you like me to come to you?.’

you thought about alhaitham coming to your flat. 

grand scribe alhaitham who was hardly as inconspicuous in sumeru city. 

soulmate alhaitham who had yet to have his way with you in your bed-

the last thing you needed to think about was either of you coming.

‘no, will you be home in the evening? i can be there.’

his reply was simple.

‘4pm.’

you stared at the text with a writhing feeling in your gut. it definitely needed to happen, a talk like this was better addressed soon than later. but maybe this was too soon. there was no taking the words back now but how hard would it be to just delete them? a simple swipe and tap and they’d be gone. 

you’d avoided alhaitham this long. and if you stayed away from a certain tavern you could continue to do so. he didn’t seem like a man who would put effort into something that lacked fruition. 

exhaling slowly, you tossed the phone away before you made another rash decision. confronting it now would be the smart thing to do. it was the best way to keep yourself from spiralling down a path of the unknown. just because you discovered your soulmate, nothing had changed. 

granted he gave you the best orgasm you’d had so far in your life, it was just that. a night of carnage that had you waking up with nothing but regret. how could anyone chase something so recklessly because they felt that the archons put their stars too close together?

yes, tackling this now would let you set the record straight. you didn't want a marriage proposal but that didn't mean— no, you wouldn't speculate or conjure up anything until you got on the same page. alhaitham seemed like a rational person, he likely didn’t believe in soulmates either. a good night in bed got the best of everyone. 

for a long moment, you stood in the noon shadow of your bedroom before eventually returning to the bathroom to finish your routine. as you brushed your teeth and washed your face, you tried hard not to look too close at your reflection again.

picking back up the phone, you craft and send a quick message to kaveh.

‘hope you haven’t fallen into a coma.’

and you hoped you aren't falling into a deeper mess. 

continued in part ii

[alluringjae]

open your legs, not your bible - jjh

open your legs, not your bible | sinfully vowed to you

SUMMARY. what happens when the demon’s favorite son is also an angelic piece of heaven the Lord speaks of? he’s so good no wonder your innocent bible is discarded, like your drenched panties.

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. smut and angst | bad boy!jaehyun, good girl!reader, forbidden romance!au

PLAYLIST. heaven (slowed down) by julia michaels

WARNINGS. public oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom!jaehyun, minor corruption kink, praise kink, explicit language, petnames (jaehyun saying good girl is not good for my heart), mention of reader being a virgin, references to and slight bad-mouthing Christianity, both jaehyun and reader are from hella rich rival families, mentions and portrayal of manipulative parents, wait for a special surprise towards the end

⤑ vero’s words: this idea all started when me and my friends were talking abt our college sexcapades, and one of them mentioned the title mid-convo. not even kidding, that got me writing at 8 am the following day before work 😵 also im still not over dearm huhuhu cha minho my beloved 😭 this was supposed to be a smutty piece, but the more i ventured to the whole good girl concept, pursuing a forbidden romance just felt right. the biggest sin one can commit, right? this isn’t edited yet, but other than that, enjoy!!!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback or hellos here!

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WHEN YOU’RE BORN INTO THE LEES, ONE OF THE RICHEST FAMILIES OF THE CITY, YOU’RE UNDER EVERYONE’S EYES.

One mistake and you can dishonor your entire family line. That’s why they’re strict on you, the heiress of your father’s real estate firm. After your older brother Taeyong took over your mother’s hotel management business, monitoring all branches of such across the country and abroad, it’s a matter of time you take your place in the family.

After all, your future has already been pre-determined for you; from your career, lifestyle, and heck, even some of your friends. If they don’t pass mommy and daddy’s standards, might as well say bye-bye.

Standards ranging from having good grades, no nights out partying, no vices, dressing modestly, no cursing, and more, all of these things formed you into the good girl all throughout the city. You can never to disobey her family. So that’s how your life has spiral into for the past twenty-four years.

Not to mention attending Bible study every Saturday and Mass every Sunday, that’s the cherry on top on being an ideal woman in today’s society. That’s the thing when your family are diligent believers, praising for the Lord for His righteous acts for your family.

Or in other words, making your family richer and more successful each passing day.

As controlling it is, you never ought to complain. That’s the work of the devil, your mother says whenever she’d see your eyes fume from stress at times. Thus, you’re practically an angel to the eyes of the public. And no one would never second-guess your personality.

But boy, it’s always the good ones that shock the most.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp out, clutching on the edge of the table as a determined tongue swirls around your drenched womanhood. Such sensations are new to you, yet they’re so addicting. You can’t get enough, and never will any time soon.

How fast life runs when you’re merely skimming through your favorite Bible verses, reading them aloud with passion. Then in another frame, something else gets spread open with oozing content. How shy you became, yet didn’t refute and nodded to keep going. And poof, goes your beloved book in some random corner of the room.

“So sweet and innocent,” The man below you moans. “Your pussy is a dream come true.”

“Profani-Oh, God!” You try to call him out, but you’re dumbfounded when his slender fingers dart your hole back and forth. From the table, your fingers seek support from his brown locks.

“You were saying?” He peeks out from your floral dress, smirking. And god, it was the hottest thing your eyes laid on.

Lips puffy and dripping in your essence, he widens your legs more and continues diving in further. As soon as he finds that spot in you, nothing can hold your pleasure-building moans back. It’s something you’ve never felt before, or rather, something you should’ve saved for marriage. You’re doomed, or were you?

How can something so vulgar feel so heavenly?

“You may be religious to Him, and devoutly read the Bible, but you’re my religion.” He says in between lapping your clit and lower lips, slurping every bit of your wetness. “I lay my entire being for my one and only queen.”

Wetness he caused if not for his swoon-worthy charm and enchanting looks that makes you thank the Lord for bringing this man to you. Even if the two of you used to share judgmental looks out of generational hatred, love seeped its way through. And your heart cannot control who it wants to love, and same to him.

However, he’s poison to your life. If anyone in your family finds out that you’re sleeping around with the eldest son of your rival family, you’d meet your untimely doom.

But not only is he the eldest son, he’s also next in line of taking over his mother’s real estate company. Hence, spiking generations-old rivalry with your family. Aside of work, he’s your mother’s worst nightmare.

Massively notorious for his reckless behavior and the occasional scandals of his fights outside the bar with god knows who, he’s gotten away with it numerously because of his intelligence. You can only picture how dependent his parents are on him because his younger brother Sungchan is still in university, destined to inherit another family business. Other than him, there’s no more heir.

He acts like a God in this world, taking advantage of it.

Why? Because all he wants is freedom from everything. Even if he works hard and does his parts as an heir, he can’t commit to it entirely.

So he spits at anyone who gets in his way, always determined to get anything he wants. And easily, he does.

But that changed when you entered the picture, or rather reentered when he rejoined Bible study Saturdays 3 years ago. How pure you were then, leading everyone into prayer and such. How he loved riling you up to the point you blew up for the first time in a sea of curse words. How hard to get you were, even if you weren’t playing a game. How it took a single sweet kiss merely months after building a proper friendship, your first even. How such crazy lust and adventure rushed through your veins for more led to true, absolute love.

He corrupted you, but in the best way possible.

