#Ghost writes

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Pt. IX

Part 9 has finally arrived!!! This chapter we begin to move into winter as the first big snow storm of the year hits (really funny that I'm getting around to publishing this in the dead of the July heat lol). Everyone's finally starting to settle into the dynamic which will lead to some... Interesting interactions while the five of them are stuck in close quarters. I am still having issues with getting everyone tagged because Tumblr hates me, but if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know! Thank you so much for reading!

WARNINGS: Some suggestive behavior

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Part VIII - Part X (TBA)

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“Do you think the storm is going to be that bad?” Vessel asks. “It’s all we’ve been hearing about on the radio for the past few days.”

“It’s probably going to get pretty nasty. They’re expecting most of the town to lose power.” You bounce your leg nervously, watching him pause to go over his mental checklist in his head. “Would you, um… would you like to stay with me?”

He chuckles as he approaches the counter, “Scared of the big, bad snowstorm, lovey?” He teases with a smile.

“I’m not scared.” You snap back instantly, rolling your eyes. “It’s just,” Vessel didn’t miss the way the concern immediately crept back into your tone, “you’re so far out in the woods; what if something happens and no one can get out there to help.” His expression softens, reaching up to caress your cheek. You can't help but lean into his touch, his palm warm against your skin.

“If you’re more comfortable with us here, we’ll stay. Besides, do you really think I’m going to turn down a chance to spend more time with my girl?” Your cheeks grow warm as a flustered smile spreads across your lips. You still hadn't gotten used to Vessel so adamantly declaring you as his.

“Good,” you respond, trying your best to appear confident, “I need someone to keep me warm.” You smile coyly at him, making Vessel chuckle.

“Well, feeling bold today, are we beautiful?” His expression darkens slightly as a devious glint appears in his eyes. Your pulse immediately quickens as he offers you a sharp smile, his massive form towering over you, “You want to be in my arms, pretty girl?” He coos, making your face burn. He leans down, bringing his face in front of yours. “I'll hold you all night if that's what you want.” He whispers. He can't help but laugh slightly at your flustered expression, calling you cute as he straightens back up. “I'll be back in about an hour with the others. Let us take care of dinner tonight; you deserve to be spoiled for once.”

“Just be safe, okay? Everything always gets a little crazy around here on storm days.” He takes your hand, slowly bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“I'll be back before you know it.” He smiles sweetly. “Promise.”

While Vessel went to get the others, you took the time to make preparations. You were lucky enough to have the store beneath you; if you lost power, the fridges and your supply of ice would be sufficient to keep things cold for a while. You gathered all the candles and extra blankets from around your apartment, piling them up in one area with your other emergency supplies. You can’t help but smile when there’s a knock at your door. You squeal as III’s large hands wrap around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the floor. “There she is!” He exclaims excitedly, spinning you around in a hug. You’re suddenly sandwiched between him and IV; you let out a pleased hum as III slots his lips against yours, IV peppering your face with kisses simultaneously.

IV nuzzles his face against yours as III pulls back. “We missed you, doll.” You spin around, slipping into IV’s arms, letting him hug you close as III starts bringing things into the kitchen. He sways you gently in his arms, taking a moment to memorize the feeling of you being pressed against him before pulling back. “I'm going to help the others set up.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

II pushes through the door, arms full of what appeared to be pillows, as he struggles to keep his grip on all of them. “Want some help with that?” You offer with a giggle.

“That'd be great, thanks.” He responds with a chuckle of his own. You smile coyly at him, your arms sliding over his shoulders as he saunters up to you. “And how are you doing today, beautiful?”

“Much better now that you're all here.” You respond softly.

He hums approvingly, “That’s what I like to hear.” He trails a finger along your jaw, carefully tilting your chin until he can easily kiss you. Even the gentlest kisses from II always managed to take your breath away, and now was no different. “You just hang back and relax, love. Let us handle everything.”

Your heart always felt so full whenever all five of you were together. You would never get sick of how lively the group of them made you and your home feel. “Here you go.” You smile as IV slips a glass of wine into your hand, collapsing onto the couch at your side. Vessel, II, and III were currently bickering over something in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone for what felt like the first time in forever. “I have something for you.” He states softly. He takes your hand, rummaging around in his bag with the other until he produces a small, brown leather notebook. “Here.” He offers it to you; you can't help but smile at the gift.

“What's this?” You ask curiously. You open to the first page, and IV’s messy script is the first thing you see. ‘For my favorite girl, hopefully, this makes up for all the times I should have bought you flowers.’ You flip to the second page to find a perfectly preserved pressed flower. A bright orange bloom sat atop a stem of tiny green leaves; the date IV must have picked it, and the flower's name should have been written in the upper right corner. The rest of the book followed a similar pattern. A collection of vibrant reds, purples, and golds filled the rest of the pages. You could tell how carefully every flower was handled just by how it was presented to you on the page.

“Whenever I find a flower I think you'd like, I press it in a book. That way, you can keep them forever without them wilting.” The gesture was so sweet you blinked rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes.

“Thank you, IV, this is incredible.” You set the book carefully down on the table, reaching out and pulling him into your arms. He wasted no time melting into you, his arms circling your waist as he returned your embrace.

“You make me really happy, you know that?” You smile, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“So do you.” You both reluctantly separate from each other. You rest a hand on IV’s cheek, smiling softly at him as you study how his features curve under the fabric of his mask. You carefully take his face in your hands, guiding him forward to kiss his forehead. He smiles, letting out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

“Dinner’s ready!” You both jump as you hear Vessel call from the kitchen. He stands, helping you from the couch. IV pulls you into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let's go before it's all gone.” He chuckles

You stood at III’s side, helping him clean up after dinner. “That food was amazing.” You remark, making him chuckle.

“I try my best.” He responds humbly. “Working with whatever we can grow or hunt, I want to ensure it, at least, tastes good.” You finish drying off the wine glass you had been using earlier, pushing yourself up on your toes to struggle to reach the top shelf. III chuckles; you freeze as you feel the warmth of his body creep up your back, nearly making you drop the glass in the process. “Need some help, love?” He whispers, making you shiver. His long arms can easily reach up to set the glass back in its spot. His hands find their way to your waist, lifting you from the floor to put you on the counter easily. “I can finish up here; you can just relax.” He chuckles as you pout in response.

“You cooked dinner; the least I could do is help with the dishes,” you protest. He places his hands on either side of your waist as he leans closer.

“I think the least you could do is let someone take care of you for a change.” He whispers, making your cheeks grow warm. He studies you, a playful expression growing on his face as he realizes your flustered state. His hands leave the counter, massaging your plush thighs before they slide to your back, pulling you closer to him. You felt so small in his hands, but he still easily towered over you from your position on the counter. He ran his hands soothingly up and down your sides. You forced yourself to stifle the soft whine that threatened to leave you at the feeling of his strong hands against your body. “You're always so worried about taking care of everyone else. When was the last time someone did the same for you?”

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your thoughts growing fuzzy as you began to feel like putty under III’s touch. “But–” he hushes you softly as you start to argue.

“You deserve to be spoiled.” He says softly, lifting his mask enough to kiss you. “I want to make sure that you are.” You let out a pleased sound as he pushes into you. Your hands roam over his chest; you groan at the feeling of his muscles tensing under your palm. This kiss with III felt different than the others you had shared. This one was noticeably more intense and needy than when you kissed him. His fingers massaged into your muscles as he desperately sought to have you any closer to him than you already were. His breathing was heavy when the two of you finally separated; you could feel the way his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

“What's wrong?” Worry is immediately prominent in your tone.

“Nothing, doll.” He responds gruffly. “It's just if I keep kissing you like that–” he trails off with a chuckle.

“Too bad it's not just the two of us.” You respond under your breath. III’s gaze snaps to you, unsure if he had heard you correctly or not at first. You glance up at him through your lashes, and III could have sworn in that moment his heart stopped. You lean up, placing a gentle kiss on his clothed lips. “Hopefully, that’s not the last time you kiss me like that.”

“Trust me, you don't have to worry about that.” He smiles in response.

“Are you two done in there or what?” You hear II call, “Did we really have that many dishes?”

You giggle, “We should get back to the others.” He chuckles, nodding his agreement.