Jeong Jaehyun may be the owner of your undying affection, yet he remains your dirty little secret. And from all the years of your life, you’re choosing to rebel. It may be in private, but in time, it’ll break down its doors. Because you finally realized how you deserved so much better.

You are your own person, and you’re meant to make your choices. To be controlled like a puppet is not living, nor being tossed around as the good girl image. That’s the fault of your parents, pressuring you over and over again to uphold it or else the consequences will be grave. If not for Jaehyun, you’d never realize it. He too resonates with such thoughts, and the both of you ought to break the cycle of hatred when your time to rise in power comes.

After all, love makes you do risky things.

Just like this very moment in the Bible study room of the church, empty for the past hours.

After you and Jaehyun pretended to fight in front other rich, influential kids in the session, one of the nuns put you two on duty to clean up as punishment.

Little did they know, it was all an act so you spend more time with him. Yet it’s also a trip down memory lane of how your relationship began, when the hatred was real while working together only to be exchanged with developing love.

Lately, neither of your apartments are safe from the public eye, and motels are becoming risky to book. Vacation homes can’t be used either as both of your parents have CCTV access.

You’ll just have to make do. Anything for the love of your life.

He continues to be relentless in making you fall apart in his hands like glass, crashing blindly and powerfully. The gushing sounds of your pussy squelching and soaking his fingers, which he uses to lift up the hood of your clit.

Erect and puffy, his tongue aims to stimulate it the most.

Your throat runs dry and your thighs shake mercilessly from yet grind against Jaehyun’s satisfied face. Mascara-filled tears escape your lids, then your stomach can feel a knot ready to unwind.

“Jaehyun!” You almost scream as your mind only chant and think of him at this moment. Your hand fires up to your lips to avoid suspicion, and Jaehyun’s quick to notice muffled moans.

“Yah.” His pace slows down.

“Yes, Jae?”

“Let your hand go, or I won’t make you come.” He orders.

You’ve gone this far, and you won’t allow having your orgasm get denied. As much as you like to get your way always, sex would be the only thing with compromises. And Jaehyun has denied your orgasms numerously, so you’re at a loss.

“Sorry, baby.” You follow, lowering your hand.

He smiles from under your dress. “It’s okay, love. Now let me continue to feel good, hmm?”

Jaehyun’s the one who led you through the acts of sex. You can’t deny how intimidated you felt by that, but he’s never pressured you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Step by step, you already know what’s it like having his fingers toying with your core while your hands and lips around his cock.

He’s a sweet and passionate lover, unlocking the door of the joys of being eaten out.

Double the penetration, double the speed of your orgasm. Jaehyun’s tongue and fingers are partners to this sexual deed, and you can only just anticipate what happens next.

“I’m so close…“ You choke.

“Let go, baby. You deserve it.”

Hard and breathtaking. That’s how your orgasm felt.

Your lips emit an elongated moan as you came in Jaehyun’s mouth. Your entire body shivers, sweating behind your gorgeous designer dress. How tainted it makes you feel, yet also heavenly. You say hello to the angels up there, who may only look down at you for your so-called “forbidden” deeds.

How you’re the forbidden fruit, and Jaehyun is one of God’s beloved children who lusted for it.

He hums louder to match your noise, bringing your thighs closer to lick your core more. Helping you ride out your high, your lungs heave hastily as if they ran a marathon. With one final kiss to your clit, he gets up from his knees and doesn’t waste a second to collide his lips with yours.

The taste of you lingers in every exchange, your arms naturally wrap behind his nape. His hands grip your waist, making your legs tangle around his lower torso. The two of you cannot simply get enough of each other, tongues clashing for dominance and filthy moans echoing the room.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He says.

“Always.” You reply. “Only for you.”

“Not even for your family?”

“Except for my brothers, fuck them.”

Your making out session gets so heated instantaneously. It’s never felt like this before, and you cannot get your hands off Jaehyun. Whether it’s how good he is to make you come like that or his presence making you feel so at ease, you wanted more. Heck, you desired whatever this man can give you.

Or rather, you deeply desired him to deflower you.

“Jaehyun, I--”

“Yes?”

“I want--" Before you can continue your sentence, your phone beside you vibrates.

Calling: Demon Mother

“Oh, shit.” Your lips parts from your lover, while he keeps going by pecking your neck. You’re strict with lovebites, but it’s nothing too harsh.

For now.

“Be quiet.” You glare from the side.

He smiles sinisterly. “When am I not?”

Rolling your eyes, you tap on the green button on your phone. “Hello?”

“Where are you, miss? We have a dinner with important people in your father’s company in 3 hours!” Her voice booms through even Jaehyun get startled. Yet you’re used to it, and it sucks.

“It’s not easy to clean a whole room even with a partner, mom.”

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep your hatred from the Jeongs as discreet as us. We are never to go low and battle with such a scandalous family like theirs.”

You sigh. Even if it’s a fake fight, news got around quickly in your elite world.

“Anyways, I’m packing up and heading my way.”

“You better, or you’re gonna hear it worse from your father too.” She hungs abruptly, and you sulk on your position.

“Is she mad?” Jaehyun stands more upright, yet you don’t give him eye contact out of shame. “Talk to me, baby. Please.”

“You heard her, Jaehyun.” You say. “She dare insults the family of my lover, the one I can never shout my affections out to the world.”

“Angel.” A nickname he uses it when sadness overtakes your mind and soul. His hands cradle your face that shifts it so you can look at him. Which you do. “This is the kind of love we signed up for.”

“But I didn’t ask for this kind of life.” Your heart wrenches. “I want to be able to live and love freely. No prejudice nor judgement. Don’t you think God was cruel for this fate?”

Jaehyun sighs in agreement. Religion this, religion that. All his life his parents taught him that if he doesn’t follow his family, he disobeys the Almighty. Only to later realize that he was manipulated; brainwashed that his parents are on the same level as Him.

How wrong and immoral.

He may have lost his faith, yet it was momentarily restored when you waltzed into his life like a dancer. A couple of failed turns, only to transform into a beautiful variation.

“If there’s only one good thing He gave me,” You sense his calloused fingers brush over your frizzled hair, tucking them behind your ear. “It was you. His favorite angel.”

Your heart swoons while a tear freely falls down your cheek. “I love you, Jaehyun.”

“I love you more, (Y/N).” His lips kiss yours a little longer. It’s unpredictable when you’ll see each other again, or spend hours being by his side. And so you both savor every meeting, peck, touch, laugh, moment you have with each other.

Because things can drastically change in a heartbeat. At least for you, it did.

That very dinner later in the evening wasn’t merely to celebrate your father’s company ranking high up across the country. Defintely topping the Jeongs, which has been a long-term goal these past years. He speaks of merging companies with his colleague, the Kims. Much to your naivety, you’re the main pawn in his game.

“Be a good girl and follow daddy in this venture.” He speaks in his professional voice in his office, where you and your mother sit and listen. Sipping on his whiskey, he awaits your response. Good girls only talk when being spoken to, but it’s merely a façade now. A façade you acted perfectly in.

“How can I be of help, daddy?” How you wished you didn’t ask such a question.

“You’ll be marrying into the Kim family in the next couple of months, specifically their oldest son who’s bound to take over their company right after your wedding ceremony.”

copyright © 2022 by alluringjae.