You found yourself seated in Vessel’s lap; your legs stretched over IV’s legs as he held your hand, your feet resting comfortably in III’s lap as he made easy work of massaging away all the tension in your muscles. II sat on the floor in front of the couch, holding your free hand in his own and bringing your knuckles to his lips every so often. You had thrown on a movie, some mindless holiday comedy that everyone seemed content with. You leaned into Vessel’s chest, letting your head fall against his shoulder. He smiles at you, carefully reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “You less nervous now, love?” He asks softly.

“How could I be nervous? I have all of you within arms reach.” You giggle. He hugs you close, the two of you enjoying the chance to be so close to each other. Just as your eyes grew heavy, your apartment was plunged into complete darkness. “Shit.” You curse, attempting to hurry out of Vessel’s lap; you pause when he gently squeezes your hip.

“II.” He states simply.

“On it.” Before you could ask what was happening, a match was struck to life. But all the candles were on the other side of the apartment; there was no way he could have gotten over there–

“I'll get the stove started.” III stands, placing your feet in IV’s lap. “These two better do a good job of keeping you warm.” He chuckles, quickly pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by.

You didn't have to lift a finger. Before you knew it, the wood stove was warming the living room, candles casting a soft orange glow over the entire space, and a mug of tea warming your hands as you sat sandwiched between IV and II on the couch. The night sped by as you found yourself playing card games, laughing to the point your sides hurt as you witnessed them bicker and repeatedly get caught trying to cheat. “I'm not counting cards!” II protests.

“You absolutely are!” III argues, “Don't think I can't see you counting on your hands!” II opens his mouth to respond, only for III to cut him off, “Disqualified! You are disqualified!” II groans, admitting defeat as he throws his cards on the table.

Vessel wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “You're looking a little tired, love.” You couldn't even attempt to argue as a yawn forces its way past your lips. “Let's call it a night.” He announced, helping you from the floor. “Goodnight.” Vessel leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Ves.” You smile, slipping into his arms for one final hug. You exchange your good nights with the others, reluctant to leave them even though you would only be in the next room. You could hear them all get settled as you lay in bed, your apartment eventually becoming deathly quiet once again. You lay there for what felt like hours, and it had only been about 20 minutes when you checked the time. You sigh, sitting up in bed. You stare at the door, debating whether any of them were still up. You toss back your covers and leave your bed, wincing slightly as the floorboards creak beneath your feet. You carefully crack open your bedroom door, glancing into the living room only to find Vessel still awake, reading a book under the low candlelight. “Everything alright, love?” He asks quietly. It took you a moment to respond, surprised that he realized you were there.

“I just can’t sleep.” You admit sheepishly, opening the door just wide enough to reveal yourself. He closes the book he was reading, setting it on the end table behind him.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He beckons you closer with a nod of his head. You carefully maneuver around the others, who had found a comfortable spot on the floor for the night. Vessel opens his arms for you, allowing you to crawl into his warm embrace. You cuddled into his chest, the heavy weight of his arms around your waist immediately lulling you into a new state of comfort as you melted into him. He tilts his head back; you swallow thickly as you realize just how nice it would feel to have your lips trail along the skin of his neck. You quickly shook the thought from your mind as he blew out the candle. “What’s troubling that pretty little head of yours, hm?” He purrs. You were finding it hard to concentrate. Vessel’s body was so warm every ache in your muscles simply seemed to vanish as you allowed your fingers to trail over his bare skin. He smelled of damp earth, musky incense, and the subtle sweetness of freshly cut flowers.

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper, looking up at him despite the fact you could barely make out the outline of his face.

“Of course.” He responds in the same quiet tone. He adjusts his position, hoisting you up higher on his chest to bring your face closer to his. “You can ask me anything you like, love.”

You could feel his lips brush against yours as he spoke; the feeling was enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Do you think about me?”

“Love, the image of you never leaves my mind.” You can’t help but smile at his response. “I can’t even begin to describe how special you are to me.” He carefully cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb trailing across your jaw. “I must not be doing a very good job as your boyfriend.” He jokes with a chuckle. “There’s got to be some way for me to prove how crazy I am about you.” The edge of his mask bumps against your cheek as he pushes it off his face. His hand carefully cradled your head, guiding your lips down to meet his. You could feel his heartbeat racing under your palm. He kissed you hesitantly at first, his whole body rigid as he waited to see how you would respond to such a bold gesture from him. He had kept you at arm’s length since he met you, not because he didn’t care about you. It was the exact opposite. If he wasn’t careful, Vessel felt he could easily find himself becoming infatuated with you, something that could cost him dearly if you ended up stabbing him in the back like so many others had in the past. Yet, over the time he had known you and the short time you had been together as partners, your affection for him never wavered. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as Vessel slid a hand under your shirt, his tough, calloused hands rough against your back. “There isn’t a second that passes by where I’m not thinking of you; the sound of your laugh, the way you smile, the way you seem to fit so perfectly in my arms; I am always thinking about you.” He confesses breathlessly against your lips. You let out a soft hum of approval as he crushes his lips against yours again, struggling to stay quiet but not wanting to risk waking the others. You felt like you would die if Vessel stopped kissing you. He groans at the feeling of your hands timidly wandering his body, shaky fingers tracing along the outlines of his muscles as your lips melded perfectly to his. He kissed you until there was physically no air left in his lungs. You struggle to steady your rapidly pounding heart. You rest your hand on the side of his face, gently trailing along the peak of his cheekbone. He caught your hand in his, startling you slightly at the abruptness. He brings your knuckles to his lips. “No matter how much I would like to keep kissing you, you should probably get some rest, love.” He says with a chuckle.

“Now, how is that fair?” You ask coyly, “You make me wait all this time to kiss you, and I only get to do it once?” He tilts your chin up with his thumb. You could feel him smile against your lips. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Your eyes flutter shut as you’re met with another euphoric kiss, “but you have to get some sleep.” You grumble out your reluctant agreement, placing one final chaste kiss on his lips before settling against his chest, your eyes feeling heavy as your adrenaline wears off.

You’re woken up the following morning by a knock at the door. You sit up, wiping away the sleep in your eyes as you try to make sense of your situation. You had fallen asleep in the living room last night after coming to see Vessel; you remembered that much. All four of them were already awake and much more alert than you were at the sudden disturbance. “Relax, I’m sure it’s just the plow guy or something.” You reassure them. You stand, shivering as all the warmth is rapidly stolen from your body. You unlocked your door, opening it just enough to peer outside. Your stomach dropped at seeing the police officer on the other side.

He greets you with a familiar smile, “Got a second to talk?”

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Tag List can now be found in the comments!

[loveofbots]

Sfw and nsfw head cannons for tarn please? Reader or cannon don't really care.

Shoutout @starscreamscorpse for calling beloved Tarn ‘mista taint’

I (lovingly) hate tarn so please take this with a grain of salt

SFW:

- Tarn is a loner in all senses of the word. He doesn’t ask for help, not even Nickel. He trusted people before and that led to his empurata, and then his abandonment from the academy, now he simply directs his team without confiding in anyone except Decepticon high command.

- To tarn, being a Decepticon is a belief. I know we joke about him dick riding megatron (he does) but the Decepticon cause gave him purpose. It gave him someone to believe in, a support system even.

- Advocate for universal healthcare, most likely due to Nickel’s influence.

- Tarn actually likes to sing. Even as Damos! I imagine he sings by himself most days, and actually writes his own music. In his perfect world, maybe he’d be a prodigy and launch Cybertron into an age of art. But of course, his story is one of tragedy.

- Tarn is harsh on the DJD. He may be friendly but he has a short temper, and will easily snap at people he considers his ‘friends.’ He’s also highly critical, as we know he started putting Decepticons on the list for increasingly petty reasons near the end of it.

- He’s probably not as grossed out by us squishies as he tells himself. Although he agrees that transformers are better- he would begrudgingly ‘keep the fleshling alive’ if he was instructed to. Because his singing does not affect humans the same way it affects his own race, he would probably grow very fond of singing to them.

- Tarn’s the type to be creepy at first, but he’s just a lonely, hurt Mech on the inside. He takes advantage of other folks like Pharma to fuel his addiction, a gentle hand would help him by light years. Yet he pushes away (and kills) anyone who tries to help. Citing that they are trying to ‘cleanse him.’ Dumbass.

[NO MINOR ZONE]

- His only lover is his hand. I’m serious he gets NO bitches. Every time someone came on to him he would fumble like a dink. Helix is still trying to give him better pickup lines than ‘I won’t kill you… tonight.’

- For me Tarn is on the ace spectrum. He doesn’t want to participate in interfacing, but he likes to watch. You could probably find him in the corner at some swinger parties.

- Normally he doesn’t have time/is too tired to even try to get off. He runs the DJD he’s a busy Mech. Not to say he doesn’t have his own little fantasies.

- Top all the way. He WILL NOT bottom (unless you ask) Tarn likes to feel in charge, superior, loved. He likes to be serviced and he likes the idea of ‘capturing’ someone and making them obey his every word.

- is actually a super awkward bot. His old self- Damos- comes out when he is flirted with. He’s a bashful Mech that can’t take any praise.

- Likes the idea of his partner getting off to his voice, it makes him feel powerful that his voice alone could make someone so down bad (I am looking at you tarn fans)

- cw: drugs!!! He is the WORST person to give a doobie to, this mf takes one hit if a roach and is coughing all night. On another note, he probably does take medicine to help him sleep thanks to mama nickel.

[ghostdrinkssoup]

hey guys I’m writing poetry again <3

[ghostoftonantzin]

The WIP Graveyard Game

I'm always curious about the ideas people have that they never managed to complete, so I made a tag game!

The rules are... there aren't any strict rules, but if you're tagged, post about at least one WIP that never saw the light of day, whether it's a fic, fanart, vid, or meme! Tell us the title (if it had one), the story idea, and a snippet (or more) of the WIPs that ended up shuffled from your "someday I'll finish this" pile to your "I'm never actually going to finish this" pile!

I'm tagging @phasmama, @uv-duv, @wwfits, @andiforyou, and @jay-auris to start!

[nrc-counselor]

no no no listen, you were SO right for that chubby/fat significant other post.....but listen *folds hands together on table* talk to me about who would go for a tall s/o in ur opinion? I'm literally as tall as leona and every man ive dated has had a problem with me wearing heels💀

*Note: These are all made without a specific gender in mind, so do what you will with that.*

You know what, I actually do have some characters in mind that I think would work as in they would go for a tall s/o more often then not: Ace (I cannot explain why but I feel it in my soul), Ruggie, Sebek (he thinks they look regal), Cater, Azul (I will not argue this one), Floyd (he would play fight them all the time), and Lilia.

Characters who I think claim to be more neutral towards height but lean towards dating taller people when it comes down to it: Kalim (would complement you every time you wore heels and even buy you more), Riddle (lies and says he wouldn't, but he likes being the smaller person as it assures he is the small spoon), Vil, Jack, Epel.

Characters who are truly neutral about it: Leona, Jamil, Idia (he could go in the above category honestly), Malleus, Jade, Trey, Deuce, Silver, and Rook.

These are actually making me want to write stuff for them, so feel free to ask for more stuff.

[ei-w]

blind for all time always [ao3] (words: 500; tw: physical abuse)

[a short fiction that wanted to write itself today]

---

Glass shattered in the quietness, jingling on the ancient tiles. Only a second later did Clockwork recognise the noise could be traced back to their chest construction. Gloved fingers rushed to grip around the frail part to keep it together, retraining it from any further loss.

As they had fallen to the ground, the frame and casket must have been damaged, the vessel over their core crashing on a section, spreading spiderweb fissures through its entirety. The corner didn't exist anymore on the upper right side. Loose shards hung in mere air, not yet developed enough hairlines separating them to join the fallen pieces on the dorm floor. The chest broke, unchangeably. It deformed for eternity.

The Master of All Time halted in recognition of the seriousness of the harm that the sudden strike of power induced on them when roughly pushing them to the floor with a blast. A minute, maybe a second, departed them to end up with an exposed core, with no protection in case of any other assault. They had never experienced such fragility. It was cold and biting -- like death felt, dread overtaking one's existence.

The event shocked them. In an unfortunate moment, Clockwork glanced at their attacker with a hissed sneer, to the figure who towered vastly above their weakened laying body.

Pariah's eyes were burning. His crown and ring glowed threateningly in the faint light of their lair, flaring with power and anger within the dimness of their private dorm.

Their love never behaved like that, yet this treatment was justified. Clockwork knew it was. They went too far this time, and their meddling was revealed for Pariah, too. It was like a stab across a mortal heart. Unforgivable betrayal, a ploy summoned behind the curtains of the commander, as if laughing at his obliviousness…

Ectoplasm dripped next to Clockwork's aching tail that curled on the tiles. The old greyish blueness shone with shiny greenness now, seeming alien against the natural dull colour. Their contour quavered in the shadow of the tyrant. Fear reverberated from their core even though this attack was foreseen for a while. Deep down, Clockwork was struck with the terror of the continuation to unfold.

Still, they knew this moment would eventually come. They had ignored it until this moment, though. They had loved the man, and still would love him after everything, but until now, they hoped their visions were wrong about this day.

This moment had formed in their mind long ago, along with Pariah's first appearance. They had always refused to accept this future -- that everything would be led to the here and now.

The truth was, even after their core was shattered, and a part of it would be ripped out by the one they loved, Clockwork knew they would refuse that this horrific event ever happened. They would forget that they suffered through this harassment by his hand and had survived it -- barely, but they did.

They were blind. Always blind. Blind for Pariah.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

Rachel Amber Isn't Dead

And neither is this fanfic! The flashback section has been kicking my ass for months, but I've finally gotten through it. Chapter four of Rachel Amber Isn't Dead is (finally) live on Ao3!

And now that we're through the flashbacks, I can finally get back to writing Kate and stop writing Jeffershit and Nathan.

[ghost-bard]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Generation Loss (Web Series), The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Charlie | Slimecicle & Ranboo | The Hero (Generation Loss) Characters: Charlie | Slimecicle (Generation Loss), The Archivist (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Mentioned Sneeg | The Taken (Generation Loss), Mentioned Ranboo | The Hero (Generation Loss), Mentioned Hetch, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Not Beta Read Summary:

Statement of Charlie regarding the streamed series he was on.

Statement Begins

[CW will be in Notes at the beginning]

[ghost-in-the-hall]

The Confessional (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hello! This was not part of my plan at all! So... Surprise! I was tagged in this wonderful comic by a few of you (OP your art is amazing, I'm still giggling and kicking my feet over it, if you would like me to remove the tag for your comic please let me know ❤️). If I wasn't insane about Falk before, I am now. I haven't written smut in a while, I'm a little rusty, so, please bare with me. If you would like to be added to my tag list please let me know, enjoy!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT, age gap (reader is in her mid 20's, Falk is in his late 40's), misuse of religious ceremonies and general sacreligious theming, mutual pining, Falk being kind of a pervert, solo masturbation, Falk just really likes reader in dresses, slight power imbalance dynamic, priest kink, oral (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering, praise kink, heavy use of 'good girl', soft dom! Falk, reader refers to Falk as 'Father' and 'sir' a few times throughout, submissive reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), slight breeding kink maybe?, creampie, lots of aftercare, general fluff as to be expected from me cause I am the softest of bitches

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

“Good afternoon, Father.” You groan slightly as your friend jabs her elbow harshly into your ribs. Your eyes snapping up as Father Falk steps up to the side of your table. He greets each of the siblings you are sitting with by name, his kind smile widening slightly as his attention turns to you. He holds your gaze momentarily before quickly snapping himself from his thoughts. He stood and talked with your group for a little while, asking how everyone's studies were going and cracking a few jokes. Every so often, he would single you out specifically, softly stating your name in a way that made your heart pound in your chest.

“It was wonderful seeing all of you. Don't be afraid to stop by and chat sometime if you'd like.” He smiles as he gets ready to head off. Your cheeks grow warm as you catch him looking you over one last time before leaving.

“He so has a thing for you.” One of them pipes up immediately after he's out of earshot.

“Will you shut up? He does not.” You respond immediately with a groan.

“I'm sorry, did we not all just see him check you out?” There was a collective murmur of agreement amongst your group. “You've had a crush on Falk for forever, and he clearly likes you. You should tell him!”

“I'll think about it, okay?” You snap back just to get them to drop it. “I have to go; I’m on chapel duty tonight.”