[sionisjaune]

59. interrupted declaration of love + 90. unexpected virgin....? -kane :)

The way I've been seeing this url in my notes for WEEKS and did not put together that it was you... here you go:

Lewis is cooking dinner, monologuing about what happened when he met Rick Owens, how he tried on the giant acrylic platform heels and nearly tumbled flat on his face. Mick watches him gesticulate affably in front of the floor-to-ceiling kitchen window, the smoggy skyline of New York unfurling behind him. Mick clenches his fists under the table, listening to Lewis explain how he wants to try the shoes again, wants to practice in them so he can wear them through the paddock and piss the geriatric fucking oil barons off—Lewis’s words. Mick feels bad about interrupting, but he has to say it before he loses the nerve. 

“Lewis,” he says, abortively. He feels his cheeks heating. Now that he’s paused, it’s going to be a thousand times harder to get the words out. He sets his jaw and makes himself say it. The words exit his mouth in a jumble: “I have—feelings for you.” 

Lewis drops the spatula he was working with, and his head snaps towards Mick. Mick’s heart nearly arrests right there, under Lewis’s assessing gaze. The careful opaqueness of Lewis’s face is going to break his heart—Mick knows it. He readies himself for the worst possible reaction, which he figures will be pity. that someone like Mick loves someone like Lewis. 

Lewis blinks. The pan on the stovetop steams and sizzles. “Oh thank God,” says Lewis. “I thought I was wrong and that I invited you here for nothing.” He wipes his brow, cracking a relieved smile. Something tender and happy unfolds inside Mick’s chest. He watches Lewis flick off the stove while Mick’s hands shake, his fingertips pressed into his thighs. 

“Let’s not even bother with this,” says Lewis, nudging the pan off the stove. “I want to fuck you so badly. God. Can I say that?” 

All of a sudden Lewis is crossing the open-concept apartment, his bare feet on the ridiculously ornate tiles, and Mick is still frozen at the dining room table, distantly aware that his mouth has dropped open and that he must be staring at Lewis with awe in his eyes. It’s almost like he can’t believe it. He doesn’t believe it, even though he heard it from Lewis’s mouth. 

Lewis pauses half a metre away from Mick. Mick finds himself tilting his head up to look Lewis in the eye. 

“I thought Seb was going to kill me,” said Lewis. “I felt so… dirty? I haven’t felt that way for… at least a decade.” He takes another step towards Mick and reaches for Mick’s jaw. “Is this okay?” 

Mick feels himself nod. Then Lewis’s lips are meeting his, his mouth is opening to Mick’s, and Mick is hauling himself out of his chair to mold his body to Lewis’s while he kisses him. Lewis rakes a hand through Mick’s scalp, fingers closing around a fistful of hair, and Mick lets himself be led to the sofa. Lewis pushes him down onto it, their mouths never parting, and climbs on top of Mick. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” says Lewis, when he pushes Mick’s shirt up above his nipples. Mick experiences a double rush of arousal at the feeling of Lewis’s hand tracing his abdomen and the idea that Lewis thinks he’s hot. 

Lewis ducks back in to kiss him again, and feeling bold, Mick reaches around to hook a few fingers into the belt loops on Lewis’s jeans and pull his hips against Mick’s. Lewis groans, rolling his hips into Mick’s erection, and a shock of ecstasy pulses up Mick’s spine. He momentarily loses his coordination and finds his lips mouthing messily at Lewis’s beard. 

Lewis chuckles like it amuses him, and then his hand is slipping down Mick’s abs and towards the elastic waistband that’s peeking out of Mick’s jeans. “Tommy—I like it,” Lewis murmurs, into Mick’s neck. His hand travels further, thumbing over the button of Mick’s jeans, popping it open, and then—

“Wait,” says Mick, tearing his mouth from Lewis’s. “Just. Hold on a second.” He swallows, working up the nerve for the second time this evening. “I’ve… never. With a guy.” 

“Oh,” says Lewis, pulling back. There’s an impossible flush on his cheeks. His hand remains where it is. Mick swears that his pupils have dilated, that there's a crazed light shining behind his eyes. “Okay,” he tilts his head from side to side. “I can work with that.” He dives back in.

[nichoskittycorner]

It Takes Two ( A Nichojoo threesome smut)

  >> After having a drunk (and sober) heart-to-heart, Nicholas agrees to help his best friend, Euijoo, learn and explore a possible kink he has that's been on his mind for years. 

>> threesome: Nicholas x Reader x Euijoo, bf! Nicholas, degradation, oral & penetrative sex, anal sex, dp (double penetration), edging, Is Euijoo a cuck? Who knows, mentions of alcohol, exhibitionism, dom!Nicholas, virgin!Euijoo,

>> Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Thank another dream I had…

>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

  Nicholas couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure he was a little drunk, but the words that came from his best friend's mouth had him shocked.

  "S-say that one more time, but slower…"

  Euijoo, placing the half-empty soju bottle down and sighing, ran his hand through his hair. Even he didn't believe the words that had slipped through his lips actually did. 

  For years, he's had a fantasy, (A kink perhaps?) that he couldn't shake from his mind. Sure he could've asked any random set of strangers but Nicholas was his best friend who he also knew was in a sexually active relationship so why not ask him… or maybe it was the alcohol talking. 

  "I said, would you be okay with letting me watch you and your girlfriend fuck." Yep, he was so far gone, he didn't even care that he really said these words. The blush on his face is more of a sign of his drunkenness rather than embarrassment. 

   "Wow… are you like, a pervert or something? And here I thought I knew my innocent Euijoo!" Nicholas clasped his heart and fell over, landing on the 'supposed' pervert's shoulder. 

  "I'm not a pervert! It's just…  been on my mind for a while. And it keeps making me hard so-" 

  "Okay! Okay! No need to explain it like that- I'll help you. I just need to make sure she's okay with it too."

  Euijoo's face lit up. He couldn't stop the excitement that was bubbling in his chest. Both because Nicholas didn't beat him over the head over this but was willing to help him with such private curiosity. 

  "Thank you Nicho! I owe you one!" 

  "Hmm. Yeah…" And with not a moment more, Nicholas was fast asleep and snoring on Euijoo's arm. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

  Nicholas had sobered up and surprisingly remembered that outrageous conversation from the day before. After clearing it with a sober Euijoo, he now had to ask you how you felt about it. 

  Although you loved and trusted your boyfriend, especially in the bedroom, he still liked relaying ideas to you before trying them. And that's part of why you trusted him so deeply. 

  But as you sat across from him at the breakfast table, you were sure he had fallen off the deep end. 

  You were almost certain he was joking but the way his eyes remained razor-sharp as he spoke told you everything. He was dead serious. 

  "Wait, Nicho, babe. Look I'm not against it but who is this friend?" 

  He was vague when setting up the question and thus you werent 100% sure of all the details. He sighed, his shoulders seeming to relax after that. But he still could barely hold your gaze.

  " Its… It's Euijoo." 

  And here you burst into laughter. "Euijoo!? Stop playing games, baby! Shy, never hurt a fly, probably cries at the mention of sex- Euijoo?!" 