“Well, that gives you plenty of time to think then, doesn’t it?” She jokes. You roll your eyes, saying your goodbyes before heading off to complete your nightly chores.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

Falk sighs as he enters his office, falling back against the door as he shuts it behind him. The sight of your flustered expression still burning in the forefront of his mind brought a smile to his face. He shook his head, unwilling to entertain the thought at the moment. There was still work to be done; he couldn't allow himself to get distracted. He removes his formal vestments, washing off his ceremonial paints before sitting at his desk. He leans back in his chair, staring out the open window as his mind wanders. Falk has had his eye on you for a while, always trying to keep a respectful distance. But, to put things simply, he found you too captivating to resist for long. He noticed all of your coy smiles and bashful glances, your lips always so pretty and perfectly glossed. Part of him wondered how that gloss would look as it smeared over– Falk shook his head, clearing his throat as he shut down the thought. Part of him felt guilty having such sinful thoughts about you. You were a kind, respectable young woman. Yet, he always ends up back at the same place, his hips stuttering as he ruts into his palm, your name shamelessly falling from his lips, sweat coating his brow as he imagines how his fingers would sink into your pillowy hips. He curses as he finishes, his head tipping back as he struggles to catch his breath. He cleaned himself up, taking one last look at the paperwork on his desk and deciding it wasn't worth the trouble; he wouldn't be able to focus on it right now if he tried. He headed toward the chapel; he had to set up for mass in the morning anyway. The physical movement would be a nice break from the monotony of signing forms and a welcome distraction from his racing thoughts.

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You sat on your knees inside the confessional, tracing small circles over old leather seats with a polishing cloth. You always dedicated the utmost care to the chapel whenever it was your daily task. You would be here a lot later than most of the other Siblings, taking time to care for the woodwork and the other less prominent cleaning areas that still needed some love. You heard the door open, figuring someone was coming in for late afternoon prayer. “Schwester, you’re here late.” You froze at the sound of Father Falk’s voice behind you.

“I could say the same for you, Father.” You glance at him over your shoulder, his tall frame filling the door frame of the confessional. He peers at your work curiously, making you giggle. Falk’s heart raced at the melodic sound. “No one ever remembers to take care of the leather.” He holds out his hand for you to take. Your fingers tremble as they ghost over his, letting him help you up from kneeling on the floor. He smiles as he studies your smaller form, trailing a knuckle along your jaw.

“Always so dedicated.” He coos. “This is why you’re my favorite.” He chuckles at your flustered expression. You take his arm, letting him guide you through the empty chapel. “I need to choose some music for mass in the morning. Would you like to help me decide?”

“Of course.” You smile softly at him, your skin glowing under the kaleidoscope of colors flowing through the stained glass windows. The dark wooden walls made the room feel eerie, the only source of light besides the sun and the sporadic groups of candles still lit from this morning. The altar itself becomes a tomb of darkness, the large brass pipes of the organ shining like teeth from some glorious eldritch monster before you. Falk’s hand slips into yours, noticing your apprehensive expression.

“You look nervous, little maus.” He chuckles.

“The chapel just feels a little different at night, Father, that’s all.” You respond.

“I can assure you,” he turns to face you, bringing your knuckles to his lips, “the only thing that bites in here, Schwester, is me.” He chuckles. You swallow thickly, knowing the statement was supposed to be a joke, but the thought was enough to have heat pooling between your legs. He separates himself from you to prepare his music, leaving your attention to wander around the altar. You couldn’t help but stop and admire the carvings that adorned the mensa. “You can touch it, you know,” he chuckles, watching you study the wood closely with your hands neatly tucked behind your back, “I promise you’re not going to burst into flames or anything.” You shoot him a teasing smile before allowing your fingers to trace over the intricate work.

“It’s gorgeous; I’ve never gotten to look at the carvings up close.” You remark in awe.

“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he slowly strides closer to you, “Father Charles loves to romanticize the old rituals they used to perform.”

“I wonder what it would be like to sit up there.” You state blankly, not expecting a response.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” You nod slowly, waiting to see just what he would do. He stands before you, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Two warm hands find their way to your waist, his palm curving perfectly to the contours of your hip. You tensed under his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. You're lifted from the floor and set on the edge of the mensa in one swift movement. The wood was cool under your fingertips; Falk couldn't help but study how your plush thighs settled against the dark, nearly black surface. You looked out over the endless rows of pews, imagining what they must look like full of spectators.

“So this is what they saw in their final moments, huh?”

“Final moments?” Falk repeats back under his breath. He chuckles, his hand trailing across your cheek as he brushes some stray hair from your face. “What kind of rituals do you think these were?” He asks softly, a playful smile on his lips.

“Sacrifices?” You respond slowly, shooting him a confused glance. He shakes his head.

“No, Mäuschen, these ritually focused more on…” he trails off, his eyes raking over your much smaller frame in a way that made heat pool in your core. “Pleasure.” He finishes finally. He can't help but smirk as he notices the way you squeeze your thighs together in response to his words. He stands in front of you, placing a hand on either side of your hips, caging you in his arms. You're forced to look up to meet his eyes, warm golden brown irises that almost glow under the low candlelight. “A Sibling would be brought in here for an evening of indulgence, expected to confess their deepest desires so they could be cared for properly. But, of course, that was only experienced if one found themselves to be a favorite of a particular High Clergy member.” His words from earlier ringing in your ears, ‘This is why you're my favorite.’ You swallow thickly, unable to break yourself away from his gaze.

“Why, um,” your voice shook slightly as you spoke, “why did they stop doing these rituals?” Your heart pounded, your skin feeling hot as you desperately tried to ignore the arousal that burned in your core.

“They haven't.” He responds bluntly with a sharp smile. “If I were better prepared, I would offer to demonstrate.” Your grip tightened on the table at his statement; Falk chuckled softly as he decided he'd had enough fun flustering you for the evening. “Come here Mäuschen, we still need to choose that music.” He helps you down from the mensa, his hands lingering on your waist for a little longer than they should have been before you both finish your chores in the chapel for the evening.

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You were finding it impossible to get to sleep. Your mind kept wandering back to your meeting with Falk earlier that night. How he could easily move you around as he wanted, how large and strong he was compared to you, you could still feel the way his hands brushed against your thighs as he easily caged you in at the mensa. You squeeze your thighs together, the throbbing between your legs quickly returning at the thought of him. You hadn't realized until tonight how massive his hands were, still feeling their warmth on your waist. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking about how his hands would feel traveling across your bare skin. You slipped a hand under your shirt, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a soft groan as you massage your breast, your other hand toying at the waist of your pants. This wasn't the first time you had thought about Falk like this, but who could blame you? From the moment you two had met, he had absolutely captivated you. You had never met someone so sophisticated and mature who treated you with such respect. He was a romantic, handsome, and, if the rumors are true, incredible in bed. You try to stifle a whine as you start to rub slow circles on your clit, your fingers already slick with your arousal. His name tumbled softly from your lips as you chased your rapidly approaching high. Your hips buck into your hand as you carefully slide two fingers inside of yourself. You tried to imagine how deep his long fingers would be able to reach, the thought alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head. He would treat you so well; you just knew it. Your moans grew louder and more desperate the closer you got to your climax. Your back arches off the bed, his name falling repeatedly from your lips like a prayer as the tightly wound coil inside of you finally snaps. Maybe now you will finally be able to sleep.

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Falk stood frozen outside of your bedroom door. He came down here to apologize for how he had acted earlier, saying something like he had to you was out of line. He should know better. He was just about to knock on your door when he heard your voice moan his name. He stills, knowing he should leave but unable to move from the spot. He doesn't dare even breathe, listening closely to see if he could hear more of your sweet sounds. His mouth grows dry as he listens to your soft whines; he wonders what sounds he might be able to coax out of you. He would love to take his time with you, meticulously toying with every part of you he could get his hands on just to see how you would respond to his touch. His member pressed painfully against the confines of his pants, the throbbing only growing more intense as he listened to your soft sounds grow louder as you approached your climax. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his whole body rigid as he listens to your gasps and cries; he can hear your bed frame creak in time with the thrusts from your fingers. He had to suppress a growl in his throat at the thought of how much better you would feel if it were him taking care of your needs. His heart leaps into his throat, all the air getting punched out of his lungs as he hears you cry out for him. Your fervent moans bordering on screams as you repeatedly call his name through your peak, a delighted sigh trailing off the end before you fell utterly silent. He hurriedly straightens himself up and heads away from your dorm, not wanting to risk anyone catching a glimpse of the situation. He hurries back to his room, his heart still hammering in his chest as your sweet voice rang in his ears. You were thinking of him through the heights of your pleasure; his face burned as the realization of what he had just done occurred.

Falk sat in bed, thumbing through a novel he had read dozens of times, just looking for a distraction. Getting to sleep proved impossible, his mind always managing to wander back to the sound of your sweet whines. He snaps the book shut, removing his reading glasses and placing them on his nightstand. He massages the bridge of his nose with a soft groan. He turns off his lamp, nestling himself into his pillows before staring at the plain white ceiling. His whole body buzzed with arousal; he lay rigid in bed as he resisted the urge to give in to his temptations. However, with the day he had with you, it was nearly impossible for him to resist. “You perverted old man.” He chuckles, chastising himself. “What would she say if she knew you were thinking about her like this?” He knew he should feel ashamed, but after hearing your needy cries for him, he was sure you wouldn't mind; you may even be flattered that the thought of you alone was enough to get him off. He rests a hand on his bare stomach, fidgeting with the waistband of his fleece pants. In moments like this, he thought of you more often than he would care to admit, but he simply couldn't help himself. The sweet smell of your perfume, the curves of your body, the flirtatious glimmer that always managed to find its way into your eyes, you could bring Falk to his knees without much effort at all. He hissed softly as he finally rubbed his hand over his clothed member, wishing desperately that it could be you taking care of him instead. He took his time, imagining how your body would feel in his hands and what sweet sounds he could coax out of you. His mind wandered back to the sight of you on your knees in front of him in the confessional, the way your pretty sundress rose up to show the plushness of your thighs, making his cock twitch. He slowly pushed his pants down his hips, his erection slapping against his stomach as it was finally freed from its confines. He gives himself a few tentative pumps, groaning at the welcomed friction. All he could think about was how pretty you would look riding him, how your heat would pull him in, how cute and pathetic it would be when your legs finally gave up, your thighs trembling from over-exertion, allowing him to flip you over and fuck you stupid into the mattress. He curses, growling your name as he finishes, his hot release coating his pale skin. The otherwise silent room was filled with the sounds of Falk’s heavy breathing as he came down from his high. Cleaning himself up and settling into bed again, he lay awake, wondering if you were still thinking about him.

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Sitting through Mass the following morning proved to be a nearly impossible task. You couldn’t look at Falk without the thought of him towering over you as you sat on the mensa flashing through your mind. You squeezed your thighs together, silently praying that Mass would end soon so you could find some sort of distraction. Your breath freezes in your lungs when your eyes meet his, “we ask that you please stay for monthly confession. Of course, a simple check-in will suffice as well.” He continues his closing remarks. You wiped your hands on your thighs, your palms suddenly growing clammy. You knew there was no need to confess that you had been having such indecent thoughts, but you could feel the admission resting on the tip of your tongue. Something about being in the confessional made it utterly impossible for you to keep any secrets. You dwelled in your seat for what felt like hours as you watched the rest of your fellow Siblings slip into one of the five confessionals. You had no idea who you would be met with on the other side of that door. By the time you approached the confessional, you were one of the last people left in the chapel. The wooden door creaked as you pulled its heavy circular handle. Slipping inside, it only took a moment before you were plunged into darkness, your eyes slowly adjusting to the booth's low light. Your knees land on the plush pad, your breathing shaky as you trace along the lattice pattern of the screen that separates you from whoever sits on the other side.

“Forgive me, Father,” you suck in a deep breath before continuing, “for I have sexualized an older man.” Your cheeks burn as the admission tumbles from your lips.

The figure on the other side of the screen straightens up, clearing his throat softly. You could feel his eyes on you despite not seeing his face. “Is that so?” Your blood turned to ice in your veins; it took everything you had to not bolt out of the confessional as you realized it was Falk on the other side of that screen. “May I ask who the object of your lustful thoughts may be, Schwester?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. Falk had realized who had stepped into his confessional the moment you began to speak. Your confession itself was enough to send a shiver up his spine; he began to wonder just how much you would be willing to admit to him.

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that, Father Falk.” You respond boldly, making him chuckle. What a clever little Maus you were.

“Well, I’m truly flattered if that’s the case.” You found yourself smiling, fidgeting with your fingers as your heart began to race. “Although I wish I could have seen how cute you must have looked confessing that Mäuschen.” He grew silent for a moment, debating whether or not he should push his luck and ask what was really on his mind. “How often do you think about me, Schwester?”

“More frequently than I would care to admit, Father.” You lean in close to the screen, and Falk can feel your warm breath against the shell of his ear. “I’m ashamed to say I… I was even thinking about you last night.” The nervous tremor in your voice was just enough to drive Falk insane, a primal hunger growing deep inside of him as he listened to you describe the deepest fantasies about him. Your soft, melodic voice made him ache with need, wanting nothing more than to feel your bare skin under his fingertips, allowing you to give in to every single impure thought you had ever had about him. “I feel terrible; I hope there’s some way I can make it up to you.” You stifle a giggle as he clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Falk’s hands were fisted in his vestments, your words leaving him unable to think straight. Your legs trembled, both due to growing tired from kneeling and from the arousal that was quickly pooling in your core. Falk’s stomach plummeted at the sound of you exiting the confessional. He still couldn’t say what he wanted to tell you even after all that. That thought was quickly swept away at the sight of you slipping through the door on his side of the booth. 

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” He chuckles, reaching out to take your hand. He runs his thumb soothingly over your knuckles, studying you briefly before tugging you closer. His large hands travel over the curve of your waist and down the outside of your thighs. “What do you plan on doing now, my brave little Maus?”

“What’s my repentance, Father?” You ask with a seductive grin. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly stretching across his features.

“On your knees, Schwester.” He orders gently. You do as he asks, your eyes never leaving his as you sink to the floor between his legs. “You want to repent, do you?” You nod, hazy eyes fluttering shut as he reaches to cup your cheek. You had done nothing wrong, and Falk could tell from your expression that you knew that. He traces his thumb along your bottom lip, your willingness to let him have complete control over the situation making the urge to claim you as his grows even more significant. He pushes his thumb past your lips, groaning as your tongue glides over the digit. “Such a pretty little thing you are, Maus.” He looks at you hungrily, his free hand working on removing his vestments. He pulls his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking a moment to undress himself as much as necessary for the task. You hum contently as he rests a hand on the top of your head, your cheek resting on his muscular thigh as Falk takes a moment to just drink in the sight of you. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitantly reaching out to run your hand over his member, which was only separated from your palm by the thin cloth of his boxers. Falk quickly covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the hiss that threatened to escape him at your gentle touch. He didn’t want to come undone before you so easily, but that proved a much more difficult task than he anticipated. He cups your face in his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his as you familiarize yourself with the contours of his body. His erection was hot in your hand; you felt his fingers twitch against your jaw as you traced your finger along one of the thick veins that trailed up from the base of his cock. He curses under his breath, his hips bucking slightly under your hand. You tug at the waistband of his boxers, silently asking permission to remove the only barrier separating you from him. You swallow thickly, your eyes tracing over the tattoos that wound up his arms as he removes the last of his clothing. You slowly peel yourself out of your dress, Falk’s breath hitching at the sight of the lingerie set that perfectly hugged your curves underneath.

“I figured I should make things a little more even.” You remark with a seductive smirk. Falk sits up, reaching behind you to undo the clasps of your bra with ease.

“I definitely won’t complain.” He chuckles, guiding the thin straps from your shoulders, the lacy fabric falling to the floor. He allows himself a glance at your nearly naked form, groaning at the sight of your beautiful body on display for him. His finger trails along your jaw, his lips hanging just out of your reach. “Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

You can’t help but giggle slightly, “I mean, you’ve practically seen me naked; I don’t think kissing could hurt.” He lets out a chuckle of his own in response.