  This wasn't just you making fun of your mutual friend. Euijoo had a reputation for being so soft and sheltered. The type who tilted his head in confusion when you joked about cock rings or ran away blushing when he caught you and Nicholas making out once. 

  So the sweet baby Euijoo saying he wanted to… watch- was just out of this world as a concept. 

  "Yes, that Euijoo!" 

  Your laughter died down slowly. "W-Wait… really…" From there, the two of you just had to soak up the situation. You both were willing to help him and it was a fun concept idea to try but where did this idea of his come from? Had he even had sex at this point? 

  Maybe this was his idea of learning. But you both were almost completely sure it was a kink of some sort. Regardless, you guys had an evening to plan for now. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

   The three of you hanging out together wasn't new. If anything, it was a normal occurrence. But today it was tense. 

  A movie was playing while you cuddled up to Nicholas. A blanket wrapped around your shoulders as Euijoo sat on the other side of Nicholas. After you all had said hello, a blanket of awkwardness covered the room as you settled down. 

  Although you guys were okay with it, no one could imagine how to get this started. It's funny to say but all you guys wanted to do was fuck, get Euijoo's consensus, and move on. 

  As the movie droned on in the background, Euijoo had to start playing on his phone to stay awake. Nicholas was damn near snoring and you were tired of the tension.

  Starting to feel impatient, you started to kiss Nichos jaw lightly. Feathery kisses trailing from his sharp jawline down his neck. Clearly, it caught his attention as Nicholas squeezed down on you. 

  His fingers grasping at your hips to hold you still. As his eyes opened, he chuckled lowly and leaned into your ear. 

  "Ah, so you're ready now baby girl? It's about time-" His husky voice sent a chill down your back, making you press your body closer to his. 

  Nicholas peppered kisses on your lips as he pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. His warm hands roam up and down your bare thighs and peeking into your shorts with cheeky intent. 

  His soft lips moved down your jaw, and up to your ear, making you moan softly. The slight noise made Euijoo drop his phone as he glanced over and saw the two of you. Stuck between stealing glances and full on watching, he instead picked his phone back up and pretended to be preoccupied. Except for the obvious tent starting to form in his pants. 

  As Nicholas' hands continued to roam over your body, he pulled you a bit closer. "Alright baby doll, don't be shy and put on a show for us, yeah?" 

  His words melted your shyness away, a now audible moan leaving your body as you started to grind down on him. You could practically feel the smirk on your boyfriend's lips as his fingers started to peel away at your clothes.

  Long digits making smooth strokes along your still-clothed cunt, finding your clit and focusing there. Audience or not, you were starting to feel that too-familiar wetness building up and you loved it. 

  Grinding your hips down to feel even more of the friction you craved so badly. Opening your eyes, you could see Euijoo was completely red in the face. Phone long since discarded as his eyes scanned your bodies up and down. As if absorbing the scene or even taking mental notes. 

   And somehow, this only encouraged you more. Reattaching your lips with Nicholas, who let out a low growl as he bit down on your lip. 

  "Look at you, soaking wet already. Is that because he's here? Are you turned on by him watching?" Maybe you were! Who knows but as Nicholas removed your shorts and your panties, the question evaporated from your mind. 

  The cool air made you gasp and cling to his hand even more. One, then two fingers into your pussy as he stroked quickly. Curling his fingers occasionally as you rode his hand. 

   You let out a series of pants and moans without restraint. "There you go you little slut. Let the world hear you too while you're riding my fingers." 

  Euijoo had to bite back on his tongue hearing that. Both out of shock and because a moan of his own almost came out. 

  He had never heard Nicholas say such things in a serious manner, especially not to you. Nicholas was always so sweet and loving, only using the most precious pet names for you. And the fact that he called you a slut and you moaned as a response was a new shock. 

  Now he had to look into himself as to why he almost let the same sound slip from his own lips. He didn't say it to him, so why was his dick only getting harder? 

  Shaking himself from his head, he was met with Nicholas pulling his cock out. And surprised he was. Sure, he's been close with Nicho for years and they've talked about their dicks before but actually seeing it was a different story. 

  Euijoo had to admit, his friend was well-endowed. Lengthy but not absurd, girthy with thick veins running the length of his shaft and a slight curve at the top. Now he was glad he was just watching and not putting out, he might've been embarrassed in comparison. 

  Running a hand down Nicho's body, you took his hardened length in your hand and stroked him a few times, rubbing your soaked cunt against his shaft and coating him in your juices. "Fuck doll, I need you so bad." 

  Spurred on by his words, you only moved faster against him. "Hmm, please baby, please I want your cock badly-" 

  Wasting not another moment, he aligned his tip with your entranced and pushed inside. Lewd noises coursed through you as the sweet familiar stretch of your pussy took over. 

 In no time, you had him bottomed out and started to bounce on his cock. Gripping his shoulders and crying out as you rode him, desperate to chase your high. 

  Nicholas continued to praise you as he moaned, holding your hips stable and leaving marks on any skin he could get to. 

  Why was all this having such a heavy effect on Euijoo? He felt lightheaded and antsy but in a good way. Soaking in the sights and smells and words. 

 His legs crossed over but were twitching as he tried to gain some relief. It was damn near painful at this point. Attempting to be discreet, he palmed at his strained member, hoping it would help. But it barely did. 

  Unknowingly, he started to pant and whimper as well, desperate for his own relief. Was he seriously this turned on by watching you two fuck? Maybe. 

  But his little pleas didn't go unnoticed. You opened your eyes to see him struggling. And in a way, something stirred inside you. You wanted to help him too, since he probably didn't know how to help himself. 

  It wasn't pity but more, 'This baby boy can't seem to cum on his own and I'll gladly help.'  Slowing down your hips got your boyfriend's attention as you nodded towards Euijoo, whose eyes were shut tight at this point. 

   Luckily you and Nicholas always seemed to understand each other, even without words. "Ah I see, you wanna help him too? Go for it doll." 

  With a kiss on the cheek, you gave him a smile. Reaching over, you placed your hand on Euijoo's- the one that was covering his dick. 

  His eyes popped open in surprise as he made eye contact with you. His face only burned up more in embarrassment that he had been caught in such a pathetic position. And somehow, it just turned him on more. 

  "Do you want help baby boy? You probably wanna cum so badly, hm?" Euijoo couldn't respond but he didn't stop you as you crawled off of Nicholas, and closer to him. Your hands work away and loosening his sweats and pulling them off to expose his underwear, a very obvious wet stain peering through. 

  Your touch on his cock through his underwear made him jump, which got a giggle out of you. "So sensitive, have you ever had anyone touch you before baby?" 

  You caressed him up and down moving extremely slowly, almost driving him crazy. Nicholas leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder. "Probably not doll. He's shivering so badly from just your hand, imagine what more will do to him." He nibbled on your earlobe as he teased his friend. 

  Euijoo's head was spinning. He was meant to be a spectator and now you both were playing with him in a way. He couldn't stop the yelp that left his lips as you held down on his cock. 

  Pulling his underwear down, his hard cock stood up, hitting his stomach. Your fingers ran along his length with a feather-like touch, making him shiver. "Look at this Nicho, isn't his cock pretty?" 