“You have a point Maus,” he rakes over your features with a hungry expression, “I’m just glad I finally get the chance to taste you.” Falk’s lips crash into yours; you can't help but let out a delighted sigh. Your fingers trembled as your hands ghosted over his skin. He hums against your lips, covering your hand and pressing your palm to his chest. You could feel his heart pounding. He pulls back from you slightly, his lips brushing over yours as he speaks. “You don't have to be nervous, Maus; I'm all yours.” He whispers before pulling you back into another mind-numbing kiss. You smile as you feel his body tense under your touch, your hands slowly trailing down his torso until your fingers bump into his boxers. Your lips leave his, trailing across his jaw. He groans, his hands coming to rest on your waist. He squeezes your hips as you place a kiss on his neck. Your fingers dip into the waist of his boxers, easing them down his hips as your lips trail down his body. Falk couldn't take his eyes off you; you were so captivatingly beautiful that he didn't dare look away. He bites his fist as he tries to stifle a groan as you wrap your hand around the base of him. Anyone could still be in the chapel; anyone could step into the confessional at any time, but the risk of potentially getting caught only made you want each other more desperately. Your eyes never leave his as you wrap your lips around the tip of his member. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting hard into his bottom lip as his head drops back. “Good girl.” He praises you softly, cursing under his breath as you allow more of him to slide over your tongue. You squeezed your legs together, the quiet moans that you effortlessly pulled from him making it impossible for you to ignore the throbbing need that was quickly growing in your core. His skin was hot against your tongue; you wanted to savor every single sound you coaxed out of him, making sure to take things slowly. He cradled the back of your head carefully in his hand, wanting to touch you somehow. You noticed his breathing quicken, the groans tumbling from his lips coming much more frequently than when you had started. “Mäuschen,” he calls softly, “be careful, I’m not finished with you yet.” He chuckles, easing you off of him with a hiss. His head hits the back wall of the confessional with a soft thud as he sits, catching his breath. His thumb soothingly stroked your cheek, eyes finding yours with an expression nothing short of pure adoration.

“I’d like to take you back to my room if that’s alright.” His request hung heavy in the air for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re not worried about people seeing us?” You ask. It’s not like it was uncommon for Siblings to be seen slipping into High Clergy members' quarters; if anyone happened to see you, they probably wouldn’t care anyway. But, there was something about his invitation. Falk wasn’t inviting you back to his room for some meaningless one-night stand.

“Why would I be worried? Anyone who sees us is just going to know you’re mine.” He tilts your chin gently with his knuckle, offering you a sharp smile that sends a shiver down your spine. “Stand up, meine hertz.” You do as he says, allowing him to place his hands on your waist to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses a kiss to your pulse. His fingers ghost over you, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin as he memorizes the curves of your body. Electricity danced across your neck, each kiss making your mind grow cloudier. Your legs threaten to give out underneath you as he sinks his teeth into you. You let out a soft whine, your fingers tangling in his hair as he assaulted your neck. “Beautiful.” He traces around the dark purple mark with his finger.

“I'm hoping there's more where that came from.” You giggle in response. Falk smiles, his fingers massaging your hips as his lips find yours in the quiet intimacy.

“Coming from the woman worried about people seeing us together.” He teases with a chuckle.

“Oh, I was worried about that for your sake.” You can't help but smile as he steals a few chaste kisses, unable to deny himself such a simple pleasure now that he's gotten a taste of it. “But, if you're okay with people knowing about us–”

“Us?” He offers you a devious smirk. “You want there to be an us?” He asks curiously. Your face burned as you realized the confession you let slip out into the darkness.

“I-um,” you stutter, searching desperately for any response but coming up empty-handed.

“A pretty little thing like you interested in an old man like me,” he chuckles, grabbing your chin between his thumb and finger, “it almost sounds too good to be true, Mäuschen.”

“I definitely wouldn't consider you old, Father.” You respond with a soft laugh. Falk smiles, his hand warm against your cheek as he carefully caresses the side of your face. His eyes slowly trail over your features, memorizing how you looked at him; your pupils were blown with lust, yet your gaze held a softness, an admiration, that Falk couldn't miss. He guides your lips back to his, your body immediately melting into his embrace. He shivers as your fingers trail over his chest. He found your hesitancy adorable, enjoying that he knew he would have to control the situation, given your apparent nerves.

“Get dressed,” he mumbles against your lips, “I want to get you out of here. You buzzed with excitement as you righted your clothes, taking a deep breath to steady your pounding heart. You turn when you hear Falk softly call your name, stepping closer to him to allow his hands to slide over the curve of your waist. “Beautiful.” He states softly as his eyes hungrily rake over your body. His large hands wrap around the back of your thighs, steadying you as you lean down to kiss him. He feels goosebumps erupt across your skin as he slowly slides his hands upward, his calloused palms hot against your body as he slides over the curve of your ass. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, carefully guiding them down your legs. “You're not going to be needing these.” He chuckles, stuffing the delicate fabric into his pocket.

“You dirty old man.” You tease him with a smile, sliding your arms over his shoulders.

“Your dirty old man.” He corrects with a smirk and a smile, his hands returning to their task of distractingly running over your thighs. “How about we get out of here, Maus?” He asks in a seductive tone.

“Yes, Father.” You respond with a coy smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Falk chuckles in response, enjoying seeing you relax into such a happy, flirty state. You giggle as Falk hugs you from behind, pulling you flush against him as he leans down to press his lips to your cheek.

“Little minx.” He whispers, reaching past you to open the confessional door. You let out a soft squeak as a gentle smack lands on your ass, prompting you forward and making Falk chuckle. You step into the empty chapel, your heart pounding in your ears loud enough to drown out the soft clacking of your shoes against the tile floor. Falk was by your side instantly, his hand slipping into yours as you were met with the same warm, comforting smile you were used to seeing from him. Being with him puts your nerves at ease; the way he speaks so kindly towards you, how he gently places a hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the way of oncoming people, allowing your mind to swim in all the possibilities of what might be in store for you upon your arrival at Falk’s quarters. His actions let you know he would take good care of you; that fact alone was enough to make your knees weak. His body parted from yours to unlock his door, quickly slipping the heavy wrought iron key into the lock before retaking your hand. He tugs you into the dark entryway—your heart races as you lose sight of him when the door shuts. You're eventually able to make out the faint shape of his silhouette; you freeze as he suddenly closes the distance between you. Your back presses flush against the cool wood, Falk’s lips crashing against yours. He wastes no time picking up where you had left off, his fingers ghosting over your thighs as he gathers the flowy fabric of your dress in his large hands. “Keep this on for now, Mäuschen.” He instructs gently. “You look cute.”

You grab him by his collar, pulling his lips back down to yours. Falk lifts you from the ground with ease, guiding your legs around his waist as he effortlessly carries you to his bedroom. He sets you gently on the floor. His hands move to unbutton his shirt; you stop him as a seductive expression spreads across your features. “Can I?” You ask softly, toying with the top button of his shirt. He nods quickly in response, his hands falling away as he watches you, slightly in shock that you would do something so bold. You slowly unfasten every button, Falk struggling not to grab you and toss you on the bed, the feeling of your knuckles so delicately brushing over his torso making his skin burn with need. You push his shirt off of his shoulder, your hands trailing down his strong arms as you push yourself into him. He curses as he feels your tongue glide over his neck; he tangles his fingers in your hair, groaning loudly at the feeling of your sharp teeth pressing harshly into his skin. 

Falk chuckles, grabbing your face in his hand. “I see someone else is a little possessive as well, hm?” He smiles, a devious glint in his eye. He winces dramatically as he prods at the mark you left behind. You lean closer to him, eyes never leaving his as you gently kiss the spot.

“You’ll have plenty of time to make me all you want later, I promise.” He smiles teasingly.

“And why can’t I do that now?” You challenge.

“Because,” he starts in a low tone, tilting your chin up with his finger as his lips hang just out of reach. “I’m much more concerned with caring for you, Maus.” He steps forward, guiding you backward until the back of your knees bump against the edge of his bed. “Lay down.” He orders firmly.

“Yes, sir.” The words tumble from your lips before you can thoroughly think them through. You freeze, cheeks burning as you wait to see how he would respond.

“Sir?” he asks in response. You fall back against the mattress, and Falk's larger form easily cages you underneath him. He studies you hungrily, running a knuckle down your pulse. “I could get used to that.” He chuckles, watching the way you squirm underneath him. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

“Yes, sir.” You respond in a similar tone.

“Good girl.” He whispers with a sharp smile before he pulls your lips back to his.

Falk kissed you like a man starved, the sweet taste of your lips intoxicating as he sought to consume you: body, mind, and soul. He wanted you to think of no one else, only him. The way your hand fists into his hair as he sinks his teeth into your plush thighs, leads him to believe he's doing a pretty good job. Simply put, Falk believed you deserved to be worshiped, the ground you walked in sacred, just for being allowed to be under your foot. Giving you anything less than his very best would be a sin. You shiver at the feeling of his long fingers holding over your exposed skin, pushing your dress up to your hips to put you on full display for him. He could have spent hours marking you as his. Every dark purple mark he added to the growing collection just looked so pretty against your soft skin. You jolt as his thumb brushes over your clit, letting out a soft whine as you try to push yourself into his hand. Falk chuckles, cupping your sex with his hands as he brings his face up to yours. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Maus?” He smirks. You let out a soft whine, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he begins to slowly circle your clit. “Is this what you wanted?” You nod, quiet moans tumbling from your lips. Falk slowly his motions; he can't help but chuckle as you adorably pout up at him. “Use your words.” You swallow thickly, his commanding tone making your heart pound.

“Yes, sir.” You respond quickly, and Falk smiles sharply. His lips crash into yours; you moan into his mouth as his fingers suddenly pick up their pace. He used the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth; you let out a pleased hum, your body arching off the bed to push into his. He studies your features with a smug expression as he pulls back, your pupils blown and your lips puffy from the intensity of how he kissed you.

“You just lay back and look pretty; I'm going to take good care of you.” He states softly. He lowers himself to his knees at the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips to pull you closer to him. Your legs rested over his shoulders, his fingers intertwined with yours. You cursed, your thighs squeezing around his head as he wasted no time allowing himself to taste you. He groans as you roll your hips, dragging the sweet taste of your arousal across his tongue. His fingers pressed harshly into the curve of your waist with bruising force. Your fingers slide into his soft hair, your breath catching in your throat as Falk lets out a low growl. Your back arches off the bed, tugging harshly at his strands as he licks a long firm stripe over your clit. Your soft moans only spurred him on; it wasn’t long before he could feel your thighs beginning to shake as they squeezed tightly against his ears. He hums against you, causing you to let out a strangled whine. You groan as you feel him gently press his fingers through your entrance. He pauses as you tense, allowing your body a moment to adjust to the feeling of how deeply his long, slender fingers hit inside of you. He praises you softly, his free hand pressing into the plush of your stomach to hold you in place as he rapidly brought you to the edge of release.

You moaning his name was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His heart raced as you reached out for him, pulling him closer as your moans gradually became louder and more desperate with every thrust of his fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, making you cry up as your nails dragged down his back. He hisses softly at the feeling, no doubt in his mind that thin red scratches would be littering his pale skin. Falk’s voice sounded foggy and far off as something inside of you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you as you screamed his name. Your cries were muffled by his lips being crushed against yours, swallowing all of your moans as he drew out the peak of your climax as long as possible. Your body still shook as he eased his fingers out of you, effortlessly taking hold of your waist and guiding you into his lap. Your arms slide over his shoulders, your arms fluttering shut as your lips easily find your way back to his. He holds you up with one arm, using the other to shove off his pants clumsily. He moans as he feels the heat of your sex press against him. His hands slide over the curve of your ass, guiding your hips slowly back and forth over his cock. “How are your legs feeling?” He purrs teasingly, your hips keeping the same slow, languid pace as he massages your thighs.

“Shaky.” You admit with a giggle. You pull your lip between your teeth as Falk leaves a trail of kisses across your jaw.

“Think you have it in you to be on top, Mäuschen?” He whispers in your ear.

You start to nod before you pause, remembering Falk’s instructions. “Yes, sir.” Your voice trembles in anticipation.

“That’s my girl.” He praises softly. You shiver as his large hands travel over the curve of your waist, pushing your dress over your head at an agonizingly slow pace. He marveled at how your skin was molded under his thumbs; you were so much softer than he could have imagined now that you were in his hands. You curse as you ease yourself onto his length, your thighs trembling as you settle yourself in his lap. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle the lewd sounds that fell from your lips as he filled you so perfectly. Falk groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him, pushing down on your hips to ensure he is as deep inside of you as possible. “You are… Perfect.” He growls in your ear, making you whine as he rolls his hips. You slowly started to move yourself, Falk’s head thudding against the headboard as he struggled not to fuck into you. Everything about your body felt like it was made just for him: the way his hands fit along the curve of your waist, how easily your lips met his as you sat in his lap, you were everything he could have hoped for, and so much more. Falk’s heart stops as you take his face in your hands, angling his face upwards. His eyes meet yours, your gaze hazy and filled with need. If his heart weren’t hammering so hard in his chest, he would have sworn he had died. You were so beautiful, covered in deep purple love bites and marks from his teeth. You were the closest thing Falk had ever seen to an angel. He wraps an arm around your waist, his larger form allowing him to flip you underneath him easily. He pushes your knees to your chest, and your back arches off the bed as a strangled moan escapes from your throat. One of his hands wraps tightly around your waist, holding you in place as his hips snap against you at an animalistic pace. The other soothingly stroked your cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to gather along your lashes with his thumb. He presses the digit past your lips, the salty taste of your tears mixing with the sweetness of his skin. He leans down close to your ear, tilting your hips up in the process, causing him to hit a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. He presses a kiss to your cheek before growling, “I have to make sure I fuck you stupid, so no one else will be able to satisfy you.” He chuckles, cradling your head in his hand as his lips trail along your neck. You were putty in his hands, every inch of your body burning with pleasure as he seemed to know exactly how you wanted him to touch you. He curses, resting your head on the pillows as he wraps both hands around your hips. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, gradually losing their tempo as he neared his climax. He falls forward slightly, his hand slamming against the headboard as he catches himself. Your skin seemed to glow under the low light; the thin sheen of sweat that had accumulated on your body made you shine in the darkness. Falk’s breathing was ragged, your moans and cries of his name melodic in his ears as he kept up his harsh thrusts. Sweat dripped from his brow, various tones of grey splattering across your bare torso as his ceremonial paint melted from his skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him as deep inside of you as possible. He lets out a sound between a chuckle and a growl. “Careful, Mäuschen.” He warns, his gaze darkening slightly as he studies you hungrily. “I might not be able to pull out in time.”

“Who said I wanted you to.” Your response hit Falk like a slap in the face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, crushing your lips against his as his hips slam into yours fervently. You screamed his name, your body going rigid in his hands as he mercilessly pounded into you. He wanted, no, needed to claim you as his. He curses under his breath, moaning out your name as his hips stutter to a stop. His kisses quickly become more tender compared to the ferocious energy they just held. He holds you in his arms momentarily, allowing both of you time for your breathing to settle. He takes your hand, soothingly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles and bringing them to his lips. He talks you through every little motion as he moves to get you both cleaned up, instructing you to relax so he can handle things. He handles you so delicately, pausing any time he notices you show signs of discomfort. He can take a moment to massage any tender muscles or readjust your position so you’re more comfortable. He crawls under the covers next to you, an arm circling your waist as he pulls you flush against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, soothingly massaging your waist.

“Incredible.” You sigh blissfully. Falk smiles, burying his face against your neck. “I…” you trail off, nervously fidgeting with the edge of your pillowcase. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.” Your confession hangs heavy in the otherwise silent room.

“So have I.” He finally responds after a few seconds. “Schön, would you… Would you like to stay?” You feel him squeeze at your waist, trying to pull you closer.

“I would.” You respond quietly. Your attention wanders to the clock on the bedside table, suddenly remembering that it was still the middle of the day and you had tasks you were expected to attend to. “Shit, I’m going to be late–” You’re cut off by Falk pressing his lips to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a delighted sight. He pushes you back into the mattress, fingers tangling with yours as he pins your hands above your head.

“You can skip out just for one day,” he asks breathlessly in between kisses. “Can’t you, Maus?” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he crushed his lips against yours again. You gave in without much of a fight. After all, spending your afternoon like this was worth the risk of getting in trouble.

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @herripinkle (If you would like to be added or I forgot you please let me know!)

[loveofbots]

Imagine coding with this guy

Percy isn’t my favourite transformer but here’s some off the cuff Headcanons about him.

He’s really into computer science, that and microbiology are the two things he’s really good at studying and exposing information on.

Well kept secret but he would love to teach people! Has like a whole curriculum laid out and everything, but no one is willing to learn with him :(( to be fair he has a tendency to jump ahead to more complex topics

Full of autism

Hypochondriac, gets pissed when people cut corners on cleanliness.