  Nicholas nodded and kissed your cheek. Resting his hand a top of yours and guiding you on stroking Euijoo. "You're so right doll. Wouldn't you like to taste him?" 

  You nodded before bending over, your lips leaving a light touch on his tip. A strangled mix of a yelp and a moan left him. This was not what he expected in any way but his body was melting into your touch. 

  The warmth and wetness of your mouth taking in his tip sent shivers down his body. This was a new sensation and it was better than he imagined. 

  He would feel shameful to admit he was still a virgin in just about every sense of the word. Besides himself, this was the first time someone had touched his dick. Blowjob and all. 

  You worked your way down slowly, taking in more of his shaft as you went. Smiling every time your tongue swirled around and he moaned, or when he would whimper the further down you went before taking all of him in your mouth. 

  While you were working at Euijoo's cock, you gave Nicholas a perfect view of your ass and pussy. Still soaking with fluid running down your thighs. Well, he couldn't just let you have all the fun. 

  Taking his hand, he spread your legs a bit and began kissing up your thighs. Licking up everything that had run down them. Once he reached your heat, his tongue immediately got to work. Licking, sucking, and stroking you. 

  His actions made you moan around Euijoo, which got the same reaction out of him. Nicholas couldn't help but find it cute. His tongue poked your entrance before sinking inside your tight hole.

  Flicking his tongue as he went in and out, pleasuring you and enjoying himself at the same time. Savoring your taste as he felt your hips jerk back. 

  Pulling back, he kissed from your clit up to your other hole. Licking around the rim as you jerked. It was rare he played with your asshole but when it did, it was crazy. 

  Taking three of his fingers, Nicholas stuck them in his mouth. Coating them in his spit before circling your hole and pushing one finger inside. A heavy sigh left your body as he pushed it deeper inside. 

  He continued to stroke his finger in and out before adding the second and a third, stretching you out more. Your hips bucked back to get more of him. "Shh, relax doll, you'll have more of me soon enough." 

  His fingers kept a steady pace at your hole as you matched the pace of you sucking off Euijoo. Who was practically a mess in your mouth. 

  His eyes shut tight as a light sweat started to build. You were teasing him as well. If this was his first time, you would hate for him to cum too early. When he started to twitch too much, you'd pull back completely and let him relax a bit. 

  You could've sworn he was almost crying from not getting his release. Stroking his thighs for reassurance, you placed light kisses on his skin. "Don't worry baby boy. You'll get to cum soon, I promise." 

   Thankfully at the same time, Nicholas gave you a kiss on your ass. Once you were loose enough, he removed his fingers. Pulling back from Euijoo, you readjusted the positions. 

  Euijoo sat back so you were straddling his lap with Nicholas behind you. His hands slowly moved up your back as he kissed along your spine.

  "Take your time doll. If it hurts too much, use the safe word okay?" Nicholas was always so sweet, especially when things were about to be crazy. 

  You nodded before facing Euijoo. Placing kisses on his cheek and neck. "The same goes for you too baby boy. If it's uncomfortable, tell me to stop." You nuzzled his cheek to which he nodded. 

  "Y-yeah. Okay. I'm ready." His voice shook in anticipation but he couldn't believe this was happening. 

  Taking his shaft into your hand, you stroked Euijoo slowly before aligning him with your pussy and pushing him inside. 

 A mewl-like moan erupted from him the second you had engulfed him. He couldn't help but jerk around as you sank down his cock at a steady pace. Once you had taken in all of him, his head fell back in ecstasy. 

  He understood the craze now. Your wet and tight folds held on and massaged his cock in a way he could only dream of. From base to tip he was drowning in the pleasure as it spread all over him. 

 After a few moments, you started to move your hips. Trying to maintain a slow pace so as to not overwhelm him. But he was already panting and had a death grip on your hips. 

  "You like that baby boy? Hm, Euijoo likes my tight pussy?" He nodded eagerly and whimpered. He almost felt pathetic with how easily he was falling apart because of you. 

  It would be a lie to say you weren't enjoying this too. There was something so hot about riding Euijoo and making him squirm and moan. Such an innocent soul (or so you thought) unraveling before you as you touched him. It only made you more soaked as you picked up the pace. 

  But you couldn't soak it in for too long. A hand wrapped around your throat from behind, halting you in your tracks. The hot, almost burning chest of Nicholas pressed up against your back as he leaned over you, his cock poking your ass. 

  "Don't finish him off just yet doll." His low sultry voice nearly ruined you there. As he still had his hand on your throat, he poked the rim of your ass before slipping in. Your body swallows him in with little protest. 

  Your body shook at the new sensation. Never had you been filled so much, a cock in each hole had you quivering. 

  Nicholas jerked his hips forward, filling you out more, and started to thrust consistently, causing your hips to naturally move on Euijoo as well. 

  "Fuck, you're such a cock slut, aren't you. Drooling and moaning because you want more of us." His words were only punctuated with a harsh thrust. 

  So quickly you had gone from teasing Euijoo to falling apart at the words of Nicholas. And it only made your orgasm grow closer. 

  Euijoo was already close himself and seeing this on you was only making it worse. Especially when your hips moved with a determination to make him finish as well. 

  "Nicho, please, wanna cum please!" You begged as you felt your body start to tingle and your toes curled. 

  "You have to make Euijoo cum first doll, then you can." You nodded as your hips bounced more eagerly on Euijoo. A hand slipped up your shirt and pinched your nipple in response. 

  Euijoo let his eyes close and his mouth hangs open. Soaking in everything. His body tensed up as the knot in his stomach tightened. Your cunt making him feel better than he ever has before. 

 Not only that, but Nicholas pumping into you at the same time and putting you in the same position he was. A shaking, pleasure-filled moaning mess. 

  That's not to say he was ignoring the lewd mess that was becoming of Nicholas. He looked almost animalistic at this point, hair a sweat-covered mess that stuck to his forehead, growls and moans mixed together as he thrusts at an almost inhuman pace. 

  It all mixed together and was almost overwhelming how much Euijoo was holding back from coming undone. But as you placed a rough kiss on his neck and moved up to his ear, it became miles easier. 

  "Cum for me baby boy, you earned it." And just like that, Euijoo came hard. His body shook and he held onto your shoulders as cum shot out of his cock and into your cunt. Flowing almost endlessly as he cried out, stars filling his vision. 

   Before you could start to praise him, Nicholas pulled back on your throat and buried himself in you mercilessly and making your own orgasm wash over you. Followed shortly by his own, filling your ass with his cum as well. 

  There was a moment of stillness as everyone came down and caught their breath. 

  Nicholas pulled out and helped you off of Euijoo. Kissing your lips and praising you before leaving to get some tissues to clean everyone up. 

  As you and Euijoo remained, he was unsure how to feel but averted his gaze. You chuckled and kissed his forehead, pulling his head into your lap. Stroking his hair to ground him. 

  "Good boy Euijoo. You did amazing sweetheart. How do you feel?" Euijoo felt so many things. He was relieved, energized, and satisfied. 

  "I feel… good. Thank you guys." You chuckled as Nicholas returned, helping you guys clean up. Once you were done, you snuggled into Nicholas' chest, still with Euijoo in your lap. 

  You were exhausted beyond reason but smiled. Nicholas peppered kisses on your face, lips, and cheeks. Resting his hand on top of yours and laced your fingers together that were petting his friend's head. 

  Surrounded by such warmth, Euijoo could feel himself drifting off to sleep. He had more to ask, more to say, but it could wait. He felt way too good to break the peace and went to sleep as the movie played in the background.

[weaver-z]

This season feels like it's definitely setting up a lot of future plot points for season 3, but I want to address something I think I might have all figured out.

Maggie.

A lot of people found Maggie's characterization odd this season. Most chalked it up to quirkiness, or Pratchett's influence on the style of the show. She's emotional, lonely, and peculiarly naïve. She doesn't drink. She appears to have no relationship experience.

For me, she reminded me of one very specific group of people I spent a long time with growing up, and one that I was briefly a part of as a child: Christian homeschoolers. Sheltered, devoted, modestly-dressed, socially-stunted... the works. I'd bet money that Maggie is a Christian, whatever denomination, especially considering her reactions to the angels and demons we see in the series. She's even able to shake off one of Aziraphale's miracles through force of will, an act so strange a lot of people assumed she might be a demon or even some kind of invention of the Metatron (which is a very cool theory, by the way, just not one I believe).

No, I think she's just a special human. Her proximity to Aziraphale -- her reliance on him -- is not an accident.

We all watched episode 6. All I'm saying is, God's already done one virgin birth, and I doubt They'd skimp on the immaculate conception via a pure, devoted virgin when They set the Second Coming into motion.

[joyswonderland1108]

Seek help.

Please read this as i'm trying to spread awareness. Before you continue, if this landed randomly on your page, i'm a Jikook blog, you do not have to follow me or disregard this post simply because of that as my goal here is to speak up for Jungkook.

Now back to all of you who know me already, it is nothing new to you that i complained many times before about Tiktok Army. Today however for some reason i'm at my breaking point.

When i tell you that Jungkook is but a sexual fantasy to a lot of "Army" i'm not even joking. This image they're trying to give to Jungkook as him being a fuckboy, a player, yada yada, is getting out of hand. The boy is doing his best to get out of that "baby" image many stick to him but that also doesn't mean it gives you the right to objectify him, some people here are forgetting that objectifying doesn't only happen with women so let that be a reminder to you that it can happen to anyone.

Yes Jungkook is exploring different genre, exploring mature concepts but this does not mean that you can use him for your own sexual fantasies, or make comments about him making him sound/look like a pervert.

It's already bad enough that hater made up a rumor about him that many dumbasses believed without checking how they were trending that Jungkook was a SA'er and now "Army" making comments that aren't helping this sick agenda either.

In KBS the photocards that were gifted to those who attended had "Our Army whom i want to see in 3D" written at the back of it, it should be cute considering how much Jungkook would remind us that he really appreciates Army and is so thankful towards them. The expression simply meant that he wants to see Army in real life, but going ahead and linking it to the meaning of the song.. I don't know if people are aware of the shit they are insinuating with that.

And if you still don't know let me spell it out for you: You are insinuating that Jungkook is asking random people to see them in compromising positions, see them sexually, the people aka the fans. A gentle reminder that some idols had scandals when it comes to ACTUALLY indulging in sexual acts with fans or sexual remarks towards fans that made them uncomfortable. So you over here mindlessly making comments about Jungkook that might be taken so wrongly by people is insane.

Be mindful of what you say, i feel like whatever Jungkook decides to do many people here makes him regret his decision. He decided to share snippets of him at the gym, did a live there: Stalked. He decided to do lives from home: Stalked. He decided to try to interact more with Army's comments: Disrespectful comments. He decided to explore mature concepts for his solos: Overly sexualized and objectified.

There's a difference between being open minded about sex and sexy concepts and actually only seeing a person as that, making it their whole personality. Need i remind you that Jungkook is an artist too? Before you forget that he's just your sexual fantasy, your out of a manhwa wet dream, he is also a singer, an artist, a performer, someone who works hard not for you to only see his dick.

And it's funny to me because these same people would call you close-minded simply for seeing him as a human, you know, something he himself have said before that he too is a human. These same people would call you immature for actually seeing more than just "sex" in him, these same people would call you a kid or a grandma for not making sick comments about him.

All that and they still do not realize that being mature is being completely okay with the fact that Jungkook is a grown ass man and isn't the virgin weeb many can't help but think he is, that he is an adult who knows what sex is and can sing about it if that's what he wants to, that he is capable of choosing the mature concept without making him a player.

I feel like more than other members Jungkook is always the target of so many fucked up things, whether it's rumors, or stalking, or nasty comments, or or or. I've talked previously about how i was surprised during TMA seeing how many people didn't even bother with Jungkook from the beginning, and i'll say it again i thought that i'll have a hard time with both my biases i thought that it'll be a tough competition and i'll be left there not knowing which direction to take just for me to realize that many people never even bothered to vote for him to begin with.

Many people would rather read fictions about him, very sick fictions actually, would rather make Y/N povs on tiktok, make edits about him that would gather some very nasty comments than actually properly support him.

Many people don't even want to support him on what HE himself literally said, spelled out from his own mouth. Many people want to make decisions for him and would fight people who truly care for him and defend him and what he said because apparently to these people what Jungkook said himself is not good enough so they feel the entitlement to decide for him all while telling those who care to "Not decide for him" Ah.. The irony.

Because one more reminder, i will not let you forget that some people are up until this day, still negotiating Jungkook's enlistment and how he can still go later maybe even in 2028 ignoring the many times Jungkook himself said that he will enlist soon, that he can't wait to reunite with the members in 2025.

I don't know where the disrespect, where the audacity, where the bravery is coming from, but seriously Jungkook is way too kind for some people, like.. WAY TOO DAMN KIND. Just because he said he wanted us to be friends with him it doesn't mean that some boundaries are meant to be crossed. Just because he is a man, it doesn't mean it gives you the right to treat him like something that you own, if he was a woman i want to see if those same people would still make comments about him that way.

Men can be harassed too, men can be sexualized too, men can be objectified too. Him wanting to be the grown up that he is doesn't give you the right to mold him into a filthy image out of your own fetishes.

Please have some respect for that man, support him for who he is, not who you want him to be.

[arminzzarlert]

Death note characters with a s/o who has dysphoria (ftm)

I'm having trouble myself and there's not too many of these for DN so I took matters into my own hands 😈

(if you know me, this ain't me 🔫)

Light Yagami📓

This mf is hard to do cause yk his personality and all so I'm gonna try to keep it in character 😭🙏🏼

Lights a mf genius so of course he'll know that you're feeling a little off, and he would probably know what it is so he just goes up to you and hands you a bag.

"Here, I took notice of your behavior so i went to the store and bought you these."

Okay I don't really headcanon any characters a sexuality but I would say light would be either gay or polysexual so he would slightly understand how your feeling alsooo, light is rich soooo 🫢😋

Overall, he's decent if he feels like it cause remeber he's an independent baddie ✋🏽✨️ (I love him sm BRRRRR)

L lawliet ✨️

He's like stinkin' rich so he'll pay for whatever you need that'll keep you satisfied (I love me some rich men 😜)

He's a mf detective + genuis so don't think that you're hiding it well 🤨

He would just hand you the shopping bag (that watari bought) and say "here."