Percy plays minecraft but he makes mods, he like going into the games code and modding games like that or seeing if the devs left any Easter eggs in the codes.

If you offered to test his mods it would make him very happy.

He/They pronouns

[ghostdrinkssoup]

Summary:

There’s fifteen seconds between falling and breaking; the rising of the tide; an opening mouth; a clock ticking backwards.

Porcelain waves shatter against black rock. The water yields to violence, then reshapes itself.

There’s fifteen seconds, and in that time, as he is sheltered by the man he loves, Hannibal welds himself together again, memory by memory, piece by piece, body baptised by blood, moon and sea.

The rooms of his memory palace shatter until every door swings open, revealing the mutilation he carries inside. Ugly. Wretched. Monstrous.

There’s fifteen seconds, and this is it.

//

Or, in the moments before the fall, Hannibal reflects on how he got here, and all the ways Will has ruined him.

WC: 14,766

[ghostoftonantzin]

The WIP Graveyard Game

@phasmama was kind enough to tag me back on her post

The rules: post snippets from at least on WIP you have abandoned! Mine are going under the cut, because I'm going to post the full five, mostly from 2020-2021 times.

I'm going to tag another 5 people, because I can >:) : @achaosmuppet @theshriekingsisterhood @madelgard (yes I know you moved into the star wars fandom, but still) @starkurt, @indashadows

WIP Title: Laura Branigan Lyric (that's what the word doc is called)

Concept: 1980s AU, focused on Laszlo and Nadja as high powered business people with a sideplot of Nandermo paralleling Guillermo's season 2 arc.

Abandoned because: tbh this one was mostly just one I liked to turn around in my head. It never got past the outlining phase.

Snippet:

His friends frequently describe the joy of conquest to him. Finding a beautiful woman, a model or a music video vixen or both, taking her to the hottest restaurants, introducing her to their friends, showing her the kind of life they lead, on the cutting edge.

It reminds Laszlo of the foxes the hounds chased on hunts on his childhood manor. He imagines the woman as a fox set upon by hounds, torn apart under their small teeth.

But this, this… is like being caught, helpless, in the jaws of a lioness.

(this was the only part that made it past outlining)

WIP Title: tie a ribbon back around it

Concept: Jenna/Shanice, Jenna comes to visit Shanice after she's turned

Abandoned because: it just kind of stayed near the bottom of my WIP list until it fell off, pretty much. Plus I could never get the Jenna POV feeling quite right.

Snippet:

Jenna’s phone said 9:16 p.m., so she figured Shanice would be back from her chemistry night lab pretty soon. She shouldn’t be late, unless she got murdered on that one stretch of the walk from the chemistry building to her new dorm with no lights or police call boxes. Jenna knew it was a good place to get murdered, because Nadja had told her so when Jenna had shown it to her.

One downside to being a vampire was the whole no-reflection thing, which made it hard to check her lipstick in the glass. The lipstick was new, a plum wine red color that the saleslady at Sephora said looked good with her skin tone. Not that she didn’t like the red Nadja had lent her on their first night out! But this was one of those liquid lipsticks that was supposed to stay on through anything.

WIP Title: you've got me living only for the night

Concept: a follow-up to come in from the edge (and let the good times roll), my second-ever fic, the one with Karen (from Collaboration, remember her?) and two of the ladies from Simon's gang. Karen is now living with the Freak Sisters and performing at

Abandoned because: partly because it got struck down so thoroughly by future canon installments, and partly because I fell out of love with the idea.

Snippet:

She sits down in the living room to wait for Mr. Fifties. The Freak Sisters had flown ahead, something about a meeting at the club before the show. They obviously hadn’t needed Karen to know more about it, so she hadn’t asked. She’d felt bad about making Mr. Fifties drive, but Despoina had put another bobby pin in Akeldama’s red wig and patiently explained how he was usually looking for an excuse to bring out his stick shift convertible anyway.

They’ve got her bloodstained bra and underwear framed on the wall, like a sports jersey. It’s a little embarrassing, Karen thinks. She can tell how cheap the lace is now; most of hers costs at least twice that now. She models every pair for them, which is more of a thing for her than for them, but they still clap and leer and pull her in close every time.

The Leatherskins have all always been polite about her, but Mr. Fifties has always been a perfect gentleman. He offers her his arm at the door, though she’s wearing slip on sneakers and not heels. Her heels are usually too high for her to really walk in. The Freak Sisters really like that, especially Despoina.

WIP Title: Vampire King

Concept: a follow-up to such strenuous living, i just don't understand, aka the one where Guillermo is a volunteer at a vampire sanctuary. This was intended to be the follow-up covering the release of the documentary being filmed in the original fic.

The documentary being Vampire King, about the controversies behind Simon the Devious's Sassy Cat Vampire Ranch and Guillermo de la Cruz's campaign to have it shut down.

Abandoned because: other ideas took precedence and I didn't want to learn to code the fake tweets. It also never got past the brainstorming stage.

WIP Title: Die, Cry, Hate

Concept: post-season-2 on the run fic, this time where the vamps go and stay with an old friend of Nandor's, Madame Beausoleil, a creepy French ex-aristocrat vampire with live-laugh-love type taste in decor (hence the title) and a questionable tendency towards hypnotizing her familiars. She decides to repay Nandor's past help by hypnotizing Guillermo to seduce him.

Abandoned because: this was brainstormed in the post-s2 hiatus, and canon continuing past that diminished my interest in the idea. Also never got past the outlining stage.

Snippet (in outline form):

-M.B. is laying boxes out on her coffin, kind of ignoring him

            -coffin looks slightly out of place in the room; large white, carved into deep, intricate panels with elaborate motifs and inlaid heavily with gold and accented with pale pinks and blues

-Guillermo asks her about her relationship to Nandor

            -she’s known him a long time, helped her out a lot in Paris, owes him a lot of favors

-turns to him “You will submit to my dark power.”

-fuck.

-“You will be Nandor’s for the daytime, for him to do with as he pleases.”

-“alright, strip”

-Guillermo starts taking his clothes off, stake falls out of his sleeve, sees MB. watching it fall to the floor, but can’t move to do anything about it

-she’s absolutely going to kill him

-She picks up a stake “I didn’t know Nandor was into gardening. I’d always taken that as more of Laszlo’s hobby”

-naked, looking at her, she gestures towards the boxes

-he goes to look at them, opens the boxes

            -lingerie: red and silk-like, black and strappy, white and lacy, pink and sheer

            -she tells him to pick out the pair he think Nandor would like

-“I had to guess your cup size.” She said, glancing at his chest with a furrowed brow.

-feels like he’s walking on the floor above a great machine, feeling its motion beneath him without comprehending it

            -brain working without him

-picks white and lacy (“always knew Nandor was a big fan of the wedding night look”), slides on underwear, garter, stockings

[wizzsp]

Writing's been going well

[fangirlghost-19]

to anyone who doesn't know i have a writing account:

i just started posting more of my silly little poems if you wanna have a look

@ghostwriter-19

[ei-w]

green rose rebel (2521 words) by ei_w

Chapters: 1/7

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Fright Knight (Danny Phantom), Dorathea "Dora" (Danny Phantom), Clockwork (Danny Phantom), Original Male Human Character(s), Prince Aragon (Danny Phantom), Pariah Dark

Additional Tags: War, morality talk, Disregarding Certain Existences aka, Period-Typical Sexism, Impossible Decisions During Given Circumstances and Due to That Related Heavy Things, Brief mention of starvation, Dark Ages (background), They/Them Pronouns for Clockwork (Danny Phantom), Scale Mail Armour/Mediaval Times (implied), Probably Aged-Up Character (we can't know Dora's exact age after all), POV Multiple

Summary:

On the verge of the fight against the soulless powers led by the ruthless ghost king, a knight is sent to make an offer to the human army and its leader. It is a question of morality regarding the survival of humanity, a deal that cannot be taken when the future is at stake. And one takes a risk to foil it.

(special thanks to @this-is-z-art-blog's incredible help in betaing this work and _midnight snack_ for the artwork - added later^^)

(edit1: forgot about the playlist I made for the vibe... here)

[ghost-in-the-hella]

The Mighty Dorks returns!

New chapter of The Mighty Dorks, co-written by me and the fabulous @rainboq​, is now up on Ao3! Now featuring even less hockey and even more relationship woes!

But have some hockey Chloe anyway.