He means well, he's just an introverted virgin who's mostly kept to himself, tryna put criminals in the face of justice

He doesn't really understand the concept of gender and sexuality so explain it to him slowly so he can understand your dysphoria and what to do to help you out on your journey

Overall he'll be a jerk but he's (rich) down to help you

Misa Amane 💗

Omg okay this is gonna be my favorite so far anyways....we all know Misa is a loyal supportive clingy lass right? so that means she will be more than glad to help you figure yourself out!!!

She will comfort you on your bad dysphoria days, she will kiss your forehead while holding you close to her chest

A LITERAL SWEETHEART UGH 💓💓💓

NO ONE CAN MAKE ME HATE YOUUUUU, MISAAAA 🙏🏼🫶🏽🫶🏽💗💓

An 'Ask and you shall receive✨️🤞' type of girl

She would ask you what you need and she'll go to the store rq to buy it for you

Overall best person to have on your worst dysphoria days 🫶🏽 she will be there for you on your journey no matter what

Kiyomi Takada

I don't really like her much but Idk I had to think of somebody

I don't really know too much about her but all I know is that she will be similar to lights

She will just buy you what you need to help you out like misa

On your bad dysphoria days, she would have your big ass hoodie on the spot cause she ṭĥªṭ gʻìřĺ

Sorry if hers is short, again I don't really know much about her.

Anywaysss hope yall love this 😭🙏🏼 I might make more about this topic for other characters, if you want a specific one-- you're free to message me or tap my suggestions box, you can even spam it idrc

If this doesn't suit you, this is mostly about my experience, hope I'm not mocking anybody though 🫶🏽🫶🏽 no matter how bad your dysphoria is/is getting, I believe you in youuuu!!! trust the process, the journey will be worth it, to find yourself.

Okay see ya later xoxo

[viviennelamb]

What do you think is the goal behind women talking so much about "purity culture?" I try to avoid feminist discussion in general now but I occasionally see this topic brought up, and they usually equate loving purity/wanting to be pure with pedophilia or something similar ( I recently saw someone say "purity culture is rape culture.") I seriously doubt it would ever happen, but I like the idea of getting to be in an actually loving relationship with a women who values the same things as me. I don't seek it out becauce there's no point in doing that, it's more of a "it would be cool if this happened" thing. But when they say things like this, it makes me feel like I'm wrong or perverted for seeing purity as a positive trait in a partner.

These are my thoughts: I see grown women put on that fake mask of purity that's meant to attract men's attention (and sometimes women's bc I've seen lesbians have these kinks) towards them. One of the more obvious examples: the whole pink ribbon coquette "I'm an innocent little submissive bunny uWu" thing they do. And oc these women obviously adore pedophilia and want to roleplay having their innocence stolen again. They don't have it anymore so they have to play pretend to reach physical excitement, which is why these kinks exist in the first place. But then "purity culture" is blamed for these people finding purity sexually exciting, like it's some made-up concept, when that's literally what sex is- degrading someone else by using their body for a high. The more innocent someone is, the more degrading (aka exciting) the sex is for, therefore innocence is sexually beguiling to most people whether they admit it or not.

I've seen that the "sex-critical but not anti-sex" crowd hates people using different scenarios to act out degredation and referencing the predator/prey dymanic of sex through kink, bdsm, etc. But they think sex is fine as long as they don't overtly acknowledge that what they're doing is degrading or an exchange of power. Like an "out of sight, out of mind" thing. So they draw very random and rigid lines around what sex is okay and what sex isn't, and what isn't okay is anything that takes them out of the lovey-dovey lie they tell themselves and reminds them of what's really getting them off. To me there's something even more predatory about these people, because even if the kind of lust they engage in is less violent/extreme, they're incredibly manipulative about their intentions. Their whole shtick about sex being an "expression of love" is the most coercive thing ever.

Everyone in the world seeks to consume purity and people only ever encouraged purity as a temporary measure in one's goal of finding "the one." Like a virgin distribution system, it's about everyone getting to their fair share of innocence to taint, not about loving innocence itself. That is the real "purity culture", but instead of defending purity they think the solution to this problem is to just pretend purity is a made up concept. They decide to blame it all on a toxic ideology instead of being honest about reality, just like they do with every other problem in the world. Like if you simply decide to think about an action in a different way, that somehow changes the action being wrong. They decide that purity doesn't exist and that lust isn't harmful, which gives them the freedom to go about life feeding on innocence guilt-free, degrading themselves and others but believing they're morally superior than people who are more upfront about why they do what they do. I hope this makes sense and I'm not just writing in circles, I know why their logic is flawed in my head but I'm bad at piecing my thoughts together in a coherent way for others.

Also this is random but I had to share: The most hilarous thing I ever saw in my radfem tumblr days was a post telling you how to suck dick without it being patriarchal and degrading. As if you can take away the inherent degredation of stuffing one's face with some man's dick. It said to not kneel, to not stare up at him in the eyes like pornstars do, and to not go far back enough to gag. Sex pest logic: "It's natural and there's nothing wrong with it, just don't look him in the eye while you do it or it's degrading."

I've heard of the “purity is perversion” thing, and they're jealous. Women want to be attractive to everybody, even if they're not attracted to that individual, so they create think pieces on why they should be included in other people's dating pools, how beauty standards should change, etc. Now Twomen are engaging in the same behavior saying that you're a bigot if you're not attracted to them.

Even though 99.9% of people want an impure partner, they talk about purity way too often for it to not be an envy-based concern. Purity is the only trait that matters in a partner, everything else falls into place after that. If purity isn't the foundation for a relationship, that's when people get into these weird and oddly specific traits that don't really matter because they truth is they'd screw anything with a pulse. And they do.

When people fake like purity, they want the image of purity projected, but if you're actually pure, that makes them insecure and run for the hills because your standards are too high to live up to. And you won't fuck them, of course.

Sex-addicts also delude themselves into believing that “having sex through your heart” or “having sex with your brain” purifies their act, which is why they're so impressed with themselves when they speak like this. I can't believe I have to say this, but you can only have sex with your genitals. There's no purifying or romanticizing sex—it's for the painfully horrifying ordeal of self-sacrificial procreation. If people want to deny this, fine, but I don't want to hear them complain about rape and pedophilia. You don't get to justify sex for yourself, then criticize how other people have sex and who they have it with.

Most people are pedophiles. This goes much deeper than an orgasm, it's a state of consciousness, and it's the most evil form of it. The world isn't the way it is for no reason, the thoughts of the population materializes, which the news sheds a light on hourly. People think the news is cherry-picking to sow doom and gloom, but the news is actually very sanitized and is vastly underreporting on reality, saving airtime for the most deplorable cases.

If you want to find a genuine person, they won't have a reputation to uphold. People with reputations are manipulators. Individuals who know they're evil welcome bad karma and get off on their misfortune and the decay of their body. They're not only sadistic, but also put themselves through the ringer for sexual gratification. These are beings who intentionally contract STDs, and spread them, will burn themselves and others, put themselves in situations to get raped and rape others. Fake good people believe they're victims, even though they engage in the same behavior as overtly evil people because they engage in the New Age religion of “just think of it differently, and you will dodge karma!” You can't dodge the self-made structure of your brain.

To the ordinary person, purity culture is having to actually apply their philosophies to everyday life. If you're speaking to a feminist separatist who says she hates men, but then you point out that she has a boyfriend, she will call you a purist for expecting her to abide by the values she says she has. Purity culture isn't only about sex, it's about actually being who you say you are. This is where impurity and the split mind come into play, most people cannot reconcile reality with what is going on in their head, which is the basis of all mental illnesses.

If you call a slut a slut, you're being rude, but if you call a slut an innocent angel, she will become gleeful even though she doesn't fit the criteria. The ordinary person is begging to be lied to, and then they get upset when they get played. People love poetic whores for this reason. The individual's lack of self-awareness is why they are taken advantage of repeatedly. This level of naivety has clarified that the cabal does need to deploy mind control, as most are not interested in controlling their minds. The primary way people are controlled is through their senses. When I see people with zero discipline write pieces on how they abuse their senses in this never-heard-of-unique way even though it's very mediocre, as if they have any autonomy, it's kinda funny. Just like the essing dee example you gave.

The “think of x differently” mindset is exactly what false religions are about and how dogma springs up. If somebody is consistently having sex, their consciousness is at that level. It doesn't matter how intelligent they project themselves to be, people who are actually smart aren't popular & can see through their facade. If you're popular yet, claim to speak the truth, that's a contradictory statement. One must lie, pander and grift in some manner, or they're stupidly reinventing the wheel to gain traction in this world.

Although I absolutely despise evil, I'd rather deal with an overt devil than the covert one. The ones who openly brag about their disgusting nature and don't try to justify themselves, but these individuals are relatively rare. Overt psychopaths are the ones women hate because women are covert psychopaths who are terrified of men who make no effort to hide their true nature. This is because women like to be warmed up to the sexophile's vulturine nature slowly, then claim victimhood. Women as a collective hate the truth because women lie that much.

The language people use is indicative of their true nature. It's a sign of how versed they are in grooming, manipulation and “lovebombing." Convoluted, confusing and flowery language is meant to romanticize degeneracy. Predators are predictable, but people with smooth brains will always be easy prey. Oh well, survival of the fittest, right?

The majority of the world is still illiterate, and most of the people who can read do so at a 2nd grade level (and that is dwindling according to what these teachers are saying). So to even have good enough karma to read yet waste one's eyesight on garbage is a personal choice. What you're saying is literally incomprehensible to everybody. Realistically, there is only a small portion of the world this information is available to, a lecture room of people who can comprehend it and a handful who will actually apply it. Still worth it for those who are genuinely suffering, so any truth you can speak is infinitesimally useful.

Eating genitals is no different than drinking piss and eating shit. These are dog-people who are only one step away from eating plated feces as a delicacy, which is why westerners are projected to eat bugs soon. We're seeing more and more people with veneers for a reason. It's not just to get a Hollywood Smile. I would talk about this more, but 120 Days of Sodom demonstrates Satan Consciousness well enough. These beings are not human but take on the appearance of such. Actual humans are at least aware of their souls and demonstrate discipline and decorum. Animals are at the will of their base urges.

[blueberryducky]

This is ridiculous but I’m feeling very vulnerable and emotional about the fact that I can put a label to my queerness I’m literally crying right now because I want to hug my past self and tell her everything will be ok.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I felt fucking RELIEVED the day I found out what asexual meant, and not only that but also there’s the term aromantic?? I was over the moon. I finally had a word to describe what I felt (or lack of felt in this case??).

I genuinely thought there was something off about me while growing up, and it got worse once I started watching all my friends and classmates getting into relationships and breaking up and feeling the pressure of having my first kiss and losing my virginity (a whole other discussion entirely bc of how wrong the concept is used and the importance is given) I was so fucking stressed and nervous all the time and felt so isolated and lonely.

I was scared I was not be prepared to have my first kiss.

I was so scared for someone to ask me out because of what my friends would think of me if I rejected them.

I felt violated every time someone made a sexual innuendo or hinted to a sexual situation with me.

I felt very uncomfortable when my friends talked about their relationships and getting intimate.

Fuck, I was and still am so scared of intimacy that I barely even hug my more trusted friends, and I only started doing that when I was 20 and felt like I could finally trust the first friend I made into adulthood.

Being a teenager and being told that you’re a late bloomer while you see everyone engage in intimacy and having their first experiences with being in a relationship makes one feel so alienated, I thought I would have to say yes to the first person to ask me out just to get it over with.

Not understanding yourself while making people believe that you ‘totally get why that actor is hot’ and ‘omg of course I kissed before’ for fear of rejection is like adding more confusion to an already unsolvable puzzle. Why did this happen to me?? Why did none of my friends have the same questions as I?? Why was everyone so fucking chill all the time about this when I was anxiously overthinking every single interaction for fear of being too cold or too friendly and hence making the other person believe I was interested in something other than friendship?? Why was I crying to sleep assuming I was unlovable and incapable of loving someone??

Realising that not only your feelings are valid but there’s other people out there who share the same burdens and questions as you feels like being able to breathe again. It’s like waking up from a nightmare where everyone was in on a bit that you just didn’t understand.

I’m still not at peace with myself because I have a lot of internalised bullshit, but being able to understand a part of me, a part that ate at every thought I ever had while growing up feels so good.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have answers to all my questions, and I don’t know if I will ever be ok with the fact that I can be alone without being lonely because right now that seems like fiction to me, but I’m healing and I’m trying and that’s enough for now.

[toxicanonymity]

Why is dads best friend Joel so hot? Why are we so attracted to him? What does this mean?

(This is an old ask, sorry). IDK if this is about my original DBF or DBFs in general, I guess I'll assume the latter and say it varies with personal taste. Obviously there are different things we like about the individual stories but I believe you're referring more to the concept of "dad's best friend." For me, it's usually the "We shouldn't be doing this" / extra layer of depravity. For some it's a paternal figure like protectiveness. Maybe someone who feels forbidden but at the same time safe if your dad is a good man and close to him. . . DBFs have been a thing for a long time in my understanding, and were popular in this fandom from the start (at least, while the show was still airing). I'm glad they're popular because whether people acknowledge it or not it's often written a little dark but accepted mainstream. there's often an inherent power imbalance.

I was hesitant to do one at first because there were already so many but I tried to do something different with mine to the point where IDK if people even think of mine as DBFs lol. In the first one from March I wanted to give the reader some power and have a kind of switch/shifting power dynamic. In the current one, well.

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My DBFs

Complete series - Silence can never be bought (dbf, AU)⭐ Joel is a family friend. You catch him in a compromising position and hold it over him until you both realize what you really want. The dad will be more relevant in the next 'season' if there's enough interest for this to be continued.

Ongoing series - Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) Post-outbreak, He's a neighbor your dads trust to look in on you while they seek treatment for Frank.

One shot /one-off joel- Fucking Joel at your dad's house - Reader is the aggressor.

Two shot with potential - Canopy is just risky smut, but in part 2 on a different day y'all get caught